Ross Lawhead (32 page)

“Make them? Ho!”

“Been them? Hee!”

“Ah, what's the point?”

“Oh, what's the use?”

“Eh, so many tunnels.”

“I wonder who did make them . . .”

The chorus stopped.

“No,” the gnome chief replied simply. “We have not.”

“They know nothing,” said Ecgbryt.

“Perhaps they do,” Swiðgar said. “How long has it been since you came here?” he asked the gnome chief.

“Long enough.”

“Too long.”

“Time flies.”

“It's not so bad after a while.”

“When weren't we here?”

“Ages.”

“Long?” The gnome chief sighed. “Oh, we don't know. After a while all time is the same—a minute seems as long as an hour and the other way around. How long have you been here?”

“We just got here,” Freya replied, growing frustrated.

“Oh. Well, you won't stay, though you're welcome to, I dare say. But if you do leave, I fancy you'll return, just like our cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

“Yes, you're bound to see him if you wait long enough. His name is Gegan. He travels here and there. He'll be here in a minute or so . . . a couple hours at the most.”

“Why aren't you all with him?” Freya asked with a cautious glance at the rest of the staring gnomes.

“Oh, there doesn't seem to be any point,” said Negan.

“Why not?” asked Freya.

All of the gnomes answered at once. “What's the use?”

“What's the point?”

“Welladay!”

“Alack!”

“Alas!”

“I'm hungry.”

“Woe!”

“Well, why
would
we go with him?” answered Negan peevishly.

“All roads lead one place—and you always end up where you happen to be. There's no getting away from it. Anyway, I'm already here, so why not stay put?”

3

“Ach,” spat Ecgbryt, “there is nothing to be got from the wee men.

I say we press on.”

“But which way?” Swiðgar asked, stroking his beard.

Ecgbryt did not answer; he just trudged off.

Daniel looked around at the grim desolation of the gnomes' mining camp. “It's not very nice here, is it?” he said. “Wouldn't you like to go somewhere better?”

“Well, naturally,” Negan the gnome chief replied petulantly.

“But one could just as easily end up somewhere worse. Here at least, one has choices!”

“But it's only a choice if you choose it,” Freya argued.

“Ah, yes, you see how futile it is,” said the gnome with a nod of sympathy.

“No, I don't,” said Daniel hotly. “It sounds like the stupidest thing I've heard. Just go somewhere, anywhere, and if you don't like it, then you can go somewhere else—somewhere better.”

Negan shrugged. “I could be somewhere better than somewhere worse if I just stay here,” he said.

“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!” Daniel shouted, throwing his arms above his head and stomping off. Freya and Swiðgar were left with the gnomes and nothing more to say. After a few moments, the tiny people began milling slowly around the brass lamp, wallowing in the purple light once more.

“Hey, look!” Daniel called from across the camp. “More lamps.”

Freya turned and saw Daniel standing by a large metal rack that held a long line of glinting glass and metal cylinders. He had taken one of them and was dusting it off. He held the base up to his ear and shook it. “It's got stuff in it. I think these might still work,” he said. “Do you want one?”

Freya was about to answer but was stopped by a hearty shout of “Ho there!”

They turned to see another crowd approaching them, a second mass of gnomes with a character very like Negan leading them. He was so like the chief gnome that he was almost identical, except that his face beamed happiness and jollity. Behind him the flock of gnomes was clustered, four of whom carried a lamp raised up by two wooden poles. “Have you been talking to my cousin?” he bellowed brightly.

“Are you Gegan?” asked Daniel.

This provoked a chorus from the gnomes behind him. “Gegan!”

“Yes, Gegan the Great!”

“Gegan the far-traveled!”

“The thick-calved!”

“Sing praise for Gegan!”

“Hip-hippity ho!”

“Hooray!”

“Yes, I am Gegan,” the second gnome king answered proudly. “Have you been here long? No? That's good. It means you couldn't have been talking to
him
long. We're sorry you had to talk to him at all; it must have been very depressing for you—it always depresses us.”

There was a babble of voices from the Negan gnomes behind them.

“Gegan is back.”

“Oh no, not Gegan.”

“Back from where, this time, I wonder?”

“I don't like Gegan.”

“Here we go again.”

Negan, the glum king, gazed placidly into his own lantern.

“Back again so soon, brother?” he called out drearily.

“Well, yes,” said Gegan, “as a matter of fact, we are.”

“Back from where?” asked Daniel, bracing himself.

“Here!”

“There!”

“Hither and yon!”

“Afar and beyond!”

“I can't remember!”

“Back,” exclaimed the gnome king expansively, “from my travels!”

“Have you explored these tunnels?” Swiðgar asked, joining them. “Do you know where they lead?”

“Explored them?”

“Most of them.”

“All of them!”

“How many are there?”

“How many are we?”

“Nearly all of them,” Gegan said. “Many of them several times!

Aren't they magnificent? Why, I never tire of them, even after all these years!”

“Really?” asked Daniel. “We were just deciding where we should go.”

“Go?” repeated Gegan.

“Aye, our toes twitch and feet itch,” said Ecgbryt.

“We are trying to reach the lower levels,” Swiðgar said, dwarfing the gnome king like a tree. “To the Slæpismere. Which tunnel do we take for that?”

There was a murmur of confusion behind the gnome king.

