I finally discovered what might have been the proper place and seized hold of it. I pulled then, but it was stubborn. Either they were disproportionately strong or there was a trick to it that I was missing.
No matter. There is a time for subtlety and a time for brute force. I was both angry and in a hurry, so the decision was made.
I began to draw upon the slab once again, tightening the muscles in my arms, my shoulders, my back, wishing Gerard were nearby. The door creaked. I kept pulling. It moved slightly-an inch, perhaps-and stuck. I did not slacken, but increased my effort. It creaked again.
I leaned backward, shifted my weight and braced my left foot against the rocky wall at the side of the portal. I pushed with it as I drew back. There was more creaking and some grinding as it moved again-another inch or so. Then it stopped and I could not budge it.
I released my grip and stood, flexing my arms. Then I put my shoulder to it and pushed the door back to its fully closed position. I took a deep breath and seized it again.
I put my left foot back where it had been. No gradual pressure this time. I yanked and shoved simultaneously.
There was a snapping sound and a clattering from within, and the door came forward ahout half a foot, grinding as it moved. It seemed freer now, though, so I got to my feet, reversed my position-back to wall-and found sufficient purchase to push it outward.
It moved more easily this time, but I could not resist placing my foot against it as it began to swing and thrusting forward as hard as I could. It shot through a full hundred and eighty degrees, slammed back against the rock on the other side with a great booming noise, fractured in several places, swayed, fell and struck the ground with a crash that made it shudder, breaking off more fragments when it hit.
Grayswandir was back in my hand before it struck, and I had dropped into a crouch and stolen a quick look about the corner.
Light... There was illumination beyond... From little lamps depending from hooks along the wall... Beside the stairway... Going down... To a place of greater light and some sounds... Like music.. .
There was no one in sight. I would have thought that the godawful din I had raised would have caught someone's attendon, but the music continued. Either the sound-somehow-had not carried, or they did not give a damn. Either way... I rose and stepped over the threshold. My foot struck against a metal object. I picked it up and examined it. A twisted bolt. They had barred the door after themselves. I tossed it back over my shoulder and started down the stair.
The music-fiddles and pipes-grew louder as I advanced. From the breaking of the light, I could see that there was some sort of hall off to my right, from the foot of the stair. They were small steps and there were a lot of them. I did not bother with stealth, but hurried down to the landing.
When I turned and looked into the hall, I beheld a scene out of some drunken Irishman's dream. In a smoky, torchlit hall, hordes of meter high people, red-faced and green clad, were dancing to the music or quaffing what appeared to be mugs of ale while stamping their feet, slapping tabletops and each other, grinning, laughing and shouting. Huge kegs lined one wall, and a number of the revelers were queued up before the one which had been tapped. An enormous fire blazed in a pit at the far end of the room, its smoke being sucked back through a crevice in the rock wall, above a pair of cavemouths running anywhere. Star was tethered to a ring in the wall beside that pit, and a husky little man in a leather apron was grinding and honing some suspicious-looking instruments.
Several faces turned in my direction, there were shouts and suddenly the music stopped. The silence was almost complete.
I raised my blade to an overhand, epee en garde position, pointed across the room toward Star. All faces were turned in my direction by then.
“I have come for my horse,” I said. “Either you bring him to me or I come and get him. There will be a lot more blood the second way.”
From off to my right, one of the men, larger and grayer than most of the others, cleared his throat.
“Begging your pardon,” he began, “but how did you get in here?”
“You will be needing a new door,” I said. “Go and look if you care to, if it makes any difference-and it may. I will wait.”
I stepped aside and put the wall to my back.
He nodded.
“I will do that.”
And he darted by.
I could feel my anger-born strength flowing into and back out of the Jewel. One part of me wanted to cut and slash and stab my way across the room, another wanted a more humane settlement with people so much smaller than myself; and a third and perhaps wiser part suggested that the little guys might not be such pushovers. So I waited to see how my door-opening feat impressed their spokesman.
Moments later, he returned, giving me wide berth.
“Bring the man his horse,” he said.
A sudden flurry of conversation occurred within the hall. I lowered my blade.
“My apologies,” said the one who had given the order. “We desire no trouble with the like of you. We will be foraging elsewhere. No hard feelings, I hope?”
The man in the leather apron had untethered Star and started in my direction. The revelers drew back to make way as he led my mount through the hall.
I sighed.
“I will just call it a day and forgive and forget,” I said.
The little man seized a flagon from a nearby table and passed it to me. Seeing my expression, he sipped from it himself.
“Join us in a drink, then?”
“Why not?” I said, and I took it and quaffed it as he did the same with the second one.
He gave a gentle belch and grinned.
“ 'Tis a mighty small draught for a man of your size,” he said then. “Let me fetch you another, for the trail.”
It was a pleasant ale, and I was thirsty after my efforts.
“All right,” I said.
He called for more as Star was delivered to me.
“You can wrap the reins around this hook here,” he said, indicating a low projection near the doorway, “and he will be safe out of the way.”
I nodded and did that as the butcher withdrew. No one was staring at me any longer. A pitcher of the brew arrived and the little man refilled our flagons from it. One of the fiddlers struck up a fresh tune. Moments later, another joined him.
“Sit a spell,” said my host, pushing a bench in my direction with his foot. “Keep your back to the wall as you would. There will be no funny business.”
I did, and he rounded the table and seated himself across from me, the pitcher between us. It was good to sit for a few moments, to take my mind from my journey for just a little while, to drink the dark ale and listen to a lively tune.
“I will not be apologizing again,” said my companion, “nor explaining either. We both know it was no misunderstanding. But you have got the right on your side, it is plain to see.” He grinned and winked. “So I am for calling it a day, too. We will not starve. We will just not feast tonight. Tis a lovely jewel you are wearing. Tell me about it?”
“Just a stone,” I said.
The dancing resumed. The voices grew louder. I finished my drink and he refilled the flagon. The fire undulated. The night's cold went out of my bones.
“Cozy place you've got here,” I said.
“Oh, that it is. Served us for time out of mind, it has. Would you be liking the grand tour?”
“Thank you, no.”
“I did not think so, but 'twas my hostly duty to offer. You are welcome to join in the dancing, too, if you wish.”
I shook my head and laughed. The thought of my cavorting in this place brought me images out of Swift.