by Ellis Knox
“They’re more dangerous, though,” Nik said.
“More powerful,” I said, not willing to yield the point. I didn’t like thinking the drow were on the same moral level as my own civilization. An image of the beggar gnome at the station came into my mind. I pushed it away.
“They have flying cars and magic wands,” I said. “Who knows what else they have.”
“I can tell you what they lack,” Henrik said. “Population.”
“We have the numbers, true enough,” Nik said. “That was a grand assembly we just saw. If there were more than a few thousand drow present, I’ve forgotten how to count.”
“Thousands, not millions, and we have tens of millions. Moreover, their world is dying. Agedat is right to fear us.”
“Let’s hope Kalut doesn’t share the same opinion.”
“Oh, I think he does,” Henrik said, “but he derives a different conclusion. He’s of the eat, drink, and be merry school. He wants merely to keep us at bay. He looks at what war would mean—the sacrifice, the disruption of their decadent life—and chooses present pleasure. Agedat knows pain is inevitable. He would experience it sooner, in order to share a little of it with the Surface. In our world, Kalut would be a diplomat, Agedat a general. He may even believe if he can harm us grievously enough, we might sue for peace. The Surface has its share of people who love luxury above all else.”
“They are vile and corrupt,” Beso intoned, speaking to no one in particular.
“Come, come,” Henrik said, “the drow are hardly that.”
“Not drow,” Beso said. “Dürgar.” He made an obscenity of the word.
“I have to side with Beso on this, Uncle.” Nik’s mouth tightened around his words. “You can look at individuals and make allowances, but then you have to look at the whole civilization, at what it values and what it does.
“These drow buy and sell people. They exploit gnomes without mercy and use the dürgar to keep the boot on the neck. It’s no good saying we’ve got slavery, and what we’ve done to the gnomes is worse than what’s been done here. Our crimes do not forgive their crimes. At least we are trying. The drow want nothing more than never to change.”
A smile slowly arrived on Henrik’s face.
“That was quite a speech, my boy,” he said.
I bridled at the professor’s condescension. Nik was not a boy.
“I’m glad you made it,” the professor continued, “for I agree in every particular.”
“You do?” Nik’s surprise was unfeigned.
“I do. I see, amid all the wonders of Urstadt, a civilization without morals, with no belief in anything greater than itself. It is a world such as a Bonaparte would make.”
“It must be buried,” Beso said.
“Perhaps so. It has been buried for a long time, and what good has come of that?”
Beso growled into his beard.
“I’m starting to think the elves made the right choice,” Nik said. He gave a little salute to the dwarf. “As did your First Ancestors.”
“So,” I said, “how do we leave this place and go home?”
“It won’t be easy,” Nik said. “We shall have to steal some supplies, at least enough to get us going.”
This was close to my own plans from days ago. I nodded in agreement.
“And what would be our direction?” Henrik asked.
“Away from that gnome village.”
“We must stay away from the village,” Cosmas said. “We bring harm to them.”
“Also,” I said, “on the other side is that Collar thing, and danger past that.”
“Assuming we can tell directions, once we are outside.”
“Uncle, if you are going to bring up every difficulty, we’ll never leave.”
“Hmph. Go on, nephew.”
“We follow the coast. One way or another, make our way back to the dwarf town, then back up the Long Dig.”
I knew from looking at his face how impossible this was. He must have seen my look.
“I know,” Nik said, “but we can’t stay here.”
“We were at sea for days,” I said, determined we should face facts squarely. “The dwarf town might be on another island or another continent for all we know, and we haven’t a boat.”
“I know.”
“Moreover,” I said, continuing to press, “do you really think they’ll just let us go? They’ll send out patrols, and I doubt they’ll instruct the soldiers to be gentle.”
“We can sit here and imagine difficulties for days,” he said, “and we’d still be prisoners.”
“Or,” Henrik said. He waited for everyone’s attention to turn to him.
“Or?” I prompted.
“Or we could use the drow portal.”
Henrik leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
“Consider,” the professor went on. “We know the drow have been to the Surface; therefore they have the means to do so.”
“But if the drow have their own Long Dig, they’ll be guarding it,” I said.
“They don’t have a Long Dig.”
“But you just said, … .”
“No, I didn’t. You did. All I said is that they have the means to do so. Moreover, they intend to attack the Surface, or at least a faction of them intend. Ask yourself, how do I invade the Surface? I don’t come out at Lamprecht;s Cave, that much is certain.”
“They could,” I said.
“No,” said Beso. “The Gates would close.”
“They could only get through piecemeal at best,” Nik said.
“Then where?”
“No idea. Could be one of a hundred places, if my theory about ley lines is right. Which it is.”
“You think they’ve got a portal,” Nik said.
“I do.”
“Great. Now all we need do is search all of Urland.”
“I find that unlikely,” Henrik said.
“Professor,” I said, “would you mind getting to your point? We’re agreed we need to get away. I’d rather that were sooner than later.”
Nik chuckled; Queller harrumphed.
“As you wish. I shall state my conclusions, but only if you don’t waste our time challenging them.”
