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"I'll be a monkey's uncle!"
With the golden object in his knapsack nestled beside his last grenade, he ran after the others. By the time he got to the room where the rope hung from the ceiling hole, he was breathing heavily. He had plenty of time to regain his wind. Four men were waiting for their turn to climb the rope. He guarded the door while they swarmed up. So far, so good. There was no sound of pursuit. The Gillikins would have no trouble tracking them, however, by the footprints in the dust. Even so, the queen's men would be further delayed because they would have to find a ladder.
Sharts was by the hole. He pulled up Hank easily with one hand, while holding a torch with the right hand. The others were out of sight in the shaft.
Those strange eyes missed little. He said, "What's that in your sack?"
"Something that might come in very handily."
Sharts grabbed Hank's arm with a grip that threatened to pop the blood vessels.
"Remember. We all share in any loot."
"Not this. I think this belongs to Glinda. And take your hand off me."
Sharts bit his lip, but he removed his hand. He went down the shaft. Hank crouched by the trapdoor for a moment listening for the Gillikins. He heard nothing, but, when he straightened up and began lowering the trapdoor, he caught a faint sound. In a few seconds, he could hear loud voices. He hesitated. Should he wait until the room below was filled and then drop the grenade? That might make them so fearful that it would be a long time before they pushed on after the invaders. But Erakna would be very angry, and she would drive her soldiers on no matter how reluctant they were. They would fear her more than his fearful weapons.
He decided that he should save the grenade for a more critical situation.
Going down the rungs, he felt very uneasy. If the Gillikins should get to the top of the shaft while he was still in it, they could drop something on or shoot him. He was a comparatively easy target since he was holding in his teeth the torch which had been left for him in the room.
No shouts of exultation came from above. Reaching the bottom, he found his box magazines. Smiim had wisely concluded that Hank might need them handy now that they were separated. Hank put one in each pocket and the remaining five in his knapsack.
He ran upright through the rooms and stooping through the tu
"My God!"
The pool had spread at least twenty feet on each side. That was both good and bad. By the time the pursuers got here, they might find the tu
There was no use hesitating. He walked into the cold water until it was up to his chin and began paddling with one hand. He had to work furiously to keep his nose above the water, but he was soon touching the floor, and he began walking again. He was glad that it was not winter. He would freeze when he left the house.
Sharts was putting on his wooden-shoed boots.
"They're upstairs," he said. "Everything's ready. The wagon is in front of the house. First, though, put on your boots."
They went outside. Many of the houses had bright windows; the inhabitants had all returned from the rally. The rain smote him, thunder rumbled, and lightning did its best to put the fear of God in all living creatures. The storm had shattered their plan to get lost in the mobs returning from the rally while they made their way to the escape point. The hawks, however, had flown away. Bargma, the owl, looked as if he would have liked to go with them.
"The city will be swarming with soldiers!" Sharts yelled. Hank did not reply; none was needed. He got into the wagon with the giant and Blogo and assumed the fetal position again. The others piled hay and fruit on them in a thin layer. They had removed these and put them on the street, and now they did not think that there was time to completely cover the three.
Audag, his son, and one man would get up on the seat. The wagon began moving slowly, then it picked up speed. Now that there were no crowds and no traffic, there was no use ambling i
Hank began counting the minutes. One thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three.... Four minutes had just passed when he heard a loud challenge. There was the clatter of iron deershoes on the cobblestones, and the wagon stopped. Hank gripped the stock and barrel of the BAR and waited.
"Who are you?" a hoarse voice said. "What are you doing out in the storm?"
"Please, sir, we're just farmers," Audag whined. "We were turned out of our i
"And just where is this i
"The Jolly Cheeks. The crook who owns it is Skilduz the Stammerer, may he rot in the ground and worms enjoy his beer-soaked putrid carcass."
"The Jolly Cheeks? That's on the other side of town. Sergeant, probe that pile in the wagon with your spear."
"Yes, sir!" the sergeant bellowed. "You, Izak and Azgo, help me!"
"Nuts!" Hank said. He came up out of the pile at the same time as Sharts and Blogo. He only had time for a quick estimate of the situation. The wagon was surrounded by nine men on deer and three getting off their beasts. None of them seemed to have crossbows. He stood up, yelling at Sharts and Blogo to get out of his fire, and he turned, shooting until he had completed a circle. The officer fell first; eight either dropped from their saddles or fell under the weight of their stricken animals. Then Hank had to attach a fresh magazine to the BAR. Three on the ground leaped up and started to run away. They and the three still mounted might have gotten away in the darkness if Hank's colleagues had not brought loaded crossbows from under their cloaks and shot them.
Blinds went up in the nearby houses, and people looked out through the rain.
"Go like hell!" Sharts screamed.
The wagon started with a jerk that hurled Hank off his feet. Fortunately, the hay and fruit softened his fall.
While the wagon rattled, bumped, and jolted down the streets and skidded around corners, Hank reloaded. A minute later, a patrol spread out across a wide street to block them. The BAR was emptied clearing them out of the way. Hank attached another box magazine. Five left.
The wagon finally stopped below a sentinel tower on the outer wall of Wugma. It was a half-mile from the north gates. While Audag and his son unhitched the deer, Sharts hallooed the guard in the tower. He would be, if all went according to plan, an agent of Glinda. He had been in the Gillikin army for three years, and he was supposed to put his fellow guard out of commission and let down a rope ladder. Every tower had one; they were to be used to admit other troops to the top if besiegers broke through and cut off the access of other defenders to the top of the wall.
Their disadvantage was that they could be lowered to let enemies in or out.
The man in the tower was barely visible by his torchlight. He waved, and, two seconds later, the ladder fell down. Smiim was the first up; Audag, the last. The deer were gone then. They would hide during the night. When morning came, they would dash through the city gates and be lost in the country. At least, that was what they hoped. The plan to haul them up by ropes had to be abandoned. There just was not enough time for that. The sentinels in both towers on each side were yelling and beating drums now.
A lightning flash showed that a man had left each of these towers and was advancing towards them. Hank killed them with four rounds.
Presently, they were on the ground with the agent Lukaz, and they were heading north through the village there. Just as they left it and were going across farmland, Bargma lit on Hank's shoulder.