Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [89]
"Rope," the gnome said. "Fifty feet. You can never have too much rope." He stuffed the coil of thickly braided hemp into a small bag on the table.
Corin suspected he was checking each item off on his own personal mental list, rather than speaking for the benefit of his larger companion.
"Stakes," Fendel continued. "Good for propping open doors or wedging them shut. Very handy." A half dozen six-inch metal spikes were added into the bag.
"A couple lanterns. I can see in the dark, but you can't." To Corin's amazement, the two large, hooded oil lamps were jammed into the bag as well. The rope alone should have bulged out the sides of the sack, but it still looked empty. Magical containers of almost limitless capacity were not unheard of, but Corin had never actually seen one before.
"A few flasks of oil, a couple spare wicks, my lucky tinderbox." As he named each item, Fendel dumped them all into the wondrous bag. If the situation wasn't so serious, Corin would have chuckled at the ludicrous sight of Fendel jamming item after item into the bag that couldn't possibly hold more.
"A couple sledge hammers, a ladder, a crowbar, a couple lock picks, a grappling hook. A couple walking sticks for probing the walls and floor ahead, in case there's traps." The gnome held up a pair of oversized spectacles. "My special goggles, just in case we run into that snakey-haired friend of yours."
Corin realized his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut and wondered what they would do with all of this stuff.
"What do they do?" Corin asked curiously as the glasses disappeared into the bag.
"Very handy," Fendel assured him. "I wish I had a pair for each of us, but one set will have to suffice. It's a little something I whipped up while you were sleeping. The lenses will protect against the power of the medusa's gaze, I hope. Can you think of anything else we might need?"
"The potion. The one to restore Lhasha."
The gnome patted a hard leather case at his hip. "Safe and sound right here. You could hit this with a mace and the bottle inside wouldn't break.
"Anything else, my heavily muscled friend? Do you need some armor? I might have a few bits and pieces lying around that would fit."
Corin shook his head, remembering how easily and fluid his movements had been during his recent training session-and recalling his last encounter with Graal. Armor would only slow him down and limit his ability to attack quickly and evade the blows of an opponent. It would also make it almost impossible to sneak silently past any guards if the opportunity arose.
Corin now trusted more in his ability to avoid an enemy's eyes and blades, than in the protection offered by a suit of armor.
Taking a deep breath, Fendel muttered, "Then it's time to go."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Only a few blocks away from the House of Hands, just at the base of the bare, windswept tor that dominated Elversult's skyline, sat a small inn. The Pilgrims' Progress was a popular resting spot and one-night stopover for those who had business with either of the temples at the summit of Temple Hill.
Fendel led Corin around to the stables at the back. While the warrior kept his rather intimidating form concealed in the nearby shadows, the gnome approached the stable doors. He spoke a few whispered words to the groomsman charged with the care of the mounts housed in the building, and Corin heard the faint clink of coins changing hands. Fendel motioned for Corin to follow him inside.
The gnome took him to an empty stall at the back and brushed away the hay with his boot to reveal a small trapdoor in the floor. A heavy padlock kept the door secured in place. Corin watched with admiration as Fendel worked the lock with his nimble fingers, and a few seconds later the way was open.
From the magical bag at his side, Fendel produced the two lanterns Corin had seen earlier. "Close the door," he whispered to the warrior, igniting the lamps.
Corin's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so the blazing illumination caused him to wince in pain and surprise.