All was silent until Sturm said, "I will agree if the dragon answers one question: What will he do once he is free?"
"Revel in my liberty, of course. I shall travel thereafter, wherever the winds of heaven carry me."
Sturm folded his arms. "To Krynn?" he said sharply.
"Why not? Is there a fairer land betwixt here and the stars?"
"Dragons were driven out of Krynn long ago because their power was used to scheme and control the affairs of mortals. You cannot return to Krynn," Sturm said.
"Cupelix is not an evil dragon," Kitiara argued. "Do you think he could live so long on the moon of neutral magic and not be moderated by its influence?"
"And what if," Sturm said slowly, "Cupelix is no danger to
Krynn. He is still a dragon. My ancestors fought and died to rid our world of dragons. How can I dishonor them by aid ing a dragon — even a benign one — to return?"
Kitiara stood so suddenly that her chair fell over. "Suffer ing gods! Who do you think you are, Sturm Brightblade?
My ancestors fought in the Dragon Wars, too. It was a dif ferent time and different circumstances." She turned to the gnomes. "I put it to you. Shall we repay the dragon's hospi tality with indifference? Will we fill our bellies with his food and drink, fix the ship with his help, and depart without so much as attempting to help him be free?"
She had them now. All nine little faces, paler in the short, faint days of Lunitari, were rapt with attention. Kitiara raised her hand to the silent Cupelix, who contrived to look forlorn and desolate atop his marble perch. "Put yourself in his place," she said grandly.
"Which one of us?" asked Cutwood.
"It doesn't matter — any or all of you. Think of how you'd feel, spending all your life inside this tower, unable to even walk outdoors. And consider that a dragon's life is not fifty years, or two hundred years, but twenty times two hun dred! How would you feel, imprisoned in a lonely tower, with no one to talk to and no tools either?"
Roperig and Fitter gasped. "No tools?"
'Yes, and no wood or metal to work with. No gears or valves or pulleys."
"Horrible!" said Flash. Birdcall seconded him with a steady descending note.
"And we — you — have the chance to correct this wrong.
You have the inventive powers to devise some way to allow
Cupelix to fly free. Will you do it?" she asked.
Wingover leaped to his feet. "We will! We will!" Rainspot and Fitter wept for the injustice inflicted on the dragon, while Stutts and Sighter were already bombarding each oth er with first schemes to open the obelisk. Wingover got up on his chair and then on the table, pointing dramatically to the wingless hull of the Cloudmaster.
"To the ship!" he cried. "We must make plans!"
"Yes, yes, the tools are there," said Cutwood.
"And parchment and pencils!"
"Chemicals and crucibles!"
"Rope and rigging!"
"Raisins!"
The gnomes surged away from the table, a tiny tide of boisterous idealism and ramshackle ingenuity. When the last gnome had disappeared up the ramp, Kitiara turned, smiling, to Sturm.
"Very clever," he said at last. "You did that well."
"Did what?" she replied guilelessly.
"We both know how impulsive the gnomes are. Between your passionate call for freedom and the prospect of a major engineering project, the obelisk hasn't got a chance."
"I hope you're right," said Cupelix. It was uncanny how easy it was to forget him when he stayed quiet above their line of sight. Sturm frowned. "Don't be so suspicious!" chid ed the dragon. "If my intentions were black, do you think I would have resorted to banquets and cajoling? My Micones could have held the ship indefinitely until you agreed to help, or I could have left you to the tree-men."
"No one ever said you were evil, Cupelix," Sturm persist ed. "Subtle, you are, and very much concerned with getting your way. If you could have gotten out of your prison by sacrificing Kit, myself, or the gnomes, I don't think you would have dallied long in giving us up."
Cupelix spread his wings and coiled his legs to spring into the air. "Be at ease, Master Brightblade. No one need be sac rificed. We shall all see Krynn again, I promise."
Chapter 25
Gnomeplans
The gnomes divied into two groups. The first group, which consisted of Stutts, Flash, Wingover, Sighter, and Birdcall, was to study the problem of breaching the walls of the obelisk. The other four gnomes had as their task the safe removal of the contents of the tower, including
Cupelix himself, the Cloudmaster, Sturm, and Kitiara.
