James Enge - This Crooked Way

"Whom have I been slandering?" Morlock asked, glancing around the dim mirror-encrusted room.

"Me! You claim to be the master of all makers-"

"No."

11 -when you know full well that I am the greatest of all makers!"

"I never heard of you until today, Nurgnatz."

"That's an obvious lie, since-" the gnome began, and then interrupted himself to scream, "Hey! My name is All-Wise!"

"These walls are covered with love poetry to someone named Nurgnatz," Morlock replied. "The one I can see most clearly begins, `Oh Nurgnatz, your thighs like thunder bestride the yearning world-"'

"Those were written by my many admirers!"

"They're all in the same handwriting and none of them is written higher than what is eye-level for you. But I take it you admit your name is Nurgnatz."

The gnome ground an ugly yellow tooth or two and then snapped, "It was Nurgnatz. I changed my name to reflect my true nature! All-Wise, AllStrong, All-Beautiful!"

"Why did you ever call yourself Nurgnatz, then?" Rhabia wondered.

The gnome glanced darkly at her and said, "It was my sister's idea. We agreed to name each other."

"And what did you name her?" Rhabia asked.

"Glundoschlunk," Nurgnatz admitted. "But she was ugly. You can't imagine how ugly she was!"

"About four and a half feet tall, flat head, covered with yellow-gray warts," Morlock guessed.

"It's a good start," Nurgnatz admitted modestly. "But she never anointed her warts with tallow! Often they exhibited a dry encrustation! Is this not repellent?"

"In context, no."

"After eating dragon-dung cakes she never rinsed her mouth with dreckooze! Does this not disgust you?"

"Not as much as you do."

Nurgnatz laughed indifferently. His ego was unassailable; he simply didn't believe Morlock. Rhabia was leaning forward against the door of her cage, staring with unguarded interest at the gnome. He turned toward her and, without warning, leapt forward, his fangs bare. Rhabia jumped back, but not before she felt a shock like a hammer-blow on her left hand. Looking down, she saw blood pouring from two stumps. Looking up, she saw her two middle fingers dangling like burst sausages from Nurgnatz's yellowish gray lips, blood streaking the warts below his mouth like a beard. He sucked them into his maw and began to chew.

Rhabia swore more or less continuously as she wrapped up her wounded hand in a bandage torn from her clothing.

"Well, I was hungry," Nurgnatz replied, as if that explained everything. He turned back to Morlock. "I'm wasting too much time here. I wanted to ask you how to get into your backpack. I'm sure there are some interesting items in there that could enhance my reputation, making up in some slight way-"

"I had some problems with thieves," Morlock interrupted, "so I set a seal on it. You won't be able to open it."

"That's nay point, Morlock; do try to keep up. I can't get it open, and I want to. How do I go about it? I'm going to eat you anyway; there's no point in your stuff going to waste. Do be reasonable."

Morlock said, "Death and Sleep are brothers. I am not afraid of dying, as long as-" He broke off abruptly.

"As long as what?" Nurgnatz prompted him. "What is it that frightens you more than Death or Sleep?"

Rhabia heard all this dimly through a red haze of pain and anger and shame. She was sick at the thought of being mutilated, and the torn flesh of her finger-stumps felt as if there were little fires, growing more intense all the time, and she was furious at Nurgnatz for biting her and at herself for letting it happen. She was even angry at Morlock, who just stood there in his cage and gaped uselessly at her. The burning pain in her wounded hand reminded her somehow of the message set on fire by the wound in Morlock's hand, and she suddenly thought of a way to get revenge on the gnome who had mutilated her.

She laughed harshly. "I know what he's afraid of," she said to the gnome. "I'll tell you."

Morlock looked at her as if he'd been slapped, and the gnome turned with relief to his more cooperative witness. "Well?" Nurgnatz said.

"I'll tell you if you promise me something," Rhabia said slowly.

"Don't!" shouted Morlock.

"What is it?" Nurgnatz asked.

"I want you to kill me before you eat the rest of me," Rhabia said dully. "I don't want to be eaten piece by piece."

"Hm," Nurgnatz said slowly. "It's rather a great concession, as I like my meat fresh and fresh. Still. Very well."

"Don't do it!" Morlock urged. "He's lying to you!"

"It's fire," Rhabia said swiftly, before she could change her mind. "Morlock's terrified of it. I had to make the campfire and cook the food all through the trip-"

"Eh," Morlock said weakly, "it's woman's work."

"We'll see about that," Nurgnatz said thoughtfully. "I've a grill upstairs I haven't used for ages. Shall we try it out, Morlock?"

"You wouldn't dare," replied Morlock glumly.

"You forget I am All-Wise, All-Strong, All-Brave-the compendium of all the virtues! We'll test yours in a little while," he leered, and scampered back the way he had brought them.

Morlock said nothing but reached into his boot and drew out a little piece of metal. He reached through the bars of his cage and tossed it to Rhabia. She caught it with her unwounded hand and looked at it. It was an odd little thing, like a long blunt needle with many flexible joints. She'd never seen anything like it, but she was very much mistaken if it wasn't a lockpick.

Rhabia looked at Morlock. There must be some reason he wasn't saying anything-maybe Nurgnatz was (or could be) listening just outside the door. She gestured toward the door of her cage, as if to say, Shall we go now?

Morlock held up his hand (Wait!) and then gestured with his hand toward himself and then waved in the direction Nurgnatz had gone. She guessed he was telling her to stay where she was until Nurgnatz came back and took him away.

She gestured at him and herself and then more urgently toward the cage door. Let'r go now!

He gestured at his shoulders. She didn't get it at first, then she realized he was saying, What about my backpack?

She gestured at him, then herself, then at her own shoulders, meaning, Is a backpack worth your life or mine?

Rather unimaginatively, he gestured at his shoulders again, which Rhabia interpreted as, I'm getting my damn backpack.

She shrugged and stood pat. After all, it was barely possible he knew what he was doing. If Nurgnatz wanted what was in Morlock's backpack so bad, maybe he shouldn't get it.

Morlock was pointing solemnly at his head, then at Rhabia. You're pretty smart, she read this.

"And cute, too," she replied aloud, in a Nurgnatzian burst of self-esteem, and turned away to staunch her wounds.

Time passed. Crouching in a corner of her cage, Rhabia actually fell asleep for a while, in spite of her pain, and the cold, and her fear. But when Nurgnatz returned with his headless bear in attendance, her head snapped up and she leaped to her feet. The bear was walking upright, Rhabia saw dimly through sleep-bleared eyes, and its red forepaws were actually hands of a sort-with seven or eight fingers each, and at least three thumbs per hand.

Nurgnatz opened Morlock's cage and stood back. The headless bear rushed in before Morlock could dodge out, and it grabbed him with four arms-an extra pair extruded from the headless bear's belly to help it keep the crooked man captive. Then it lumbered out of the cage and went to stand by Nurgnatz.

"See you soon, my dear!" carolled the gnome, his warty chin still stained with her blood, and he dodged out of the many-mirrored chamber again. The headless bear, carrying Morlock, lumbered swiftly after.

She waited until their sounds had vanished, following them up the tunnel, and then she got to work with the lockpick. Her wounded hand hurt more than ever, and every time she had to use it the stumps started bleeding again …but fortunately she was right-handed. And, anyway, this was life or death; she couldn't worry about minor discomforts, or even major ones.