Trømgar cannot reach Gorath with an army. It can reach it with one dwarf and a strongbox, and that dwarf is Sigvar Dnyhak. He lives in Tamadrez, the creole port-nation north of the Slaver's Coast, under the cover that hides a dwarf best in a human town: a metals factor, a buyer of copper and worked ore with honest reason to move money in awkward amounts. The cover holds because it is mostly real. Sigvar does buy ore. He also buys harbor-clerks.
His true work is the seam in the slavers' own machinery. Tamadrez collects navigation-fees from the northern fishing villages and remits them down the coast to the Gorathi garrison at Slavewatch, and that channel of small boats and stamped paper is the most useful thing in the region, because a freed Drasnian moving along it looks exactly like a fee being paid. Sigvar funds the Tamadrezan end of it. The Harbor-Reeve's clerks, the smuggler-captains, the bought silences, all of it runs on coin that began in a counting-room under Levke and reached the coast through his hands.
The work costs him in a way his handler understands and the hawks at home never will. Sigvar is Strømgodden. His whole creed says a dwarf's worth is the manner of his death, the charge taken into a line he does not expect to survive, and he has instead spent years smiling at slavers in a warm port and dying of nothing. He sends Grøndar Kaldmar careful reports and asks, in the spaces between them, when he will be allowed to stop pretending. The answer is always the same. Not yet. Not until Veramus falls and the Road has a flood to carry.