The Hand of Chaos

16

Jarre sat cross-legged on the floor of the Factree, near the statue of the Manger, trying not to look at the opening at the statue’s base, the opening that led back down the stairs into the strange tunnels. Yet as often as she determined not to look at it, that was how often she discovered herself looking at it.

She fixed her gaze on some other object: one of the elven guards, Bane, the unhappy dog. The next thing Jarre knew, she was looking back at the opening. Waiting, watching for Limbeck.

She had planned exactly what she’d do when she saw Limbeck come peering and stumbling his way up out of the hole. She’d create a diversion, just like the diversion she’d created back down there in the tunnels. She’d make it look like she was trying to escape. She’d run toward the front of the Factree, away from the statue. That would give Limbeck time to sneak across the floor and slip back down into the dwarven tunnels, the way they’d come up.

“I just hope he won’t do anything stupid and chivalrous,” Jarre said to herself, her gaze sliding back to the statue. “Like try to rescue me. That’s what the old Limbeck would have done. Fortunately, he has more sense now.” Yes, he has more sense. He’s extremely sensible. It was sensible of him to let me sacrifice myself, allow the elves to capture me, let me lead them away from the room with the automaton. It was my plan, after all. Limbeck agreed to it immediately. Very sensible of him. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to convince me to stay, didn’t offer to go with me.

“Take care of yourself, my dear,” he said, peering at me through those infernal spectacles, “and don’t tell them about this room.” All very sensible. I admire sensible people.

Which made Jarre wonder why she had a sudden desire to slug Limbeck in his sensible mouth.

Sighing, she stared at the statue and remembered her plan and what it had gained them.

Running down the tunnel, she’d been more frightened at the sight of Haplo, his skin glowing with bright magic, than she had been of the elves. She almost hadn’t been able to go through with her plan, then Bane had shouted out something in elven about Gegs and had pointed down the tunnel, in the direction of the room.

After that, it had been all confusion. Terrified that they’d find Limbeck, Jarre ran out in the open, shouting that she was alone. Something whizzed past her ear. She heard Haplo cry out in pain. Looking around, she saw him writhing on the floor, the magical glow of his skin fading rapidly. She’d turned to go back to help him, but two elves caught hold of her, held her fast. One of the elves bent down near Haplo, examined him closely. The others kept back. A shout from upstairs, followed by a whining cry from Bane, indicated that the elves had managed to catch the boy.

The elf kneeling beside Haplo glanced up at his men, said something Jarre couldn’t understand, and made an imperative gesture. The two elves hauled her up the stairs, back up here into the Factree.

She found Bane sitting on the floor, looking smug. The dog had flopped down beside the boy, who had his hand on the animal’s ruff. Every time the dog tried to get up, probably to go check on its master, Bane coaxed it to stay put.

“Don’t move!” the elves ordered Jarre, speaking crude dwarven. She obeyed meekly enough, plopping herself down beside Bane.

“Where’s Limbeck?” the boy asked her, speaking dwarven in a loud whisper. When had he learned to speak her language? The last time he’d been here, he couldn’t speak dwarven. She’d only just now thought of it, noticed how irritating it was.

Jarre fixed him with a blank stare, as if he’d been speaking elven and she didn’t understand. Glancing surreptitiously at their guards, she saw them engaged in low-voiced conversation, saw them glance more than once at the opening in the statue’s base.

Turning back to Bane, Jarre placed two fingers on the boy’s arm, pinched him hard.

“I’m alone,” she said to him. “And don’t you forget it.” Bane opened his mouth to cry out. Taking one look at Jarre’s face, however, the boy decided it was best to keep silent. Nursing his bruised arm, he scooted away from her and was now sitting quietly, either sulking or plotting some new mischief.

Jarre couldn’t help but think that, somehow, this was all his fault. She decided she didn’t like Bane.

Nothing much was happening now. The other elves paced restlessly about the statue, guarding their prisoners and casting nervous glances down the stairs. The elf captain and Haplo did not return. And there was no sign of Limbeck. Time crawled when you were caught in situations like this. Jarre knew that and made allowances. And even with allowances, it occurred to her that she’d been sitting here a long, long time. She wondered how long those magic symbols Haplo had put above the arches to show the way out would last, didn’t think it could be as long as this.

Limbeck wasn’t coming. He wasn’t coming to rescue her. Or join her. He was going to be ...sensible.

Booted footsteps rang on the Factree floor. A voice called out, the guards snapped to attention. Jarre, hope in her heart, prepared to run. But no respectable, bespectacled leader of WUPP appeared.

It was only an elf. And he was coming from a different direction, from the front of the Factree. Jarre sighed.

Pointing to Bane and Jarre, the elf said something in elven mat Jarre didn’t understand. The guards were quick to respond. They appeared relieved, in fact. Bane, looking more cheerful, jumped to his feet. The dog bounded up with an eager whimper. Jarre stayed where she was.

“Come on, Jarre,” the boy said, with a smile that magnanimously forgave all.

“They’re taking us out of here.”

“Where?” she asked suspiciously, standing up slowly.

“To see the lord commander. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll take care of you.”

Jarre wasn’t buying it. “Where’s Haplo?”

She glowered at the approaching elves, folded her arms across her chest, braced to stay put, if necessary.

“How should I know?” Bane asked, shrugging. “The last I saw of him, he was down there, about to let loose some of that magic of his. I guess it must not have worked,” he added.

Smugly, Jarre thought. “It didn’t. He was hurt. The elf threw a knife at him.”

“That’s too bad,” said Bane, blue eyes wide. “Was... um... was Limbeck with him?”

Jarre stared at the boy blankly. “Limbeck who?”

Bane flushed in anger, but before he could badger her, a guard broke up the conversation.

“Move along, Geg,” he ordered in dwarven.

Jarre didn’t want to move along. She didn’t want to see this lord commander. She didn’t want to leave without knowing what had happened to Limbeck and to Haplo. She looked defiant, was about to make a stand that would have probably earned her a blow from the guard, when it suddenly occurred to her that Limbeck might be hiding down there, waiting for exactly this opportunity. Waiting for the guards to leave so that he could make good his escape. Meekly, she fell into step beside Bane.

Behind them, one of the elves shouted a question. The newly arrived elf answered with what sounded like an order.

Uneasy, Jarre glanced back.

Several elves were gathering around the statue.

“What are they doing?” she asked Bane fearfully.

“Guarding the opening,” said Bane, with a sly smile.

“Watch where you’re going! And keep moving, maggot,” ordered the elf. He gave Jarre a rough shove.

Jarre had no choice but to obey. She walked toward the Factree entrance. Behind her, the elves took up positions near the statue, but not too near the forbidding opening.

“Oh, Limbeck.” Jarre sighed. “Be sensible.”