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man was obsessed with the holy state of Company brotherhood.
"You never know what you'll do until you're in the ring with the bull, do
you?"
"What?"'
"A proverb from back home. Means that actually facing the reality is never
quite like preparing to face the reality. You never really know what you'll do
until you get there."
I passed the rest of the Captured, not meeting any open eyes. I wondered if
they could hear. I offered up some reassurances that sounded feeble even to
me. The cavern shrank. When it came time to get down and crawl, I crawled. I
told Swan, "Maybe it's good, you being here after all. I'm starting to have
little dizzy spells."
"You hear anything?"
I listened. This time I did hear something. "Sounds like somebody singing. A
marching song? Something full of 'yo-ho-ho's.' " What the devil?
"Down here? We have dwarfs, too?"
"Dwarfs?"
"Mythical creatures. Like short people with big beards and permanent bad
tempers. They lived underground, like nagas, only supposedly big on mining and
metalworking. If they ever did exist, they died out a long time ago."
The singing was getting louder. "Let's get this handled before somebody
interrupts."
Chapter 92
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The pessimist in me was sure I would not be able to pull it off. If nothing
else, the earthquake Swan mentioned would in some way have sealed the chamber
of unholy books off from the rest of the world. If the chamber was not sealed
off, then I would trip the only booby trap that Goblin had overlooked. If
Goblin had not overlooked any booby traps, then the pickax would not be a
protective key, it would be a trigger igniting the thousand secret sorceries
protecting the books.
"Sleepy, do you know you talk to yourself when you're worried about stuff?"
"What?"
"You're crawling along there muttering about all the bad things that're going
to happen. You keep on and you're going to convince me."
That was twice. I had to get that under control. I did not use to do that.
The place where the Books of the Dead were hidden had not changed visibly. The
pessimist in me worked hard to find a dangerous difference, though.
Swan finally asked, "Are you going to study on it till we pass out from
hunger? Or are you going to go ahead and do something?"
"I always was a better planner than a doer, Willow." I sucked in a peck of
frigid air, took the pickax out of my waistband, intoned, "O Lord of Heaven
and Earth, let there be no password that has to go with this."
"Right behind you, boss," Swan said, making a joke as he nudged me forward.
"Don't be shy now."
Of course not. That would belittle Goblin's sacrifice and memory.
I realized that my breathing had turned to rapid, shallow panting as I reached
the point where Master Santaraksita had achieved flight. I held the pick in
front of me with both hands, muscles protesting its weight, squeezing it so
tight I feared I would leave my fingerprints etched upon it permanently.
A tingling began in my hands. It crept up my arms as I eased forward. My skin
crawled and I developed severe goose bumps. I said, "You'd better hold onto
me, Willow." In case I needed yanking back. "In case you need the connection
to the pick." The shield was not rejecting me. Not yet.
Swan rested his hands on my shoulders an instant before the tingling reached
my body. I began to shiver. Suddenly I had the chills and shakes of an autumn
sickness.
"Woo!" Swan said. "This feels weird."
"It gets weirder," I promised. "I've got one of those agues where the chill
goes all the way to the marrow."
"Uh... yeah. I'm getting there, too. Toss in some joint aches, too. Come on.
Let's get that fire started and warm ourselves."
Would fire be enough?
Once we moved forward another ten feet, the miseries stopped getting worse.
The tingling on the outside faded. I told Swan, "I think it's safe to let go
now."
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"You should have seen your hair. It started dancing around when we were
halfway through. It lasted only a couple of steps but it was a sight."
"I'll bet." My hair was a sight anyway, usually. I did not offer it nearly
enough attention and I had not had it trimmed in months. "Got anything to
start a fire with?"
"You don't? You didn't prepare for this? You knew it had to be done and you
didn't bring--"
"All right, we'll use mine. I just don't have much tinder left. Didn't want to
use mine up when I could use yours."
"Thanks a lot. You're getting as bad as those two nasty old men." Chagrined,
he recalled that one of the nasty old men he meant had just completed his
tenure with the Company.
"I learned from the best. Listen. I've been thinking about this. Even if we
are past all the traps, the books themselves might be dangerous. Considering
the way the brains of wizards work, it's probably not a smart thing to peek
inside at the pages. One look at the writings and you're likely to spend the
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