I had to bite my tongue first, but I said, “All right, go ahead.”
“These drow have a direct portal to the Surface, and it’s right here in Urstadt.”
This was too much for me.
“There’s no evidence for that,” I said.
“But there is. Compelling evidence, right before our eyes, or I should say before our ears.”
There was silence for a beat, then Nik laughed out loud, though for no reason I could discern.
“If you mean Agedat’s little speech about spears, …” I began.
“Not at all, although that maniac set me on the right path. How could he be so confident of a surprise attack? We know they cannot use the Long Dig.” We know nothing of the sort, I thought. “Nik’s idea of another route may seem plausible, but these dürgar are soldiers, not dwarf miners.”
“They are not dwarves,” Beso said. “They could not dig out of their grandmother’s garden.”
I couldn’t restrain a smile at that.
“There, you see?” Henrik said. “The voice of authority. But truly, that is all merely supportive. The real evidence is so simple, so evident, we all missed it until now.’
“Please, Uncle, before we get back to Kalut’s tower and might be overheard.”
Henrik rolled his eyes like a petulant schoolboy.
“Language. There it is, in one word. Is that brief enough for you?”
Nik nodded, but I must have still looked skeptical.
“Kalut told us himself he had been to the Surface often enough to learn our tongue. Do you suppose he walks the distance?”
Once he said it, I saw it. That, too, must have shown on my face.
“Ah, I’ve persuaded my greatest critic. You see why my spirit is buoyant. The means of our esc
ape lies close to hand, for where else can it be? The drow have only the one city.”
“Where is the portal?” I asked. “I mean, where in Urstadt, and how are we to find it?”
“That, I do not know,” Henrik admitted. “But at least we now know to look.”
“We have to be sure of this, Uncle,” Nik said.
“What? You are still skeptical?”
“I’m cautious. You are asking us all to risk our lives on this theory.”
“There is a portal right here in Urstadt. It was invented by the drow, not by the dürgar, nor by the dwarves,” Henrik said with a glance at Beso, “and it leads directly to the Surface.”
“But are you certain?” Nik burst out. Henrik merely gave him a look.
“The elves knew how to create massive portals,” Henrik said. “That’s how they raised Atlantis. The drow have managed to recreate something along those lines. Kalut and his sort have been shuttling back and forth for who knows how long.”
“Why would they put the portal here rather than in some mountain fortress where it would be protected?”
“First, drow are lazy. Agedat and company are lively enough, but my guess is that they want to come and go at leisure, maybe even in secret. I bet there are multiple portals in multiple towers.”
“Those are going to be hard to get to,” I said. “But in any case, it’s still a hike from one way station to the next.”
“We came through dwarf portals,” Henrik said. “With all respect to Beso’s ancestors, this is different. Centuries have elapsed—if humans can advance, why not drow? Moreover, they’ve had access to Steam and other modern inventions. Who’s to say they’ve not invented an entirely new kind of portal?”
He gestured as he spoke.
“I believe they have. I believe they can travel directly to the Surface in a single hop. And I also believe this is a portal for invasion, one that can deliver whole armies to the Surface. These drow can count just as well as we. How does one take on an enemy of superior numbers?”
“Surprise,” Nik said quietly.
“Exactly.”
“This is the portal I propose we use, because I also propose to destroy it.”
“Uncle,” Nik said, “please think hard on this. You haven’t got any direct evidence for any of this. You would have our lives depend on your reasoning?”
Professor Queller blinked. “I have hung my entire life on my reasoning.”
“Now you’re asking other people to risk their lives on it as well. Risking on a theory.”
“Surely they entrusted their lives at the very outset of the expedition,” Henrik said. “Honestly, I cannot see what you’re driving at, Niki.
“I’m saying there’s a difference between a theory about aether and a theory about magic portals. If you’re wrong about the one, you get poorly reviewed in a journal. If you’re wrong about the other, people die!”
Henrik pulled himself up. “The scientist who is certain is certainly a fool,” he said. Then his shoulders sagged a bit. “I’m as sure as I can be.”
“Well,” Beso declared, abruptly interrupting the exchange, “I’m not getting into any elf portal. I say we get out of the city and make our way back to the Long Dig.”
“I’m inclined to agree with Beso,” I said. “As bleak as it is, I’ll take the known over the unknown.”
“I go with Herr Doktor Professor Henrik Queller,” Cosmas said.
“Yes, yes,” Nik said, impatiently. “Contract.”
Sometimes, the consistent loyalty of ogres can become tedious.
“I wasn’t exactly putting this to a ballot,” Nik said, “but you’ve made me the deciding vote.”
We all looked at him. He couldn’t declare for the professor’s mad scheme, which relied solely on leaps from assumption to presumption and back again. He’d made that plain enough. At the same time, it was equally plain that he would not—could not—go against his uncle. It might tear our little group in two. The longer he paused, the more he wrestled with his decision, or so I thought.
“The choice is easy enough,” he said at last, looking down at his hands. “Both options lead to almost certain death. We haven’t talked about a third choice, which is to remain here, do nothing, and wait for some chance to offer itself.”
