“Do you have any idea what’s up there now? I don’t want to come out in the middle of an elven dining hall during breakfast.”
Limbeck shook his head. “None of our people have been in the Factree since the elves took it over.”
“I’ll go look,” Bane offered, eager for adventure.
“No, Your Highness.” Haplo was firm. “You stay down here. Dog, keep an eye on him.”
“I’ll go.” Limbeck gazed around vaguely. “Where’s the ladder?”
“Put your spectacles on!” Jarre scolded.
Limbeck flushed, reached into a pocket, discovered the spectacles. He pulled them over his ears.
“Everyone stay put. I’ll go and take a look,” said Haplo, who already had his foot on the first rung. “When’s that diversion of yours supposed to start?”
“Should be anytime now,” Limbeck answered, peering nearsightedly up into the shadows.
“Do you... do you want the glampern?” Jane asked hesitantly. She was obviously impressed with Haplo’s blue-glowing skin, a sight she’d never seen.
“No,” Haplo answered shortly. His body was giving off light enough. He didn’t need to encumber himself with the glampern. He began to climb. He had gone about halfway when he heard a scuffle at the bottom and Bane’s voice rise in a yelp. Haplo glanced down. Apparently, the boy had been about to follow. The dog had its teeth clamped firmly in the seat of His Highness’s pants.
“Shhh!” Haplo hissed, glaring down at them.
He continued his climb, came to the metal plate. As he recalled from the last time he’d done this, the plate slid aside easily and—what was more important—quietly. Now, if some elf just hadn’t set a bed on top of it... Haplo placed his fingers on the plate, gave it a cautious shove. It moved. A crack of light shone down on him. He halted, waited, ears straining.
Nothing.
He moved the plate again, about as far as the length of his first finger. He halted again, keeping perfectly still, perfectly silent.
Up above, he could hear voices: light, delicate voices of elves. But they sounded as if they were coming from a distance, none near, none directly overhead. Haplo glanced down at the sigla on his skin. The blue glow had not intensified, but neither had it gone away. He decided to risk a look. Haplo slid the plate aside, peeped warily up over the edge. It took his eyes some time to become accustomed to the bright light. The fact that the elves had light at all was disquieting. Perhaps he’d been wrong, perhaps they had learned how to operate the Kicksey-winsey and had cut off light and heat to the dwarves.
Further investigation revealed the truth. The elves—known for their magical mechanics—had rigged up their own lighting system. The glimmerglamps belonging to the Kicksey-winsey, which had once lit the Factree, were dark and cold. And no light at all shone on this end of the Factree. This end was empty, deserted. The elves were bivouacked at the far end, near the entrance. Haplo was at eye level with neat rows of cots, stacked around the walls. Elves were moving about, sweeping the floor, checking their weapons. Some were asleep. Several surrounded a cooking pot, from which came a fragrant odor and a cloud of steam. One group squatted on the floor, playing at some type of game to judge by their talk of “bets” and exclamations of either triumph or disgust. No one was at all interested in Haplo’s part of the Factree. The lighting system didn’t even extend this far.
Directly across from where he stood, he could see the statue of the Manger—the robed and hooded figure of a Sartan holding a single, staring eyeball in one hand. Haplo took a moment to examine the eyeball, was glad to see it was dark and lifeless as the machine.
The eyeball, once activated, revealed the secret of the Kicksey-winsey to any who looked at its moving pictures.[23] Either the elves hadn’t discovered the eyeball’s secret, or, if they had, they’d discounted it, as had the dwarves all these years. Perhaps, like the dwarves, the elves used this empty portion of the huge building only for meetings. Or perhaps they didn’t use it at all.
Haplo slid the plate back all but a crack, descended the ladder.
“It’s all right,” he told Limbeck. “The elves are all in the front of the Factree. But either your diversion hasn’t started or else they don’t give a damn—”
He paused. A trumpet call sounded faintly from above. Then came the sound of shouts, weapons rattling, beds scraping, voices raised in either irritation or satisfaction, depending on whether the soldiers found this a welcome break in their dull routine or a nuisance.
Haplo swiftly climbed back up the ladder again, peered out the opening. The elves were strapping on swords, grabbing bows and quivers of arrows, and running to the call, their officers shouting curses and urging them to hurry. The diversion had started. He wasn’t certain how much time they had, how long the dwarves could harass the elves. Probably not long.
“Come on!” he said, motioning. “Quickly! It’s all right, boy. Let him go.” Bane was the first up, climbing like a squirrel. Limbeck followed more slowly. Jarre came after him. She had forgotten, in the heat of soup-pan tossing, to change her skirt for trousers, and was having difficulty managing the ladder. The dog stood at the bottom, regarding them with interest.
“Now!” said Haplo, keeping watch, waiting until the last elf had left the Factree. “Run for it!”
He shoved the plate aside, pulled himself up onto the floor. Turning, he gave Bane a hand, hauled the boy up beside him. Bane’s face was flushed, his eyes shone with excitement.
“I’ll go look at the statue—”
“Wait.”
Haplo cast a swift glance around, wondering why he hesitated. The elves had gone. He and the others were alone in the Factree. Unless, of course, the elves had been forewarned of their coming and were lying in wait. But that was a risk they had to take, and not much of a risk at that. Haplo’s magic could deal efficiently with any ambush. But his skin tingled, shone a faint, disturbing blue.
“Go ahead,” he said, angry at himself. “Dog, go with him.” Bane dashed off, accompanied by the dog.
Limbeck poked his head up out of the hole. He stared at the animal, gamboling at Bane’s side, and the dwarfs eyes widened. “I could have sworn...“ ‘
He stared back down the ladder. “The dog was down there ...”
“Hurry up!” Haplo grunted. The sooner they left this place, the happier he’d be. He dragged Limbeck over the top, reached out a hand to help Jarre. Hearing a startled shout and an excited bark, Haplo turned swiftly, nearly yanking Jarre’s arm out of its socket.
Bane, lying prone across the statue’s feet, was pointing down. “I’ve found it!” The dog, standing spraddle-legged at the top, gazed into the hole with deep suspicion, not liking whatever was down there.
Before Haplo could stop him, Bane slid down into the hole like an eel and disappeared.
The statue of the Manger began to revolve upon its base, sliding shut.
“Go after him!” shouted Haplo.
The dog jumped into the slowly closing gap. The last Haplo saw was the tip of a tail.
“Limbeck, stop it from closing!” Haplo all but dropped Jarre and started for the statue at a run. But Limbeck was ahead of him.
The stout dwarf lumbered across the Factree floor, short, thick legs pumping furiously. Reaching the statue, he hurled himself bodily into the slowly narrowing gap and wedged himself firmly between the base and floor. Giving the statue a push, he shoved it back open, then bent to examine it.
“Ah, so that’s how it works,” he said, pushing his spectacles back up his nose. He reached out a hand to check his theory by fiddling with a catch he’d discovered.
Haplo planted his foot gently but firmly on the dwarfs fingers.
23
Limbeck discovered that the eyeball was, in actuality, a magic lantern. Bane, watching the moving pictures exhibited in the eyeball, figured out what the Kicksey-winsey was supposed to do—bring the various floating continents of Mid and High Realms into alignment, supply them with water.