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As I started a little voice chirped, ‘‘Mr. Garrett? Is that you?’’

Took me a few seconds to locate her. ‘‘Mindie? Mindie Grinblatt? What are you doing here?’’

‘‘We were watching the place down under there for Mr. Algarda. He hired Daddy to keep people out. We would get to live there. But a little while ago this monster came. Daddy told me to get around behind it, then climb the stairs and get away. So I did. But he didn’t tell me what to do after I got out. So I’ve just been waiting. And I’m getting worried. Mama and Daddy haven’t come up to tell me it’s all right.’’

Oh boy! ODTAA for sure.

I considered options. Most involved me going somewhere else and staying out of the way while natural dwarfish resilience took place. It would take some managing to best the Grinblatts in tight quarters underground.

But Mindie did say that a monster had come.

‘‘Tell me about the monster. What was it? How big?’’

‘‘I don’t know. Really big. I just saw tusks and a lot of hair. Or maybe it was wearing a fur coat.’’

Not good. Played right into the conspiracy theory I was developing.

‘‘That’s good. You’re doing good so far. Here’s what we’ll do. You give me your ax and your sword and your shield—’’

‘‘But then I won’t haveanything . . . .’’

‘‘You’ll still have your other sword, your daggers, your truncheon, your boots, your teeth, and anything you’ve got for your trousseau. You’ll only have to go a couple of blocks. . . . Good girl. Let me see how that helmet fits, too.’’

It was loose. A little dwarf girl’s dress-up hat.

‘‘All right. I’m going down and see about your mom and dad. I want you to run to the World. The big building where you saw me the first time. Tell a man named Saucerhead what happened and what I’m doing. Got that?’’

She nodded. Hitched her breeches. Dug something out of somewhere. ‘‘You’ll need these.’’ She handed me a couple of warm blond stones the size and shape of chestnuts. They were so smooth they felt oily. And they glowed like feeble candlelight. ‘‘Moonstones. There’s a little light left in them. Take care of my stuff.’’ And off she went, no longer troubled.

Of course. It was all on me now.

I fumbled one of the stones, but could see it through the snow. I made sure I got it back. Mindie wanted me to take care of her stuff. I shoved both stones into a right-hand side pocket of the beaver coat. Clumsily.

I was trying to manage a clutch of edged weapons. Even the shield had its sharp sides. I needed to be careful.

It got dark fast under the house. But, on the plus side, there was no wind.

I had a stroke of smarts. Brought out one of Mindie’s stones. Dull, creamy light, like the light of a full moon that’s gotten just high enough to have lost its autumn orange. Excellent!

Then, uh-oh! A little girl had given me moonstones. Which had to be one of the deepest secrets of her people. She’d done so thoughtlessly, as though to someone of her own tribe.

Moonstones. I’d never heard of such a thing. I couldn’t begin to imagine how much they’d be worth.

So there I was—

Which is the way so many anecdotes start. Usually ones where the speaker sheepishly relates some adventure in which he came off less than shining.

But not always.

So there I was, moonstone in my right hand, dangerously sharp arsenal in my left. I worked out a way to put the child’s sword up my left sleeve without wounding myself, then tightened the shield’s straps so it would ride my left forearm and keep the sword in place at the same time. I adjusted the helmet, grabbed hold of the ax handle in my left hand, and proceeded. Holding the ax out like it was a cobra in a foul mood.

That ax was so sharp I could hear it slicing the air.

Dwarves let little girls play with razor-sharp steel. They never get hurt. A grown man ought to be able to . . . Ouch! And what was that?

Somebody having trouble breathing. Given a listen, there was no mistaking the sound, though I hadn’t heard it in a while. Somebody had what they call a sucking chest wound.

Urban Jack.

Me having had the description, this couldn’t be anyone else.

Damn, he was huge! How the hell had he gotten down the stairs?

He was scattered around the floor of that anteroom in the deepest basement. There was blood everywhere, tacky but a long way from dry. Jack had suffered at least a dozen cuts, most shallow, well distributed. Plus the chest wound, where something had gone in deep enough to penetrate a lung.

I held a moonstone up high, to light as much area as possible.

Urban Jack sensed my presence. Dull eyes cracked open. He couldn’t have seen me very well, with the moonstone over my head. He reached up, got hold of the beaver coat for a second. ‘‘Boss? I think they were too much for me this time.’’ His eyes closed again. His hand fell.

He did go on breathing raggedly.

‘‘Grinblatt! Rindt! Where the hell are you? You all right?’’

No answer.

I started with the clubhouse door. Nothing. Nobody and nothing. The place had been cleaned out of everything but an underground smell.

Likewise, the little trysting room. That one before any other, most likely.

I picked the bad door for last, meaning I tried the one I thought led to the Faction’s lab. And there I found a full complement of Grinblatts. Less Mindie, gone for help.

They were all unconscious. Which meant they were bad hurt. Some dwarves can go into hibernation, or sort of an induced coma, when they suffer a life-threatening trauma. Meaning these dwarves were in a bad way but they could be saved. They wouldn’t be getting out of the cellar without being carried, though.

I placed the moonstones on a naked table and started checking the dwarves. Essentially a futile gesture. They were all bundled up in their standard dwarfish apparel. I’d need a blacksmith to get them out.

The boy appeared to be in the best shape. He lay farthest from the doorway. It looked like his mother had broken bones. Rindt had more broken bones. He looked awful. I was amazed he was breathing, induced coma or no. He had to have serious internal injuries.

First things first. Mindie’s moonstones were fading.

I’d just gotten a third lamp burning when I heard Saucerhead’s remote bellow. ‘‘Garrett?’’

‘‘Come on down. It’s safe.’’ If there had been any spells, Urban Jack had torn them up. ‘‘Be careful on the stairs.’’

I slipped the moonstones back into my pocket.

The lamplight revealed a lot more nothing. The place had been stripped. Only a dozen dirty, empty tables remained. There was no seeing any wall but the one housing the door I’d used to get in. There were pillars that seemed to go out in endless ranks and files. There were echoes.

This was not something the Faction had created for themselves.

But they had gotten it emptied out fast. Them and their moms and dads.

Saucerhead came clumping down, followed by several other pairs of feet. ‘‘I’m in here. Whatever you do, don’t open any doors.’’

Tharpe arrived. ‘‘What the hell did you do, Garrett? I know you’re handy when they get you backed into a corner, but there ain’t no way you took Urban Jack.’’

‘‘You’re right. That would be these people here.’’

‘‘Dwarves? No shit?’’ He put down a typical human impulse to argue. ‘‘That actually makes more sense. Dwarves wouldn’t fuck around trying to talk about it. They wouldn’t worry about no appropriate level of response. They seen an Urban Jack headed their way, they’d go to the axes first.’’ He added a bit of philosophy I probably ought to consider more when I get all morally judgmental. ‘‘Better to be alive and feel bad than dead and feel nothing.’’

‘‘Yeah. You see that face coming at you out of the darkness, you shouldn’t worry about anything but chopping it up.>

‘‘How did the asshole get down here, Garrett? Big as he is?’’

‘‘I don’t know. Had to work at it, I guess. I don’t care. These dwarves need hauled out. We could turn these tables into stretchers.’’