5

Gnomeflingers

Now remember. No gnome living or dead ever in his life completed a sentence. The only way you get anywhere is to interrupt them. Don’t worry about being rude. They expect it.’

The old mage himself was interrupted by the appearance of a gnome dressed in long brown robes, who came up to them and bowed respectfully.

Tasslehoff studied the gnome with excited curiosity—the kender had never seen a gnome before, although old legends concerning the Graygem of Gargath indicated that the two races were distantly connected. Certainly there was something kenderish in the young gnome—his slender hands, eager expression, and sharp, bright eyes intent on observing everything. But here the resemblance ended. There was nothing of the kender’s easy-going manner. The gnome was nervous, serious, and businesslike.

‘Tasslehoff Burrfoot,’ said the kender politely, extending his hand. The gnome took Tas’s hand, peered at it intently, then finding nothing of interest—shook it limply. ‘And this—’ Tas started to introduce Fizban, but stropped when the gnome reached out and calmly took hold of the kender’s hoopak.

‘Ah. . .’ the gnome said, his eyes shining as he grasped the weapon. ‘Sendforamemberofthe WeaponsGuild—’

The guard at the ground-level entrance to the great mountain did not wait for the gnome to finish. Reaching up, he pulled a lever and a shriek sounded. Certain that a dragon had landed behind him, Tas whirled around, ready to defend himself.

‘Whistle,’ said Fizban. ‘Better get used to it!’

‘Whistle?’ repeated Tas, intrigued. ‘I never heard one like that before. Smoke comes out of it! How does it wor—Hey! Come back! Bring back my hoopak!’ he cried as his staff gent speeding down the corridor, carried by three eager gnomes.

‘Examinationroom,’said the gnome, ‘uponSkimbosh—’

‘What?’

‘Examination Room,’ Fizban translated. ‘I missed the rest. You really must speak slower,’ he said, shaking his staff at the gnome.

The gnome nodded, but his bright eyes were fixed an Fizban’s staff. Then, seeing it was just plain, slightly battered wood, the gnome returned his attention to the mage and kender.

‘Outsiders,’ he said. ‘I’Iltryand’member . . . I will try and remember, so do not worry because’—he now spoke slowly and distinctly—’your weapon will not be harmed since we are merely going to render a drawing—’

‘Really.’ interrupted Tas, rather flattered. ‘I could give you a demonstration of how it works, if you like.’

The gnome’s ewes brightened. ‘‘Thatwouldbemuch—’

‘And now.’ interrupted the kender again, feeling pleased that he was learning to communicate, ‘what is your name?’

Fizban made a quick gesture, but too late.

‘Gnoshoshallamarianininillisyylphanitdisdisslishxdie—’

He paused to draw a breath.

‘Is that your name?’ Tas asked, astounded.

The gnome let his breath out. ‘Yes,’ he snapped, a bit disconcerted. ‘It’s my first name, and now if you’ll let me proceed—’

‘Wait!’ cried Fizban. ‘What do your friends call you?’

The gnome sucked in a breath again. ‘Gnoshoshallamarioninillis—’

‘What do the knights call you?’

‘Oh’—the gnome seemed downcast—’Gnosh, if you—’

‘Thank you,’ snapped Fizban. ‘Now, Gnosh, we’re in rather a hurry. War going on and all that. As Lord Gunthar staked in his communique, we must see this dragon orb.’

Gnosh’s small, dark eyes glittered. His hands twisted nervously. ‘Of course, you may see the dragon orb since Lord Gunthar has requested it, but—if l might ask—what is your interest in the orb besides normal curi—?’

‘I am a magic-user-’ Fizban began.

‘Magicuser!’ the gnome stated, forgetting, in his excitement, to speak slowly. ‘Comethiswayimmediatelytothe Examination room sincethedragonorbwasrnadebymagicuser’

Both Tas and Fizban blinked uncomprehendingly,

‘Oh, just come—’ the gnome said impatiently.

Before they quite knew what was happening; the gnome— still talking—hustled them through the mountain’s entrance, setting off an inordinate number of bells and whistles.

‘Examination Room?’ Tas said in an under-tone to Fizban as they hurried after Gnosh. ‘What does that mean? They wouldn’t have hurt it, would they?’

‘I don’t think so’ Fizban muttered, his bushy white eyebrows coming together in an ominous V-shape over his nose. ‘Gunthar sent knights to guard it, remember.’

‘Then what are you worried about?’ Tas asked.

‘The dragon orbs are strange things. Very powerful. My fear,’ said Fizban more to himself than to Tas, ‘is that they may try to use it!’

