The War of the Lance t2-3 Read online

  "You saw me coming?" She sagged slightly.

  " — and I thought, if people are going to jump through the air, which I hadn't considered — until I saw you; you were obvious — we need precautions because of the gnomeflingers." His eyes, a light violet, all but glowed. "We all need bumpers. Yes. Being-bumpers, employing my sensors. Large, high-tension fenders suspended from our shoulders to absorb the shock. They'd have metal frames, cloth padding on the outside — "

  "They sound awfully heavy," Mara objected. She was quite young, and slightly built, compared to the gnome.

  "Then we'd add wheels to it," he continued without pausing, "And a spring-loaded axle for each wheel, and a governor to keep the axles balanced — "

  "Who could move with all that on?"

  " — and a motor to move the whole thing," the gnome finished firmly. "How do you expect to walk anywhere, if you don't use a motor? Youngsters these days." He rolled his eyes, but smiled at her. "Excuse me." Pulling a bulky pen from a loop on his belt, he tucked his chin and began drawing frantic, jagged lines across his shirt — a shirt that was already covered with sketches of wooden frames, toothed and worm gears, and interlocking systems of pulleys. One design started on his belly and moved through conduits and guy ropes all down his left sleeve.

  The gnome looked up and saw Mara staring at him. "Well, I can't always find a sheet of paper when a thought strikes," he said with some asperity.

  "Is each shirt a different project?"

  "Of course not. In fact, some designs are on five or six different shirts. I keep hoping," he said wistfully, "that some day I'll be able to cross-index them, but every time I even get close, I need to do laundry. And here you are." He peered at her. "Speaking of you, are you someone I should know?"

  "Everyone should," Mara said proudly, standing very straight.

  "Everyone doesn't," the gnome said thoughtfully, "because I don't. Who are you?"

  "I am known," she said with a bow and flourish, "as Mara the Wild." She did a standing flip. "Also Mara the Clever." She tapped the gnome's pockets significantly. "Also," she said in a loud whisper, "Mara the Queen of Thieves."

  The gnome blinked. "Goodness," he said disapprovingly, "have you stolen much?"

  "Not — much," the Queen of Thieves admitted. She scuffed her toe on the tunnel floor. "Not anything, in fact." This was why, after announcing her current planned heist to her family, she was also known as Mara the Dangerously Stupid.

  She looked defiantly at the gnome. "But I'm sure that I could steal something if it was really important. I am also," she said demurely, "a woman of dazzling beauty, whom all men worship and crave." She coyly brushed at her short-cropped dark hair.

  The gnome only looked at her.

  "Okay," Mara said grudgingly, "so I won't be a woman of dazzling beauty for a couple of years. It's going to happen, I promise."

  "I hope," he said seriously, "that you can accept all that worship and craving without becoming overly vain."

  Mara smiled and, in the absence of a mirror, admired her slender shadow against the rock wall. "I'm sure I'll manage perfectly. Anyway, what's your name?"

  The gnome immediately went on at some length, pausing for breath in what were clearly accustomed places.

  "I only asked your name," Mara broke in finally.

  The gnome looked disconcerted. "I'm not even halfway through it."

  "Maybe I asked the wrong question. What does your name mean to humans?"

  He nodded. "It's very descriptive, even for my people, and surprisingly apropos. I'm known among humans as He Who Will Not Stand Upon Accepted Science, But Will Research Back Into Dangerous and Even Unworkable Ideas, Nor Will He Stand on Conventional Testing, But Will Fall Back on Hazardous and Injurious Techniques, and Will Stand up for Belief in Technology, Which, Back Before the Great Cataclysm — "

  "What," Mara said desperately, "do humans call you for short?"

  The gnome said simply, "Standback."

  Mara leaped back.

  "No, no," said the gnome. "That's my name. Standback."

  "Are you an inventor? Where's your workshop? Do you do all your work down here? You're not going to tell anyone you've seen me, are you?"

  Poor Standback had no idea how to answer four questions thoroughly without taking a month off. "Would it upset you terribly if I answered in brief?" he said diffidently.