The Micones returned with the night half gone, and on the dragon's orders, leveled out the dirt rampart they'd piled up some days before. Because there were more than fifty of the powerful giants at work, the land around the base of the obelisk was soon smooth and passable again. Kitiara and the Breaching Group (as they called themselves) went out side to survey the structure.
"The walls at ground level are marble no less than eleven feet thick," Stutts reported, reading off his calculations.
"With the best steel picks and mattocks, it would take a dig ging gang days and days to hack through all that rock."
"And furthermore," said Sighter, "my analysis of the stone shows it to be extremely hard, much harder, in fact, than regular marble. It's glazed."
"Glazed? Hmm." Kitiara looked to the obelisk's high pin nacle. A flickering red aura wavered about the top. She reminded the gnomes of the violent discharges they'd seen when the sun came up. "All that energy, must have hard ened the stone," she said.
Stutts reached to touch the cold stone. Between the wide courses was a band of shiny black, colder even than the scarlet marble. "Metal," he mused. "Metal for mortar."
"Really?" said Flash. "What sort of metal is it?"
Stutts scraped at the six-inch-wide band with his thumb nail. The color did not scratch off. "It's soft," he said. "Lead, perhaps?"
Sighter and Birdcall examined the mortar, too. Birdcall confirmed with a twitter that the metal was indeed lead.
"Pretty solid," said Wingover, slapping the wall.
"I have an idea," Kitiara announced. The gnomes looked at her as if she'd said she was growing another head. "Well, I do. Here it is: I've seen lots of castle waills fall to besieging armies, and they are often as thick, if not as hard, as these walls. The besiegers brought them down by tunneling under the foundations and undermining the wall."
Consternation spread on the faces in the Breaching Party.
"Why, that's bloody simple," Stutts declared.
"Why didn't we think of that?" asked Flash.
"All we have to do is dig away the sand!" said Wingover.
They fell on their knees and crimson dirt flew. Kitiara, shaking her head, went inside to the ship. Sturm was on his feet, leaning on a crutch that Cutwood had fashioned for him. He was keeping aloof from the preparations, but he asked what the gnomes had decided to do.
"We're digging now," Kitiara remarked. She appropriated a wrecking bar from the store of tools and returned to the frantic diggers. Sturm hobbled after her.
The gnomes carved out a crater deeper than their own height in a very short time. Below grade, the foundation of the obelisk showed no alteration from the structure above — more massive marble blocks joined with lead. Kitiara cleared them out of the hole and swung the iron bar at the stone.
"Wait," said Wingover, "that's solid — "
She drew the bar back in a deep arc and struck the foun dation with all her extra strength. There was a crack, like the breaking of a great tree branch, and a single chip of mar ble flew off. It landed at Sturm's feet, a lost petal from a stone rose. He stooped awkwardly to pick it up.
"Look at the bar!" said Flash.
Kitiara held up the inch-thick rod. The flat prying edge had mushroomed out from the blow, and the whole bar was bent in a graceful curve. Kitiara braced the bar against her knee and tried to straighten it, but only succeeded
in bend ing it the opposite way. She tossed it aside in disgust.
"I tried to tell you," Wingover said as Kitiara climbed out of the hole. "The base of the tower rests on the roof of the cavern. It's solid stone."
"There are holes through it," said Sighter. "The Micones' holes. We went through them ourselves, to visit the egg chamber."
"Mining won't work," Stutts said sadly. "We're no more able to bore through the foundation than the upper walls."
Kitiara clambered out of the hole and dusted off her hands and leggings. Her breath showed white in the night air. "It's up to you gnomes now."
The little men faced each other for a few minutes and talked in their lightning patter. Finally, Stutts poked his face out and said, "We'll have to consult with our colleagues."
"Do you have a plan?" asked Sturm.
"The rudiments of one, but we need the wisdom of our fellows inside." The gnomes trooped off.
Sturm pushed the wrecking bar around with his toe.
"That much strength is hard to control, isn't it'!" When Kiti ara didn't answer, he went on. "Are you getting stronger all the time, Kit? Is that why you move as if the world were made of glass?"