‘But the book I read in Tarsis said the orb could control dragons!’ Tas whispered. ‘Isn’t that good? I mean, the orbs aren’t evil, are they?’

‘Evil? Oh, no! Not evil.’ Fizban shook his head. ‘That’s the danger. They’re not good, not evil. They are not anything! Or perhaps I should say, They’re everything.’

Tas saw that he would probably never get a straight answer out of Fizban, whose mind was far away. In need of diversion, the kender turned his attention to their host.

‘What does your name mean?’ Tas asked.

Gnosh smiled happily. ‘In The Beginning, The Gods Created the Gnomes and One of the First They Created Was Named Gnosh I and these are the Notable Events Which Occurred in His Life: He Married Marionillis . . .’

Tas had a sinking feeling. ‘Wait— ‘ he interrupted. ‘How long is your name?’

‘It fills a book this big in the library.’ Gnosh said proudly, holding his hands out, ‘because we are a very old family as you will see when I contin— ‘

‘That’s all right,’ Tas said quickly. Not watching where he was going, he stumbled over a rope. Gnosh helped him to his feet. Looking up, Tas saw the rope led into a nest of ropes connected to each other, snaking out in all directions. He wondered where they led. ‘Perhaps another time.’

‘But there are some very good parts,’ Gnosh said as they walked towards a huge steel door, ‘and I could skip to those, if you like, such as the part where great-great-great-grandmother Gnosh invented boiling water-’

‘I’d love to hear it.’ Tas gulped. ‘But, no time— ‘

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Gnosh said, ‘and anyway, here we are at the entrance to the main chamber, so if you’ll excuse me-’

Still talking, he reached up and pulled a cord. A whistle blew. Two bells and a gong rang out. Then, with a tremendous blast of steam that nearly parboiled all of them, two huge steel doors located in the interior of the mountain began to slide open. Almost immediately, the doors stuck, and within minutes the place was swarming with gnomes, yelling and pointing and arguing about whose fault it was.

Tasslehoff Burrfoot had been making plans in the back of his mind as to what he would do after this adventure had ended and all the dragons were slain (the kender tried to maintain a positive outlook). The first thing he had planned to do was to go and spend a few months with his friend, Sestun, the gully dwarf in Pax Tharkas. The gully dwarves led interesting lives, and Tas knew he could settle there quite happily—as long as he didn’t have to eat their cooking.

But the moment Tas entered Mount Nevermind, he decided the first thing he would do was come back and live with the gnomes. The kender had never seen anything quite so wonderful in his entire life. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Gnosh glanced at him. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?-’ he asked.

‘Not quite the word I’d use,’ Fizban muttered.

They stood in the central portion of the gnome city. Built within an old shaft of a volcano. It was hundreds of yards across and miles high. The city was constructed in levels around the shaft. Tas stared up . . . and up . . . and up . . .

‘How many levels are there?’ the kender asked, nearly falling over backwards trying to see.

‘Thirty-five and— ‘

‘Thirty-five!’ Tas repeated in awe. ‘I’d hate to live on the thirty-fifth level. How many stairs do you have to climb?’

Gnosh sniffed. ‘Primitive devices we improved upon long ago and now’ —he gestured— ‘view someofthemarvelsoftechnologywehaveinoperat— ‘

‘I can see.’ said Tas, lowering his eyes to ground level. ‘You must be preparing for a great battle. I never saw so many catapults in my life—’

The kender’s voice died. Even as he watched, a whistle sounded, a catapult went off with a twang, and a gnome went sailing through the air. Tas wasn’t looking at machines of war, he was looking at the devices that replaced stairs!

The bottom floor of the chamber was filled with catapults, every type of catapult ever conceived by gnomes. There were sling catapults, cross-bow catapults, willow-sprung catapults, steam-driven catapults (still experimental—They were working on adjusting the water temperature).

Surrounding the catapults, over the catapults, under the catapults, and through the catapults were strung miles and miles of rope which operated a crazed assortment of gears and wheels and pulleys, all turning and squeaking and cranking. Out of the floor, out of the machines themselves, and thrusting out from the sides of the walls were huge levers which scores of gnomes were either pushing or pulling or sometimes both at once.

‘I don’t suppose,’ Fizban asked in a hopeless tone, ‘that the Examination Room would be on the ground level?’

Gnosh shook his head. ‘Examination Room on level fifteen—’

The old mage heaved a heart-rending sigh.

Suddenly there was a horrible grinding sound that set Tas’s teeth on edge.

