Another hand clamped over her mouth. "Bite me and I will stick a knife into you." This person sounded like he meant it. After a moment, she was picked up and carried off.
* * *
When they removed the heavy cloth, the Leewit found herself in a small chamber with a large balcony. Like all the Sprite places she'd seen, it was full of translucent glass.
The hand was pulled away from her mouth. She finally got to that scream she'd been saving up.
"Scream all you like," said the Sprite that had had his hand clapped over her mouth. "No one can hear you here, alien thing. Although Luwis may decide to punish you for biting his fingers."
"Who are you?" demanded the Leewit, looking around the room. It had a very high ceiling and was full of beautiful and delicate ornaments.
The Sprite's slanted eyebrows went up. "I would have thought it was quite obvious, small alien. We are spies from Delaron. We want to know what you're doing here, and just where you're from."
The Leewit rolled her eyes. "Clumping stupid!" She gave the Sprite an accusing glare. He seemed a bit befuddled.
That mollified the Leewit. A bit.
Of course, it didn't mollify her enough to be cooperative. She was the Leewit, after all.
So she did what she normally did when she was in trouble. Went straight up. She still weighed a lot less than the Sprites, and she'd spotted a high shelf full of obviously very precious bric-a-bracs. Before her three captors knew quite what was going on, she was on the shelf. Of course, most Sprites could levitate also. But there wasn't going to be any of that fragile glass and crystal stuff left by the time they caught her.
"Hey! Come down! Come down or you'll be sorry!" said the one with the bitten fingers. "Here, Wellpo. Make her come down before she bumps anything off there."
The Leewit shaped her lips into a whistle. One of her best and favorite.
It worked even better on the Sprites than on the people she'd tried it on before. Bones in the ears weren't . . . what was the word—flexible. They wouldn't shatter in there, but they did hurt.
The three doubled up, holding their ears. Just to keep in practice, she blew a beautiful shatterer at a display of rose and amethyst crystals on the table. It exploded very nicely.
But when the Leewit saw the look of fury on the face of the one who had threatened to stick a knife into her, she realized she wasn't high enough. There was a narrow chimneylike opening in one corner of the ceiling. It was made up of mirrors and had a skylight, and there was a small sill at the top that she could perch on. Best of all, even if they could levitate, none of the Sprites were going to fit into the mirror-chimney.
The Leewit scooted up. It was a tight fit even for her and it wasn't very comfortable. But then, from the angry sounds the Sprites were making, it would be a lot less comfortable down there.
A questing arm came feeling upwards. When it found the ledge, the Leewit stepped on the fingers as hard as she could.
"Oww!" The fingers vanished.
"Leave her, Luwis," said one of the other kidnappers. "She'll have to come down sooner or later."
"That's well enough for you, Wellpo. Why did we not take her to your chambers? You don't have skylighting."
"For two reasons, as I already explained to you. First, it's too far away. Secondly, it is near that stiff-necked old Laar's chambers. Given what that ass Nalin accused Laar of, that area of Aloorn is almost bound to be searched."
"But she has smashed my precious crystal sculpture-work. Smashed it!"
"She'll come down in time."
"I'll murder her!"
The Leewit giggled and whistled again. It was hard to be directional from here, but by the howl of anguish . . . she'd gotten lucky. And once the howl died away, she could hear the tinkling sounds of a glass ornament raining little pieces of its former self onto the floor.
Still, they were quite right. She couldn't stay up here forever. She was pretty tired, and starting to get hungry. She looked at the tiny chimneylike space she was wedged in. It was nothing more than a long tube with a window at the top. She peered out the window, but there wasn't much that she could see. It was dark out there.
But she knew they must be high up. Going out, this high off the ground, was scary. But . . . not as scary as going down, or trying to stay here until she fell.
So she whistled at the window.
All that did was make her ears ring. Angrily, the Leewit struck the window with her little fist.
The skylight opened right up, as neatly as you please. She must have hit a release of some kind that she hadn't even noticed.
Sticking her head out, she could see much better. It was less dark outside than she'd thought. The window must have been filtered. Best of all, this wasn't an opening over a sheer drop to the ground below—the window opened onto the roof. In an scrambling instant, the Leewit was out of the hole and onto the rooftops.
Someone else would have started their escape immediately. Not the Leewit. She turned, stuck her face back though the skylight window, and sent a real crystal-shattering whistle down into the chamber. Then, her shrill and powerful voice overrode the howls and splintering sounds below. The Leewit bestowed upon the Sprites any number of descriptions of themselves, using terms she'd picked up since their voyage began. Most of them were in the Sprites' own language, selected from the terms Hantis had bestowed on the little Sprite muck-a-muck. But the term beelzit was scattered freely throughout.
Then she closed the skylight and started crawling away across the steep rooftops.
"Boy, I hope the captain doesn't find out," she muttered. "I'll be eating soap for a clumping year."
She stopped crawling after a while, since the rooftops were very steep and scary and there seemed no end to them. No rhyme or reason, either, that she could see, to the Sprite notion of architecture.
When she came across a little cluster of skylights that formed something like a nest, she decided to stop. She was very tired and felt very alone, and the rooftops were very high and very steep and she was very scared—and, now, night was falling.
"It's not clumping fair!" the Leewit protested to the universe.
The universe gave no reply. Grumbling with indignation, the Leewit crept into the cluster of skylights and curled up among them. It wasn't the warmest or most comfortable place to sleep; but, in a tucked away corner, the littlest witch slept all the same.
* * *
Sleep was far from Hantis. She knew what danger they were in, and she was terribly worried about the Leewit. The worry steadily built into anger. By the time Arvin Warmaker finally walked into her room of confinement, she was quite ready to start her brawl with him all over again.
But . . . the High Lord looked even smaller than he had when she first met him—and a lot younger. All the Sprites she'd seen seemed much smaller than her people, which was something of the opposite to the way history had painted the matter.
He also looked very worried. "I had planned to leave this until the gathering tomorrow. But now the littlest of your band has escaped or been seized. Why are you trying to push us into this war with Delaron? I have tried very hard to avoid it. We've had generations of war. Surely that is enough?" His tone was plaintive.
The wind was taken out of Hantis' sails. "Avoid . . ."
"Despite what Nalin and his cohorts say, I am not convinced that it would be wise," said Arvin. "Or that we would win anyway, even if it were."
Hantis took a deep breath. She could tell that he spoke the truth.
So, it was history that had lied. Well, it wouldn't be the first time.
"High Lord Arvin, do you have a truth-speaker among your councilors?"
He shook his head. "Such klatha powers are rare. It is a pity, because they are useful to a ruler."