“I just hope he won’t do anything stupid and chivalrous,” Jarre said to herself, her gaze sliding back to the statue. “Like try to rescue me. That’s what the old Limbeck would have done. Fortunately, he has more sense now.”
Yes, he has more sense. He’s extremely sensible. It was sensible of him to let me sacrifice myself, allow the elves to capture me, let me lead them away from the room with the automaton. It was my plan, after all. Limbeck agreed to it immediately. Very sensible of him. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to convince me to stay, didn’t offer to go with me.
“Take care of yourself, my dear,” he said, peering at me through those infernal spectacles, and don’t tell them about this room.”
All very sensible. I admire sensible people.
Which made Jarre wonder why she had a sudden desire to slug Limbeck in his sensible mouth.
Sighing, she stared at the statue and remembered her plan and what it had gained them.
Running down the tunnel, she’d been more frightened at the sight of Haplo, his skin glowing with bright magic, than she had been of the elves. She almost hadn’t been able to go through with her plan, then Bane had shouted out something in elven about Gegs and had pointed down the tunnel, in the direction of the room.
After that, it had been all confusion. Terrified that they’d find Limbeck, Jarre ran out in the open, shouting that she was alone. Something whizzed past her ear. She heard Haplo cry out in pain. Looking around, she saw him writhing on the floor, the magical glow of his skin fading rapidly. She’d turned to go back to help him, but two elves caught hold of her, held her fast.
One of the elves bent down near Haplo, examined him closely. The others kept back. A shout from upstairs, followed by a whining cry from Bane, indicated that the elves had managed to catch the boy.
The elf kneeling beside Haplo glanced up at his men, said something Jarre couldn’t understand, and made an imperative gesture. The two elves hauled her up the stairs, back up here into the Factree.
She found Bane sitting on the floor, looking smug. The dog had flopped down beside the boy, who had his hand on the animal’s ruff. Every time the dog tried to get up, probably to go check on its master, Bane coaxed it to stay put.
“Don’t move!” the elves ordered Jarre, speaking crude dwarven.
She obeyed meekly enough, plopping herself down beside Bane.
“Where’s Limbeck?” the boy asked her, speaking dwarven in a loud whisper.
When had he learned to speak her language? The last time he’d been here, he couldn’t speak dwarven. She’d only just now thought of it, noticed how irritating it was.
Jarre fixed him with a blank stare, as if he’d been speaking elven and she didn’t understand. Glancing surreptitiously at their guards, she saw them engaged in low-voiced conversation, saw them glance more than once at the opening in the statue’s base.
Turning back to Bane, Jarre placed two fingers on the boy’s arm, pinched him hard.
“I’m alone,” she said to him. “And don’t you forget it.”
Bane opened his mouth to cry out. Taking one look at Jarre’s face, however, the boy decided it was best to keep silent. Nursing his bruised arm, he scooted away from her and was now sitting quietly, either sulking or plotting some new mischief.
Jarre couldn’t help but think that, somehow, this was all his fault. She decided she didn’t like Bane.
Nothing much was happening now. The other elves paced restlessly about the statue, guarding their prisoners and casting nervous glances down the stairs. The elf captain and Haplo did not return. And there was no sign of Limbeck.
Time crawled when you were caught in situations like this. Jarre knew that and made allowances. And even with allowances, it occurred to her that she’d been sitting here a long, long time. She wondered how long those magic symbols Haplo had put above the arches to show the way out would last, didn’t think it could be as long as this.