  Mara, realizing with a shudder how narrowly she had avoided dying of old age during a participial phrase, put a hand on the gnome's arm. "Please, take as little of your research time as possible."

  Standback was flattered and grateful. He concentrated. "Yes, I'm an inventor. These tunnels are my work area; I know they don't look like much, but they're roomy. I do all my work here. And no, I won't tell anyone I've seen you," he finished with slight melancholy, "because there's no one else to tell. I'm the only one — down here. It's nice to talk to somebody. Where are you from?"

  Mara assumed an heroic stance, arms folded across her thin chest. "I am from Arnisson, a village under siege, desperate to keep itself free from the cruel talons of the draconian army. We are under the command of a lone Knight of Solamnia, a former townsman named Kalend. He's a friend of my older brother's," she sighed and her voice softened. "Kalend's nice, and he thinks I'M wonderful, but that's really not that surprising, because I'm ravishingly beautiful." She sighed again, this time in dejection. "Though I do wish he'd stop calling me 'little girl' all the time. Anyway, when I met him on the rampart walls a few nights ago, I asked him if we were likely to survive, and he said not really, but if the draconians attacked too early or while they thought we were unprepared, we still might win. And he said that if he had even one working gnome weapon, we'd stand a chance. And I think he meant it," she added sincerely.

  She went on and on — some about the draconians, some about how dire the situation was, but mostly about Kalend, who grew taller and better looking as her story progressed. Standback nodded frequently.

  "And so," she said, resuming the heroic stance, "I left Arnisson that very night. I left unseen," she added, pausing and staring at Standback earnestly.

  "Unseen," he echoed dutifully.

  "Exactly." She stared into space. "Stealthily creeping out under the cover of darkness, I, alone, crawling through the enemy camp…

  She went on again for quite some time, not bothering much about the truth, which was actually pretty boring and she was sure no one wanted to hear anyway.

  Standback listened patiently, feeling only a little put out that she had been going on like that after making him be brief. When she finished, he said, "But why did you come?"

  "What?" Mara brought herself back to being Queen of Thieves. "I came here," she began boldly, then faltered as she realized how it would sound, "to — borrow, or — get, or somehow — take — okay, STEAL some gnome weaponry for the war with the draconians." She was blushing.

  Standback decided that he liked her, but he wasn't sure how sensible she was.

  "Gnome technology is famous throughout Krynn," Mara added wheedlingly, with some truth. FAMOUS and INFAMOUS were fairly close. "There are legends of past great weapons. The Knights of Solamnia still speak of your poison gas — "

  "Yes, well," Standback said uncomfortably, "it was supposed to make us invisible, you know. Still, not a total loss; it does wonders for pest control down here. Mostly." He glanced from side to side.

  "Mostly?" Mara jumped as a loud chittering sound flew by her ear. She whirled, but saw nothing.

  "We ran out of the original batch lately, so we made a new one. It doesn't seem to kill them any more." Standback ducked as a flapping sound passed near his head. "Lately it just makes them invisible."

  Mara looked around nervously. The tunnel, at the bottom of the crater that formed Mount Nevermind, was rough-hewn rock scored by some huge excavating blade and riddled with drill holes and iron bolts. Ropes and cables hung every which way, with pulleys, blocks and tackles, and crane tracks running the length of the ceiling.<
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  Though there were no torches, the tunnel was quite bright. Mara gingerly felt the walls; they were warm to the touch, but nowhere near hot enough to give off light. "How are these tunnels lit?"

  Standback pointed to the glowing fungi on the wall. "We cultivated them for food. Fortunately, the ones we cultivated for light are quite tasty." He mused, "You know, we'd like to do more with biological engineering. It's the technology of the future."

  "Or the end of the world," Mara muttered. She was beginning to worry, marginally, about the wisdom of stealing gnome inventions. However, if the wise and wonderful Kalend. Knight of Solamnia, believed in gnome technology… "Could you show me some of your weapons?"

  "I would love to," Standback said unhesitatingly and formally. "This way, please."

  They moved down the junk-strewn tunnel. "You seem awfully at ease with women, even startlingly beautiful ones," Mara told him.

