Caverns Deep
The gnomes responded to Cupelix's invitation with characteristic enthusiasm. The new metal parts for the
Cloudmaster had to cool a while longer before they could be fitted into place, and the proposed descent into the caverns suited them very well. They turned the ship upside down hunting for proper equipment: pens and paper, of course; rope and tape measures; and transits for surveying the lay out of the caverns. Cutwood brought out a large balance scale to weigh representative specimens of dragon eggs.
"Oh, no," Sturm warned. "No one is to touch the eggs, not the least little bit."
"But why?" asked Rainspot, who was wearing his oilcloth slicker full-time now.
"The Micones are under orders to kill anyone who touch es them," Sturm said. "Not even Cupelix can countermand that order." Cutwood reluctantly abandoned his scale.
Two hours before dawn, Sturm and the gnomes presented themselves before one of the large, round holes in the obe lisk floor. Cupelix was poised on his ledge above them, and
Kitiara lingered in the doorway, watching the comic mar shaling of the gnome explorers. Some of them, particularly
Fitter, were so laden with gear that they could scarcely stand. Sturm's only special item was a long hank of rope, secured at one shoulder and draped across his chest.
"I hope you don't intend to climb down," said the dragon mildly. "The way presents many difficulties."
"How else shall we get down there?" asked Stutts.
"By allowing the Micones to take you."
Sturm's eyes narrowed. "How will they do that?"
"It's very simple," said Cupelix. He shut his mouth and lowered his head, as he usually did when communicating telepathically with the ants. Hard, armored heads appeared in all the holes, and before Sturm could protest six Micones presented themselves to the exploration party. "The ants are quite capable of carrying two gnomes apiece, and the sixth will be Master Brightblade's mount."
Sturm turned to Kitiara. "Are you certain you won't change your mind and go with us?"
She shook her head. "I've explored enough of this moon, thank you."
The gnomes were already scrambling over their mounts, measuring, touching, and tapping the crystalline creatures from mandible to stinger. The glass-smooth ants presented no footholds or handholds for mounting and riding. After some discussion (cut short by Sturm's impatient sigh), the gnomes tied lengths of rope together into reasonable halters and bridles. The Micones stood stock-still through all this indignity. Even their restless antennae were motionless.
Flash bent down on his hands and knees and Stutts stepped on his back to reach his seat on the Micone. He was still too short to reach the ant's arched thorax. Sighter tried to boost Stutts up. He planted both hands and one shoulder in the seat of Stutts's pants and shoved with all his might.
Stutts rose up the curving carapace of crystal, up and up – and over. He slid headfirst over the ant's body and thumped down on the other side. Fortunately, something soft broke his fall. It was Birdcall.
Sturm made a stirrup loop in his rope and levered himself onto the creature's back. "It's like sitting on a statue," he said, wiggling to situate himself. "Cold and hard."
The gnomes emulated Sturm's rope stirrup, and with only a few minor bruises, managed to mount their ants. The pairs were Stutts and Flash, Birdcall and Sighter, Cutwood and
Rainspot, Roperig and Fitter (naturally), with Wingover by himself. g "How do we steer these things?" Cutwood muttered. The makeshift halter ran around the giant ant's neck, but there was no way to control an animal that didn't breathe.
"There's no need for that," said the dragon. "I have told them to take you to the cavern, wait there, and bring you back. They will not deviate from my instructions, so don't try to get around them. Hold on and enjoy the ride."
"Ready, colleagues?" asked Stutts, with a wave.
"Ready!" "We're ready!" "Let's go!" were the replies.
Sturm wrapped the rope around his clenched fist and nod ded. The Micones were set in motion, and they were off. v The giant ant below Sturm was rock steady on its six spin dly legs, though its side-to-side motion was a bit odd to him, who was used to the up-and-down gait of a four-footed horse. Sturm's feet were only a few inches off the floor, but, the Micone bore him strongly to the nearest hole. He expect ed the ant to enter and descend like a man going down a spi ral stair, but no. The creature entered the hole headfirst and kept bending, tipping Sturm farther and farther forward.
He leaned down until his chest was pressed against the ant's domed back and clamped his arms and legs around its body.
The Micone walked down the hole's vertical wall and emerged, upside down, in the vaulted cavern below, with the astonished Sturm hanging on for all he was worth.
The gnomes' mounts entered the same way, and the squeals of delight and terror that followed rang off the milky, china blue walls. Huge stalactites, thirty and forty feet long and ten feet wide at their bases, reached down to the floor. The pale blue formations shone with a dim light of their own. The walls and ceiling (which Sturm found him self staring at) were likewise encrusted with a coating of the hard blue-white crystal. It looked as smooth as ice, but the ants' barbed feet clung tenaciously to it and never slipped.
Sturm's mount followed a well-worn path amid the cold spires. The Micone walked thirty yards across the cavern's ceiling, then abruptly turned and descended straight down the wall. A hundred feet below, the ant righted itself and moved across the cavern floor, which was littered with what resembled large scraps of old parchment and red leather.
This debris was kicked up around the ants' feet until they halted in a precise straight line, directly below the holes in the obelisk floor, now high above their heads. All around them the vaulted cavern glowed with faint luminescence. It was like Solinari in wane, but glowed from all directions and cast no shadows.
*****
When Sturm and the gnomes had departed for the caverns, Kitiara waited nervously by the bow of the Cloud master. The gnomes' shrieks – half delight, half terror – faded as the ants carried them into the hollows below.
Cupelix alighted on the floor beside the flying ship. "Well, my dear, are you ready?" asked the dragon.
Kitiara bit her lip and rubbed the palms of her hands on her sleeves. "Sure," she said. "How do I get up there?"
"The simplest way is for me to carry you."
She eyed him uncertainly. Cupelix's forelegs were small compared to his massive hind legs, which could easily crush an ox. Noting her hesitation, the dragon said, "If you climb upon my back and sit astride my neck, I'll fly very carefully to the top of the tower." So saying, he laid his chin on the cold floor. Kitiara threw one leg over the beast's long, sin ewy neck. His scales were as cold and hard as she'd thought they would be. They were living flesh, but felt very much like true brass. Cupelix raised his head, and Kitiara felt taut muscles surge under the burnished scales. She leaned for ward and grasped the edges of two scales to secure a grip, as
Cupelix spread his wings and launched straight into the air.