“No,” he said resolutely. “I’m not leaving.”
CHAPTER 15
WOMBE, DREVLIN
LOW REALM
“AS I SUSPECTED, THE GEGS STAGED THE DIVERSION TO COVER THEIR tracks,” stated the elven captain. He stood near the statue of the Manger, peering down at the crack at the base. “One of you men, remove that pipe.”
None of the members of the small squad of elves rushed forward to do the captain’s bidding. Shifting their feet, they glanced at each other or looked sidelong at the statue.
The captain turned to see why his order hadn’t been obeyed. “Well? What’s the matter with you?”
One of the elves saluted, spoke up. “The statue’s cursed, Captain Sang-drax. Everyone knows it, who’s served here any length of time.” A none-too-subtle reminder to the captain that he hadn’t been here all that long.
“If the Gegs went down there, that’s an end of them, sir,” said another.
“Cursed!” Sang-drax sniffed. “You’ll be cursed, if you don’t obey orders. My curse! And you’ll find my curse more damning than anything this ugly hunk of rock could do to you!” He glared at them. “Lieutenant Ban’glor, remove that pipe.”
Reluctantly, afraid of the curse, but more afraid of his captain, the chosen elf came forward. Reaching down gingerly, he took hold of the pipe. His face was pale, sweat trickled down his skin. The other elves involuntarily backed up a pace, caught the baleful glare of their captain, and froze. Ban’glor yanked on the pipe, nearly tumbled over backward when it slid out easily. The statue’s base revolved, opened, revealing the staircase leading down into darkness.
“I heard noise down there.” The captain walked over, stared down into the hole. The other elves gazed at it in unhappy silence. They all knew what their next order would be.
“Where did High Command find this enthusiastic bastard?” whispered one soldier to another.
“Came in on the last troop ship,” said the other gloomily.
“Just our luck we’d get stuck with him. First Captain Ander’el has to go and get himself killed—”
“Did you ever wonder about that?” asked his companion abruptly.
Captain Sang-drax was staring intently into the hole at the statue’s base, apparently listening for a repetition of the sound that had drawn his attention.
“Silence in the ranks.” He glanced around irritably.
The two soldiers hushed, stood unmoving, faces expressionless. The officer resumed his reconnaissance, descending about halfway down into the hole in a futile attempt to see into the darkness.
“Wonder about what?” the soldier whispered after the captain had disappeared.
“The way Ander’el died.”
The other shrugged. “He got drunk and wandered out in the storm—”
“Yes, and when did you ever see Captain Ander’el when he couldn’t hold his liquor?”
The soldier flashed his companion a startled glance. “What are you saying?”
“What a lot of people are saying. That the captain’s death was no accident—”
Sang-drax returned. “We’re going in.” He gestured to the two who had been talking. “You two men, take the lead.”
The two exchanged glances. He couldn’t have overheard, they said to each other silently. Not from that distance. Glumly and without haste, they moved to obey. The remainder of the squadron marched down after them, most eyeing the statue nervously, giving it a wide berth. Last to descend, Captain Sang-drax followed his men, a slight smile on his thin, delicate lips.
Haplo ran after Bane and the dog. As he ran, he glanced down at his skin—which was now burning a bright blue tinged with fiery red—and he cursed beneath his breath. He shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have allowed Bane to come, or the dwarves. He should have heeded the warning his body was trying to give him, even though it made no sense. In the Labyrinth, he would have never made this mistake.
“I’ve grown too damn cocky,” he muttered, “too sure of myself, counting myself safe in a world of mensch.”
But he was safe, that was the inexplicable, maddening part of all this. Yet his runes of defense and protection glowed blue and now red in the darkness.
He listened for the pounding, heavy footfalls of the two dwarves, but couldn’t hear them. Perhaps they’d gone in another direction. Bane’s steps sounded nearer, yet still some distance away. The kid was running with all the speed and heedless abandon of a frightened child. He was doing the right thing—keeping the elves from finding the automaton’s room. But getting himself captured in the process wasn’t likely to help.