She snatched up the iron bar and, holding it in one hand, steadily bent the rod into a right angle — using only her thumb! She dropped the bar and said, "Is that what you wanted to see?"
Cupelix and the humans sat attentively on one side of the obelisk — which is to say, Sturm and Kitiara sat on crates while the dragon sat on his ledge above them. The gnomes sat on a bench facing them. Cutwood had rigged up an easel, which was shrouded with a loose cloth. Stutts stood by the easel, a long, pointed stick in his hand.
"Lady, gentleman, and beast," he began. The dragon's gusty sigh sent Stutts's beard whipping over his shoulder.
"Lady, gentleman, and dragon," Stutts said smoothly, "may
I present the Obelisk Escape Auger, Mark I. He whisked the cloth away, revealing a large sheet of parchment tacked to the easel. A fantastic-looking device was drawn in brown ink. Supported by a massive timber frame was an enormous helical auger, a grossly enlarged version of the tool used by carpenters to bore holes. According to the figures on the parchment, the bit alone was fifteen feet wide, the optimum diameter, Stutts said, to allow Cupelix to pass through.
"Very ingenious," said the dragon, eyeing the peculiar cre ation with evident skepticism. "How is it operated?"
"By this eccentric crank, here." The pointer tapped the drawing. "All eleven of us will man the crank. According to our best estimates, the auger will bore through the wall in sixty-seven hours of work."
"That's almost three days!" Kitiara said.
"On Lunitari, only two days and nights," said Sighter.
"Never mind that," Sturm said. "Where will the steel come from to make the bit? Where will you get the timber to build the frame?"
"Ah," said Cutwood. "Except for the bit blades and a few points of stress, such as the bearings, all parts of the Obelisk
Escape Auger will be made of wood."
"What wood!"
"Why, the hull and frame of the Cloudmaster."
"Ai!" said Kitiara. She let her head fall forward into her hands. Sturm sighed.
"If you dismantle the flying ship, how will we get home?" he said with as much patience as he could muster.
The gnomes looked from one to another, surprised. Very faintly, Fitter said something about putting the ship back together once the dragon was out.
"No!" said Kitiara. "You'll never get the timbers back together as a ship. You fellows must do better!"
"Not to worry!" Stutts rejoined."He whipped the elabo rate drawing of the Obelisk Escape Auger off the easel.
Beneath it was another, equally detailed diagram.'"This, I am proud to say, is the Obelisk Arch Doorway Widener," said Stutts.
"Reasoning that the doorway represents a natural point of entry, we came up with this alternative scheme. These screw jacks — " Again the pointer flew to the diagram. " will be fitted in the doorway. By tightening them with these turnbuckles here, here, and here, the rams will be forced apart, cracking the door wide open."
It took exactly one minute for Sturm and Kitiara to demolish the Arch Doorway Widener, mostly for the same reasons as the Obelisk Escape Auger: lack of quality materi als. There was just no wood or metal to be had, except what the Cloudmaster and its crew had brought with them.
"It seems hopeless," said the dragon with a profound sigh.
"Never!" vowed Wingover. He pushed the bandages up from his face so that everyone could see his eyes. They had turned completely black. Wingover shielded them futilely with his hands.
"You see what has happened to me," he said, "I no longer can shut out anything. I have to sleep face down to the ground, where I count strata all the way down to the moon's core." He pointed with a thumb at Cutwood, next to him.
"My good colleague hears every grain of sand rubbing against another. Roperig's hands are almost sealed together, aren't they, Roperig? Rainspot's clothes are beginning to rot from the constant damp. All the rest of us have problems, too, but we won't leave until we solve this problem."
Sturm heard these words carefully. He said, "As long as we are discussing our gifts, let me show you this." He tore the cloth bandage from his leg. Where two nights and a day before there had been an ugly, gaping wound, there was now only smooth, unscarred skin.
"The same magic that makes trees walk and fight has healed my wound. I did not ask for it to be done, but it has convinced me of one thing. This is no place for mortals. I'll lend my aid, dragon, for that reason alone. The longer we remain on Lunitari, the more the magic will affect us. Since my companions have resolved to help you, my resistance only impedes their progress."
"Welcome to the struggle," said Cupelix.