“What?”
“Impossible!”
“I’m leaving, no matter what!”
We each had our comment. Even Cosmas rumbled. Nik held up one hand for silence. He stood and paced the room. In that moment, he looked very much like a younger version of his uncle, pacing the lecture hall stage.
“I bring it up only to show we’ve not considered every possibility, and to show this was not a vote on a course of action. We do not vote. We go where and when I say. Those who don’t, get left.”
He stopped briefly to encompass us all with a sharp glance.
I rocked back in my seat. Nik had been brave and stalwart from the beginning, and more patient than all of us with Henrik, but he was never dictatorial. Until now.
“Make no mistake,” he said as he resumed his pacing, “this is life and death. Has been all along, really, but now the danger comes from sentient beings who mean us no good. All paths forward are unhappy and are crumbling as we speak.
“We have to go. The longer we stay, the fewer other options we’ll have, until we wind up like poor Fournier.”
“But, my boy,” Henrik said, “we’re all agreed to that.”
“You presume so. It has to be said aloud. Once we start, there’ll be no time for debate and no chance to turn aside.”
All Henrik did was nod, but leadership passed from the professor to Nik as clearly as if he’d handed over a baton. Nik nodded in reply.
At that moment, a gnome entered the room. He bowed low, then spoke.
“I am called Relim,” he said, pointing to his chest. The cowl hid most of his face in shadow.
I glanced at Nik, who raised an eyebrow. So far, the gnomes had been very nearly invisible servants. To have one step forward and introduce himself, unasked and unannounced, felt disorienting.
“Is there something you want?” Henrik asked in a demanding tone. He clearly regarded this as an annoying interruption.
Relim took a step back, looking side to side.
“Can we help you with something,” I asked more gently.
The cowl tilted to one side. “We are to help you.” He pulled back the cowl, and I suppressed a gasp.
His face was nearly hairless, revealing skin that was badly mottled with large patched of ash gray, pale white, and small bits of black. He looked like a burn victim.
“We are to help you,” he said again. He lowered his shoulders, then raised them again—a gnome shrug. “We help those in danger to get away.”
“Do you know where the portal is?” Henrik asked intently.
The professor’s tone made Relim draw back further.
“It’s vitally important,” the professor said, leaning forward. The gnome leaned away. His eyes grew larger; the fingers of his hands intertwined.
“Henrik thinks there is a portal somewhere in the city,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual. “Do you know anything about that?”
“The Respected Henrik is surely correct.”
I could hardly believe the luck. “Wonderful!” I cried. “Where is it?”
“Where is what, Respected?”
“The portal.” I struggled to rein in my impatience; too much depended on this. When talking to gnomes, I felt I was always on the verge of frightening them to death.
“What is a portal?” Relim asked.
“But you just said, …” and I realized he had only said the professor was surely right. Gnome deference.
“A gate,” I said. “Maybe it is called a gate. Or a doorway. Do you know of one?”
“There are so many doorways, Respected. We went through one together, you and I.” He bowed and did not come all the way back up.
“I don’t mean an ordinary doorwa
y.” I slowed my speech, though it took all my concentration to do so. What I really wanted to do was to shout. “This would be black, like a hole. When someone goes through, they come out not on the other side, but far away, not in the next room.”
“The Surface?” Relim suggested.
“Yes! The Surface. Do you know of such a place?” It felt like we were getting close, but the conversation was fluttering like a moth at the window.
The gnome looked down and pointed. “We are standing on a surface.”
I grimaced. Quickly, so he wouldn’t notice any displeasure. I tried a different approach.
“All right, that’s not working. Is there a place—not a room where the Masters live, but a big place, where your people are not allowed to go, maybe? A place where the dür… the Protectors go?”
Relim’s mouth formed an O, and I became hopeful.
“The Guardian,” he said. “We serve at the place, but we do not go near the beast.”
“Beast doesn’t sound right, but guardian has possibilities.” Professor Queller stroked his beard.
“It was the only thing that sounds at all close,” I said. I turned back to the gnome.
“Can you take us near the place?”
Before Relim could reply, another gnome emerged from the wall. A female. She and Relim clasped hands, then the second one spoke.
“Danger comes. The Tower Green comes for you. Master Kalut has fled.”
“She is Prill,” Relim said, pointing to her.
“We wish to help,” said the other. They both bowed. “Escape.”
“Kalut has fled?”
“Green? Do you mean Agedat?”
“How do you know our language?”
The gnomes answered none of these questions, probably because they were spoken simultaneously by myself, Nik, and Henrik. The gnomes merely bowed again.
“Enemies. Danger. Near.”
“Escape? How?” Nik said.
“Follow us, if it pleases you to do so.” They pointed to the opening.
“That Kalut,” Nik said bitterly. “It figures the one fellow who saves us turns out to be a fool.”
I looked around the room. Previously, that any wall might become a door seemed wonderful. Now, every wall could open to reveal an enemy.
“Cosmas, grab the trägersack,” Nik said. “We won’t be coming back.”