The War of the Lance by Weis, Margaret

cord to keep out of the way.

Eventually, in desperation, she crawled back to a

section of floor that every last mallet had failed to pass

over. She glanced in all directions, poised to spring, until

the mallets gradually lost momentum and dangled limply

from the tangled elastics.

In the far comer, Standback applauded. “A perfect

test.” He wrote furiously on his stomach. “Absolutely

perfect, with the exception of a few trajectory defects.”

Mara looked down. She was crouched over the X.

“You tried to kill me.”

Standback shook his head violently. “Never. The

Spybanger is designed only for self-protection; killing is

purely accidental. Can you help me rig these back up?”

From a comer cabinet, Standback produced a large

wooden crank. He inserted the crank into a spring and

ratchet arrangement in the first trap and turned it until the

mechanism was tight enough to leave room for the

hammer in front of it. He lifted the mallet laboriously,

then stood back, panting.

“And so amazingly easy to reload,” he said, struggling

to shut the trap before the hammer flew out.

Mara helped crank and lift the other five. “What else

have you been working on?”

In answer, he led her through a second door – which

led through a short tunnel to another room.

“This isn’t for spies, and it’s not an offensive weapon.

It’s a shock-lessening device, a preventive measure for

high-impact disasters. A pneumatically seismosensitive

counter-measure for offsetting combat-related upheavals.”

“What does it do?”

“I just told you,” Standback snapped. “When we get

there, would you stand in the center of the room, right on

the X?”

Mara started to agree readily, then stopped. “Is it

supposed to be the safest place?”

Standback nodded.

“In that case,” Mara said politely, “why don’t YOU

stand on it, and I’ll observe?”

The gnome’s shaggy eyebrows shot up. “That’s kind of

you.” He stepped onto the X. “You don’t mind taking the

extra risk?”

“Never.” Mara folded her arms. “Danger and I are

well acquainted.”

“All right. Watch, then. The Thudbagger is designed

to protect against impact.” He paused. “You’ve seen the

gnomeflingers in use, above?”

Mara shuddered. She. had flitted down from level to

level in the shadows, watching as gnomes sailed from

level to level (and, usually, down again) from the bulky

catapults that were equipped with everything except

accuracy and control.

“Well,” Standback continued, “this may surprise you,

but several visiting knights thought that the gnomeflingers

might also be dangerous.”

“No!”

“Truly. They thought – now, to my mind, it takes a

twisted mind to think this in the first place – that someone

could use the gnomeflingers to throw dead weight

projectiles instead of passengers. Well, we performed

some experiments, but we never got reliable enough

results to suggest that this would work.”

“Why not?” Mara asked.

Standback sighed. “Mostly because the note-takers

kept getting crushed by thrown rocks. At any rate, the

knights asked us to come up with a defense to protect

getting hurt by flying rocks. They talked about shields,

and barriers, but our Hazard Analysis Committee

interviewed the gnomeflinger Impact Test Survivors and

concluded that the problem went beyond shields and

walls. I brought their results down here with me.” He led

her into the next room.

The furniture, Mara noted with relief, did not look

banged up at all. How dangerous could this room be?

A closer look revealed the furniture to be brand new.

The comers of the room contained large piles of splinters.

“Are you sure you want ME to stand on the X?”

Stand-back asked. “After all, I guarantee it to be the safest

place in the room.”

Mara bowed to him. “All the more reason to give it to

you.”

He was flattered. “How kind you are, and how

brave.”

“I am also called Mara the Courageous,” she said.

Standback was not surprised.

He stepped onto the X and folded his arms

confidently. “This room has a broad-band sensor.” He

pointed to a small round bump in the floor. “Stamp

anywhere. You don’t need to do it very hard.”

The floor looked to be some kind of parquet, broken

at regular intervals with circular lids each the size of a

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