Conundrum

With his hands folded behind his back, Commodore Brigg watched the stone walls slide past. Doctor Bothy reappeared on the bridge and stood quietly beside him, his fingers drumming one of the large brass buttons decorating the breast of his blue uniform. Professor Hap-Troggensbottle paced before the porthole, turning with each pass to gaze out into the eerie darkness of the deep sea. He paused occasionally to peer at some peculiar creature of the briny deeps never before recorded or observed by science. These floated in all their alien strangeness into and out of their view quickly, like people passing in the street. The gnomes had an uneasy feeling that they, inside their iron, spring-powered bubble, were the curiosities on display, and that these creatures with their long, wavering antennae, streaming swimmers, phosphorescent bodies, and bulging white eyes were popping by for a quick peek at these interlopers into their dark, mysterious domain. Some resembled creatures often seen in shallower and friendlier waters-

lobsters, shrimp, jellyfish, rays, and eels-only horribly transformed into creatures out of nightmare. Others were clearly quite beyond the wildest imaginings of even the kender, as evidenced by his open-mouthed speechlessness. Some of these seemed almost not to be natural creatures at all, but the mad creations of some demented gnome inventor. Others flashed and quivered with life, their internal parts visible through bodies as translucent as polished glass.

It was Sir Grumdish who spoke first. “Shouldn’t we arm, Commodore? These things might just be the babies. I’d hate the meet that one’s mother.” He pointed to a particularly fearsome fish, ghostly white, with more teeth than three sharks put together and one large, pink eye that gazed back at them with an unsettling spark of intelligence. “Besides, I imagine we are getting close to the Abyss now. There’ll probably be dragons attacking us at any moment.” He sounded almost gleeful.

The commodore nodded.

Sir Grumdish shouted below, “Extend the Toaster!”

They heard Chief Portlost scramble to follow the order, all the while complaining that the drive springs needed more oil. The ram slid out from the bow of the Indestructible and snapped into place with a satisfying shudder.

Suddenly, the walls of the pit fell away to either side, opening into a huge dark cavern, the mouth of which was wider than the view through the porthole allowed them to see.

“Disengage descending flowpellars!” Snork shouted.

The whirling of the motors wound to a stop, and the ship hung like a rusty carrot before the gaping black maw of the continent of Ansalon.

“We’re here,” Snork said with a broad, toothy smile.

The gnomes huddled in excitement around the porthole, while Razmous leaped like a terrier trying to see over or around the massed group of wrinkled brown pates crowding the view. As word spread quickly throughout the ship, crew members gathered on the bridge and spoke together in a raucous babble. There was much shaking of hands, slapping of backs, and tugging of beards. Even Chief Portlost poked his curious face up from below, though he did not entirely abandon his post-his feet were still below the bridge deck. The cook staggered out, wrapped like a mummy from his latest trial of the flashcooker, to peer via eyeslits through the thick glass at the dark sea cavern opening before them.

It was about this time that Commodore Brigg noticed that they were floating into the cave, even though the engines had been disengaged. “There must be a current,” he noted with some concern. “The ship will be difficult to pilot with a following sea.”

“But that also means that there is a way out!” Snork said excitedly. “All we have to do is follow the current and it should bring us out the other side!”

“Are we prepared to enter upon this last stage of the journey? All stations report green or not green,” the commodore commanded.

“Propulsion systems green,” Chief Portlost shouted as he ducked back down the ladder.

“Weapons systems green,” Sir Grumdish confirmed.

“Medical bay is ready,” Doctor Bothy said.

“Please confirm with green or not green,” the commodore admonished.

“Medical bay green,” Doctor Bothy answered with a scowl.

“Sciences are green,” the professor said.

“Navigation green,” Snork confirmed.

“What about cartography?” Commodore Brigg growled when the kender failed to speak up.

“Oh, you mean me?” Razmous asked. “I’d forgotten. Um, cartography not green. I don’t have my Polywog maps.”

“Where are they?” the commodore asked.

“In my cabin,” Snork said. “I’ll get them.”

“And find the first assistant cartographer, Conundrum.”

“Aye, Commodore,” Snork said as he rushed forward.

With the majority of the crew on the bridge and the engines disengaged, the forward parts of the ship were eerily quiet. Even the popping and creaking of the hull had ceased now that the ship had stopped its descent. Snork made his way along the corridor until he reached his cabin. Darting inside, he scooped up the loose pages of the kender’s maps as well as the copies they had made to try to trace their future course. But Conundrum was nowhere to be seen.

Tucking the papers up under his bearded chin, he began to shut the cabin door, but a burst of evil laughter from the bow of the ship sent the maps spilling across the deck as his jaw dropped open. He spun, half-expecting to see the ghost of a minotaur pirate floating down the passage toward him, ready to freeze his blood and turn his bones to water, as the bards and storytellers liked to say.

But the corridor was empty, bluely illuminated by a couple of glowwormglobes hung at regular intervals along its length. At the end of the corridor was the small, round door leading to the wizard’s quarters. From behind this, Snork thought he heard voices. One obviously belonged to the wizard, but the other was new to him. It sounded deep and sinister, but tiny and remote, like a giant shouting from a mountaintop. It certainly wasn’t the voice of a gnome, of that much he was certain.

Leaving his maps where they had fallen, he crept toward the door. The voices behind the door grew in volume until, still a few feet away, he could hear quite plainly what they were saying.

“So the gnomes” ship actually works?” a deep, feminine voice chuckled. “Amazing!”

Snork felt a flush of pride, even as he wondered at the source of the voice. Could it be some stowaway that the Thorn Knight had slipped onboard? It seemed impossible. Then again, he was a wizard, and with wizards many things were possible.

The feminine voice continued, “Even now you descend to the Abyss.”

“We’ve stopped,” said a third voice. To his amazement, Snork recognized it as his cousin’s voice. Now deeply concerned, he placed one hand on the latch to open the door.

“Yes, it seems we have stopped,” Tanar confirmed, glancing out the forward porthole at the huge cavern yawning before the bow of the ship. “Even now, the gnomes are preparing to enter the cavern and continue on their preposterous quest to find a passage beneath the continent.”

Gently, so as to make as little noise as possible, Snork lifted the latch and pushed the door open a crack. Inside, he saw Sir Tanar sitting in his hammock facing the door, but with his eyes lowered to the box before him, he failed to notice Snork’s intrusion. Behind him, the porthole was filled with the awful seascape of the submerged cave, toward which the Indestructible floated. Of the source of the female voice, he saw no sign.

Fearful of being discovered by the wizard, Snork began to close the door, pausing only a moment to glance quickly around the cabin for Conundrum. He spotted his cousin standing among some barrels, an admiring expression on his red-bearded face as he gazed at the Thorn Knight.

“You had better act now, Tanar,” the voice urged from the open box. “You must take over the ship and continue to the bottom of the chasm.”

Snork started, the door still half open. Take over the ship?

“Mutiny!” he gasped.