None of the gnomes actually said anything, just made doubtful noises. Gegan stroked his chin. “We can't rightly say, not having been to the end of any one of them—so we cannot say where they
lead
, as such . . .”

He trailed off, his hand moving up to rub his head. It was awhile before anyone spoke.

“But you just—you said”—Freya stammered—“that you've explored them all.”

“Oh, we've been
in
them, true enough, but we never go too far before we turn back to try another one. We simply love to travel, you see, but once you take one road you can't take another. What if we were to choose a wrong one and ended up where we didn't want to be? Then what would we do? No, it's best to come back here and review my decision every once in a while. That's the only way I can be sure to find the right one.” His cheeks propped up a hopeful smile.

Ecgbryt let out a bellowing laugh. “So, friend gnome, you are always walking and never arriving.” Gegan's eyes shifted uncertainly and he frowned.

“You're just like
them
,” Freya said, throwing a finger towards the miserable Negan.

“Ho!” Gegan laughed and shook his head. “There's a world of difference between us. He stays here because he hates to go anywhere, where as I . . .
I
. . . ,” he faltered.

Daniel turned to the still-smiling Gegan and asked, “Which one of these tunnels goes the farthest downwards?”

Dozens of small arms and fingers pointed out in separate directions. Gegan thought for a moment and the arms and fingers swiveled one by one to indicate one of the larger exits from the cavern. “This one, probably,” he said.

“Well, it's more than we knew before,” said Daniel as Ecgbryt came to stand behind him. “It's worth a try. Freya?” Freya nodded reluctantly. “Swiðgar?”

“Yes, I suppose it will do.”

“Wonderful. Let's go, Gegan,” Daniel said.

After watching them pass with a thoughtful eye, Gegan ran up alongside them, his sandals clicking merrily and his clan padding eagerly behind him. “Yes, and we will come with you,” he chirped excitedly. “If we cannot assure you by our words, then we will convince you by our feet that we really do love to travel!”

“Hold on a second,” Daniel said, pausing at the rack of lanterns. “Freya, do you want one?” They picked out a couple they could use for as long as the fuel lasted. With little trouble they were able to light them. The lamps were heavy but gave off a good, steady light—even with the wicks kept quite low. The light seemed to go farther than their own lamps, but it wasn't easy to say if the purple light was brighter. They burned with a rich, sweet aroma, as if incense was mixed in with the oil.

Ready to depart, the clan Gegan dutifully took their place up ahead and the rest followed behind. For a good time the gnomes walked merrily along, singing strange songs with complex choruses that they sometimes muddled up. But gradually, the singing became weaker and the clan appeared to grow oddly agitated.

Gegan himself began to twitch and rub his neck. Then he started to cast longing looks behind him, a strained smile on his face.

“You want to go back,” stated Freya, “don't you?”

“Yes, well . . . no, it's not that, it's just . . . we have never been this far before.”

“I thought that was the exciting part,” Daniel said sarcastically.

There were groans and a cry of
“wey-la-day!”
before Gegan said, “Well, not exactly. The fun part is traveling, but we were just thinking—what if one of the other tunnels was better . . . what if it led more in the direction that you want to go? We thought this one a good choice, but now that one comes to it . . . what if . . . ?”

“We've only just started,” said Daniel.

“The gnome speaks true,” Swiðgar said, stopping behind them. He and Ecgbryt needed to stoop down slightly to walk this tunnel. “The way was fairly steep downwards at the start, but since that time the tunnel has risen back to the level of the cavern, and more, I judge.”

“Let us go a little farther yet,” suggested Ecgbryt. “It may descend yet again. There is nothing lost if we be wrong.”

“Nothing but time,” said Swiðgar. “And that is something in limited supply. It may go farther down yet, but another path may be better. I think we should return to the cavern.”

“And do what? Try another tunnel?” Ecgbryt responded, his voice rising. “Which of those was more promising than this?”

“Perhaps,” said Swiðgar uncomfortably, “we could go a small way into each one—a short distance and follow the one most likely.”

“But time presses, Swiðgar,” Ecgbryt said in a mocking tone. “We will get nowhere by traveling short distances. Who's to know that the tunnels don't all meet up farther on down? Let us press on.”

Swiðgar didn't move; he just glowered at Ecgbryt. “Wisdom dictates that we stop and consider before—”

“Oh yes, wise Swiðgar and his dictates!”

“You speak out of turn, broðor!”

“Then kindly inform each of us when our turn arrives, so we may speak then!”

Daniel and Freya stood along one wall, gripping their lanterns and watching the knights argue with wide eyes. Daniel looked at the gnomes and would have laughed if he weren't so afraid. Almost a hundred wide and fearful eyes were looking at the knights like frightened islanders would look at a hurricane.

Swiðgar's jaw clenched. “Have your say,” he growled.

“We have barely even started down this route,” Ecgbryt said, his voice steady. “The lad is right, let us just follow it a little farther.”

There was a heavy silence as the knights glared at each other. “I agree with Swiðgar,” Freya announced. “I think we should—”

She stopped abruptly when Ecgbryt turned his face on her, his eyes blazing angrily.

“I do too,” said Daniel, stepping forward to stand beside Freya.

“But I agree more with Ecgbryt,” he said, turning to Swiðgar.

“Anyhow, I don't see why we have to have it just one way. Let's just go a little farther and if it still doesn't look good, then we can turn back. That way we're all satisfied, yeah?”