Phule stooped, trying to see if he could detect anything from a lower angle. But, as before, the opening stayed opaque, although apparently perfectly transparent to material substances. Through it, a round object about the size of a person’s head came bouncing, making a jingling noise as it rolled across the enclosure and came to a stop at Beeker’s feet. The butler bent to pick it up. “What in the world is this, sir?” he asked, holding it balanced on his palm.
Phule looked at the object, then said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a gravball. Except they’ve put a bell inside it for some reason.”
Rembrandt had taken advantage of an hour off duty to sketch the rugged terrain just beyond the Legion camp’s perimeter. As always, she found that the challenge of turning blank paper into a recognizable picture of a specific landscape helped clear her mind of other matters-of which there were far too many at present-for a short time. But, as too often happened, other matters had come looking for her, and now she was going to have to deal with them.
“OK, Sushi, tell me what you’ve found,” she said, wearily setting aside her sketchpad and pencil. “I won’t even ask where you and Do-Wop have been hiding.”
“I wouldn’t tell you,” said Sushi. “Major Botchup hasn’t found out about us yet, but somehow, I don’t think he’d authorize us to continue the search. And we have every intention of keeping it going. As Do-Wop says, `If the major don’t like it, he can shove it.'”
“Sounds just like what he’d say,” said Rembrandt. “But maybe you should ask yourself, what if I don’t like it?”