Dark Magic by B. V. Larson

but decided against it. He did not know what kind of politics were in play here with these folk. If they were governed by a body that was anything like the Riverton council, not everyone was in agreement with any decision made. The less said, the better.
    “Tell me more of your business.”
    “Our business is our own. Do you refuse us entry?”
    There was a half-minute of silence.
    “No. We do not refuse entry. You are welcome here, Brand of the River Folk. You may pass.”
    So they entered the land of the Kindred, and Brand’s heart was gladdened. He had never visited the lands of any other civilized folk. He had seen much of the wilderness, and of course he knew every corner of the Haven. But this was something different. As soon as they entered their land, even as he passed the border itself, everything felt different.
    The buildings were more squat and thick in design. They were designed for a people of different dimensions than someone like Brand. The road was also narrower, but better kept. Each cobble had been fitted into place like a vast mosaic and none were cracked or missing.
    Immediately beyond the watchtower stretched a few miles of snow-covered hills. Shepherds and sheep were plentiful here, along with fine fields that in summer would be bursting with crops of barley and hops. Breweries and mills dotted the landscape as well. Brand smiled at these all-too-common choices of Kindred cultivation. They were a popular combination that together provided their favorite meals of mutton and ale.
    They came soon after to the frontier town known as Gronig, which stood at the very foot of the Black Mountains. Rising up right behind the town were the sharp stone walls of the mountains, into which numerous mines had been driven. Gronig was the equivalent of the town known as Hamlet at his people’s end of the road on the far eastern side of the Deepwood.
    The town was small, but bustling. Everywhere was a sense of energy, of industry. The Kindred were anything but lazy. Those that were not chopping wood or hauling stone were marching off somewhere in long chanting lines. They pushed ore carts down directly from the mines in the Black Mountains that loomed over the town. The ore carts rode on tracks, an idea Brand had never witnessed before. One Kindred, having good leverage and arms like iron, could push a cart full of ore along these tracks alone. These tracks ended their runs at the smoke-belching smelting factories that encircled the settlement.
    Indeed, Gronig was quite unlike Hamlet. The Kindred, he saw, did not just build structures out of stone. They built each building out of heavy slabs of granite. Every building in sight consisted primarily of these stone slabs, sometimes showing chunks of wood as a secondary material. This was the opposite of River Folk designs, which were generally built mainly of wood, sometimes using bricks or stone as a foundation.
    And the stone used was itself not comparable. Instead of mortaring together stacks of sun-baked bricks, each not much larger than a man’s hand, the Kindred used slabs of stone. These slabs, tilted up to stand on end as walls, were single sheets of cut granite, five feet tall or more and as long at twenty feet. The stone was thick, always thick. Each slab stood independently, hooked together with mortar and spikes of iron as thick as his thumb. He suspected that even if the slabs had not been connected, they would have stood, free-standing. Just toppling a free-standing slab might have been beyond the strength of a normal man. Brand shook his head, taking it all in. They must use teams of Kindred and animals to drag these slabs down from the mountains and place them carefully. The few wooden parts consisted of oaken doors and window casements that sat in chiseled holes. The roofs as well, were usually thatch or shingles. But for the most part, the Kindred built things with thick stone.
    They decided to stop at the only Inn Gronig boasted, called the