Now that the Leewit had a full stomach, she was beginning to think about how she could get out of here. And it was going to be less easy than just getting out of prison had been. It was not that the two little Sprites were cruel. Well, not on purpose. They were just a great deal stronger than humans of that size would be. Stronger than she was, for sure, and quite happy to tug at their new toy, now that they'd fed it. The worst part was when they insisted on dressing her in Sprite clothes.
They would be adamant that she wasn't going out of their sight, obviously.
"Look," said the Leewit in desperation, "Let's play cards."
"What's 'cards'?" demanded the two little Sprites, almost in unison.
So the Leewit had to fish out the Agandar's cards, have them peered at, and examined. Fortunately, she always carried them with her. The Leewit considered boredom the worst peril in the universe, but as long as you had cards you could always fend off the monster by playing solitaire.
"Hey! You can't eat them. You play with them. Here I'll show you. Do you know Snap? No of course you don't. Look, here, I'll deal them."
Their names turned out to be Lisol and Ta'himmin. Fortunately, they were quick to learn the rules of the game. Mostly, though, they just seemed to love the cards themselves. The Leewit had looked at the pictures on the cards, of course. But the Sprites noticed the tiniest details. They picked up the patterns around the edges, and Ta'himmin was scathing about the fact that each had an error.
"My father makes inlays," said the littler Sprite proudly. "His edge-patterns are always the same all the way around!"
"Play," said his sister. "The thing's cards are thing-made, little brother. 'Course they won't be as good as papa's."
The game was noisy, cheerful and did not manage to distract the Leewit from the fact that she had to somehow get out of here and rescue Goth and the captain. And old Vezzarn, Hantis and Pul, of course. At least, in the hooded Sprite cloak and tunic, she could pretend that she was a Sprite. Even if Lisol and Ta'himmin thought blond hair was hilarious, the Sprites couldn't see it under the hood.
* * *
The young High Lord Arvin had underestimated two things. First, the depth of support that Nalin had gathered around him. And secondly, just how effective Lord Nalin's spy network was.
There was no element of surprise on their side, when they marched up, with Pul in the lead, towards the wing that Lord Nalin had made his own. Actually, it was High Lord Arvin who walked into an ambush. The High Lord had been still-doubtful and had been beginning to question his own judgment. The small band of his guard that accompanied him were not really prepared to fight.
The firefight turned nasty almost immediately, as Nalin's team of ambushers had the advantage of a good solid barricade. Then Arvin stood up and traced a pattern on the air . . . and part of the barricade burst into flame and then fell into dust. Before the dust had settled Arvin's troops were sprinting forward, firing at their now unprotected and shocked foes.
"Push on hard and fast!" yelled the captain, without thinking that the High Lord's troops would not understand a word he said, or take orders from someone who had been a prisoner until the middle of the previous night. He ran forward and picked up one of the fallen Sprites' projectile weapons, trying to figure out just how it worked.
But Arvin, who had looked doubtful about the entire exercise a few moments before, was giving orders himself. He was only a shrimp-size Sprite, but he could do a giant-size job of bellowing, thought the captain.
Instead of chasing after Lord Nalin's fleeing loyalists, the guards began taking up defensive positions. One of them roughly hauled the captain down beside him. Pausert turned and was surprised to see the High Lord was striding back the way they'd come, accompanied by half a dozen of the guards.
"He has gone to raise the alarm," Hantis explained quietly. "To sound the Warcall of Aloorn. Only the High Lord himself can do that. History reached many inaccurate conclusions about Arvin: But one thing no one ever accused him of was personal cowardice. There will be more resistance ahead. Fierce fighting. We are too few for that. Arvin will be back soon, at the head of his soldiers. He had a reputation for remaining calm in battles, although he had a terrible temper. I see that much at least was true."
Things were relatively quiet for a time, with occasional probing shots coming from further up. Then they heard a horn blowing. A sort of wild tantivity which seemed to echo through the very material of the castle itself. The captain saw that Hantis' back straightened as it sounded. And then, within a moment, the attack came from the Nanites. There were several hundred of them firing on the handful of Arvin's guards that had been left to hold this place.
"What made them attack?" asked Goth.
"That was the Warcall of Aloorn," said Hantis. "The shutters have come down with it. Now, the enemy cannot flee the castle. Their only chance is to fight."
"Well, they're doing that all right." The captain looked speculatively at Goth. "I think I need to shield you again, child."
Goth looked speculatively back at him. "Sure, Captain. If you stand behind me."
Pausert suddenly had an idea. "Hantis. Are these men armed with some form of grenade?"
She nodded and pointed to things that looked like Indian clubs on the belt of the nearest guard.
"Could you 'port those, Goth? I'll shield you and you 'port those around the far corner up there."
Now Goth grinned. "Sure, Captain. You can even push me forward like a screen while I do it."
Pausert traced the klatha patterns with his mind. "I think we'll settle for just holding this place until Hantis' nasty ancestor gets back."
"He's not so bad, Captain. Pul likes hi . . ." Goth was in her shield. A grenade vanished from the guard's belt. Nothing happened.
"I think they have to be armed first," explained Hantis, speaking hastily to one of the guards. He took a Sprite-grenade off his belt and twisted the base, and held it up. It vanished from his grip. An explosion occurred further up the passage. The other Sprites began doing the same for Goth.
* * *
Deep in the castle, the Leewit was getting desperate to get out of her new quasi-captivity when a strange wild horn-call sounded, echoing through the walls. The Sprite children dropped the cards, and their green catlike eyes widened. "What's that?" asked the Leewit warily. There were distant clanging noises, now.
"The Warcall!" said Lisol, looking terrified. "It means the castle is being attacked."
"Great Patham!" said the Leewit, irritably collecting her precious cards and stowing them in a pocket. "Stupid clumping place—can't even play cards in peace. I think I'd better go, little 'uns."
"You can't," said Ta'himmin. "Shutters are down. We're all supposed to go to the Star-hall, now. With Mamma and Pappa if they are here or else with the nursebeast."
Sure enough, the nursebeast arrived. There was no time for the Leewit to hide, and besides there seemed little point. The creature looked about as dangerous as belly-button fluff. It was big, furry and distinctly cuddly. The two little Sprites flung themselves on it and clutched it.
"Come, Leewit," commanded Lisol. "We must go."
The huge fluffy beast didn't seem worried by an extra person in with its charges. It just fussed them towards the door, snuffling anxiously to itself.
Out in the passage, where she'd been trying to get for the last hour, the Leewit realized things were even more serious than she'd realized. The passage was occupied by several armed and nasty looking Sprites. "Get back! Get back into your chambers!" yelled one. Further down the passage something exploded.
But the nursebeast was determined to see her charges through to the right place, no matter what explosions happened or orders anyone gave. She hooted mournfully and ambled forward.