nched in her fist suddenly
snapped. The pieces fell from her fingers. She stared at
them, her anger dissolving as quickly as it had come. The
spoon was made of sturdy ash wood. But it broke cleanly
where her thumb had pressed on it. Kitiara's eyebrows rose
in amazement. Must be a defect in the wood, she thought.

Chapter 10
The First Lunitari
Exploration March
The gnomes emerged from the  ship after a few
hours' nap, staggering under a burden of tools, clothing,
instruments, and other less identifiable rubbish. Kitiara
spied ъoperig and Fitter pushing a four-wheeled cart
between them.
"What have you two got there?" she asked.
ъoperig dug in his heels to stop the cart. "A few essential
things," he said. He had a coil of rope over his left shoulder
that was so thick he couldn't turn his head in that direction.
"This is ridiculous. Where did you get this contraption?"
"Fitter and me made it. It's all wood, you see? No metal."
ъoperig thumped the rear wall of the cart with his foot.
"Where did the wood come from?" said Kitiara.

"Oh, we knocked out a few of the inside walls in the ship."
"Great suffering gods! It's a good thing we're going on this
march. Otherwise, you gnomes would have the whole ship
dismantled before long!"
  The explorers mustered on the plain below the Cloudmas-
ter's port side. The gnomes, in their usual endearing earnest-
ness, lined up like an honor guard on parade. Despite the
bleakness of their situation, Sturm couldn't help but smile at
the goofy, ingenious little men.
"Stutts has asked me to lead this march to the hills, in
search of ore to repair the flying ship, and you all have
agreed to follow my directions. My, ah, colleague, Kitiara is
to be equally responsible. She's had considerable experience
in forays like this, and we should all be guided by her wis-
dom." Kitiara did not acknowledge his compliment, but
leaned back against the ship's hull and looked on impassive-
ly, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword.
"Sighter estimates the distance to the hills as fifteen miles.
We should reach them at about the time daylight breaks,
isn't that right?"
Sighter checked a column of numbers scrawled on his
shirt cuff. "Fifteen miles in six hours; yes, that's right."
Sturm looked down the line of his 'troops.' He couldn't
think of anything else to say. "Well, let's get going," he said,
embarrassed. So much for his first speech as a leader.
Fitter and ъoperig ran around their makeshift cart, fitting
long poles into prepared brackets on the front and back.
Bellcrank and Cutwood placed themselves on the pole in
front, while ъoperig and Fitter took up positions at the rear.
"A four-gnome-power exploratory wagon," said
Wingover admiringly.
"Mark I," added ъainspot.
"Move out," said Kitiara impatiently. With no more fan-
fare than that, the First Lunitari Exploration March began.
Stutts, Birdcall, and Flash waved from the roof of the deck-
house as their colleagues marched away. From their high
perch, they watched the expedition's progress long after the
Cloudmaster was lost to the marchers' view in the fluid
mauve shadows.

"Nope," Sighter said. "Sound as the slopes of Mt. Never-
mind." He squinted up at Kitiara, who still held the broken-
off pole in her hand. "You broke it with one hand."
Wordlessly she held the pole in both hands, straight out in
front of her. Bending her elbows in, Kitiara bent the pole.
The wood splintered with a loud crack.
"I had no idea you were so strong," said Sturm.
"Neither did I!" she replied, equally astonished.
"Here," said Bellcrank, picking up one of the pieces of the
pole from where Kitiara had dropped it. "Break it again."
The piece was less than a foot long. Kitiara had to use her
knee for a brace, but she snapped even that short length.
"Something is happening here," said Sighter, narrowing
his eyes. "You've gotten undeniably stronger in the twenty
hours we've been on Lunitari."
"Maybe we're all getting stronger!" Cutwood said. He
grasped another bit of the pole and tried to bend it. His flor-
id face turned quite purple, but the wood did not so much as
crack. Similar efforts by the others, including Sturm,
showed no increase in strength. Kitiara beamed.
"Looks like you're the sole beneficiary of this gift, what-
ever it is," said Sturm evenly. "At least it will be useful. Can
you free the cart?"
She snapped her fingers and swaggered around the rear of
the cart. Kitiara flattened one hand against the cargo box
and shoved. The cart leaped out of its ruts, almost running
Fitter and Wingover down.
"Careful!" said Sturm. "You've got to learn to handle this
newfound strength, or you may hurt someone."
Kitiara wasn't listening. She ran her hands up and down
her arms again and again, as if to feel the power radiating
from her strangely augmented muscles.
"I don't know why it happened or how, but I like it," she
said. Sturm noticed a new swagger in her walk. First his
weird dream (it had been so real), and now Kit's new
strength. All was not natural on the red moon.
Four hours later the hills were well within range. Close
up, they had an oddly soft appearance, rounded, as though
a giant hand had smoothed them.
Kitiara took over the lead when Sturm's step faltered. He

