She’d been expecting the Knearaoh’s throne room. Instead, she found herself in a small round room with two chairs and a gnome.
***
“We need to find the way out.” Thud had the dressing room door open a crack and was squinting one eye at the hallway beyond. “The employees don’t come in through the dungeons, I’d wager. And the wonderful thing about doors is that they work both ways. We wanna flip a coin to see which way we start lookin’ or does someone have a better idea to offer?”
Mungo did indeed have what he felt was a better idea but he also know that it was going to be difficult to convince anyone to listen. No one else was offering anything yet. They were stroking beards and chins, looking thoughtfully at random spots in the room. Mungo cleared his throat, producing a noise one might expect to hear from a sock puppet. All eyes turned to him, most looking relieved that someone else had something to offer.
“Disguises,” Mungo said.
All eyes rolled up.
“Look, Mungo,” Thud began in his polite voice.
“Hear me out!”
Thud took a breath and nodded. “All right, lad, ye’ve got the center ring.”
“You observed the dining hall. There was seating for approximately 124 human-sized employees there, indicators of multiple lunch shifts and the possibility that there are one or more dining halls elsewhere. There are at least 300 employees here and possibly as many as a thousand. They are unlikely to all be familiar with each other. The dungeon aesthetic indicates that dungeoneering garb is unlikely to be viewed as out of place.”
“Meanin’ we’re in disguise already and should just go strollin’ down the hall like we belong?”
Mungo nodded. “My exact conclusion.”
“And if we get challenged? This is the sort of spot where bringing Dadger Ben along would have been a good idea. Didn’t know we were going to try and bluff our way out of the dungeon.”
Mungo felt a swell of pride. It was what he respected most about the dwarf. If a plan was laid out with logical support then Thud was willing to consider it, no matter how terrible the plan might have initially sounded. “I am confident that Apprentice Agent Durham will be able to fulfill that role if required. It will be an excellent training exercise.”
Durham looked skeptical. “How is it a training exercise if I’m actually doing it in the field?”
“No better way to improve, provided you survive to learn something from any failures. I have the utmost confidence.”
“We’re actually going to try this plan?” Keezix asked.
Thud shrugged. “It’s the only contender right now. Feel free to offer another one.”
Keezix sighed in a way that made her mustache wiggle. “Feels a bit on the adventurous side compared to the sort of plan we usually try to come up with.”
“Aye,” Gong said. “But directly in line with the sort of plan we usually end up with. I expect we’ll know how well it’s going to work based on the reaction of who we first meet.”
“Everyone in the dining hall had those blue shoes on,” Durham said. “Might be some sort of uniform. A way to identify which adventurers are part of whatever is going on here.”
Thud frowned. “Well, if it goes bad we’ll clean up the mess and duck back in here to figure out a Plan B. I don’t like not having a Plan B.” He turned to Durham. “No time like the present, Plan A. Let’s get a move on. We’ll keep an eye out for blue shoes to upgrade the plan.”
Durham looked a bit pale. Mungo tried giving him a reassuring nod but, as the nod was delivered from the level of Durham’s knees the human was completely unaware of it. Durham squared his shoulders and pulled the door open, the drama of the moment lessened by the hall outside being as empty as it was when they’d left it.
They filed out in a line, Durham pausing only briefly before choosing to go left, away from the direction the goblins had gone. They kept close to the wall, away from the edge of the balcony where they might be seen by anyone below. They passed beyond the dining hall and the segments of balcony railing were replaced by halls branching away as they went, always to the left. Doors still interspersed the halls, all along the left wall. Thud’s earlier idea that they were traveling along the edge of the pyramid seemed to be holding up. It wasn’t long before a distant corner became visible.
“That’s going to take us along the back side from where we entered from,” Thud said. “Sort o’ place logic might suggest putting an employee entrance to be as far as possible from the public eye.”
“This place is massive,” Leery muttered. “Do they really need so many people? How many dungeons are they running?”
