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an intense desire to separate my head from my neck. Governments, you know, take everything very
seriously. No sense of humor. So I wandered around in the woods, almost got eaten by a tiger, and then
met Sharts... He looked at the giant to make sure that he was concentrating inwardly, ... the Shirtless,
he whispered.
Hank hesitated, then said, Uh, Sharts mentioned something about the Very Rare Beast. What s that?
Blogo s eyes widened, and he bared his teeth. He held his hot pipe by the bowl, and he said, How d
you like this shoved all the way up to your liver?
Sorry. No offense meant, Hank said.
Well, there s plenty taken. How d you like to step outside and take me on? I ve torn men bigger than
you into little strips!
That d be stupid, no offense meant, Hank said.
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He walked away shaking his head.
Shortly before sunset, the farmer and his son pushed a wagon into the barn. After the doors were closed,
Hank, Blogo, and Sharts lay down with the weapons and Sharts s shirts on the floor of the wagon. They
were covered with hay over which was piled a few layers of an early-season indigenous fruit. While the
three crypto-passengers breathed through cracks in the floor, the wagon was pushed out of the barn and
hitched to four of the farmer s deer. And they were on their way.
Hank could hear the crowds on the road and the occasional talk of his compatriots walking behind the
wagon. The farmers going to the big rally did not sound as happy as Erakna would have liked. There was
no laughter, and there were many complaints, though he noted that no one said anything directly about
the queen. Doubtless, there were spies and agents provocateur among them.
After what seemed a long time but was probably only an hour, the wagon stopped. Hank could hear the
gate guards asking the farmer some questions. Abraam said that he intended to sell the fruit to the crowd
during the rally. If he did not sell all of it tonight, he would tomorrow at the market. Would the guards
care to sample some of the fruit? Take some home for their families? The guards said that they would.
Hank hoped that they wouldn t stick their spears through the fruit to find out if there was any contraband.
They did not, and, after they had lightened the load somewhat, they told Abraam to go on and have a
good time.
They were within the walls and passing very slowly through noisy obviously drunken crowds. The halts
were frequent. But, inside an hour, or so it seemed, the wagon halted, and Abraam knocked three times
on the side of the wagon. Hank came up out of the hay and fruit like Lazarus rising from the tomb. Very
stiffly and wondering, What next?
It was dark, the only near light was from the windows of a few houses and a tall oil-burning lamp on a
street corner half a block away. No. Blogo s lamp, held by Smiirn, was lit.
The street was narrow and smelly, and the narrow houses were three- or four-storied and had high
pointed roofs. There were no sidewalks. The house before which the wagon had halted was dark, but a
stranger was talking to Smiirn and Unwaz. From what seemed to be far off came the muted surf-dash
roar of a crowd.
Shafts went up to the man in the doorway and began talking. Presently, he turned and spoke to Hank.
This is Audag the Limper. He says we re to go inside now, no loitering, and the wagon will be parked
inside the court behind his house.
Audag was middle-aged, thin, and had an exceptionally long and narrow face. He introduced his
teen-aged son, who looked like his father but was taller.
Abraam and his son said their farewells and wishes for the success of the raid. They would go to a
relative s house for several days and then return, minus the wagon and deer, to their farm.
The owl and Balthii settled on Hank s shoulders. He took the cloth case containing the BAR; a man
carried the boxes holding the box magazines and the grenades. He went into a small unlit room with a
steep staircase in front of him and a door on each side. He passed the staircase and turned to go into a
doorway on its side. A wet and musky odor struck him. He sniffed. There was something familiar about
it. Dead rats.
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They were in a cluttered basement which held wooden boxes of all sizes, piles of papers tied together,
and broken furniture and toys. Audag and two raiders began removing the boxes stacked against the
north wall. When these were out of the way, a mortared brick wall, damp and gray-streaked with some
kind of lichen, was revealed.
Audag marked an area on the wall with chalk and then indicated a sledgehammer, some wedges, picks,
drills, and shovels.
You ll have to tear out the bricks here.
Sharts worked at the upper level of bricks, and Blogo removed the lower level when Sharts was done.
The hole revealed a solid bank of dirt.
It s two feet deep, Audag said. There s another wall behind that. It was constructed that way so
tapping on the wall wouldn t bring a hollow sound.
Two men picked at and shoveled away the dirt. Sharts got impatient with what seemed to him their
slowness, and he attacked the dirt facade. When it was off, another brick wall was before him. Without
pausing for rest, Sharts began tearing the bricks loose from the decaying mortar. A chain of men picked
up the bricks and passed them to a corner.
Sharts, not breathing hard after his exertions, said, We ll wait for a few minutes. The air might be bad.
It certainly smelled dead, but it was moving. There was a means for ventilation somewhere in there.
Sharts thrust his torch into the entrance. Hank, standing close behind him, looked within. The
downward-slanting tunnel had been dug from the dirt for about sixty feet. Then it had been hewn from
rock. The bricks lining the wall had given way in a few places, and dirt had poured through the gaps. But
the wooden beams, though rotting, and the reinforcing steel beams, though rusty, had held.
It goes under the moat around the castle, Audag said.
I know that, Sharts growled.
Thanks very much for your help, Hank said to Audag. Glinda will see to it that you get your money.
Sharts leading, they filed into the narrow tunnel. There was just room for two pygmies to walk shoulder
to shoulder, and the two giants had to stoop. They walked slowly since Sharts still did not trust the air,
and he also was wary of traps. When they came to the lowest part of the tunnel, they were confronted
with a black pool of water about thirty feet across. The tunnel slanted upward on the other side.
Even as Sharts stood on the edge, the water oozed towards his feet and a few bubbles broke in the
center of the blackness.
A day or two later, Sharts said grimly, and the tunnel would have been filled with water.
Hank, watching the spreading pool, thought that they would be lucky if they did not have to swim when
they returned from the castle. Perhaps Sharts thought so too but did not want to discourage the others.
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