‘Ah, they’re ready for us. Come along—’ Gnosh said.

Tas leaped after him gleefully as they approached a giant catapult. A gnome gestured at them irritably, painting to a long line of gnomes waiting their turn. Tas jumped into the seat of the huge sling catapult, staring eagerly up into the shaft, Above him, he could see gnomes peering down at him from various balconies, all of them surrounded by great machines, whistles, ropes, and huge, shapeless things hanging from the sides of the wall like bats. Gnosh stood beside him, scolding.

‘Eldersfirst,youngman,sogetoutoftherethisinstantandlet’—he dragged Tasslehoff out of the seat with remarkable strength— ‘the magicusergofirst—’

‘Uh that’s quite all right.’ Fizban protested, stumbling backwards into a pile of rope. ‘I—I seem to recall a spell of mine that will take me right to the tap. Levitate. How did that g-go? Just give me a moment.’

‘You were the one in a hurry—’ Gnosh said severely, glaring at Fizban. The gnomes standing in line began to shoat rudely, pushing and shoving and jostling.

‘Oh, very well,’ the old mage snarled, and he climbed into the seat, with Gnosh’s help. The gnome operating the lever that launched the catapult yelled something at Gnosh which sounded like ‘whalevel?’

Gnosh pointed up, yelling back. ‘Skimbosh!’

The chief walked over to stand in front of the first of a series of five levers. An inordinate number of ropes stretched upward into infinity. Fizban sat miserably in the seat of the catapult still trying to recall his spell.

‘Now,’ yelled Gnosh, drawing Tas closer so he could have the advantage of an excellent view, ‘in just a moment, the chief will give the signal, yes—there it is—’

The chief pulled on one of the ropes.

‘What does that do?’ Tas interrupted.

‘The rope rings a bell on Skimbosh—er—level fifteen, telling them to expect an arrival—’

‘What if the bell doesn’t ring?’ Fizban demanded loudly.

‘Then a second bell rings telling them that the first bell didn’t—’

‘What happens down here if the bell didn’t ring?’

‘Nothing. It’s Skimbosh’sproblemnotyours—’

‘It’s my problem if they don’t know I’m coming?’ Fizban shouted. ‘Or do I just drop in and surprise them!,

‘Ah,’ Gnosh said proudly, ‘yousee—’

‘I’m getting out. . .’ stated Fizban.

‘No,wait,’ Gnosh said, talking faster and faster in his anguish, ‘they’reready.

‘Who’s ready?’ Fizban demanded irritably.

‘Skimbosh! Withthe net tacakchyou,yousee—’

‘Net!’ Fizban turned pale. ‘That does it!’ He flung a foot over the edge.

But before he could move, the chief reached out and pulled on the first lever. The grinding sound started again as the catapult began pivoting in its mooring. The sudden motion threw Fizban back, knocking his hat over his eyes.

‘What’s happening?’ Tas shouted

‘They re getting him in position,’ Gnosh yelled. ‘The longitude and latitude have been precalculated and the catapult set to come into the correct location to send the passenger—’

‘What about the net?’ Tas yelled.

‘‘The magician flies up to Skimbash—oh. quite safely, I assure you—we’ve done studies, in fact, proving that flying is safer than walking—and just when he’s. at the height of his trajectory, beginning to drop a bit, Skimbosh throws a net out underneath him, catching him just like this’—G’nosh demonstrated with his hand, making a snapping motion like catching a fly— `and hauls him—’

‘What incredible timing that must take!

—’The timing is ingenious since it all depends on a certain hook we’ve developed, though’—Gnosh pursed his lips, his eyebrows drawing together—’something is throwing the timing off a bit, but there’s a committee-’

The gnome pulled down on the lever and Fizban—with a shriek—went sailing through the air.

‘Oh dear,’ said Gnosh, staring, ‘it appears—’

‘What? What?’ Tas yelled, trying to see.

‘The net’s opened too soon again’—Gnosh shook his head— ‘and that’s the second time today that’s happened on Skimbosh alone and thisdefinitelywillbebroughtupatthe nextmeetingoftheNet Guild—’

Tas stared, open-mouthed, at the sight of Fizban whizzing through the air, propelled from below by the tremendous force of the catapult, and suddenly the kender saw what Gnosh was talking about. The net on level fifteen—instead of opening after the mage had flown past and then catching him as he started to fall—opened before the mage reached level fifteen. Fizban hit the net and was flattened like a squashed spider. For a moment he clung there precariously—arms and legs akimbo—then he fell.

Instantly bells and gongs rang out.

