“The hero, ah, the one who brought you in … ah … hid
them,” said the gnome.
“Hid them?” she shrieked, rising from the table.
“Ah, yes. To keep away burglars, you know. He said he
would return them when he got back . . .”
Kali intended to say that the hero would not return for
more than a few days and why didn’t the woman rest, but
things started to happen very quickly then. Making that
gear-grinding noise again, the warrior pushed both hands
up under the gnome’s beard and, taking a firm hold of his
neck, lifted him off the ground. Kali found that the grip
closed off his breathing pipes. Small sparks danced
between the woman’s face and his. She enlivened this by
screaming at him that he and his rat-faced friends would
find her weapons if they had to eat their way through the
mountains with their teeth, punctuating her remarks by
banging Kali’s head and shoulders against the back wall.
The impact with the wall caused Kali to miss some of her
words, but he caught the gist.
How long this fit went on Kali did not know. He was
aware, finally, that he could breathe again, and save for a
sore neck and a ringing headache, was still alive. He saw
before him the form of the warrior-woman, resting less
than comfortably in a heap of broken furniture, facedown.
Across from him, Eton was holding a wide-mouthed
shovel used to clean the hearth.
Kali gave a breathy, hoarse thanks, but he could see
how Eton was already trying to figure out how to turn the
hearth shovel into a combination sword/plowshare.
Kali put the woman back to bed and arranged for the
delivery of new furniture by the time Oster and Archie
returned with the material the next day. In that time, Kali
had a long time to rub his sore head and think things
through.
Now, despite a lot of stories, gnomes are not by nature
violent. Nor, despite similar stories, are they stupid. Kali
could see that this warrior was going to become enraged
every time she awoke, and that telling her the truth would
result in a rampage that would end up destroying a goodly
amount of gnomish property and perhaps gnomish bodies.
This would not be a good occurrence, given the fact that
gnomes had surrendered to the woman and everything.
Further, she would likely harm Oster if she knew he was
alive. In the brief time Kali had known Oster, the gnome
had decided that the man was one of the good humans,
even given his terrible choice in creatures to fall smitten
with. It would crush his heart if he found out she so cruel
and mean. It would also likely crush his windpipe if the
two were left in the same room together.
The problem was, Kali decided, that he was trying to
work in an area he was unfamiliar with. He knew humans
only from stories and wild tales, and his current personal
encounters indicated something was lacking from his store
of knowledge. Human emotions were even farther
removed. Like most gnomes, Kali was most familiar with
things he could touch, grip, twist, break, and repair. If only
this situation had such “a simple, physical solution.
Looking at the blanket-covered woman, peaceful as
the dead and lovely as the morning, Kali realized that
perhaps there WAS a simple, physical solution.
By the time Oster and Archie had returned, Kali had
not only laid out a plan, but he had made a list of
materials: a closed wagon with oxen, two hundred pounds
of plaster, a similar amount of wax, a stone mausoleum
with an iron fence around it, seven tins of pastels and
other shades of paint, the aid of Organathoran the painter,
and sufficient medication to keep a horse in slumberland
for a week.
He was just drawing up the last of it and was about to
check on the woman (to make sure she had not woken up
again), when Oster and Archie returned. A crowd of other
gnomes clustered around them as Archie described
something in glowing detail, making swing-of-a-sword
gestures with his hands.