“Four by my estimate,” Mungo said. “Based on traversal time and rate of entry at the front gate. I don’t have any data regarding the amount of support staff needed but it does seem excessive.”
“Hush a sec,” Thud said. “Do you hear a noise?”
There was the moment of silence that traditionally follows anyone asking that question. And there was a noise. Something carrying from the end of the hall. It sounded like rhythmic grunting. One second intervals and the sort of shouted grunt one hears from people in the act of lifting heavy objects.
“I’d know that sound anywhere,” Gong said. “That’s calisthenics going on.”
The sound grew louder as they neared the end of the hall, echoing around the corner. It sounded like more than one voice but Mungo knew that once you had more than three voices it became difficult to estimate an exact number due to volume variance, tonal shifting, waveform uncertainties…
He had a couple of promising equations forming in his head that dissipated as he ran into the back of Durham’s leg. The rest of the group had stopped as they’d rounded the corner. The wall to their left was open again, the hall reverting to balcony. Below them was another large open room.
There were at least a hundred people in it, lined up in neat rows, all wearing blue shoes and orange tunics. They were all facing the same direction and performing synchronized air punches. Humans, elves, goblins, dwarves and even a gnome or two. The hundred and first person in the room was what appeared to be a hippopotamus with a human head, walking about on its back legs with its tail swishing behind it as it grunted out time for the punches and corrected stances with a long stick.
“I guess animal bodies don’t qualify you for godhood,” Thud said. “Does a human head make him a god to the hippos?”
“I believe him to be the instructor,” Mungo said. “Which would make this room a hippo-campus.”
No one laughed at his joke. He was suspicious that no one had gotten it until Gong replied with, “He’s teaching them to hippo-crit.”
“Now that we’ve gotten the two possible hippopotamus jokes out of the way…” Thud began
“Would his skin be hippo-dermic?” Mungo asked.
“…the three possible jokes…”
Gong snorted. “Oh, I’m sure there’s more than three but we can think ‘em up on the move if you like. You know, hippo-thetically.”
“Those aren’t locals down there,” Keezix said. “And these are permanent facilities so I don’t think that’s a mercenary company. They’re training an army.”
“And they’re recruiting from the adventurers,” Thud said. “The Knearaoh hinted as much when I talked to him. He was waxing on in a way that seemed hypothetical but this looks like he ate that meal already and was just givin’ me the belch.”
“An adventurer army?” Gong frowned at the rows of people. “Thought the whole point to bein’ an adventurer was so you didn’t have to do something like join an army and follow orders. They’re either getting paid a lot or there’s more going on here.”
“Start walking and look casual,” Keezix said in a hushed voice.
There was a group of goblins approaching. Like the ones they’d seen earlier the goblins were dressed in tattered scraps of armor and carrying crude spears. One of them directed a blank look at Mungo as they went by but none of them challenged the
group’s right to be there. The goblins rounded the corner and disappeared.
“Excellent,” Mungo said. “The plan is working perfectly.”
Gong groaned. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Superstition is often a result of improper application of correlation to causation…”
“Lots of magic in this region,” Gong said. “Causation is very flexible.”
They moved past the gymnasium. They could see more movement ahead in the hallway as they gained distance from the corner. Figures coming in and out of doorways, moving along the hall in small groups. They began passing people, receiving the occasional nod but no challenges. Many had the adventurer look. They swaggered about, wearing spikey armor, bearing notable facial hair and improbable weaponry. They all wore blue shoes but none of them seemed to be bothered by the party’s lack of similar footwear. The rest were Karsinians. They were the ones that wore the tunics in matching colors. Mungo speculated that it was to designate role. Red for cafeteria staff, for example.
“None of the adventurers are talking,” Leery whispered. “Why aren’t they talking?” No one had an answer for her.
