More conversation followed, after that, but Limbeck, slogging along behind and beginning to feel very tired from all this unaccustomed exertion, soon lost interest in trying to follow it. Most of what they discussed he hadn’t understood anyhow, and the small part he understood confused him. He did think it odd that elves, who, moments ago, had been quite chummy with humans, should now be talking about “fomenting chaos.”
“But then nothing either humans or elves do would surprise me,” he decided, wishing that he could sit down and rest. Then certain half-heard words of the elves’ conversation jolted Limbeck into forgetting about sore feet and aching ankles.
“What will you do with the dwarf female your men captured?” one of the elves was asking.
“Did they?” Sang-drax replied carelessly. “I wasn’t aware.”
“Yes, they took her while you were occupied with the Patryn. She’s in custody now, with the boy.”
Jarre! Limbeck realized. They were talking about Jarre!
Sang-drax considered. “Why, I suppose I’ll take her along. She might come in handy in future negotiations, don’t you think? If those fool elves don’t kill her first. The hatred they have for these dwarves is perfectly marvelous.” Kill Jarre! Limbeck’s blood ran cold with shock, then burned hot with rage, then drained from his head into his stomach with the sickly feeling of remorse.
“If Jarre dies, it will be because of me,” he mumbled to himself, barely watching where he was going. “She sacrificed herself for my sake...”
“Did you hear something?” asked one of the elves who was holding on to Haplo’s legs.
“Vermin,” said Sang-drax. “The place is crawling with them. You’d think the Sartan would have taken more care. Hurry up. My men will assume I’m lost down here and I don’t want any of them deciding to play hero and come searching for me.”
“I doubt that,” said the oddly dressed elf with a laugh. “From what I’ve overheard, your men have little love for you.”
“True,” said Sang-drax implacably. “Two of them suspect me of having murdered their former captain. They’re right, of course. Quite clever of them to have figured it out, actually. A pity such cleverness will prove fatal. Ah, here we are, the entrance to the Factree. Quietly, quietly.”
The elves fell silent, all intent on listening. Limbeck—outraged, upset, and confused—came to a halt some distance behind. He knew where he was now, having recognized the entrance to the stairway that led back up to the statue of the Manger. He could still see the faint glow of the rune-mark Haplo had left behind.
“Someone’s moving about up there,” said Sang-drax. “They must have set a guard. Put him down. I’ll take it from here. You two return to your duties.”
“Yes, sir, Captain, sir.” The other elves grinned, saluted mockingly, and then—to the distraught Limbeck’s intense astonishment—both vanished. Limbeck removed his spectacles, cleaned them. He had the vague idea that spots on the lenses might account for the elves’ disappearance. Clean lenses weren’t any help, however. Two of the elves were still gone. The elf captain was dragging Haplo to his feet.
“Wake up now.” Sang-drax slapped the Patryn’s face. “That’s it. Feeling a bit groggy? It will take you some time to fully recover from the poison’s effects. We’ll be well on our way to the Imperanon by then. Don’t worry. I’ll take over the care of the mensch, especially the child.”
Haplo could barely stand, and then he was forced to lean heavily on the elf captain. The Patryn looked extremely ill, but even then, sick as he was, he seemed loath to have anything to do with the elf. But he had no choice, apparently. He was too weak to climb the stairs on his own. If he wanted out of the tunnel, he had to accept the assistance of Sang-drax’s strong arm. And Limbeck had no choice. The infuriated dwarf longed to rush out and confront the elf, demand Jarre’s immediate and safe return. The old Limbeck would have done so, without any regard for the consequences. This Limbeck peered through his spectacles and saw an unusually strong elf. He recalled that the captain had mentioned other elves standing guard above, noted that Haplo was in no shape to help. Sensibly, Limbeck remained where he was, hiding in the darkness. Only when he judged by the sound of their footsteps that the two were halfway up the stairs did the dwarf pad barefooted over to crouch at the bottom.
“Captain Sang-drax, sir,” came a voice from above. “We were wondering what happened to you.”
“The prisoner ran,” said Sang-drax. “I had to go after him.”
“He ran with a knife in his shoulder?” The e!f sounded impressed.
“These damned humans are tough, like wounded animals,” said Sang-drax. “He led me a merry chase until the poison brought him down.”
“What is he, sir? Some type of wizard? I never saw a human whose skin glowed blue tike that.”
“Yes. He’s one of those so-called mysteriarchs. Probably down here to guard the boy.”
“You believe the little bastard’s story, sir?” The elf sounded incredulous.
“I think we should let the emperor determine what we believe, don’t you, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. I suppose so, sir.”
“Where have they taken the boy?”
Blast the boy, Limbeck thought irritably. Where have they taken Jarre?
The elf and Haplo had reached the top of the stairs. The dwarf held his breath, hoping to hear more.
“To the guardhouse, Captain. Awaiting your orders, sir.”
“I’ll need a ship, ready to fly back to Paxaria—”
“I’ll have to clear that with the lord commander, sir.”
“Then do so, at once. I’ll be taking the boy and this wizard and that other creature we captured—”
“The dwarf, sir?” The elf was astounded. “We had thought to execute her, as an example ...”
Limbeck didn’t hear any more. A roaring sound in his ears made him dizzy and light-headed. He swayed on his feet, was forced to lean against the wall. Jarre—executed! Jarre, who’d saved him from being executed! Jarre, who loved him far more than he deserved. No, it wouldn’t happen! Not if he could help it and... and...
The roaring subsided, replaced by a cold emptiness that made him feel hollow and dark inside, as cold and dark and empty as these tunnels. He knew what to do. He had a Plan.
And now he could hear once again.
“What should we do about this opening, sir?”
“Close it,” said Sang-drax.
“Are you sure, sir? I don’t like the feel of that place. It seems... evil. Perhaps we should leave it open, send down teams to explore—”
“Very well, Lieutenant,” said Sang-drax casually. “I saw nothing of interest down there, but if you would like to investigate, feel free. You’ll be exploring on your own, of course. I can’t spare any men to assist you. However—”
“I’ll see to it that the opening is closed, sir,” the elf said hastily.
“Whatever you decide. The choice is yours. I’ll need a litter and some bearers. I can’t carry this heavy bastard much farther.”
“Let me help you, sir.”
“Throw him down on the floor. Then you can close the opening. I’ll—” The elves’ voices were receding. Limbeck dared wait no longer. He crept up the stairs, keeping his head low, until he could peep out the top of the hole. The two elves, involved with maneuvering the semiconscious Haplo off the statue’s base, had their backs to the opening. Two other elves, standing guard, were eyeing the wounded human—one of the notorious mysteriarchs—with interest. They, too, had their backs turned.
It was now or never.
Planting his spectacles securely on his nose, Limbeck crawled out of the opening and made a mad, desperate dash for the hole in the floor that led back down to the Gegs’ underground system of tunnels.
This part of the Factree was only dimly lit. The elven guards, wary of the strange and forbidding statue, were not standing particularly close to it. Limbeck made it to safety without being seen.