Mercedes Lackey - Elvenborn

It looked like a box on two legs, with a pair of blunt crab-like pincers on arms attached to either side of the box. It wasn't very fast, and it wasn't at all graceful, but it was powerful. Some of those crashes hadn't been because it was plowing into obsta­cles, it was because it was picking them up with a pincer and tossing them aside if they were small enough.

Ancestors! I hope those two aren't anywhere under what's being dropped!

Two lights—were they mage-lights?—at the front of the box projected the beams of light that he had seen sweeping the ground looking for them. They swiveled, looking uncannily like eyes, and the resemblance made him shiver. His tunic clung damply to his back and his hands ached where he clutched the sides of his hiding-place.

It stopped and swept the ground around it with those light-beams. So—where were the other two, and why wasn't it able to spot them?

He frowned, thinking; Keman and Shana must be popping up, shouting, and moving off again while it blundered its way towards them, but the thing must not have very good vision, or surely it would see them getting away. That was something to keep in mind.

"Hey!" came the expected cry—and that was when Kyrtian realized that Shana and Keman were being even more clever than he'd thought. They weren't "popping up" where the construct could see them—instead, a piece of debris went flying through the air and landed on top of another construct with a clatter—at some distance from where the shouter was. The construct's light-

beams snapped across the length of the cave and focused on that. And where the junk landed was where the construct headed. No wonder it wasn't able to find what it so fervently hunted!

He dashed out of cover long enough to get a piece of debris himself, laboring under the double handicap of not wanting to distract the thing from its current hunt, and being careful not to go where he might inadvertently cast a shadow or move across the lantern-light. Maybe it didn't have good vision—and maybe it did. This wasn't the time to find out.

He kept one eye on the cave-mouth. I can't start bringing it back over here until Lynder and Hobie are safe through. . . .

"Ho!" A much, much bigger piece of debris went flying. That was Keman, who must be very much stronger than Shana.

Well of course — he's a dragon! Kyrtian thought of the im­mensely-strong shape Keman had taken to bring Shana and the gear down into the caves. It wasn't much bigger than a human, but no human could have done what Keman had.

The thing fastened its light-beams on the junk while it was still in the air, and started after it.

Kyrtian glanced over at the mouth of the cave, just in time to see twin shadows slip over the ledge and into the dark hole that was the start of their road to safety.

Relief made his mouth dry. At least they were out of this.

That was the good news; the bad news was that the thing was moving faster, and more surely, every time it crossed the floor. Instead of running out of power, it seemed as if movement was permitting it to loosen up joints long held immobile. It was a good thing he had decided to join this little game. It looked as if it was going to need three players.

The construct reached the spot where the debris had landed—but this time it stood as if it was considering some­thing, then slowly moved its lights along the path that the junk Keman had thrown had taken—

Oh, Ancestors. The thing can think. It's finally figured out that the debris isn 't what it wants, and that someone must have thrown it.

He dropped down out of sight, looked hastily around, and picked a place to hide. Far enough away—and near enough to

reach. He hoped. "Ha!" he shouted with all his might, and flung his own piece of junk.

He was already running flat-out for his hiding-place when the piece left his hand. He dove and rolled beneath the con­struct and lay there with his mouth clamped around his sleeve to muffle his panting as the footsteps crashed nearer and nearer....

"Ha!" Shana heard, and knew immediately that it wasn't Ke-man. So Kyrtian had decided to get into the "game." She spared a moment to "feel" with her mind for Hobie and Lynder, and to her immense relief sensed them in the vicinity of the cave-mouth. And their "presences" were receding. Kyrtian was no fool, though he might be brave to the point of foolhardiness.

Still, she was glad of his aid, and gladder still he'd gotten the two weakest members of the group out of danger.

:Keman — he's sent them for help!:

:Or at least he's sent them away.: Keman replied, as the con­struct crashed its way across the floor.:I don't know how much help the rest of his men could be ... even if they get here before this thing catches one of us.:

Well, neither did she. But right now, that was second on her list of concerns. The first was how to keep herself, and Keman, and Kyrtian out of the claws of the monster. Fear seemed to sharpen all of her senses, and made her thoughts faster. Once this was over—if she lived through it—she'd collapse. Now she was all calculation.

:What is that thing, anyway?: Maybe the way to figuring out how to get rid of it lay in what it was supposed to do. The An­cestors made the wretched things as slaves—to do all their work for them. Which was why when they found this world full of humans they hadn't needed the things that had gone dead on them and presumably hadn't bothered to retrieve them.

But the monster was silent again, and it was her turn to dis­tract it. She had her piece of trash ready, a nice light piece of something metallic that should make a lot of clatter. "Hey!" she yelped, and tossed it backwards over her head as she sped

off in the opposite direction, scooting under the platform of something that vaguely resembled a hut with a porch.

The Ancestors made them as slaves —What could they possi­bly have wanted with that thing? Two-legged, piercing through the gloom of the cave with lights, huge pincers—

She cringed back into her shelter as those twin beams of light swept a little too close. The thing was getting faster, and more nimble. That was not good.

And this time it hadn't gone for the place where the trash had landed, but for somewhere nearer the place where she'd been standing when she shouted. That was worse.

"Ho!" shouted Keman, and the thing whirled and lurched off.

What could that monster possibly be good for? She ducked out of her shelter and took a quick look around, just in time to see it pick up another horse-sized construct and toss it aside, for all the world like one of her farmers, tossing aside a stone or a brick that was in the way of the plow.

Her eyes widened involuntarily as she imagined the thing picking up—say—the load on a wagon, and moving it to a barn.

Of course . .. that's what it's for.

:Keman — that monster — it's meant to move things.:

:Well, it's doing a good job of it!: Keman responded acidly. :It almost dropped that last bit it threw away right on top of me!:

:No, no, I'm telling you what it's meant to do! That's the job it's meant for, to move things. That's what the Ancestors made itfor!:

The thing stopped, and started hunting for Keman, sweeping its lights over the increasingly-chaotic and increasingly-tangled ranks of constructs. :So — what does a thing like that need — to do its job?: came Keman's reply.

"Ha!" shouted Kyrtian, and the monster was off again. Shana noticed that Kyrtian hadn't bothered to toss any junk this time. He must have seen that the monster wasn't fooled by it anymore.