  Standback was silent — a rare condition for a gnome. Finally he said, "Perhaps that is because I love someone."

  "Really?" Mara was fascinated. "What's she like?"

  Standback Went on at length about the exquisite curve of her left little finger.

  "Okay, we'll take it that she's pretty. What's her name? Her human name," Mara added hastily.

  "It's very beautiful." Standback stared upward dreamily. "She's called Watch As Her Machines Move In and Out, Like a Night Watchman Blowing Out A Candle to Light a Lamp of Such Incredible — "

  "The short form."

  "Watchout." He sighed.

  Mara nodded. "Standback and Watchout. You were made for each other."

  "I think so," he said sadly, "and she thinks so. But unless things change, it can never be."

  "Why?" Mara asked sympathetically.

  Standback glowered and said suddenly, gnome-tognome, "Thatisabsolutelytheworstpart — "

  "What?"

  He took a shuddering breath and said in slower human fashion, "That is absolutely the worst part of this whole business. I have not as yet received approval for my Life Quest."

  "Your what?"

  "My Life Quest. My one achievement, my one goal. It is to be the sensors that go into the burglar alarms. I've already designed them and put them in place throughout Mount Nevermind."

  Mara, remembering how she had slipped in without setting any off, murmured, "Still in the development stage, I guess."

  "Oh, no; they're highly functional. By the way, how did you pass them?"

  "I made an elaborate and clever plan to drop from the top of the crater by rope on a winch…" Mara hesitated.

  Standback shook his head. "Impossible. I have every passage, every window, every cranny and cut of the outer mountain covered by a sensor. How did your plan work?" -

  Mara fidgeted. "I didn't use it," she said finally. "I was standing at the steel entrance doors, trying to figure out how to climb up the mountain, while the doors were sliding shut. But the triple-lock fell off and jammed them open so I was able to slip through — "

  "The doors." Standback slapped his forehead, leaving a pen mark. "Of course. I knew I'd forgotten something. Sensors on the doors. Still," he said quickly, "it was very clever, making a plan with a lot of rope and a winch. You're almost thinking like a gnome."

  Mara chose to take that as a compliment. "Have you shown the committee the evidence of your research?"

  "I can't." Standback looked uncomfortable. "I was cleaning them — with a perfectly fine solvent invented by a friend of mine — when they dissolved. Also, the table under them. Wonderful stain remover, though." Standback's shaggy eyebrows dropped low as he brooded. "I can't reapply until I've proven that I have a semi-working prototype." He added sadly, "If only you had been caught or killed."

  Mara sighed in her turn. "If only YOU were the master of the Weapons Guild."

  Standback shook his head. "If I were, Watchout and I would be married by now. And I would be far above." He looked upward wistfully, as though he could see through the ceiling. "Up where there is honor, glory, and matching funding. Where draftsmen constantly draft bigger drafting boards for bigger projects with larger cost overruns…"

  Mara, disheartened, listened as he described the Schedule Rescheduling Department, the Management Oversight Overseers, and the apparently all-powerful Expanding Contractors. "Tell me," she broke in finally, "have any of these projects ever been finished?"

  Standback, shocked to the depth of his stubby little being, stared at her. "Young woman, any project worthy of state funding should be perfected, never finished."

  "Well, if you're not the master of the Weapons Guild, then what ARE you?" she asked.

  He lowered his eyes. "I'm a lower-level inventor whose future life work must be scrounged from the debris left by the failures of others — "

  "Have you invented anything?"

  "I've done more varied work than most gnomes you have met."

  Since Mara had met no other gnomes, she simply nodded.

  "My Life Quest — " Standback stopped, looked pained, and said with careful stress, "my primary work just now is still sensor-related, since that was my Life Quest. I invent security and safety equipment for home or fort, for the detection and prevention of unwanted forcible spies, intruders, or weapons — "

  "Paladine's panties," Mara said irreverently. "You make burglar alarms and traps."

  Standback said happily, "That's why I was so happy when you appeared. What luck, really — a burglar, coming straight through the burglar alarms and lockouts. It will be a boon to my data."

