“I’ll put you in charge of the council.”
“First I have to become a district leader in order to become eligible.”
“So all right, I’ll make you a district leader. What’s your name?”
“Elton Wormbrood. But my friends call me Tom.”
“Okay, Tom, what about it? Will you help me?”
“I might. It’s been pretty quiet down here. I just might help you in order to relieve the tedium. Then again, I might not.”
“Well, which is it going to be?”
“I’m not sure. Don’t rush me. We worms are kind of sluggish thinkers.”
“Sorry. Take your time. . . . Have you had enough time yet?”
“No, I haven’t even begun to think about it.”
Azzie controlled his impatience. “All right, take all the time you want. Call me when you’ve decided.”
The worm didn’t reply.
“Is that all right?” Azzie asked.
“Is what all right?”
“That you’ll tell me when you’ve made up your mind.”
“That sounds all right,” the worm said. “But don’t get your hopes up.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll wait.”
And so Azzie began to wait and continued turning the wheel. He could hear the worm moving very softly about the chamber, now on the surface, now burrowing under the earth and rock. Time passed. Azzie couldn’t tell how much time. It felt like an awful lot of it. What was annoying was that Azzie’s chest itched. An itch is a most uncommonly irritating thing when your hands are tied to a wheel. Azzie found that by arching backward, he could just reach around to the front with his tail. Carefully now, since his tail was very sharp-pointed, Azzie scratched himself.
It felt wonderful. But annoyingly enough, there was something which blocked a really satisfying scratch. He worked the end of his tail carefully up and around it. Yes, there it was. Clenching it in his tail, he brought it out farther where he could see it. It was a couple of inches long and seemed to be made of metal.
“I’m still thinking,” the worm said.
“That’s good,” Azzie answered. He lowered his head and got the cord from which the object hung up and over it. He lowered the object and touched it with his fingertips, first retracting his claws for better tactile contact. It seemed to be a key. Yes, it was a key! Azzie remembered now. He had kept a spare key to the castle hanging about his neck, where it would be safe no matter how many times he changed his clothing. It was a common sort of key, and it had a small red gem set into its handle. And inside the gem, he remembered now, there was a small spell that he had put there and forgotten about.
He said to the spell, “What is your name and what do you do?”
A tiny voice from the red gem said, “I am Dirigan. I open doorways.”
“Gee, that’s great,” Azzie said. “How about getting these bindings off me?”
“Let me take a look at them,” Dirigan said.
Azzie passed the key over his manacled hands. The light within the jewel pulsed softly, throwing out a ruddy glow.
“I think I can do something about this.” The jewel glowed more fiercely, then died out. The manacles fell open.
Azzie’s hands came free. “Now, guide me out.”
The worm lifted his blunt head and said, “I’m still thinking.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Azzie said.
“Oh. Just as well. Because I still haven’t made up my mind.”
“What mind?” Azzie muttered. With his hands free he felt strong, capable of action again. He moved away from the wheel. Let the dragon shit rain down now! He was out of its way!
“Now,” he said, “to find the way out. Spell, give me some light.”
The jewel pulsed more brightly, throwing shadows across the cavern walls. Azzie walked until he came to a branching of the ways. There were five different directions he could go in. He asked the jewel, “What way should I head now?”
“How should I know?” said the jewel. “I’m just a minor spell. And now I’m used up.”
The light faded out.
Azzie had heard about these underground branchings of the dwarves. They held great menace, for often the tunnel floor was undercut so that someone passing over them would fall through. Down below there were pits, noisome places filled with nasty things. If he fell into one of those, he might never get back up. And the worst of it was, Azzie, like many other demons, was virtually immortal. He could stay in the deepest pit for ages, perhaps forever, alive but bored, if no one came to bring him out. There were stories of demons who had been buried by some misadventure or other. Some of them were said still to be trapped underground, where they had been since earliest times.