When they reached the gnome's cave, the headless bear shrugged them off onto the ground. The gnome took a flute or whistle from his gray smock; it looked like it was carved from brown bone. The gnome played a little tune, and the headless bear shrank until the gnome stopped playing, scooped up the tiny beast, and tucked it and the flute away in the same pocket.
He tossed Morlock's pack into the cave. Then he took Rhabia and Morlock, each by the collar, and dragged them (apparently without effort; he seemed to be strong as an ox, if nothing like as large) into the cave entrance. There was a large chamber filled with many peculiar things, like some sort of magical workshop, but the gnome didn't linger there. He hauled them to the back of the chamber, down a long tunnel covered with mirrors and odd writing, into a larger gloomier chamber deep underground where several iron cages dangled from the roof. There were mirrors and scribbling all over the walls here, too.
The gnome tossed them each into a cage and searched their persons with impersonal efficiency, taking all of their weapons and removing several inexplicable items from pockets of Morlock's clothes; finally he locked them in. Then he turned to Rhabia and, making an odd gesture through the iron gate, said, "You can speak and move. Is he"-a jerk of the bristly flat-topped head-"really Morlock Ambrosius?"
"Morlock, Ingrabe's son," she replied instantly. "He's a tinker, passing through this area. We-"
"You are a very poor liar," the gnome crowed, "as well as being remarkably ugly. You should strive for excellence in all things. This is the watchword I have made the …er …watchword of my life."
Something in the cave smelled rather strongly of rancid fat and as he moved around, Rhabia realized it was the gnome. She also realized that his "fur" was not really fur. It appeared to be a carpet of long yellowish gray warts completely covering his skin. They glistened in the light of the flameless lamp; she guessed that he rubbed fat on himself to protect against the cold.
"This isn't good, is it?" she said, more to herself than him.
"It's better than good!" the gnome responded. "Everything here, everything I am, is the best. I am All-Wise, All-Strong, All-Beautiful!"
"Your smell is pretty strong, anyway," she said scornfully. He could kill her if he wanted, but she wasn't going to flatter him.
But the gnome took it as a compliment, with a smirk twisting his warty face. "Oh, true: very true! A powerful and pleasing scent, refined and carefully aged animal fat mixing with my natural fragrance. I envy you for being able to smell it so clearly, and for the delight of seeing me for the first time. I would wish I were you, if you weren't so horribly ugly."
"Watch that!" she snapped. Maybe she wasn't some rose-petal goddess, but she had her share of admirers.
"Can't bear to," All-Wise (etc.) admitted cheerfully, averting his eyes from her to a smudgy mirror hanging nearby. There was one of these almost anywhere one looked, all over the walls of the dingy place. Dim flameless globes set over some of the mirrors provided a bare minimum of light. Wall space not hidden by mirrors was thickly larded with graffiti-Rhabia couldn't read a lot of it, but the name (?) NURGNATZ was repeated over and over. "But don't worry!" All-Wise said generously. "You can look at nae as much as you like. The effluvium of my beauty is inexhaustible, no matter how many hungry eyes feed on it."
At this point Morlock began to move sluggishly on the floor of his cage and All-Wise began to scream, "Wake up! Wake up! You're missing everything!"
Morlock's head jerked and his eyes opened. "What am I missing?" he croaked.
All-Wise made an impatient gesture, as if it pained him to have to explain the obvious. "Me."
"Eh," said Morlock.
"Something wittier please, Morlock-much wittier!" All-Wise sneered. "Try to match my high standard of conversation! You'll never make it, of course, but the effort should inspire you to undreamed-of heights! Why, just the other day I was saying to myself-"
"What is it you want?" Morlock cut in.
The gnome looked confused. On the one hand, Rhabia reflected, Mor lock had interrupted him. On the other hand, it was a fresh opportunity to talk on his favorite subject: himself.
"Want?" he said querulously at last. "I want to give you your finest hour! I want to give you a chance at greatness! I want to give you a golden opportunity that-"
"Can be described only in cliches, it seems," Morlock observed dryly to Rhabia.
"I'm going to cut you open and eat you," All-Wise snapped. "That way, you will be mingled with my greatness, although I don't expect you to be grateful for it."
"We're not," Rhabia confirmed.
"But I'm tired of your insolence!" the gnome screamed at Morlock. "Tired of your lies! Tired of your slander!"
"Whom have I been slandering?" Morlock asked, glancing around the dim mirror-encrusted room.
"Me! You claim to be the master of all makers-"
"No."
11 -when you know full well that I am the greatest of all makers!"
"I never heard of you until today, Nurgnatz."
"That's an obvious lie, since-" the gnome began, and then interrupted himself to scream, "Hey! My name is All-Wise!"
"These walls are covered with love poetry to someone named Nurgnatz," Morlock replied. "The one I can see most clearly begins, `Oh Nurgnatz, your thighs like thunder bestride the yearning world-"'
"Those were written by my many admirers!"
"They're all in the same handwriting and none of them is written higher than what is eye-level for you. But I take it you admit your name is Nurgnatz."
The gnome ground an ugly yellow tooth or two and then snapped, "It was Nurgnatz. I changed my name to reflect my true nature! All-Wise, AllStrong, All-Beautiful!"
"Why did you ever call yourself Nurgnatz, then?" Rhabia wondered.
The gnome glanced darkly at her and said, "It was my sister's idea. We agreed to name each other."
"And what did you name her?" Rhabia asked.
"Glundoschlunk," Nurgnatz admitted. "But she was ugly. You can't imagine how ugly she was!"
"About four and a half feet tall, flat head, covered with yellow-gray warts," Morlock guessed.
"It's a good start," Nurgnatz admitted modestly. "But she never anointed her warts with tallow! Often they exhibited a dry encrustation! Is this not repellent?"
"In context, no."
"After eating dragon-dung cakes she never rinsed her mouth with dreckooze! Does this not disgust you?"
"Not as much as you do."
Nurgnatz laughed indifferently. His ego was unassailable; he simply didn't believe Morlock. Rhabia was leaning forward against the door of her cage, staring with unguarded interest at the gnome. He turned toward her and, without warning, leapt forward, his fangs bare. Rhabia jumped back, but not before she felt a shock like a hammer-blow on her left hand. Looking down, she saw blood pouring from two stumps. Looking up, she saw her two middle fingers dangling like burst sausages from Nurgnatz's yellowish gray lips, blood streaking the warts below his mouth like a beard. He sucked them into his maw and began to chew.
Rhabia swore more or less continuously as she wrapped up her wounded hand in a bandage torn from her clothing.
"Well, I was hungry," Nurgnatz replied, as if that explained everything. He turned back to Morlock. "I'm wasting too much time here. I wanted to ask you how to get into your backpack. I'm sure there are some interesting items in there that could enhance my reputation, making up in some slight way-"
"I had some problems with thieves," Morlock interrupted, "so I set a seal on it. You won't be able to open it."
"That's nay point, Morlock; do try to keep up. I can't get it open, and I want to. How do I go about it? I'm going to eat you anyway; there's no point in your stuff going to waste. Do be reasonable."