‘What incredible timing that must take!’
‘The timing is ingenious since it all depends on a certain hook we’ve developed, though’—Gnosh pursed his lips, his eyebrows drawing together—‘something is throwing the timing off a bit, but there’s a committee—’
The gnome pulled down on the lever and Fizban—with a shriek—went sailing through the air.
‘Oh dear,’ said Gnosh, staring, ‘it appears—’
‘What? What?’ Tas yelled, trying to see.
‘The net’s opened too soon again’—Gnosh shook his head—‘and that’s the second time today that’s happened on Skimbosh alone and thisdefinitelywillbebroughtupatthe nextmeetingoftheNet Guild—’
Tas stared, open-mouthed, at the sight of Fizban whizzing through the air, propelled from below by the tremendous force of the catapult, and suddenly the kender saw what Gnosh was talking about. The net on level fifteen—instead of opening after the mage had flown past and then catching him as he started to fall—opened before the mage reached level fifteen. Fizban hit the net and was flattened like a squashed spider. For a moment he clung there precariously—arms and legs akimbo—then he fell.
Instantly bells and gongs rang out.
‘Don’t tell me,’ Tas guessed miserably. ‘That’s the alarm which means the net failed.’
‘Quite, but don’t be alarmed (small joke),’ Gnosh chuckled, ‘because the alarms trip a device to open the net on level thirteen, just in time—oops, a bit late, well, there’s still level twelve—’
‘Do something!’ Tas shrieked.
‘Don’t get so worked up!’ Gnosh said angrily. ‘And I’ll finishwhatIwasabouttosayaboutthefinalemergencybackupsystemandthat is—oh, hereitgoes—’
Tas watched in amazement as the bottoms dropped out of six huge barrels hanging from the walls on level three, sending thousands of sponges tumbling down onto the floor in the center of the chamber. This was done—apparently—in case all the nets on every level failed. Fortunately, the net on level nine actually worked, spreading out beneath the mage just in time. Then it folded up around him and whisked him over to the balcony where the gnomes, hearing the mage cursing and swearing inside, appeared reluctant to let him out.
‘Sonoweverything’sfineandit’syourturn,’ said Gnosh.
‘Just one last question!’ Tas yelled at Gnosh as he sat down in the seat. ‘What happens if the emergency backup system with the sponges fails?’
‘Ingenious—’ said Gnosh happily, ‘because you see if the sponges come down a little too late, the alarm goes off, releasing a huge barrel of water into the center, and—since the sponges are there already—its easy to clean up the mess—’
The chief pulled the lever.
Tas had been expecting all sorts of fascinating things in the Examination Room, but he found it—to his surprise—nearly empty. It was lighted by a hole drilled through the face of the mountain which admitted the sunlight. (This simple but ingenious device had been suggested to the gnomes by a visiting dwarf who called it a ‘window,’ the gnomes were quite proud of it.) There were three tables, but little else. On the central table, surrounded by gnomes, rested the dragon orb and his hoopak.
It was back to its original size, Tas noted with interest. It looked the same—still a round piece of crystal, with a kind of milky colored mist swirling around inside. A young Knight of Solamnia with an intensely bored expression on his face stood near the orb, guarding it. His bored expression changed sharply at the approach of strangers.
‘Quiteallright,’ Gnosh told the knight reassuringly, ‘these are the two Lord Gunthar sent word about—’ Still talking, Gnosh hustled them over to the central table. The gnome’s eyes were bright as he regarded the orb. ‘A dragon orb,’ he murmured happily, ‘after all these years—’
‘What years?’ Fizban snapped, stopping at some distance from the table.
‘You see,’ Gnosh explained, ‘each gnome has a Life Quest assigned to him at birth, and from then on his only ambition in life is to fulfill that Life Quest, and it was my Life Quest to study the dragon orb since—’
‘But the dragon orbs have been missing for hundreds of years!’ Tas said incredulously. ‘No one knew about them! How could it be your Life Quest?’
‘Oh, we knew about them,’ Gnosh answered, ‘because it was my grandfather’s Life Quest, and then my father’s Life Quest. Both of them died without ever seeing a dragon orb. I feared I might, too, but now finally, one has appeared, and I can establish our family’s place in the afterlife—’
‘You mean you can’t get to the—er—afterlife until you complete the Life Quest?’ Tas asked. ‘But your grandfather and your father—’
‘Probably most uncomfortable,’ Gnosh said, looking sad, ‘wherever they are—My goodness!’
A remarkable change had come over the dragon orb. It began to swirl and shimmer with many different colors—as if in agitation.
Muttering strange words, Fizban walked to the orb and set his hand upon it. Instantly, it went black. Fizban cast a glance around the room, his expression so severe and frightening that even Tas fell back before him. The knight sprang forward.
‘Get out!’ the mage thundered. ‘All of you!’
‘I was ordered not to leave and I’m not—’ The knight reached for his sword, but Fizban whispered a few words. The knight slumped to the floor.
The gnomes vanished from the room instantly, leaving only Gnosh, wringing his hands, his face twisted in agony.
‘Come on, Gnosh!’ Tas urged. ‘I’ve never seen him like this. We better do as he says. If we don’t, he’s liable to turn us into gully dwarves or something icky like that!’
Whimpering, Gnosh allowed Tas to lead him out of the room. As he stared back at the dragon orb, the door slammed shut.
‘My Life Quest—’ the gnome moaned.
‘I’m sure it will be all right,’ Tas said, although he wasn’t sure, not in the least. He hadn’t liked the look on Fizban’s face. In fact, it hadn’t even seemed to be Fizban’s face at all—or anyone Tas wanted to know!
Tas felt chilled and there was a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. The gnomes muttered among themselves and cast baleful glances at him. Tas swallowed, trying to get a bitter taste out of his mouth. Then he drew Gnosh to one side.
‘Gnosh, did you discover anything about the orb when you studied it?’ Tas asked in a low voice.
‘Well,’ Gnosh appeared thoughtful, ‘I did find out that there’s something inside of it, or seems to be, because I’d stare at it and stare at it without seeing anything for the longest time then, right when I was ready to quit, I’d see words swirling about in the mist—’
‘Words?’ Tas interrupted eagerly. ‘What did they say?’
Gnosh shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said solemnly, ‘because I couldn’t read them; no one could, not even a member of the Foreign Language Guild—’
‘Magic, probably,’ Tas muttered to himself.
‘Yes,’ Gnosh said miserably, ‘that’s what I decided—’
The door blew open, as if something had exploded.
Gnosh whirled around, terrified. Fizban stood in the doorway, holding a small black bag in one hand, his staff and Tasslehoff’s hoopak in the other. Gnosh sprang past him.
‘The orb!’ he screeched, so upset he actually completed a sentence. ‘You’ve got it!’
‘Yes, Gnosh,’ said Fizban.
The mage’s voice sounded tired, and Tas—looking at him closely—saw that he was on the verge of exhaustion. His skin was gray, his eyelids drooped. He leaned heavily on his staff. ‘Come with me, my boy,’ he said to the gnome. ‘And do not worry. Your Life Quest will be fulfilled. But now the orb must be taken before the Council of Whitestone.’