The demon nodded at them and dived into the bucket. There was a trace of a
splash and suddenly the dirty water had turned to something clear and
viscous. There was no sign of the demon and the stuff looked like machine
oil and smelled like nothing in particular.
“That’s it?” Moira asked.
“I guess so.”
Danny dipped his forefinger into the liquid. He tried to force his thumb
and forefinger together and they slid over each other quickly and
silently.
“Boy,” Danny said admiringly, “that stuff’s slicker than greased owl
shit.”
“Detergents generally are,” Jerry said.
“So we use this in place of water?” Moira asked.
“Good grief no! You’ll only need a dear little bit of it, maybe a few
drops, in a whole bucket of water.”
Moira frowned. “At that rate, I think we have enough to clean the entire
castle for the next year.”
“Oh,” Wiz looked abashed. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Not really. I will get a bottle from the stillroom tomorrow and for now
we will leave the bucket in the alcove with the mops and brooms.” She
nodded to a tapestry hanging in the corridor near their apartment door.
Such hangings were used to conceal this World’s equivalent of broom
closets. “It will be safe there on the shelf.”
“It’s simple, you see,” Glandurg said, gesturing to the newly completed
wing. “We’ll just fly over the walls of the castle, as easy as birds.”
“We’re not birds,” said Thorfin.
“Anyway we don’t know how to fly them,” Snorri added.
“You built them, didn’t you? You can fly them.”
“I built a cradle once,” another dwarf said. “That doesn’t mean I know how
to have a baby.”
“All right then,” said Glandurg in disgust. “We’ll practice until you do
know how to fly them.”
All the dwarves looked expectantly at their leader and Glandurg realized
he had just backed himself into a corner.
“Here we are,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “You pick it up
like this, grab the holding bar like this and you maneuver by shifting
your weight or twisting the bar. Now what could be simpler?”
“Telling isn’t showing,” Thorfin said dubiously.
“Well, keep watching,” Glandurg snapped. He hoisted the wing, ran forward
and leapt into the air.
The result was a sort of grotesque hop that carried him perhaps two feet
up and six feet forward. He barely got his feet down in time and
half-stumbled on landing.
“Not much flying there,” said Snorri.
“Well, I didn’t get going fast enough. Here, let me show you again.”
This time Glandurg went to the far end of the clearing and came pounding
across the open space at a dead run. He reached the top of a small hillock
and again jumped into the air. The result was a flight of perhaps a dozen
feet.
“There, you see,” he puffed triumphantly as he came back to join his
followers.
“Not very well,” Snorri said. “Can you do it again?”
Glandurg glared at him. “I will not. You do it.”
“Don’t know how,” Snorri replied.
Glandurg glared at him. “Not enough, is it? Very well. I’ll show you some
flying.” He turned and made for the largest tree at the edge of the
clearing. “Come along,” he flung over his shoulder. “You’ll see right
enough.”
When he reached the base of the tree he started to climb. With a lot of
grunting and heaving he managed to reach the branches about thirty feet
up. From there he swarmed upward until he was nearly a hundred feet above
his fellows.
“Pass the wing up,” he shouted down.
“How?” Thorfin shouted back.
Glandurg bridled. “Don’t be insubordinate.”
Finally, with the aid of a line thrown to Glandurg, they were able to get
the wing up to him. The others watched as Glandurg wormed his way into the
contraption while balancing precariously on a branch.
“Watch,” he commanded, and launched himself out into empty air.
Considering he had never flown in his life, it wasn’t too bad. He dived
too steeply and had to pull back sharply to keep from ploughing into the
ground. He overcorrected and soared up again, slipping off to the right as