Bott, tapping one foot, leaned a shoulder against a strut of the Dragonshelf’s ;loading ramp. He had shouted twice without result, and lacked further options, Without knowing whether one of his remaining grenades was knockout gas, he hated to waste it. And even if it was, that meant either abandoning his crew or lugging them inside.
“Lupfta!” Bassada fell flat on her stomach, her face inches from a splut of yellow flame.
The mountain had turned out to be a step pyramid, with flames spouting here and there from prearranged spots. It had not proven difficult for Bott to climb in spite of occasional trap doors which had stuck halfway open. Others were completely sealed shut by the loss of power, sealing away whatever terrors were supposed to spring out at the fugitives.
So everyone would be aboard by now if the Klamathans had not become obsessed with what seemed to Bott to be secondary matters.
A green hand took hold of Bassada between the legs and forced her a little up but mostly forward. “Keep movin’, wobblebottom!”
Chlorda helped out, gripping blue ears with golden fingernails and swinging the red back and forth above the flaming fountain. The effort threw her backward onto her own golden rump but she didn’t seem to mind.
The lurid lights of the intermittent flames reminded Bott of shows he’d been treated to in religion classes years ago. He raised his communication card to his lips.
“Is it hot in here, ship, or is it just me?”
“It is hot in here, lummox. You just think you’re hot stuff.”
Bott sighed as Louba took Bassada by the ankles and threw her a few steps upward. “I don’t suppose there’s a handy fire extinguisher?”
“A dozen, lummox, but they won’t work. You had me shut down the power to the labyrinth, remember?”
“At your suggestion. I’m wondering if that was a good idea.”
“If it was my idea, it was a good one.”
His crew had made it within the highest ring of flames. Bassada had landed on her feet and was running to keep out of the reach of her companions. She was a bit red in places, but as far as Bott could tell, Louba and Chlorda had avoided actually tossing her into any of the flames.
Was this the time to deliver a lecture which would blister them everywhere they were unscorched? He thought it over as they barreled toward the ramp, but any decision was quahed by a cry of “Oh my!”. It had come from above.
“Lala!”
“Fripplepletz!”
“Light me nose an’ call me see-gar! “Looka ‘at!”
His crew had stopped short of their goal, all looking into the air. Bott, after a suspicious glance at the Draginshelf’s ramp, ran clear of the ship to find out what they saw.
It was worth the effort. A woman clinging to the shreds of her clothing and a large box at the same time was dropping from the sky in what appeared to be an immense egg. There was no saddle, and as the egg wobbled, she slid from one end of a long seat to the other. Somehow the egg did not roll over.
“Not enough power!” she was shouting. “Look out!”
The voice made Bott’s jaw tighten. He had ordered that any further fake librarians be eliminated. Snatching up one of the remaining grenades, he readied it and launched it skyward.
Bassada applauded. “Good shot, Cap’m!”
It wasn’t, really, even allowing for the fact that grenades hardly required pinpoint accuracy. He had thrown it way too low, so it was below the egg when it burst. With a psssh-thitt, long silver streamers shot out of the grenade in all directions. These twisted and fell apart, sending out more, thinner, threads.
Bott nodded: a hold grenade was something he understood. And he understood at once that this wasn’t going to do any good, unless it was more advanced than any grenade he’d seen. A hold grenade took hold of its target and fastened it to whatever surface was closest. But all there was in that direction was the ceiling, and the egg was falling too fast to be carried all the way back up to the artificial sky.
Egg’s descent and net’s rise were similarly slowed as the egg slid along the filaments of the wbbing. The captive and captor parted ways, and each continued in the direction it had been going. All he’d done was break her fall.
“Puts me in mind o’ ‘at ride in Franticville.”
“Oh, do the greens have one of those as well? I spent hours on ours.”
“It was me set a new record.”