  "Not luck." Mara was having trouble understanding. "I mean, Kalend ordered that I take this dangerous mission."

  Standback looked dubious. "No offense and don't take this the wrong way, but you ARE rather young and did he really order you?"

  Mara nodded emphatically. "It was when I was walking with him on the ramparts, which I try to do a lot — not that he minds or anything, even though I'm younger than he is, since I'm remarkably mature, responsible, and exceptionally good-looking for my age — and we were talking about the war. He said, 'If only there were one working gnome weapon, and we had it…'" Mara stopped and chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Or maybe he said, 'If there was only one gnome weapon that worked and we had it…'

  "Anyway," Mara went on, "I remember thinking that he'd better not talk like that where the draconians could hear him, or they'd go get a weapon first, and then I thought about how happy he'd be if I went first instead and found him a weapon and saved the village, and — well, I left." She folded her arms over her chest. "Under cover of darkness, like I said. Through the draconian camps — "

  The gnome raised a bushy eyebrow. He was coming to know Mara. "Through their camps?"

  "Well, around. Under their very scaly noses."

  "So you saw them?"

  "Not actually saw them," she admitted, but added quickly, "But I knew they were there, and was too clever to be caught by them. Alone and courageous, I came — "

  'To find weapons." Standback frowned, thinking. "To fight these draconians, whom you haven't really seen. Um."

  He reached a conclusion and rubbed his stained and callused hands together. "Well, as long as you're here, I don't see why we shouldn't strike a deal. Do you still want some gnome weapons?"

  "What?" It took Mara, caught up in dreams of her own heroism, a moment to remember what she was doing here. Her thin young mouth set firmly. "More than ever."

  "I'll let you take one," he said. "Any one you want. If you'll test my security device."

  She swallowed. Anti-burglar devices? "Do I have a choice?"

  Standback was ecstatic. "And right afterward," Standback burbled happily, "I'll write up my test results and submit them to the Committee. And then if they approve my work — and I have no doubt they will — I'll marry Watchout."

  They strode down the tunnel together, their footsteps setting off an uneasy rustling and flapping in the invisible colony clinging to the walls and roof above them.

  "They're only bats,"
Standback said reassuringly. "I hope," he added, less so.

  They walked past a number of side tunnels, their entrances half hidden by debris and hanging ropes and cables. Mara, like a good thief, took note of the turns and the fork back to the exit. "Where does the money come from for weapons research?"

  "I use only junk, spare parts. The main projects were started on a grant from the Knights of Solamnia."

  "The knights?" Mara looked serious. "I hope you're not counting on them for support. They aren't as rich as they used to be, you know — "

  "This was a while back. They aren't as frequent visitors as they used to be, either," Standback pointed out. He screwed up his forehead. "In fact," he said thoughtfully, "I haven't seen them since the last In-House Weapons Test, several years ago. No, make that several decades ago."

  "And you kept the project going?"

  "It never lapsed, even before I took it over. A project," Standback said stiffly, "is a commitment. It's as important as a vow."

  "They paid in advance, didn't they?" Mara asked dryly.

  "Well, yes. Quite a lot, in fact. Here we are."

  He pulled an elaborate key (four notches and a combination lock) from a ring at his waist. He inserted the key with some difficulty in a lock attached to a thick beam door in the tunnel wall. After three tries, it opened easily. "After you," he said. "This room has my first anti-spy device."

  Mara stepped in cautiously. "Shouldn't your alarms have sensed me?"

  "It's a proximity alarm," the gnome said. "Once testing is complete, I'll put hundreds of them in any place that needs monitoring. You can't have too much redundancy, you know." He was scribbling another note on his shirt. "Would you mind standing on that large black X on the floor?" The X had a small bump at the crosspoint.

  A gnome-size test dummy on wheels stood next to the X. Mara rolled it almost onto the X and stood well off to one side. "Let's try it this way first."

  "I've done this many times," Standback objected, "with that very dummy."

  Mara said firmly, "Well, I haven't seen it work yet." She noted that the dummy hadn't a mark on it, though the walls and floor of the room were dented and scraped.