Behind her, a whining voice said, “So much for that.”
She turned to see the Grand Notioner, leaning on his
mop handle. “Guess so,” she said.
“So what we do now?”
“Dunno.” Lady Drule shrugged. “All go find Highbulp,
I guess. Let him decide.”
“Decide what?” Hunch frowned. “Highbulp dumb as a
post. What bright idea he gonna have?”
“Highbulp our glorious leader,” Drule pointed out. “He
think of somethin’.”
“Hmph!”
He followed along, though, with all the rest, when the
Lady Drule set out in search of the Highbulp. The last she
had seen of him, he and most of the other males had been
disappearing into a crack in the back of the cave. The
search began there.
Beyond the crack was an erosion seep, a damp,
winding tunnel that led away into the hill, curving beyond
sight, heading generally upward. Drule started treading
along it, and there was a clamor behind her. “What
happen?” She turned to look.
“Nothin’,” someone said. “Somebody fall down.”
“Come on,” the Lady Drule urged them. “Keep up.”
*****
A smoke-hazed sun had crossed much of the sky, and
the hot, searing winds from the east had changed to cool,
whispering winds drifting down from the shattered peaks to
the west. Time and miles were behind Krog since his
awakening, but still he had found no one.
It was as though the world were an empty place, and
he the only being on it. Confusion and sheer loneliness
drove him on, though his search seemed more and more
hopeless.
Then, atop a barren caprock hill, he heard voices.
People – somewhere – talking among themselves. With a
whimper of sheer glee, Krog searched for the source of the
sounds, his eyes alight, his ears twitching. He saw no one,
but after a time he heard the voices again and found where
they came from. Amidst a pile of rubble was a hole in the
ground, and somewhere below were voices, coming nearer.
He knelt, peered into the darkness. He could see nothing.
He tried to lower himself into the hole, but only his head
would go in. The hole was far too small for his shoulders.
He backed out, sniffling in frustration, and heard the voices
again – various voices, close enough now that he could
almost make out the words.
Knowing nothing else to do, Krog lay beside the hole,
listening. The sound soothed and comforted him. He was
not alone after all. He sniffled again, and tears glistened in
his eyes as he closed them.
*****
The old seep wound upward, and upward again, and the
gully dwarves followed it, their candles casting weird
shadows on the stone walls. It was slow going. Whatever
had made the cavern shake and had sealed its entrance, had
littered the tunnel with shards and slabs of broken rock.
Footing was tricky, requiring more concentration than most
of the Lady Drule’s followers could maintain in a place with
so many distractions – layers of fresh stone to be looked at
and tasted, small, furry things to be noted in case there was
time later for a rat hunt, and their own distorted shadows
bobbing here and there.
As a result, the journey was punctuated with thuds and
bumps, trips and falls, and a running commentary up and
down the line:
“Look here! Pretty shine.”
“What that over there? Dragon?”
“Not dragon, dummy, just bat shadow.”
“Oops!” Thud.
“Hey, floor bouncy 1”
“Not bouncy. You fall on me. Get off.”
“Somethin’ shiny there? Nope, just Bipp’s eyes.”
“Anybody bring stew?”
“Where we goin’, anyway?”
“To find Highbulp.”
“Find Highbulp? Why?”
“Dunno. Lady Drule say so.”
Then, from the head of the line, “Sh!”
The Lady Drule had rounded a bend and saw light
ahead. She stopped, and several of her followers bumped
into her. “Sh!” she repeated.
Behind her, around the bend, someone complained,
“Hunch! Get staff off my foot!” Then, “Hunch? Hunch!
Wake up, get staff off my foot!”
There were sounds of a tussle, and the Grand Notioner’s
voice, “What? What goin’ on?”
The Lady Drule turned, frowning. She put a finger to
her lips. “Sh!”
This time the message was relayed back down the line,