Bott’s mind was on the box the librarian carried. He ran his tongue over his teeth and upper lip. If that turned out to be a book, did that make or more, or less, likely to be an impostor? Surely once she was out of the maze, the Emperor would have lost no time in killing her, to keep her from getting to her ship./ Or had he been too sure of his wonderful ship’s torturous gantlet to bother. His eyes narrowed, searching for anything he hadn’t seen in the other Nubries.
“I never liked that woman. Far too thin.”
“Nothin’ ta grab onta. Yow!”
Bassada had been pinched severely enough to remind her that prisoners in disgrace were not allowed to offer comments. Louba turned.
“Want us ta catch her, Bottsy Cap’m?”
Before Bott could answer, the egg descended toward the area where the spiuts of flame were most active. “Yopsh!” cried the librarian, trying to keep her seat as the egg twisted. The box must be something very valuable: she was more intent on clinging to that than on her own safety.
She had only about six feet to drop when she fell free, landing on a safe platform between flames. The egg, righting itself, came to a gentler landing a few inches above another patch of plain step not far away. Bott took a step forward, thought about it, and stepped back again.
This Nubry rose shakily, placing her feet very carefully as she checked the box over for signs of damage. There was nothing left of her clothing now but one strip of cloth; this appeared to be a matter of no concern to her. She looked behind her at the egg and, nodding, turned to look uphill. Taking a deep breath, she stumbled upward in a rush, the box hugged to her chest. The egg followed behind her, coming up the stairs behind her. The crew closed ranks.
“Let’s go!” gasped the librarian. “They’re coming!”
Th Klamathans didn’t move. The librarian stopped at the top step, planting her feet shoulder width apart. Bott had to rise on tiptoe to study her over the wall formed by of his crew.
“Fergit it, kid,” said Bassada, stepping forward.
The librarian licked her lips and raised the box. “I’m not armed. But they’re coming after me. We need to leave if we’re going to save the books!”
That sounded kind of right. Bott stepped through the hole Bassada’s movement had left in the wall. He thought he spotted her prayerstone under that strip of cloth.
He took the box from her hands. She waited, legs trembling, eyes anxious. “What is this?”
“The controls for that.” She turned to point at the egg, And licked her lips again.
Her lips were cracked; her tongue was dry. There were raw patches on her wrists and ankles, and blisters most everywhere else. Bott told himself none of this proved anything.
“What’s that?” he demanded.
“The Emperor’s new toy: it makes copies of things. That’s why there were so many of me in the maze. Dassie said to take it with me.”
Bott tipped the box, considering the multicolored panels. Her knowledge of the computer’s nickname didn’t prove anything, either. “You saw all those doubles of you in the maze?”
Her eyes met his. “He made me watch! Please! Let’s go! You can kill me later if you have to!”
And this didn’t prove anything either. But she was probably correct about leaving soon, and there had to be a real Nubry somewhere. “Let’s go.” He gestured toward the ramp.
He started for the Dragonshelf, but as he reached the crew, a green hand came down on his shoulder. “Cap’m, even if she IS real, no reason that thing yer carryin’ ain’t a bomb.”
Bott shook his head. “They’ve had plenty of time to rig bombs on the ship itself. AND just like them to arrange a surprise for us just as we get clear of the slave ship.”
“He would never let us go,” Chlorda put in. “It could be time for when we all reached this level. You should have left us behind, Captain.”
“I never leave crew until I have to.” He thought he heard a snort from Nubry. He changed his mind: the egg was no doubt a security device which would block any exit from the Drover.
The librarian joined them. “That’s my ship. I can tell, He couldn’t make a copy of anything this big. Could he? He could not.”
Bott, who had already been aboard one copy of the Dragonshelf, couldn’t see what she saw to come to this conclusion. He also couldn’t see the egg. He turned to his left and found it waiting, just beyond his crew.
“Ya got ‘em controls, Cap’m,” Bassada said, jumping a little as Louba reminded her with another pinch to keep quiet.
Bott started toward the ramp. The egg followed. He looked from the controls to the contraption, considering the threats and possibilities.
“Everyone up the ramp,” he ordered. “I want….” “Greetings!” called a voice all five of them had hoped never to hear again
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