Dragonlance Tales - The Reign Of Istar Part 23

"Somebody fall down," a voice whispered.

"s.h.!.+" the lead shadow repeated, emphatically.

Then they were moving again. The source of the eroded gully was a V-shaped opening between squared stones, a seep where stones had settled, pulling apart from one another.

The lead shadow paused, said, "s.h.!.+" again, and disappeared into the cleft. The others followed, into darkness beyond.

Darkness, then dim light from somewhere ahead. With the light, the sounds of voices and the smells of cooking food. The light came through a narrow crack; the lead shadow stopped again. Others piled up behind, and again there were abrupt, soft sounds.

THUD. A hushed voice, "Oof!"

Another voice, "Ow! Careful!"

"s.h.!.+"

"Somebody b.u.mp into somebody."

"s.h.!.+"

THUMP.

"Somebody fall down again."

"Shhh!"

Silence again, and the little shadows crept one by one through the crack and into a large, lamp-lit, vaulted room where ovens radiated, meat sizzled over coals, pots steamed on blazing grates, and people worked - people far larger than the shadowy little figures that darted across an open s.p.a.ce and under a laden cutting table.

One of the tall people in the kitchen glanced around.

"What was that?"

"What?" another asked.

"Did you see something just then?"

"No. What was it?"

"Nothing, I guess. Take a look at those loaves, will you?"

A large person turned away and bent to peer into an oven. "A few more minutes. I ... now where did THAT go?" "What?"

"Half a duck." The voice sounded mystified, then irritated. "Come on, now. These roast ducks are for the guards' hall. Who took it?"

"I didn't, so don't glare at me. It doesn't matter. Get that tray ready. You know how the guards are when they're hungry."

"All right, but I hope n.o.body notices that there are only eleven and a half ducks here."

Large people came and went, and the little shadows worked their way from cover to cover, across the kitchen to a half-open pantry door in a shadowed corner. Behind them, another voice shouted, "How many loaves did you put into this oven? I think some are missing"

Through the pantry the little shadows moved, fanning out, investigating everything. Here and there, small items disappeared from shelves and benches. Past the pantry was a wide hall, dimly lit, where linen robes hung from pegs on the walls and pairs of sandals lay beneath them. Curtained cubicles lined the hall. From behind some came the sounds of rhythmic breathing and an occasional snore.

"Oh!" a voice whispered. "Pretty."

"s.h.!.+"

Tools and implements lay on heavy-timber benches in a stone-walled workshop. As the shadows pa.s.sed, a few of these items disappeared. At the far wall of the workshop, tanned and treated hides stood rolled and bound. Other hides hung on the wall, and others were stacked in piles beside large, covered vats.

A shadow paused near a big elk hide, freshly cured.

"Pretty," a whisper said. "Make nice sleeping mat."

"Gorge'! I take that for hisself," another whisper noted.

"After th' fight, he will," the first said, determinedly.

Candles lighted a wide eating hall, where large men sat at long tables, wolfing down food and ale as servants carried in laden trays, took them out empty.

"Burnish and polish, scour and s.h.i.+ne," a deep voice growled. "I'm about worn out from rubbing armor."

"Captain's orders," another grunted. "Spit and polish all the way. Big things afoot."

"Whole council's here now," a third said. "The ninth delegation just came in. Kingpriest's birthday, the clerics say."

Between ranks and rows of large legs and big feet, small shadows scurried single file beneath a row of tables.

Here and there, near the edge of the tables, bits of food disappeared.

THUMP.

"s.h.!.+"

"Somebody fall down again," a faint whisper explained.

Above the table a guardsman turned to the one next to him. "What?"

"What, what?"

"Who fell down?"

"Who did WHAT?"

"Never mind. I ... owl Keep your feet to yourself, joker!"

Beyond the feasting hall, past a crack behind a tapestry, a wide, dim room held ranked cots. Here and therewere sleeping men. Suits of armor hung on wooden stands.

Shadows moved about.

"Not much here," a voice whispered. "Nice stuff, but all way too big."

"s.h.!.+"

"Here somethin'. Hey, nice an' s.h.i.+ny." Metal clinked against metal.

"s.h.!.+"

After a time, the shadows were gone, back the way they had come. Except for the ordinary sounds of the temple, now there was only silence.

Through ancient seeps caused by ancient rainfall, shadows moved - small, hurrying shadows laden with bulging net sacks, armloads of various things, and objects of all descriptions. The seeps widened into caverns and ahead were glows of light and the m.u.f.fled sounds of voices.

THUMP ... CLATTER. CRASH.

The line slowed. "What now?" the lead shadow demanded.

"Somebody fall down."

The shadows moved on, then stopped abruptly as a mighty roar came from somewhere - a roar like the rus.h.i.+ng of water. A shout mingled with the sound, then stopped abruptly, only to return as a frantic echo of someone splas.h.i.+ng and coughing.

The shadows had disappeared into hiding places. Now, as the sound subsided, they crept forth again, cautiously.

