Mara heard the faintest of clicks as the minuscule triggers
hooked over the platforms to hold the bent, straining
beams and cablework in place.
She helped the gnome as, very gently, he put the two
units side by side again. “They look dangerous,” she said.
Standback misunderstood. “Oh, yes,” he said happily.
“Someday they’ll have great strategic importance.”
“But not yet.” Mara sighed. “Is there anything useful
down here?”
The gnome considered. “There is,” he said slowly for
a gnome, “a powerful defensive weapon, designed to
break through any surrounding force. I’m not sure that I
should let you see it – ”
“Please.” Mara had little faith left in gnome
technology, but she wanted very badly to leave with
something.
“Very well.” Standback walked her down several
bends in the corridor to a side tunnel. In the middle of it
was a tarpaulin covering something the size of a crouching
man.
“Why isn’t this one in a room?” Mara asked.
Standback shuddered. “In a room, with this? That
would be far too dangerous.” He pointed to the long
horizontal gashes in the tunnel walls, and parallel marks
on the floor, chiseled into the rock. Some of them were
bright and new.
Mara perked up. “Is it really so dangerous as all that?”
“Absolutely,” the gnome replied. “You can parry a
sword. You can beat back a spear.” Standback paused for
effect, not an easy thing for a gnome. “But there is no way
for your adversary to fight off the astonishing Floating
Deathaxe.”
He pulled a cloth off the axe.
In spite of her disappointment, Mara felt like laughing
at the sight of a pendulum-shaped axe, swinging from a
framework of three strange oar-shaped wooden fans. The
fans were attached to a gear arrangement of spools of
thongs and elastics.
“Good design,” she said finally. “If it’s deadly, it hides
its function well.”
“You think so?” Standback peered at it. “It looks like
any other weapon’s design to me.”
“How does it work? No offense, but it looks as though
it is designed to mix bread in some demented kitchen.
What do these little oars do?”
The gnome reached a stubby finger out and spun them
fondly. “They’re called propellers. When they’re in
balance, they propel it.”
Mara stared confusedly at the propellers, which
weren’t attached to any wheels or rollers. “How?”
“In a straight line, if it’s properly adjusted.”
“No, I mean, how can they move it?”
“It flies.”
Now Mara did laugh. “And what makes it fly?” She
saw a pull-cord hanging from one of the spindles. “This?”
“Yes, but only after it’s properly adjusted. If you – ”
“Oh, leave it alone,” Mara said tiredly.
Standback looked crushed.
“I’m sorry.” Mara sighed. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just –
I was going to bring back such wonderful things, and save
my people and make Kalend notice me – ” She choked
back her tears. Queens of Thieves don’t cry.
Standback patted her sympathetically and they walked
together in silence, two people with little in common but
the fact that life was not going well for either of them.
They returned to the skylight where Mara had first
entered. She stood in the smoke and steam-filtered
daylight of the square hole above them and slumped
against the rock wall, looking at the hall of useless
inventions.
From somewhere far overhead came a muffled
BOOM. The entire tunnel shook, dropping dust and
cobwebs. A huge bell carillon somewhere far above them
clanged frantically, followed by some kind of trumpet,
several clappers, a siren, and numerous whistles.
Invisible creatures shook themselves free of the
ceiling and flapped to and fro in panic. Mara clapped her
hands over her ears. Standback shouted in delight, “It
works!”
“What?” Mara could read his lips, though that was
hard because of the gnome’s beard.
“The perimeter alarm. I set it up around the top of the
mountain.” Standback was actually dancing. “It notifies
bystanders – ”
“I’ll say.”
” – locates the point of entry, and even seals off rooms
and levels.” He pointed to the stone trap door sliding
slowly over the skylight to the crater floor.
Then he looked concerned. “They’ll need me up there