to shut it off. They’re probably completely deaf right
now.”
“WHAAAT?”
“NOTHING.” Standback dashed over to the
Gnomeflinger, leapt on the payload pad several times and
(amazingly enough) sailed easily through the half-shut
skylight. “Illbebacktheleverletsyouout – ”
The trap door slid shut and fell in place with a thud.
The bells, whistles, clappers and sirens above grew
muffled.
Mara stared upward, her mouth hanging open. A
gnome device had actually worked as it was supposed to.
But now how was she going to get out?
She examined the lever on the wall and tried to trace
its relationship to the trap door. She could see a slack rope
that disappeared into a hole in the tunnel ceiling, and she
noted a rod leading from the lever up to a cantilever, but
she couldn’t understand how it would work.
The alarm noises stopped abruptly. Standback or
someone else had found a way to shut them off or, more
likely, had accidentally silenced them. Mara had seen
enough of the gnomes to hope that there were no
casualties.
Her ears adjusted to the sudden near-silence; she heard
the soft hum (and drip) of ventilation devices somewhere,
and the restless motion of invisible flying pests, and
something else: a rustling, back in the side tunnels.
Feet moving – a scraping sound, not quite boots and
not quite barefoot. The clink of metal on metal. It sounded
definitely ungnomelike. At that point, it occurred to Mara
that SOMETHING had set off Standback’s alarms. A
REAL thief . . . Mara hid in a niche in the wall.
A shadowy figure came into view, wearing a helmet
with a dragon crest.
“These must be the weapons the knights spoke of.
Quick!” he hissed, “While the gnome is gone. Take what
looks useful and leave.”
It was a draconian! Two draconians! “What about the
girl we followed here?” The other draconian asked.
Mara’s heart sank. She heard again in her mind Kalend
saying, THEY’LL CAMP AROUND US AND WAIT FOR
SOMETHING TO BREAK – REINFORCEMENTS, OR
BETTER WEAPONS . . .
The captain shrugged. “She’s served her purpose. If
you see her, kill her, and don’t waste time.”
Mara pressed against the tunnel wall, hidden by the
shadows of cable and hanging hardware.
Four other draconians marched out of the narrow side
tunnel into the hall. They were all carrying huge, cruel
weapons. Their wings filled the tunnel. They had clawed
hands and horrid sharp fangs. One of them started right for
her. Mara the Brave couldn’t help herself. She whimpered.
The draconians heard her. One lashed forward with a
spear. Panicked, Mara dropped flat. The spear nearly
parted her hair. Another draconian hissed and slashed
sideways with his sword. She leapt up, dodged the sword,
backing farther away. A mace raked her shoulder.
She began running, heading for escape out the
skylight. I should stop them! she thought frantically, but a
cold voice in her mind said, “Face it. You’re not a warrior,
not even a thief. You’re only a very stupid little girl.”
She bounced from wall to wall randomly to dodge
more thrown weapons, stumbling over a pile of canisters.
She paused. The top one had a label; in the middle of the
polysyllables, Mara recognized the common word for
PEST. She picked the canister up and tucked it under her
arm. If it was the new batch of pesticide, she could dump
it over herself and it would make her invisible. She began
opening it, then stopped.
If it was the old batch, it might kill her.
But then, she could throw it back at the approaching
draconians and kill them. She tugged at the top again.
Or she might make them invisible. She had a brief
vision of herself surrounded by invisible draconians. She
tossed the canister aside and kept running.
The draconians were close behind her when she
reached the skylight. She leapt for the opening lever,
pulling it down with her full weight. It groaned as it
moved … and lowered a cantilevered weight, which
tugged a guy rope, which spun a flywheel, which rotated
an axis, which turned a worm gear, which wound up the
pull rope . . .