‘Don’t tell me,’ Tas guessed miserably. ‘That’s the alarm which means the net failed.’

‘Quite, but don’t be alarmed (small joke),’ Gnosh chuckled, ‘because the alarms trip a device to open the net on level thirteen, just in time—oops, a bit late, well, there’s still level twelve—’

‘Do something!’ Tas shrieked.

‘Don’t get so worked up!’ Gnosh said angrily. ‘And I’ll finishwhatIwasabouttosayaboutthefinaIemergencybackupsystemandthat is—oh, hereitgoes—’

Tas watched in amazement as the bottoms dropped out of six huge barrels hanging from the walls on level three, sending thousands of sponges tumbling down onto the floor in the center of the chamber. This was done—apparently—in case all they nets on every level failed. Fortunately, the net on level nine actually worked, spreading out beneath the mage just in time: Then it folded up around him and whisked him over to the balcony where the gnomes, hearing the mage cursing and swearing inside, appeared reluctant to let him out.

‘Sonowevergthirg’sfineandit`syourturn,’ said Gnosh.

‘Just one last question!’ Tas yelled at Gnosh as he sat down in the seat. ‘What happens if the emergency backup system with the sponges fails?’

‘Ingenious—’ said Gnosh happily, ‘because you see if the sponges come down a little too late; the alarm goes off, releasing a huge barrel of water into the center, and—since the sponges are there already—its easy to clean up the mess—’

The chief pulled the lever.

Tas had been expecting all sorts of fascinating things in the Examination Room, but he found it—to his surprise—nearly empty. It was lighted by a hole drilled through the face of the mountain which admitted the sunlight. (This simple but ingenious device had been suggested to the gnomes by a visiting dwarf who called it a ‘window,’ the gnomes were quite proud of it.) There were three tables, but little else. On the central table, surrounded by gnomes, rested the dragon orb and his hoopak.

It was back to its original size, Tas noted with interest. It looked the same—still a round piece of crystal, with a kind of milky colored mist swirling around inside. A young Knight of Solamnia with an intensely bored expression inn his face stood near the orb, guarding it. His bored expression changed sharply at the approach of strangers.

‘Quiteallright,’ Gnosh told the knight reassuringly, ‘these are the two Lord Gunthar sent word about—’ Still talking, Gnosh hustled them over to the central table. The gnome’s eyes were bright as he regarded the orb. ‘A dragon orb,’ he murmured happily, ‘after all these years—’

‘What years?’ Fizban snapped, stopping at some distance from the table.

‘You see,’’ Gnosh explained, ‘each gnome has a Life Quest assigned to him at birth, and from then on his only ambition in life is to fulfill that Life Quest, and it was my Life Guest to study the dragon orb since—’

‘But the dragon orbs have been missing for hundreds of years!’ Tas said incredulously. ‘No one knew about them! How could it be your Life Quest’’

‘Oh, we knew about them,’ Gnosh answered, ‘because it was my grandfather’s Life Quest. and then my father’s Life Quest. Both of them died without ever seeing a dragon orb. I feared I might, too, but now finally, one has appeared. and I can establish our family’s place in the afterlife—’

‘You mean you can’t get to the—er—afterlife until you complete the Life Quest?’ Tas asked. ‘But your grandfather and your father—’

‘Probably most uncomfortable,’ Gnosh said, looking sad, ‘wherever they are— My goodness!’

A remarkable change had come over the dragon orb. It began to swirl and shimmer with many different colors—as if in agitation.

Muttering strange words, Fizban walked to the orb and set his hand upon it. Instantly, it went black. Fizban cast a glance around the room, his expression so severe and frightening that even Tas fell back before him. The knight sprang forward.

‘Get out!’ the mage thundered. ‘All of you!’

‘I was ordered not to leave and I’m not—’ The knight reached for his sword, but Fizban whispered a Few words. The knight slumped to the floor.

The gnomes vanished from the room instantly, leaving only Gnosh; wringing his hands, his face twisted in agony.

‘Come on, Gnosh’’ Tas urged. ‘I’ve never seen him like this. We better do as he says. If we don’t, he’s liable to turn us into gully dwarves or something icky like that!’

Whimpering, Gnosh .allowed Tas to lead him out of the room. As he stared back at the dragon orb, the door slammed shut.

‘My Life Quest—’ the gnome moaned.

‘I’m sure it will be all right,’ Tas said, although he wasn’t sure, not in the least. He hadn’t liked the look on Fizban’s face. In fact, it hadn’t even seemed to be Fizban’s face at all—or anyone Tas wanted to know!’