"What that?" one or more whispered.

"Who knows?" the answer came. "Gone now, though.

Come on."

Again the shadows moved, hurrying toward the light.

Again splas.h.i.+ng ...

"Stop!" the lead one ordered. "What this stuff on floor?"

"Dunno. Wasn't here before."

"Not water. What is it?"

"Smells funny. Tastes good, though. What is it?"

Slurping sounds. "Who knows? Stop wastin' time! Let's go!"

The Off Day was never planned. Like most historic events in This Place during the long and l.u.s.terless reign of His Boisterousness Gorge III, Highbulp By Choice and Lord of This Place and Maybe Some of Those, the Off Day just happened.

It began innocently enough, with a question posed by the Highbulp's wife and consort, Lady Drule. The lady, accompanied by a gaggle of other female gully dwarves, had just returned from an expedition into the Halls of the Talls, in search of something - some said it was roast rice and stew bones, which could sometimes be scrounged from the kitchens when the Talls were distracted; some said it was feathers; some said nice, juicy mice; and most simply didn't remember what it was. Some things - as far as the Aghar were concerned - were worth remembering, and some were not. Reasons for actions already taken rarely qualified as worth remembering. It was the excursion itself that mattered.

Lady Drule and others had gone as far into the halls as they dared - through middens and pantries, rooms and shops, through a dining place where Talls were having a meal and talking about someone's birthday, and into interesting places where there were cots, personal effects cabinets, and various things just lying about.

The Aghar ladies, instinctively adept at scurrying through half-open doors and under tables, at hiding in shadows and creeping un.o.bserved among the ranked feet of larger species, had quite a successful expedition, by gully dwarf standards. Most of them returned before nightfall - whether all of them returned was not known, because none of them knew for sure how many had gone in the first place - and the treasures they brought back to This Place were a source of great excitement for at least several minutes.

There were two clay pots with morsels of food in them; an a.s.sortment of gnawed bones; an ornamented sandal far too large for the foot of any Aghar; two white linen robes, each of which would make marvelous clothing for eight or ten Aghar; a keg nearly half full of Tall ale; half a roast duck; a mirror; a footman's pike three times as long as the height of Gorge III himself; two loaves of bread; a heavy maul; a potato; fourteen feet of twine; a chisel; a Tall warrior codpiece, which would make an excellent tureen for stew; and a complete dressed elk hide, with skull-pan and antlers attached.

This final treasure so delighted Gorge III that he claimed it as his own ... after the scuffle.

Tossing aside his rat-tooth crown, Gorge pulled the elk hide over his shoulders, squirmed about beneath it for a bit, then emerged with the skull-pan on his head, huge antlers jutting above him. The remainder of the hide trailed far behind as he moved.

Never in his life had he felt so regal. He strutted around in a circle, demanding, "See! All look! Highbulp impres ... pres ... lookin' good!"

He was so insistent on showing off that a crowd gathered around him, elbowing aside Lady Drule and the others who had actually acquired the treasure. Murmurs of "See Highbulp," "Mighty Gorge," and "Who th' clown in th' elk suit?" arose among them.

"All kneel!" Gorge demanded regally. "Make obei...

obe ... make bow to Great Highbulp."

A few of his subjects dropped to their knees obediently, though most had lost interest and wandered away by then. Some of those behind him, kneeling on the trailing length of the elk hide, discovered that it was a very comfortable mat. Two or three promptly lay down upon it and went to sleep.

"Pretty good," Gorge nodded, satisfied at the attention he was receiving in his regal new garb. Then, "Uh-oh!"

The weight of the great antlers above him tipped forward, off balance. The nod became a bow, the bow a cant, and with a tremendous clatter of antlers and oaths, the Highbulp fell on his face, buried completely beneath thegreat hide.

The opportunity was too much for some of his loyal subjects. Noticing those already asleep on its rearward expanse, others now crawled aboard and curled up for their naps.

With the hide thoroughly weighted down by sleeping gully dwarves, it was all that Gorge could do to crawl out from under it.

His wrath abated somewhat when a st.u.r.dy young Aghar came running from somewhere, shouting at the top of his lungs, and skidded to a halt before him. The youth was soaking wet and stained from head to toe - a deep, purplish red.

"Highbulp!" the newcomer gasped, panting for breath.

"News from royal mine!"

"You from mine?" Gorge squinted at him. "What is mine?"

"Yes, Highbulp." The red-stained one grinned. "I Skitt.

Work in royal mine."

"Fine." Gorge thought a minute. "What is work?"

Shrugging, he turned away, trying to recall what had so irritated him just a moment before. Peering around, he walked into a splay of elk antlers and found himself thoroughly tangled.

Lady Drule hurried forward, shaking her head.

"Highbulp clumsy oaf," she muttered, and began extricating her lord and husband from his dilemma.

"Highbulp listen!" the red-dripping miner insisted.

"News from mine!"