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careless fashion as he watched the oncoming machine. Gilbenstock could
see the elf's liquid black eyes perfectly. They were focused on him.
His blood ran cold.
Even the most humble of gnome tinkers in Palanthas knew of Dalamar,
head of the Order of Black Robes, one of the mightiest wizards alive.
Gilbenstock vaguely recalled hearing that Dalamar had undead sorcerers
for servants. Unspeakable monsters were at his beck and call. Other
rumors about Dalamar had given Gilbenstock unpleasant dreams in the
past. To see the dark elf actually looking at him was worse by far than
any nightmare. The gnome tried to sound the warning whistle, but the
cord had flipped up out of reach. Gilbenstock looked to the right and
saw that faithful Squib appeared to be wrestling with a stuck valve and
was not paying the slightest attention to the road ahead or its lone
obstacle.
Greetings, Gilbenstockelburlindiosophamistilaliniar, said a cool, dark
voice in the gnome's head. Gilbenstock had not heard the longer short
form of his name in many years. It terrified him to hear it spoken now
in his mind, as if by a ghost. His thoughts jammed up like a gearbox
with a log stuck in it.
Forgive me for using direct mental contact with you, but normal speech
is quite impossible, said the voice. I was awakened last night by the
racket of your machine, and only a quarter hour ago was interrupted in
my studies by the same. Now I find that in addition to troubling me,
your device has driven away all street traffic for blocks, reduced the
population of this city to anarchy, and damaged this district at a cost
of many thousand steels. It would not trouble me in the slightest to
hurl both you and your miserable device into the bay, and I am greatly
tempted to do so now.
All the strength went out of the gnome's knees. He gripped the window
ledge to keep from falling. He steeled himself for what would come
next.
A smile flitted across the face of the dark elf, now only fifty feet
ahead. On the other hand, you have unintentionally amused and pleased
me, the voice said. I greatly disliked Elistan's statue, which you've
reduced to scrap. Elistan was as great a do-gooder and fool as I have
ever known, and his statue was a drink of bile. Besides, it was a
terrible likeness. We'll call it even. You may leave this city
unharmed.
The dark elf then turned into mist and faded from view. Just three
seconds later, the Iron Dragon drove directly over the spot in the road
where the elf had been standing, continuing its thundering drive into
the mountains. After a long, breathless moment during which Gilbenstock
expected Dalamar to reappear and carry out his threat anyway, the gnome
closed his eyes and opened his mouth to say a prayer of thanks to
Reorx.
I would encourage you to take your time about coming back, however,
the voice added abruptly. And you'd best come on foot, if you come at
all.
No more was said.
Aside from running over a wagonload of fruit and a deaf opossum, the
Iron Dragon and its crew left the once tranquil city without further
incident.
* * * * *
After frantic hand signals from Gilbenstock, Squib was able to bring
the gargantuan device to a halt about sixteen miles outside of town,
deep in the Vingaard Mountains. Blasts of steam sprayed from the
locomotive's pipes and valves, the thunder echoing across the valleys
and cliffs. Gilbenstock found that he was so affected by the bone-
jarring ride that he was temporarily unable to walk or pick up things
with his fingers. He reached the ground after falling halfway down the
ladder and was removing sharp rock fragments from his palms when Squib
joined him.
The gnome took off his ear protection and tried to speak, but he
couldn't even hear himself over the endless ringing in his ears. He
gestured helplessly, then caught Squib by the arm and dragged him to
the port side of the idling machine. He pointed to the dry creek bed
that ran across the road ahead, traveling perpendicular to their
direction of travel. After a few more gestures, Squib caught on to the
idea that they were to drive up the creek bed and, with shaky limbs,
both of them remounted the vehicle. New blasts of noise rang throughout
the peaks. The Iron Dragon slowly spun on its port wheels, rocks
flying, and set out over the rough ground.
Traveling was now far worse than before. The Old South Road was hardly
in the best of condition in this area, but the rocky ground was awful
and forced the gully dwarf to drive at a fraction of their previous
speed. Gilbenstock was regularly slammed from side to side in his
cabin, the boxes and crates bouncing around him, and he banged his head
painfully on nearby pipes and gauges more often than was exactly
pleasant. More than once he was nearly thrown from the cabin through a
side window.
After what seemed like a thousand years of this punishment, Gilbenstock
dazedly noted that the Iron Dragon was coming to a halt. The machine
rocked on its wheels slightly, then settled down with another chorus of
steam blasts and metallic clanks and bangs.
I am not only deaf, he thought as he lay on the floor of his cabin, his
short arms wrapped around a pipe, but I have also had every bone in my
body broken to pieces. I will have to buy a new body, which means
another diamond gone, but it will be worth it. I shall ask around for a
taller body if possible.
Squib, grinning and hardly the worse for the wear, was able to bring
Gilbenstock down the ladder and revive him with a drink of meaty broth
from a sealed container. Gilbenstock soon pushed the cup away. Who knew
what the gully dwarf had made the soup with?
Gilbenstock quickly saw that Squib had stopped the machine because
there was simply nowhere else to go. The broad, trail-like creek had
once flowed from what looked like a cavern in the side of the mountain.
The cavern had long ago collapsed, and the creek had probably died with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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