“Maybe it’s you,” Bane said, looking up at him with an impish grin. “Maybe the runes don’t like you.”
Maybe, thought Haplo. But the last time I came down here, no runes glowed red.
They continued walking.
“This is it,” stated Jarre, stopping beneath a ladder, shining her glampern upward.
Haplo glanced around. Yes, he knew where he was now. He remembered. He was directly beneath the Factree. A ladder led upward, and, at the top of the ladder, a piece of the tunnel’s ceiling slid aside, permitting access to the Factree itself. Haplo studied the ladder, looked back at Limbeck.
“Do you have any idea what’s up there now? I don’t want to come out in the middle of an elven dining hall during breakfast.”
Limbeck shook his head. “None of our people have been in the Factree since the elves took it over.”
“I’ll go look,” Bane offered, eager for adventure.
“No, Your Highness.” Haplo was firm. “You stay down here. Dog, keep an eye on him.”
“I’ll go.” Limbeck gazed around vaguely. “Where’s the ladder?”
“Put your spectacles on!” Jarre scolded.
Limbeck flushed, reached into a pocket, discovered the spectacles. He pulled them over his ears.
“Everyone stay put. I’ll go and take a look,” said Haplo, who already had his foot on the first rung. “When’s that diversion of yours supposed to start?”
“Should be anytime now,” Limbeck answered, peering nearsightedly up into the shadows.
“Do you… do you want the glampern?” Jane asked hesitantly. She was obviously impressed with Haplo’s blue-glowing skin, a sight she’d never seen.
“No,” Haplo answered shortly. His body was giving off light enough. He didn’t need to encumber himself with the glampern. He began to climb.
He had gone about halfway when he heard a scuffle at the bottom and Bane’s voice rise in a yelp. Haplo glanced down. Apparently, the boy had been about to follow. The dog had its teeth clamped firmly in the seat of His Highness’s pants.
“Shhh!” Haplo hissed, glaring down at them.
He continued his climb, came to the metal plate. As he recalled from the last time he’d done this, the plate slid aside easily and—what was more important—quietly. Now, if some elf just hadn’t set a bed on top of it…
Haplo placed his fingers on the plate, gave it a cautious shove.
It moved. A crack of light shone down on him. He halted, waited, ears straining.
Nothing.
He moved the plate again, about as far as the length of his first finger. He halted again, keeping perfectly still, perfectly silent.
Up above, he could hear voices: light, delicate voices of elves. But they sounded as if they were coming from a distance, none near, none directly overhead. Haplo glanced down at the sigla on his skin. The blue glow had not intensified, but neither had it gone away. He decided to risk a look.
Haplo slid the plate aside, peeped warily up over the edge. It took his eyes some time to become accustomed to the bright light. The fact that the elves had light at all was disquieting. Perhaps he’d been wrong, perhaps they had learned how to operate the Kicksey-winsey and had cut off light and heat to the dwarves.
Further investigation revealed the truth. The elves—known for their magical mechanics—had rigged up their own lighting system. The glimmerglamps belonging to the Kicksey-winsey, which had once lit the Factree, were dark and cold.
And no light at all shone on this end of the Factree. This end was empty, deserted. The elves were bivouacked at the far end, near the entrance. Haplo was at eye level with neat rows of cots, stacked around the walls. Elves were moving about, sweeping the floor, checking their weapons. Some were asleep. Several surrounded a cooking pot, from which came a fragrant odor and a cloud of steam. One group squatted on the floor, playing at some type of game to judge by their talk of’ ‘bets” and exclamations of either triumph or disgust. No one was at all interested in Haplo’s part of the Factree. The lighting system didn’t even extend this far.
Directly across from where he stood, he could see the statue of the Manger—the robed and hooded figure of a Sartan holding a single, staring eyeball in one hand. Haplo took a moment to examine the eyeball, was glad to see it was dark and lifeless as the machine.