Mungo supposed it was because none of them had anything to say. He wasn’t familiar enough with the cultures of the other races to know if talking would have been expected or not but he did have to concur with Leery’s assessment. The adventurers in the halls were silent save for the shuffle of feet and the clink of armor on those wearing it. The only conversation was among the Karsinians.
“If the Mazerynth turns out to be a problem then I’m not sure what we’re going to do about it,” Thud said. His voice was low and he’d waited until they were out of earshot of anyone. “If these were monsters I think a few packages from Gryngo would drop the whole pyramid down on top of everything but massacring an army? That’s vergin’ on geopolitical.”
“It indicates we are in the correct place, however,” Mungo said. “A secret army is step one in a surprise attack. Khomen and Frothnozzle are preparing for a war.”
“I think there’s some hipporbole going on,” Gong said. “A hundred people doing punching drills isn’t much of an army, even if there’s another half-dozen gyms down here. ‘War’ is a pretty big word.”
“They’re adventurers,” Thud said. “Khomen was reminiscing about the old days when adventurers were so saturated with magic they could roll through an area looking like a fireworks show and laying waste to everything around them. Him bein’ a god and possibly in possession of a djinn lamp leads me to think that he may have a plan he thinks will bring that back. A few hundred adventurers like that hitting an army of regulars isn’t something I’d want to place wagers on.”
“Less talking, more walking,” Leery said. “No one dressed like us is speaking and we’re starting to get looks.”
There was also the question of power level, Mungo realized. Magic was not his area of expertise but his understanding was that trying to hold too much magical energy resulted in there being one less magic-user and a lot of wall scrubbing to be done. But legends of that sort of magic existed in the Northern lands and kingdoms as well. The old magic from when the gods still strode the landscape. Perhaps there was a corollary between survivable power levels and deific presence. Trying to apply logic to magic gave him the sort of headache that caused him to steer clear of magic in the first place. The entire point of magic was that it broke the rules. As soon as it started following any of them it turned into science.
He waited for another group to pass before whispering. “The djinn lamp is still the key. If they have it then undoubtedly their plot depends on it. Recover it and it will end the plot. The mission is still the lamp.”
Up ahead there was a flash of sunlight as a door opened and closed from an alcove in the right wall. An exit.
The alcove was a meter deep, two meters wide and four meters high, dimensions that precisely fit the ogre that filled it, blocking the door.
“Yorgi,” Durham said, a note of alarm in his whisper.
“You’ve met?” Thud asked.
“He was a guard at the party.”
That was the end of the conversation as they reached the point where they either stopped walking or risk being overheard by Yorgi. Yorgi was already watching them approach and stopping was a guarantee of suspicion. The ogre’s expression indicated that he was ready to crush them into paste but this was the default look for ogres so Mungo was trying not to read too much into it. Yorgi held a club in one hand that looked like a tree after a fight with a porcupine. The ogre’s ears twitched. They had ear-holes like stickball hoops and had a thick tangle of brushy hair tufting out. Mungo found himself evaluating it as potential beard-disguise material. That was going to be a difficult habit to kick.
“Fig-man,” Yorgi said, looking at Durham. His voice was like the opening of a stone-tomb in both sound and smell.
“Erm, yes sir,” Durham said in a warbly voice. Mungo didn’t feel it was the right approach to take but this was Durham’s training and he’d give feedback later based on how it turned out.
There was an expectant silence from the ogre. Any inaction from an ogre was expectant. It implied that if you didn’t do precisely what the ogre expected then it would no longer be inactive. Disappointing an ogre made for a life both brief and full of regret.
“We’d like to get by,” Durham said.
“Where’s your token?”
Durham made an exasperated noise. “You don’t need to check our tokens when we’re trying to leave, Yorgi. You check them when we’re trying to come in to make sure we’re authorized. Obviously we have tokens if we’re already inside.”
Excellent ploy, Mungo thought. A great improvement over the opener.
