The lead shadow paused, said, "Sh!" again, and disappeared into the cleft. The others followed, into darkness beyond.
Darkness, then dim light from somewhere ahead. With the light, the sounds of voices and the smells of cooking food. The light came through a narrow crack; the lead shadow stopped again. Others piled up behind, and again there were abrupt, soft sounds.
Thud. A hushed voice, "Oof!"
Another voice, "Ow! Careful!"
"Sh!"
"Somebody bump into somebody."
"Sh!"
Thump.
"Somebody fall down again."
"Shhh!"
Silence again, and the little shadows crept one by one through the crack and into a large, lamp-lit, vaulted room where ovens radiated, meat sizzled over coals, pots steamed on blazing grates, and people worked — people far larger than the shadowy little figures that darted across an open space and under a laden cutting table.
One of the tall people in the kitchen glanced around. "What was that?"
"What?" another asked.
"Did you see something just then?"
"No. What was it?"
"Nothing, I guess. Take a look at those loaves, will you?"
A large person turned away and bent to peer into an oven. "A few more minutes. I… now where did THAT go?"
"What?"
"Half a duck." The voice sounded mystified, then irritated. "Come on, now. These roast ducks are for the guards' hall. Who took it?"
"I didn't, so don't glare at me. It doesn't matter. Get that tray ready. You know how the guards are when they're hungry."
"All right, but I hope nobody notices that there are only eleven and a half ducks here."
Large people came and went, and the little shadows worked their way from cover to cover, across the kitchen to a half-open pantry door in a shadowed corner. Behind them, another voice shouted, "How many loaves did you put into this oven? I think some are missing"
Through the pantry the little shadows moved, fanning out, investigating everything. Here and there, small items disappeared from shelves and benches. Past the pantry was a wide hall, dimly lit, where linen robes hung from pegs on the walls and pairs of sandals lay beneath them. Curtained cubicles lined the hall. From behind some came the sounds of rhythmic breathing and an occasional snore.
"Oh!" a voice whispered. "Pretty."
"Sh!"
Tools and implements lay on heavy-timber benches in a stone-walled workshop. As the shadows passed, a few of these items disappeared. At the far wall of the workshop, tanned and treated hides stood rolled and bound. Other hides hung on the wall, and others were stacked in piles beside large, covered vats.
A shadow paused near a big elk hide, freshly cured. "Pretty," a whisper said. "Make nice sleeping mat."
"Gorge'! I take that for hisself," another whisper noted.
"After th' fight, he will," the first said, determinedly.
Candles lighted a wide eating hall, where large men sat at long tables, wolfing down food and ale as servants carried in laden trays, took them out empty.
"Burnish and polish, scour and shine," a deep voice growled. "I'm about worn out from rubbing armor."
"Captain's orders," another grunted. "Spit and polish all the way. Big things afoot."
"Whole council's here now," a third said. "The ninth delegation just came in. Kingpriest's birthday, the clerics say."
Between ranks and rows of large legs and big feet, small shadows scurried single file beneath a row of tables. Here and there, near the edge of the tables, bits of food disappeared.
Thump.
"Sh!"
"Somebody fall down again," a faint whisper explained.
Above the table a guardsman turned to the one next to him. "What?"
"What, what?"
"Who fell down?"
"Who did WHAT?"
"Never mind. I… owl Keep your feet to yourself, joker!"
Beyond the feasting hall, past a crack behind a tapestry, a wide, dim room held ranked cots. Here and there were sleeping men. Suits of armor hung on wooden stands.
Shadows moved about.
"Not much here," a voice whispered. "Nice stuff, but all way too big."
"Sh!"
"Here somethin'. Hey, nice an' shiny." Metal clinked against metal.
"Sh!"
After a time, the shadows were gone, back the way they had come. Except for the ordinary sounds of the temple, now there was only silence.
Through ancient seeps caused by ancient rainfall, shadows moved — small, hurrying shadows laden with bulging net sacks, armloads of various things, and objects of all descriptions. The seeps widened into caverns and ahead were glows of light and the muffled sounds of voices.
Thump… Clatter. Crash.
The line slowed. "What now?" the lead shadow demanded.
"Somebody fall down."
The shadows moved on, then stopped abruptly as a mighty roar came from somewhere — a roar like the rushing of water. A shout mingled with the sound, then stopped abruptly, only to return as a frantic echo of someone splashing and coughing.
The shadows had disappeared into hiding places. Now, as the sound subsided, they crept forth again, cautiously.
"What that?" one or more whispered.
"Who knows?" the answer came. "Gone now, though. Come on."
Again the shadows moved, hurrying toward the light. Again splashing…
"Stop!" the lead one ordered. "What this stuff on floor?"
"Dunno. Wasn't here before." "Not water. What is it?"
"Smells funny. Tastes good, though. What is it?" Slurping sounds. "Who knows? Stop wastin' time! Let's go!"
The Off Day was never planned. Like most historic events in This Place during the long and lusterless reign of His Boisterousness Gorge III, Highbulp By Choice and Lord of This Place and Maybe Some of Those, the Off Day just happened.
It began innocently enough, with a question posed by the Highbulp's wife and consort, Lady Drule. The lady, accompanied by a gaggle of other female gully dwarves, had just returned from an expedition into the Halls of the Talls, in search of something — some said it was roast rice and stew bones, which could sometimes be scrounged from the kitchens when the Talls were distracted; some said it was feathers; some said nice, juicy mice; and most simply didn't remember what it was.
Some things — as far as the Aghar were concerned — were worth remembering, and some were not. Reasons for actions already taken rarely qualified as worth remembering. It was the excursion itself that mattered.
Lady Drule and others had gone as far into the halls as they dared — through middens and pantries, rooms and shops, through a dining place where Talls were having a meal and talking about someone's birthday, and into interesting places where there were cots, personal effects cabinets, and various things just lying about.
The Aghar ladies, instinctively adept at scurrying through half-open doors and under tables, at hiding in shadows and creeping unobserved among the ranked feet of larger species, had quite a successful expedition, by gully dwarf standards. Most of them returned before nightfall — whether all of them returned was not known, because none of them knew for sure how many had gone in the first place — and the treasures they brought back to This Place were a source of great excitement for at least several minutes.
There were two clay pots with morsels of food in them; an assortment of gnawed bones; an ornamented sandal far too large for the foot of any Aghar; two white linen robes, each of which would make marvelous clothing for eight or ten Aghar; a keg nearly half full of Tall ale; half a roast duck; a mirror; a footman's pike three times as long as the height of Gorge III himself; two loaves of bread; a heavy maul; a potato; fourteen feet of twine; a chisel; a Tall warrior codpiece, which would make an excellent tureen for stew; and a complete dressed elk hide, with skull-pan and antlers attached.