Warlock

smoke. “He's not in there,” the giant said. “He wasn't in his room when it happened.”
        
        “Thank the gods!” the Shaker said, meaning it, even though he was not a religious man.
        
        On the stairs from the first floor, there was the thud of feet, and young Gregor broke through the fumes, wild-eyed, his hair in total disarray, blood streaming down from a gash on his forehead. “Are you both all right?” he asked.
        
        “Yes,” the the Shaker said, “But you're bleeding.”
        
        “There was a man,” Gregor said. “Earlier in the night, I grew hungry and went downstairs to the kitchen in the back of the house. I was just finishing some pie and a sandwich when the explosion happened. I came for the stairs at a run and collided with him there. Before I could even ascertain if it was you or Mace, he struck me with what could have been the haft of a knife and ran into the street. I didn't give pursuit”
        
        The Shaker examined the wound, pronounced it minor. “Let's open some windows and get this awful stuff out of here,” he said. Then downstairs to the kitchen for some brew and some theorization. I have something in my room which may prove interesting.”
        
        “A tube with a sparkling fuse?”
        
        “Why, yes, Mace, it is a sparkling object I haven't seen its shape yet.”
        
        “And you suppose there was one in Gregor's room which exploded?” the giant asked.
        
        “So it seems.”
        
        Mace looked ill. “There was one thrown into my room as well,” he said. “It wakened me, and I turned on the light and picked it up. I couldn't see what it could be, and the burning tallow seemed to sputter out an inch or so before it reached the tube. A dud, I suppose. A faulty fuse. But if it had not been, it would have exploded in my face!”
        

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    4
        
        
        
        “The tube is packed with highly explosive gun powder, and when the flame of the fuse reaches the capped end and burns through this tightly sealed hole, the result is a controlled explosion.” Sandow and his two step-sons sat at the kitchen table, drinking brew at an ungodly hour and staring at the two deadly, unexploded sticks of dynamite before them.
        
        “But gun powder is still a lost art. Every few years, someone seems to think they've got it figured out, but none of them ever come up with anything. Even what pre-Blank weapons we have are useless because they have no ammunition.”
        
        “This is so, Gregor,” Sandow said. “But I would think that these ugly things we see before us-and the one which would have killed you-do not come from the Darklands. They come from Oragonia and were imported there from the eastern regions beyond the Cloud Range.”
        
        “Spies!” Mace gasped, slamming a big fist into the table so hard that the two sticks of explosives bounced up and down.
        
        “I doubt those things detonate from shock,” Gregor said. “But if you wish to test that theory, please do so on your own, somewhere far from the house.” He turned to his master. “Do you suppose our gorilla here is correct? Spies from Oragonia come to be certain we do not accompany the expedition to the east?”
        
        “So it appears,” Shaker Sandow said. “Now that we are aware that there is treachery within Commander Richter's Banibaleers, we can be more watchful, less sheepish prey. But someone should warn the good commander himself.”
        
        “I will,” Gregor said, pushing his chair back and rising from the table.
        
        Mace grasped his arm and pulled the fair young boy back into his seat. “You will stay right here, with the master,” Mace said. “Ill go to see Commander Richter, for I am much more capable of handling whatever trickery and violence may be waiting on the way or at the inns themselves. It is unlikely that our assassin would return here again tonight, since he will know how ready we are for him. Or else he thinks us dead.”
        
        Gregor began to argue, but the Shaker agreed with the giant and put an end to any possible argument. The old man mused on his luck in obtaining both these lads. Not only was Gregor a latent Shaker whose powers were just beginning to come to the fore, but he was possessed of courage and a certain amount of daring on top of his intellect. So many Shakers, Sandow knew,