“Go on, get out,” Haplo told the animal, who vanished. Bane looked around in astonishment, forgot his fear. “What happened to the dog?” he cried shrilly.
“Shut up,” Haplo grunted. Hunched almost double, he planted his back against the top of the cart. “Get underneath me,” he told Bane. The child wriggled his way awkwardly under Haplo’s outspread arms.
“When I crawl, you crawl.”
Moving clumsily, with many halts and starts, falling over each other, they lumbered along. A hole cut into the side of the cart allowed Haplo to see where they were going, and it was a lot farther off than he’d imagined. The coralite, where it was hard, was slick from the water; in other places they sank elbow deep in mud, floundered through puddles.
Rain beat down, hailstones clattered on top of the metal cart, making a deafening racket. Outside, he could hear the dog bark back at the thunder.
“ ’Lectricity rods,” muttered Haplo.
12
“I’m not going to tell you anything about the statue!” stated Jarre. “It will only cause more trouble, I’m sure of it!”
Limbeck flushed in anger, glowered at her through his spectacles. He opened his mouth to deliver a pronouncement on Jarre, a pronouncement that would have not only ended their relationship but got his spectacles smashed in the bargain. Haplo trod discreetly on the dwarfs foot. Limbeck understood, subsided into a smoldering silence.
They were back in the BOILER ROOM, Limbeck’s apartment, now lit by what Jarre called a “glampern.” Tired of burning Limbeck’s speeches, and equally tired of hearing that she could see in the dark, if only she put her mind to it, she had gone off, after Limbeck’s departure, and appropriated the glampern from a fellow warrior, stating it was for the High Froman’s use. The fellow warrior, as it turned out, hadn’t much use for the High Froman, but Jarre was stoutly built and could add muscle to her political clout.
She walked off with the glampern—a castoff of the elves, left over from the days when they paid for water with their refuse. The glampern, hanging on a hook, served well enough, once one got used to the smoky flame, the smell, and the crack down the side that allowed some sort of obviously highly flammable substance to drip out onto the floor.
Jarre cast them all a defiant glance. Her face, in the glampern light, hardened into stubborn lines. Haplo guessed that Jarre’s anger was a mask for affectionate concern, concern for her people and for Limbeck. And maybe not in that order.
Bane, catching Haplo’s attention, raised an eyebrow.
I can handle her, the child offered. If you’ll give me permission. Haplo shrugged in answer. It couldn’t hurt. Besides being unusually intuitive, Bane was clairvoyant. He could sometimes see the innermost thoughts of others... other mensch, that is. He couldn’t worm his way inside Haplo. Bane glided to Jarre, took hold of her hands. “I can see the crystal crypts, Jarre. I can see them and I don’t blame you for being frightened of going back there. It truly is very sad. But dear, dear Jarre, you must tell us how to get into the tunnels. Don’t you want to find out if the elves have shut down the Kicksey-winsey?” he persisted in wheedling tones.
“And what will you do if they have?” Jarre demanded, snatching her hands away.
“And how do you know what I’ve seen? You’re just making it all up. Or else Limbeck told you.”
“No, I’m not,” Bane sniveled, his feelings hurt.
“See what you’ve done now?” Limbeck asked, putting a comforting arm around the boy.
Jarre flushed in shame.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, twisting the skirt of her dress around her stubby fingers, “I didn’t mean to yell at you. But what will you do?” Raising her head, she stared at Haplo, her eyes shimmered with tears. “We can’t fight the elves! So many would die! You know that. You know what would happen. We should just surrender, tell them we were wrong, it was all a mistake! Then maybe they’ll go away and leave us alone and everything will be like it was before!” She buried her face in her hands. The dog crept over, offered silent sympathy. Limbeck swelled up until Haplo thought the dwarf might explode. Giving him a cautionary sign with an upraised finger, Haplo spoke quietly, firmly.
“It’s too late for that, Jarre. Nothing can ever be like it was. The elves won’t go away. Now that they have control of the water supply on Arianus, they won’t give it up. And sooner or later they’ll get tired of being harassed by your guerrilla tactics. They’ll send down a large army and either enslave your people or wipe them out. It’s too late, Jarre. You’ve gone too far.”
“I know.” Jarre sighed, wiped her eyes with the corner of her skirt. “But it’s obvious to me that the elves have taken over the machine. I don’t know what you think you can do,” she added in dull, hopeless tones.
“I can’t explain now,” said Haplo, “but there’s a chance the elves may not have shut down the Kicksey-winsey. They may be more worried about this than you are. And if that’s true, and if His Highness can start it up again, then you can tell the elves to go take a flying leap into the Maelstrom.”
“You mean, we’ll have the Liftalofts back under our control?” Jarre asked dubiously.
“Not only the Liftalofts,” said Bane, smiling through his tears, “but everything! All of Arianus! All of it, all the people—elves and humans—under your rule.”
Jarre looked more alarmed than pleased at this prospect, and even Limbeck appeared somewhat taken aback.
“We don’t really want them under our rule,” he began, then paused, considering. “Or do we?”
“Of course we don’t,” Jarre said briskly. “What would we do with a bunch of humans and elves on our hands? Always fighting among each other, never satisfied.”
“But, my dear...” Limbeck seemed inclined to argue.
“Excuse me”—Haplo cut in swiftly—“but we’re a long way from that point yet, so let’s not worry about it.”
Not to mention the fact, the Patryn added silently, that Bane was lying through his small, pearl-white teeth. It would be the Lord of the Nexus who ruled Arianus. Of course, his lord should rule Arianus, that wasn’t the point. Haplo disliked deceiving the dwarves, urging them to take risks by giving them false hopes, making false promises.
“There’s another point you haven’t considered. If the elves didn’t shut down the Kicksey-winsey, they probably think that you dwarves did. Which means that they’re probably more worried about you than you are about them. After all, with the machine not working, they haven’t got water for their people.”
“Then they might be preparing to attack us right now!” Limbeck glowered. Haplo nodded.
“You truly think the elves may not have taken control of it?” Jarre was wavering.
“We’ll never know until we see for ourselves.”
“The truth, my dear,” said Limbeck in a softened tone. “It’s what we believe in.”
“What we used to believe in,” murmured Jarre. “Very well.” She sighed. “I’ll tell you what I can about the statue of the Manger. But I’m afraid I don’t know much. It was all so confused, what with the fighting and the coppers and—”
“Just tell us about the statue,” suggested Haplo. “You and the other man who was with us, the clumsy one, Alfred. You went inside the statue and down into the tunnels below.”
“Yes,” said Jarre, subdued. “And it was sad. So sad. All the beautiful people lying dead. And Alfred so sad. I don’t like to think about it.” The dog, hearing Alfred’s name, wagged its tail and whined. Haplo petted it, counseling silence. The dog sighed and flopped down, nose on paws.
“Don’t think about it,” Haplo said. “Tell us about the statue. Start from the beginning.”
“Well”—Jarre’s brow furrowed in thought, she chewed on her side whiskers—“the fight was going on. I was looking around for Limbeck and I saw him standing next to the statue. The High Froman and the coppers were trying to drag him off. I ran over to help him, but by the time I got there, he was gone.