Roperig walked around Cutwood, plucking at his baggy trousers.
'Give me your pants,' he said.
'What for?'
'I want to do some structural tests. There may be an invention in them.' Cutwood's eyes widened. He quickly removed his rusty twill trousers and stood by in blue flannel long johns. 'Brrr! This is a cold moon,' he said. 'I'm going for another pair of trousers, but don't you invent anything until I get back!'
Cutwood hurried to the Cloudmaster with showers of dust still cascading from his shoulders.
Sturm took Kitiara aside.
'Here's a pretty problem,' he said in a low voice. 'We need metal to repair the engine, and all our scrap was lost in a lake of dust.'
'Maybe Bellcrank could salvage a bit more from the flying ship,' Kitiara said.
'Maybe, but I don't trust him not to ruin the whole ship in the process. What we need is more metal.'
He faced the crowd of gnomes who were busy examining Cutwood's pants as if they were the find of a lifetime. Now and then a gnome would turn his head and sneeze.
'Oh, Bellcrank? Would you come over here, please?' Sturm said.
The gnome scurried over. He stopped, pulled out a handkerchief stained with grease and chemicals, and blew his nose loudly.
'Yes, Sturm?'
'Just how much metal do you need to fix the engine?'
'That depends on what type of switch I make. For a double throw, rotary pole — '
'The very least you'll need, in any case!' Bellcrank chewed his lip a moment and said, 'Thirty pounds of copper, or forty pounds of iron. Copper would be easier to work than iron, you see, and — '
'Yes, yes,' Kitiara said hastily. 'We don't have forty pounds of anything except beans.'
'Beans wouldn't work,' Bellcrank offered.
'All right. We'll just have to find some metal.' Sturm looked around. The high clouds were beginning to thin, and the twilight that had persisted since their landing was beginning to brighten. The sun that warmed Krynn was rising higher in their sky. Taking that direction as east (for convenience), they could see a distant range of hills far off to the north.
'Bellcrank, would you know iron ore when you saw it?' said Sturm.
'Would I know it? I know every ore there is!'
'Can you smelt it?'
The germ of Sturm's idea spread to the gnome, and he smiled widely.
'A fine notion, my friend. Worthy of a gnome!'
Kitiara slapped him on the back.
'There you are,' she said. 'A few days in the air and you start thinking like a gnome.'
'Never mind the wit. We've got to organize an expedition to those hills to see if there is any metal there.'
Bellcrank ran back to his fellows to share the news. Exclamations of joy rang across the empty plain. Cutwood, coming down the ramp from the Cloudmaster, was nearly bowled over as his fellows charged up. He was carried back inside with them. The thumps and crashes that always signified gnomish enthusiasm were not long in coming. Kitiara shook her head.
'Now see what you've done.' The first argument began over who would go on the trek and who would stay with the flying ship.
'Everyone can't go,' Sturm said. 'What food and water we have won't sustain us all on a long march.'
'I'll st-stay,' Stutts said. 'Cloudmaster is m-my responsibility.'
'Good fellow. Who will stay with Stutts?'
The gnomes looked at the purple sky, the stars, their shoes, anywhere but at Sturm.
'Whoever stays will get to work on the ship.' Birdcall whistled his acceptance. Hearing him agree, Flash said, 'Oh, well, burn it! No one understands the lightning bottles but me. I'll stay.'
'I'll stay behind,' Rainspot offered. 'I don't know much about prospecting.'
'Me, too,' Cutwood said.
'Hold your horses,' Kitiara objected. 'You can't all stay. Rainspot, we need you. We'll be out in the open, and if storms threaten, we'll want to know beforehand.'
The gnome grinned and placed himself by Kitiara. He gazed happily up at her, pleased that someone needed him.
'Three should be enough to watch over the ship,' Sturm said. 'The rest of you get your belongings together. No one is to take anything more than he can carry on his back.'
The gnomes all nodded vigorous affirmatives.
'After we eat, we'll all get some sleep and start fresh in the morning.'
'When is morning?' asked Bellcrank. Sighter unfolded his tripod and clamped his telescope in place. He studied the sky, searching for familiar stars. After a lengthy perusal, he announced, 'Sixteen hours. Maybe more. Hard to tell.'
He snapped the telescope tube shut.
'Sixteen hours!' said Kitiara. 'Why so long?'
'Lunitari doesn't sit in the same part of the heavens as Krynn. Right now, the shadow of our home world is over us. Until we move clear of it, this is all the light we'll get.'
'It will have to do,' Sturm said. To Fitter, who as the youngest gnome had permanent kitchen duty, he said, 'What is there to eat?'
'Beans,' said Fitter. Boiled beans, seasoned with their last tiny bit of bacon, was dinner, and it promised to be their breakfast, too. Sturm squatted under the overhang of the flying ship's hull and ate his bowl of beans. As he ate, he tried to imagine what lay beyond the dust and stones. The sky was not black, but purple, lightening at the horizon to a warm claret. Everything was wrought in tones of red — the dirt, the rocks; even the white beans seemed vaguely pink. Was all of Lunitari like this, lifeless? he wondered. 'Kitiara sauntered up. She'd shed her heavy furs for a less confining outfit. The hip-length jacket and leggings she'd retained, and had slung her sword over her left shoulder, as the Ergothites often did. In that position, it freed the legs for walking.
'Good, huh?' she said, dropping down beside Sturm.
'Beans are beans,' he replied, letting them fall from his spoon back into the bowl. 'I've eaten worse.'
'So have I. During the siege of Silvamori, my troops' menu was reduced to boiled-boot soup and tree leaves. And we were the besiegers.'
'How did the people in the town fare?' Sturm asked.
'Thousands died of starvation,' she said. The memory did not seem to trouble her. Sturm felt the beans turn to paste in his mouth.
'Don't you regret that so many died?' he asked.
'Not really. If a thousand more had perished, the siege might have ended sooner, and fewer of my comrades would have died.'
Sturm all but dropped his bowl. He stood up and started to walk away.
Kitiara, puzzled by his reaction, said, 'Are you through? Can I finish your beans?'
He stopped, his back to her. 'Yes, eat them all. Slaughter spoils my appetite.'
He mounted the ramp and disappeared into the Cloudmaster. A quick flush of anger welled within Kitiara. Who did he think he was? Young Master Brightblade presumed to look down on her for her warrior's code. The spoon Kitiara had clenched in her fist suddenly snapped. The pieces fell from her fingers. She stared at them, her anger dissolving as quickly as it had come. The spoon was made of sturdy ash wood. But it broke cleanly where her thumb had pressed on it. Kitiara's eyebrows rose in amazement. Must be a defect in the wood, she thought.
Chapter 10
