“Go watch the door,” Haplo ordered the dog.
Bored with the automaton, the animal was happy to obey.
Limbeck pondered, fell back on his favorite question. “Why? If this metal man’s been running the machine all these years, why did the Kicksey-winsey stop?”
Bane pondered, shook his head. “I don’t know,” he was forced to admit, shrugging.
Haplo scratched his glowing hand, mindful that their danger had not lessened.
“Perhaps, Your Highness, it has something to do with the opening of Death’s Gate.”
Bane scoffed. “A lot you know—” he began.
The automaton turned in Haplo’s direction.
“The Gate has opened. What are my instructions?”
“That’s it,” said Haplo in satisfaction. “I thought as much. That’s why the Kicksey-winsey stopped.”
“What gate?” Limbeck asked, frowning. He’d wiped his spectacles, replaced them on his nose. “What are you talking about?”
“I suppose you could be right,” Bane mumbled, glancing at Haplo balefully.
“But what if you are? What then?”
“I demand to know what’s going on!” Limbeck glared at them.
“I’ll explain in a minute,” said Haplo. “Look at it this way, Your Highness. The Sartan intended that the four worlds all work together. Let’s say that the Kicksey-winsey was not meant to simply draw the floating islands into alignment on Ananus. Suppose the machine has other tasks, as well, tasks that have something to do with all the other worlds.”
“My true work begins with the opening of the Gate,” said the automaton. “What are my instructions?”
“What is your true work?” Bane parried.
“My true work begins with the opening of the Gate. I have received the signal. The Gate is open. What are my instructions?”
Where are the citadels?
Haplo was reminded, suddenly, of the tytans on Pryan. Other soulless creatures, whose frustration over not having their question answered led them to murder whatever hapless being crossed their path. Where are the citadels?
What are my instructions?
“Well, give it the instructions. Tell it to turn the machine on and let’s go!” Jarre said, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other. “The diversion can’t last much longer.”
“I’m not leaving until I know exactly what’s going on,” Limbeck stated testily.
“Jarre’s right. Tell it what to do, Your Highness, then we can get out of here.”
“I can’t,” said Bane, glancing at Haplo slyly out of the corner of his eye.
“And why not, Your Highness?”
“I mean I can, but it will take a long time. A long, long time. First I’ll have to figure out what each different part of the machine is meant to do. Then I’ll have to give each part of the machine its own instructions—”
“Are you certain?” Haplo eyed the boy suspiciously.
“It’s the only safe way,” Bane replied, all glittering innocence. “You want this to be done safely, don’t you? If I made a mistake—or you made a mistake—and the machine started running amok... maybe sending islands scooting here and there, perhaps dropping them into the Maelstrom.” Bane shrugged.
“Thousands of people could die.”
Jarre was twisting her skirt into knots. “Let’s leave this place, right now. We’re well enough off, as it is. We’ll learn to live without the Kicksey-winsey. When the elves find out it isn’t going to work again, they’ll go away—”
“No, they won’t,” said Limbeck. “They can’t or they’ll die of thirst. They’ll search and poke and prod until they discover this metal man and then they’ll take it over—”
“He’s right,” agreed Bane. “We must—”
The dog began to growl, then gave its warning bark. Haplo glanced down at his hand and arm, saw the sigla glowing brighter.
“Someone’s coming. Probably discovered the hole in the statue.”
“But how? There weren’t any elves up there!”
“I don’t know,” Haplo said grimly. “Either your diversion didn’t work or they were tipped off. It doesn’t matter now. We’ve got to clear out of here, fast!” Bane glared at him, defiant. “That’s stupid. You’re being stupid. How can the elves find us? The runes went dark. We’ll just hide in this room—” The kid’s right, Haplo thought. I am being stupid. What am I afraid of? We could shut the door, hide in here. The elves could search these tunnels for years, never find us.
He opened his mouth to give the order, but the words wouldn’t come. He’d lived this long relying on his instincts. His instincts told him to get away.
“Do as you’re told, Your Highness.” Haplo took hold of Bane, started dragging the squirming boy toward the door.
“Look at that.” The Patryn thrust his brightly glowing hand underneath the child’s nose. “I don’t know how they know we’re down here but, believe me, they know. They’re looking for us. And if we stay in this room, this is where they’ll find us. Here... with the automaton. You want that? Would Grandfather want that?”
Bane glared at Haplo; the hatred in the child’s eyes gleamed bare and cold, like a drawn blade. The intensity of his hate and the malevolence accompanying it appalled Haplo, momentarily disrupted his thinking. His hand loosened its grasp.
Bane jerked himself free of Haplo’s grip. “You’re so stupid,” he said softly, lethally. “I’ll show you just how stupid you are!” Turning, he shoved Jarre aside, ran out the door and into the hallway.
“After him!” Haplo ordered the dog, who dashed off obediently. Limbeck took off his spectacles, was gazing wistfully at the automaton. Unmoved, it remained standing in the center of the room.
“I still don’t understand ...” Limbeck began.
“I’ll explain later!” Haplo said in exasperation.
Jarre took over. Grabbing hold of the august leader of WUPP, much as she used to do, she hustled Limbeck out of the room and into the hall.
“What are my instructions?” the automaton asked.
“Shut the door,” Haplo growled, relieved to be away from the metal corpse. Out in the hallway, he paused to get his bearings. He could hear Bane’s pounding footsteps running up the tunnel, back the way they’d come. The Patryn sigil Haplo had scratched above the arch shone with a flickering bluish green light. At least Bane had had sense enough to run off in the right direction, although that was likely going to take him right into the arms of their pursuers.
He wondered what the fool kid had in mind. Anything to make trouble, Haplo supposed. Not that it mattered. He’s a mensch, so are the elves. I can handle them easily. They’ll never know what hit them.
Then why are you afraid, so afraid you can barely think for the fear?
“Beats the hell out of me,” Haplo answered himself. He turned to Limbeck and Jarre. “I’ve got to stop His Highness. You two keep up with me as best you can, get as far away from this room as possible. That”—he pointed at the burning Patryn symbol—“won’t last long. If the elves catch Bane, keep out of sight. Let me do the fighting. Don’t try to be heroes.” With that, he ran down the hallway.
“We’ll be right behind you!” Jarre promised, and turned to find Limbeck. He had removed his spectacles, was staring myopically at the door that had shut behind him.
“Limbeck, come on!” she ordered.