"Wingover," Kitiara said, "if you can see into the ground we stand on, can you see any deposits of iron or copper?
Anything we can use?"
"Alas, lady, nothing. This entire moon seems made of sand, granite, and more sand."
"Sand," said Sighter, musing. He hopped down from the bench and strolled to the far wall and back. He traced a stubby finger along the lead seams where two marble cours es lay on top of each other. "Sand!" he shouted. "Sand, sand, sand!"
"Look out," said Rainspot. "He's slipped his gears."
Sighter took a deep breath and strode to Stutts with grave dignity. "Sand," he said, "is the one thing this world provides in abundance, yes?"
"Uh, yes," said Stutts.
Sighter snapped his spyglass open and laid it across his colleague's palm. "What are lenses made of?"
"Glass," Roperig said promptly.
Sighter whirled, pointing to the adhesive gnome. "And what do the Lunitarians make their weapons out of?"
"Glass," said Sturm and Kitiara together.
"Yes! And what is glass made of?" Sighter cried.
No one said a word. Finally, Fitter said, "Sand, but — "
"Sand, glass, lenses! Don't you see? We can cast a giant lens, and with that concentrate the rays of the sun into a burning beam. The focal point of the rays will be far hotter than the melting point of lead, so — "
"The wall will come tumbling down," said Cupelix. "Do you think you can do it!"
"Nothing is for certain," Sighter said with ungnomish cau tion. "We'll need a continuous source of heat for the melting of the sand."
"What about the heat source we found in the caverns?" said Sturm. "Would that be hot enough for you?"
"Hmm, magma is more than hot enough to melt sand," said Flash.
"The Micones can gather any amount of sand you'll need," said Cupelix. "Shall I get them started?"
"We'd better push the Cloudmaster outside," Stutts said.
"We'll need the floor space in here to work."
Cupelix summoned two ants, and the gnomes harnessed them to the bow of the flying ship. The Micones pulled the creaking craft through the doorway and out to the smoothed soil. The gnomes carr
ied the detached wings and laid them in the shadow of the hull. Cupelix fell into a lengthy telepathic commune with his minions, and soon the
Micones were mustered in the valley. They surrounded the obelisk on all sides, an army of mute, clicking creatures, intent on a voice no one heard but them. Without as much as a nod, the three score giant ants turned their backs to the tower and began to plow the soil with their heads. Furrows of dull red sand turned up to the starry sky, and other
Micones pushed the sand into convenient mounds.
Sighter showed off his hasty design for a burning lens, twenty-two feet in diameter and five feet, seven inches thick in the center.
"Do you think it will work?" Kitiara said.
"If the lens can be cast in one piece, the polishing shouldn't take long. There's plenty of sand, after all," said
Sighter. He rolled up his parchment drawing and tucked it under his arm. Outside, the Micones slaved on, the ground trembling against the force of their unyielding heads.
Chapter 26
The Lens
To refine the sanb awd eliminate any impurities, the gnomes resorted to washing it. Poor Rainspot was hauled up to the lowest of Cupelix's ledges and instructed to make it rain for several hours. The floor of the obelisk grew quite grimy with wet sand and sodden vegetable muck. The dragon descended from his sanctum with the news that clouds were forming up there, too. A gentle rain was falling
450 feet above Rainspot. Midget streaks of lightning flick ered through the hollow shaft, glancing off the marble like minnows in a racing brook. Far from being annoyed, Cupe lix was delighted with all this. He had read of the mysterious thing called 'weather,' but had never experienced it.
"It doesn't naturally occur indoors," Sturm said sourly. He was wet to the skin, as the gnomes had appropriated his oil cloth slicker to make buckets for the clean sand.
Micones were fitted with pairs of big buckets, which were draped like saddlebags on each side of their globular thoraxes. They scuttled down to the cavern with their loads, where Sighter, Birdcall, and Flash were preparing the vat in which the sand would be melted. This, like the mold in which the lens would be cast, was simply and roughly made from mud. The disintegrated plant fluff that coated the entire red moon, mixed with dry dirt, made an admirable clay. The gnomes in the cavern slapped together a wide tub of mud, reinforced with just a few laths 'borrowed' from the
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