“Token is to leave, Fig-Man. Shoes is to come in. On your feets.”
The ploy had gone awry. Durham couldn’t help but look at his non-blue feet.
“Aww,” Yorgi said. His voice dripped with sadness and his lower lip stuck out into a tusked pout. “Not authorized.”
“Well then,” Durham said. “If we’re not authorized then obviously you’ll have to ask us to leave.”
The ogre’s pout turned into a confused squiggle. It was replaced moments later with a scowl. The traditional ogre approach to a difficult thought was that of a hiker confronting a rock. Go around it and keep plodding forward. It wasn’t that ogres were stupid. They were just very focused. Yorgi slapped his club against his palm which left several puncture wounds. “Penalty for trespassing is not ‘get asked to leave’.”
“Oh, we’re not trespassers,” Durham said. “Trespassing requires that we be in a field. That’s why the signs are always out on fences. We didn’t pass any ‘No Trespassing’ signs. This is all just part of the Mazerynth isn’t it?” He smacked his forehead. “That’s it! You’re the final puzzle! Go ahead and ask us your riddle.”
Mungo didn’t expect the confusion tactic to work any better the second time but it was buying them a few precious seconds to come up with something else. He hadn’t missed the fact that one of Thud’s hands was casually resting in his vest or that Gong had flipped the lever on his crossbow’s auto-loader so that it would pull from the Gryngo-bolts. Mungo, for his part, had his hands clasped behind his back but his fingers were quite busy.
The squiggle was back on the ogre’s face along with several punctuation marks. This time they were replaced with a snarl. Yorgi bent down so he was staring directly into Durham’s face.
“Riddle is: Show me token or get hit with club. Your move, fig-man.”
Thud timed it perfectly. The ogre inhaled after finishing its sentence and that was the exact moment that Thud threw the handful of pepper from his vest pouch. The ogre sneezed explosively which didn’t do much for Durham’s countenance but did cause the ogre to take a deep breath and get another lungful of pepper just as Mungo tossed his pocket-watch into the ogre’s ear.
Yorgi staggered back, dropping his club to rub at his eyes. He let out a chain of sneezes like the co
ver band at an orcish wedding.
His hands lowered and balled into fists. His eyes were swollen red orifices and the lower half of his face glistened with sneeze residue. He let loose a roar that vibrated Mungo’s spine. That was when the pocket-watch went off, buzzing and clanging amidst the ear shrubbery like the cover band’s second number. Yorgi spun to find the source of the noise. It spun right along with him causing the ogre to begin spinning in circles.
Mungo was curious to see how long it would take the ogre to resolve the problem but a quick tug on his tunic from Thud made him aware of the fact that the rest of the party was legging it past the ogre and through the door.
Chapter Twelve
“Ruby is missing,” Ginny said as soon as they got back. She was sitting on a stool in the middle of their wagon-lot campsite, waiting for them.
“How long?” Thud asked, figuring it might be a more pressing issue than making a plan to deal with the Mazerynth. It at least would allow him to think it over for a few more minutes.
“Just over an hour. We went to the House of Books to learn about djinn like you told us. Ruby got a bunch of scrolls from the scribe-shelf. I went to find some reading, turned back and she was gone. I wasn’t turned away long enough for her to even walk out of the room without me seein’.”
“Maybe she ran?”
“The only time I’ve ever seen Ruby run is when she was being chased by a giant snake. She certainly ain’t the sort to run in a library. She’s the sort that takes it as a personal affront if there’s anything in a library other than books and readers.”
“You’re suggesting what? Someone took her? She was magicked away?”
“There’s more,” Ginny said. “I was wandering around asking everyone else there if they’d seen her and then noticed all her books were gone too. They were still there after she disappeared and then a few minutes later they weren’t. No one grabbed ‘em and they weren’t back on the shelf. Just…gone. No trace. I even looked for trapdoors in the floor and ceiling around her table.”
Mazerynth Page 14