"Good honest wool," said Hal. "No one ever suffers from wearing wet wool."
Cornwall got out of the tub, tugged on his trousers.
"I think we should talk this over," he said. "There's something in that vault the castle folk want out. If it's all that important to them, it might be as important to us. Anyhow, I think we should get it out, find out what it is. And once we get it out, we'll dig out Big Belly and the rest of them from wherever they may be and talk to them by hand. But until we get out whatever's in the vault we can't talk to them too well. All of it may do us no good, and it'll be a messy job, of course…"
"There might be another way," said Oliver. "The unicorn horn. The one that Mary has. Magic against magic."
Sniveley shook his head. "I'm not sure it would work. Magic comes in specific packages…»
"I hesitated to mention it," Oliver apologized. "It's no place to send a lovely lady and…"
"Lady, hell," Cornwall snorted. "If you think it has a chance, give me the horn and I'll go in again."
"But it wouldn't work with you," said Oliver. "It would only work with Mary. She has to be the one."
"Then we tear down the vault," said Cornwall. "Unless someone can think of something else. Mary, I tell you, is not going down into that vault."
"Now, you listen here," said Mary. "You have no right to say that. You can't tell me what to do. I'm a part of this band, and I claim the right to do whatever I can do. I've packed that horn for miles and it's an awkward thing to carry. If any good can come of it—"
"How do you know it will do any good at all?" yelled Cornwall. "What if it didn't work? What if you went down in there and…"
"I'll take the chance," said Mary. "If Oliver thinks it will work, I'll go along with it."
"Let me try it first," said Cornwall.
"Mark," said Hal, "you're being unreasonable. Mary could try at least. We could let her down, and if there were any motion there, if there were anything at all, we could pull her out immediately."
"It's pretty bad down there," said Cornwall. "It is downright awful. The smell is overpowering."
"If it worked," said Oliver, "it would only take a minute. We could have her in and out…"
"She could never pull it out," said Cornwall. "It might be heavy. Maybe she couldn't get a grip on it, couldn't hang onto it even if she did get a grip."
"We could fix up that hook," said Hal. "Tie it to a rope. She hooks onto it and then we pull out both her and it."
Cornwall looked at Mary. "Do you really want to?"
"No, of course, I don't want to," she said. "You didn't want to, either, but you did. But I am ready to do it. Please, Mark, let me try."
"I only hope it works," said Sniveley. "I hate to tell you the kind of odds I'd give you that it won't."
30
They did it differently from the way they had for Cornwall. For Mary they rigged a seat, like the seat for a child's swing, and fashioned a hitch so she could be tied securely into it. They tied a cord about the horn so it could be looped about her shoulder and she need not hold it, for it was an awkward thing to hold. Thus, she had both hands free to handle the hook, which, tied to another rope, was run through a second pulley.
Finally it was time to go.
"My robe," said Mary. "It is the only one I have. It will be fouled."
"Shuck it up," said Hal. "We can tie it into place."
"It might not wash clean," she wailed.
"Take it off," said Sniveley. "Go down in your skin. None of us will mind."
"No!" said Cornwall. "No, by God, I'll not have it!"
"Sniveley," Hal said sharply, "you have gone too far. Modesty is not something you know about, of course…"
Gib said to Mary, "You must excuse him. He had no way to know."
"I wouldn't mind so much," said Mary. "The robe is all I have. If none of you ever spoke of it or—"
"No!" said Cornwall.
Mary said to him in a soft, low voice, "You have felt my nakedness…»
"No," said Cornwall in a strangled voice.
"I'll wash out the robe while you're in the tub," Oliver offered. "I'll do a good job on it, use a lot of soap."
"I think," said Sniveley, "it's a lot of foolishness. She'll get splashed. That foul corruption will be all over her. The horn won't work—you wait and see, it won't."
They tucked up the robe and tied it into place. They put a piece of cloth around her face, Oliver having raided the castle kitchen for a jug of vinegar in which the cloth was soaked in hope that it would help to counteract the stench.
Then they swung her over the opening. The putrescent puddle boiled momentarily, then settled down again. They lowered her swiftly. The loathsome pit stirred restlessly, as if it were a stricken animal quivering in its death throes, but stayed calm.
"It's working," said Gib between his teeth. "The horn is working."
Cornwall called to Mary. "Easy does it now. Lean over with the hook. Be ready. We'll let you down another foot or so."
She leaned over with the hook poised above the cage.
"Let her down," said Hal. "She's directly over it."
Then it was done. The hook slipped over two of the metal strips and settled into place. Gib, who was handling the hook-rope, pulled it taut. "We have it," he shouted.
Cornwall heaved on the rope tied to Mary's sling and brought her up swiftly. Hands reached out and hauled her to safety.
She staggered as her feet touched solid rock, and Cornwall reached out to steady her. He ripped the cloth off her face. She looked up at him with tearful eyes. He wiped the tears away.
"It was bad," she said. "But you know. You were down there. Not as bad for me as it must have been for you."
"But you are all right?"
"I'll get over it," she said. "The smell…"
"We'll be out of here for good in a little while. Once we get that thing out of there." He turned to Gib. "What have we got?"
"I don't know," said Gib. "I've never seen its like."
"Let's get it out before something happens."
"Almost to the top," said Hal. "Here it comes. The Beast is getting restless."
"There it is!" yelled Oliver.
It hung at the end of the rope, dripping slime. It was no cage or globe. The globe was only the upper part of it.
"Quick!" warned Hal. "Reach over and pull it in. The Beast is working up a storm."
A wave of the vault's contents rose above the opening, curled over, breaking, sending a fine spray of filth over the edge of the opening.
Cornwall reached out, fighting to get a grip on the thing that dangled from the hook. It had a manlike look about it. The cage formed the head, its tanklike body was cylindrical, perhaps two feet through and four feet long. From the body dangled three metallic structures that could be legs. There were no arms.
Hal had a grip on one of the legs and was pulling it over the edge of the opening. Cornwall grasped another leg and together they heaved it free of the vault. A wave broke over the lip of the opening. The noisome mass sloshed out over the platform that ringed the top of the vault.
They fled down the stairs and out into the courtyard, Gib and Hal dragging the thing from the vault between them. Once in the courtyard, they stood it on its feet and stepped away. For a moment it stood where they had set it, then took a step. It paused for a short heartbeat, then took another step. It turned about slowly and swiveled its head, as if to look at them, although it had no eyes, or at least none that were visible.