Tas felt chilled and there was a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. The gnomes muttered among themselves and cast baleful glances at him. Tas swallowed, trying to get a bitter taste out of his mouth. Then he drew Gnosh to one side.

‘Gnosh, did you discover anything about the orb when you studied it?’ Tas asked in a low voice.

‘Well,’ Gnosh appeared thoughtful, ‘I did find out that there’s something inside of it—or seems to be—because I’d stare at it and stare at it without seeing anything for the longest time then, right when I was ready to quit, I’d see words swirling about in the mist-’

‘Words?’ Tas interrupted eagerly. ‘What did they say?’

Gnosh shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said solemnly, ‘because I couldn’t read them; no one could, not even a member of the Foreign Language Guild—’

‘Magic, probably,’ Tas muttered to himself.

‘Yes,’ Gnosh said miserably, ‘that’s what I decided—’

The door blew open, as if something had exploded.

Gnosh whirled around, terrified. Fizban stood in the doorway, holding a small black bag in one hand, his staff and Tasslehoff’s hoopak in the other. Gnosh sprang past him.

‘The orb!’ he screeched, so upset he actually completed a sentence. ‘You’ve got it!’

‘Yes, Gnosh,’ said Fizban.

The mage’s voice sounded tired, and Tas—looking at him closely—saw that he was on the verge of exhaustion. His skin was gray, his eyelids drooped. He leaned heavily on his staff, ‘Come with me, my boy,’ he said to the gnome. ‘And do not worry. Your Life Quest will be fulfilled. But now the orb must be taken before the Council of Whitestone.’

‘Come with you,’ Gnosh repeated in astonishment, ‘to the Council’—he clasped his hands together in excitement— ‘where perhaps I’ll be asked to make a report, do you think—’

‘I wouldn’t doubt it in the least,’ Fizban answered.

‘Right away, just give me time to pack, where’s my papers—’

Gnosh dashed off. Fizban whipped around to face the other gnomes who had been sneaking up behind him reaching out eagerly for his staff. He scowled so alarmingly that they stumbled backwards and vanished into the Examination Room.

‘What did you find out?’ Tas asked, hesitantly approaching Fizban. The old mage seemed surrounded by darkness. ‘The gnomes didn’t do anything to it, did they?’

‘No, no.’ Fizban, sighed. ‘Fortunately for them. For it is still active and very powerful. Much will depend on the decisions a few make—perhaps the fate of the world.’

‘What do you mean? Won’t the Council make the decisions.’’

‘You don’t understand, my boy’ Fizban said gently. ‘Stop a moment, I must rest.’ The mage sat down, leaning against a wall. Shaking his head, he continued. ‘I concentrated my will on the orb, Tas. Oh, not to control dragons,’ he added, seeing the kender`s eyes widen. ‘I looked into the future.’

‘What did you see?’ Tas asked hesitantly, not certain from the mage’s somber expression that he wanted to know.

‘I saw two roads stretching before us. If we take the easiest, it will appear the best at the beginning, but darkness will fall at the end, never to be lifted. If we take the other road, it will be hard and difficult to travel. It could cost the lives of some we love, dear boy. Worse, it might cost others their very souls. But only through these great sacrifices will we find hope’ Fizban closed his eyes.

‘And this involves the orb?’ Tas asked, shivering.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know what must be done to . . . to take the d-dark road?’ Tas dreaded the answer.

‘‘I do,’ Fizban replied in a law voice. ‘But the decisions have not been left in my hands. That will be up to others.’

‘I see,’ Tas sighed. ‘Important people, I suppose. People like kings and elflords and knights.’ Then Fizban’s words echoed in his mind. The lives of some we love . . .

Suddenly a lump formed in Tas’s throat, choking him. His head dropped into his hands. . .This adventure was turning out all wrong! Where was Tanis? And dear old Caramon? And pretty Tika? He had tried not to think about them, particularly after that dream.

And Flint—I shouldn’t have gone without him, Tas thought miserably. He might die, he might be dead right now! The lives of some you love! I never thought about any of us dying—not really. I always figured that if we were together we could beat anything! But now, we’ve gotten scattered somehow. And things are going all wrong!

Tas felt Fizban’s hand stroke his topknot, his one great vanity. And for the first time in his life, the kender felt very lost and alone and frightened. The mage’s grip tightened around him affectionately. Burying his face in Fizban’s sleeve, Tas began to cry.

Fizban patted him gently. ‘Yes,’ the mage repeated, ‘important people.’’