“Bah!” oathed Zulkeh. He glowered at his apprentice. ” ‘Tis fortunate for you, my stupid but loyal apprentice, that Magrit in her cunning has placed here a common and ordinary gate, cleverly disguised as a secret entry.” He glowered further, then shrugged.
“But what boots it? ‘Tis perhaps fitting that the debauched harridan should be undone by her excessive trickery. Follow me closely, Shelyid!”
This command given, the wizard strode through the gateway into the passage beyond. A few short steps were taken by our heroes to the end of this passageway, where, opening to their right, was unmistakable proof of the sorcerer’s prescience. For there, even before them, was a small and dingy room, empty of all furnishings. At the far end, but a few steps away, a narrow and winding staircase wended its way upward.
“Magrit’s basement,” proclaimed Zulkeh, his voice filled with satisfaction. “And there lies a staircase, the which, I have no doubt in my mind, leads to a secret entrance into the witch’s very lair. Leave the sack behind, dwarf, for you are clumsy enough without it. And remember—the utmost trickery and maneuver!”
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Witch Encountered. Indignities and Introductions. The Dwarf Behaves Badly. His Conduct Reproved by a Reputable Agent. The Astonishing Sequel Thereto. Uncouth Merriment and Wagers. A Salamander Protests!
The creaky stairs climbed up and up. The mage and his apprentice ascended, moving with utmost stealth and cunning. At length, they espied a landing above. Beyond the landing lay a door, standing slightly ajar.
“The utmost stealth and cunning, Shelyid!” spoke the mage in a low voice. “Even now do we approach the witch’s lair.”
“But, master,” grumbled the dwarf, “why do we have to creep around like this in your friend Magrit’s house? I’m tired! Why don’t we just go up and knock on the door?”
“Bah!” oathed Zulkeh. “What absurd proposal is this? The witch is not my friend—and this, for two reasons. Imprimis, she is not my friend because she is a crass termagant, a loathsome virago, grotesque in both habit and mind. Secundus, and even were this not so, she is not my friend because I have long since eschewed friendship. For know, dwarf, that friends are as detrimental to the pursuit of science as enemies. I say this to caution you against your regrettable tendency—so sorrily evident in your recent conduct—to become ensnared by goodfellows, jovial sorts, and the like.”
The wizard raised an admonishing hand. “But enough of this nonsense,” hissed Zulkeh. “We must hasten—for even as I whisper, time wanes!” And so saying, the mage prepared to step onto the landing.
But he was stilled in his purpose, for at that very moment the door above was flung wide with a great clatter. Startled, our heroes gazed upward and perceived, illuminated from behind, the figure of a woman dressed in an old robe and wearing slippers. She stood there in a most aggressive posture, arms akimbo, fists planted on stout hips, gazing down the steep stairs over a most intimidating bosom, her face—so much was evident even in the dim lighting—disfigured by a sneer of cold disdain. Atop her shoulder, peering down with tiny red eyes, squatted a salamander.
“Thought so!” boomed the woman in a raucous voice. “It’s that old fart, Zulkeh. And the little one with him—just as Les Six described. Well, dotard, come on up and stop creeping around—makes me edgy! Come up, I say!” Her figure disappeared from the doorway.
“Well, master,” said Shelyid, “we might as w—” But he was silenced by the wizard’s glare, like unto the fires of eternal damnation.
“Unspeakable gnome!” oathed the mage. “This disaster is entirely your responsibility! Look you at the result of your cretinous behavior the evening past!”
The dwarf pouted. “It wasn’t my idea, hanging out with those drunks. I didn’t want to do it. Although, I had a real good time and they were actually real nice to me even though I don’t remember a lot of it and today my head really hurts. But,” Shelyid concluded, a preposterous tone of accusation in his voice, “it was your idea in the first place, so if anybody’s to bl—”
No doubt the dwarf’s impertinence would have resulted in a most severe and well-deserved thrashing, judging, at least, from the gathering storm upon the wizard’s brow. But, in the event, the wretch was rescued by the intervention of an unforeseen savior. For, at that very moment, the witch’s voice was heard to say: “Greyboar! Fetch me these two clowns!”