"If we were to speak of Gazul, Lord of Underearth, we would," he replies. "But we speak of Gazul of the Flame today, and Gazul of the Flame is most present in times and places very unsuitable for conversation. So here is no more ill-suited than anywhere else."
"Very well," you say, setting down your tankard. "Tell me of Gazul of the Flame."
"If you will allow me to guide you through questions, allow me to ask you: do Dwarves have souls?"
You frown, confused. "Of course."
"What is a soul?"
You try to form an answer not drawing on the great deal of information the Liber Mortis had on the subject. "The energy that makes up what someone is. The part that departs when they die."
"And the nature of that energy? I know that your Colleges know the answer."
Well, if he's explicitly fishing for it. "Aethyr."
"And yet Dwarves repel those energies."
You frown again, thinking. "You repel Sevir. The Winds that the energies of the Aethyr become when exposed to this world." Your frown deepens as you ponder that.
"We do not do so naturally," he says simply. "We have the metaphorical nature of stone. The energies you call Sevir strip away the metaphor. So every Dwarf is born under stone to protect them from becoming it, even those that live far from the mountains. Only when the rites of Valaya are performed can they withstand this world, and many go their entire lives without walking under the open sky."
"Wait," you say, and take a moment. "Dwarven magical resistance isn't inherent?"
He shrugs. "It is not biologically inherent. It is culturally inherent. The Karaz Ankor does not recognize the distinction, and even the Dwarves living among the men of the Old World remain loyal to our ways and our Gods. The only exception..."
"The Fire Dwarves." Known to men as Chaos Dwarves, but the Dwarves are understandably a bit more circuitous about their shameful cousins.
He nods again. "As we are naturally, we cannot exist in the world that was created by the Coming of Chaos. We in the west survive by Valaya's protection. They in the east have a different patron. We are alien to the world that exists today, and we exist only because we refuse not to, and because the Ancestor-Gods have made it possible. Such is known to every Dwarf that has entered adulthood. The next part is one of the secrets of the Cult of Gazul, and needless to say, if you misuse what I am to tell you, it will result in your name being entered into the Dammaz Kron."
"Of course." You'd expected no less.
"The same once applied to the souls of Dwarves who died. Gazul of the Flame is he who conquered the Underearth."
"Wait, so..." You stop, and frown. You'd taken Underearth as the Dwarven name for their afterlife and thought nothing more of it. But Dwarves are always literal. "It's not of the Aethyr, is it?"
"It was before Gazul of the Flame," he says with a smile. "A part close to our world, known as the 'Glittering Realm'. Thungni discovered it, and the secrets he found are held sacred by the Runelords. But Gazul of the Flame conquered it, and severed it from the rest of the Aethyr. The Aethyr is," he waves a hand skywards. "Out there, at least metaphorically. More literally, some sort of sideways in a dimension imperceivable to us, but not, perhaps, to you. But either way, entirely separate and outside of what we call reality. The Underearth is not, it has been made within and of this world."
"The vigil over the dead," you realize. "You're not just protecting the soul from predators. You're redirecting it."
"Its natural impulse is to go up and out, back to the realm that birthed it. If that occurs it is not a tragedy, as we believe that what makes us who we are makes our soul-stuff stubborn enough that it will return once more to the Karaz Ankor. But it is wasteful, and unfair to subject a soul more than once to this reality that rejects us."
"That's how the Eye works," you say slowly. "The Vigil cuts the soul free and nudges it downwards. The Eye burns it free and shoves it upwards."
"Just as Gazul of the Flame burned the Glittering Realm free of the Aethyr."