was tired, and his meager breakfast of beans and water
wasn't enough to keep him at his best. In fact, as the marchers
approached six and a half hours out from the Cloudrnaster,
Kitiara ran ahead to be the first to reach the hills.
"Kit, wait! Come back!" Sturm called. She waved and
sprinted on.
The gnomes let the cart coast to a stop at the foot of a hill.
Kitiara shouted and waved from the top. She skidded down
the slope, coming to a halt by bumping into Sturm. He
caught her arms. Panting, she smiled at him.
"You can see a long way from up there," she gasped. "The
hills go on for miles, but there are wide trails running
between them."
"You shouldn't go off on your own like that," Sturm said.
Kitiara lost her smile and shook herself free of his grasp.
"I can take care of myself," she said coolly.
The gnomes flopped down where they stood. Uphill
tramping had considerably dampened their ardor for the
march. Against all advice, they rapidly drank up their mea-
ger water supply and were soon wishing for more.
"If only we could find a spring," said Wingover.
"Or if it rains, we could spread our blankets and catch the
water," said Sighter. "Well, ъainspot? Might it rain?"
The weather seer, lying flat on his back, waved one hand
feebly. "I don't think it has ever rained here," he said flatly.
"Though I wish to ъeorx it would."
At his words, a wisp of vapor, no denser than steam,
abruptly formed over the exhausted gnome. The vapor
expanded, thickened, and turned into a small white cloud,
three feet wide. The gnomes and humans watched, speech-
less, as the white cloud went murky gray. A single droplet
fell on the motionless ъainspot.
"That's not funny," he complained. ъainspot's eyes
opened in time to catch the tiny shower that fell from his
personal rain cloud.
"Hydrodynamics!" he exclaimed.
The other gnomes crowded in under the little cloud, their
round, upturned faces ecstatic as the raindrops pelted them.
Sturm came over. He swept a hand through it and it came
out sopping wet. Then, as quickly and mysteriously as it

had come, the cloud faded away.
"This smacks of magic," Sturm said.
"I didn't do anything," ъainspot insisted. "I just wished it
would rain."
"Maybe you have the power to grant wishes now," said
Wingover. "Like Kitiara has gained strength."
The gnomes took up this theory and besieged their poor
colleague with a barrage of requests. Wingover wanted a rib
roast. Cutwood asked for a bushel of crisp apples. Bellcrank
wanted a roast pig and apples. ъoperig and Fitter wanted
muffins -- with raisins, of course.
"Stop, stop!" ъainspot pleaded tearfully. He couldn't bear
so many demands at once. Sturm shooed the shouting
gnomes away. Only Sighter remained, staring at the weep-
ing ъainspot.
"If you can wish for anything, wish for a switch to repair
the ship with," he said sagely. The others -- Sturm and Kiti-
ara included -- were surprised by his wise suggestion.
"I-I wish for a new switch to repair our engine," ъainspot
said loudly.
"Made of copper," said Cutwood.
"Iron," muttered Bellcrank.
"Shhh!" said Kitiara.
Nothing happened.
"Maybe you have to use the same formula each time," said
Wingover. "How exactly did you wish for rain?"
"I said something about ъeorx." ъeorx, creator of the
gnomish race, was the only deity the gnomes worshiped.
"So try again and mention ъeorx," said Sighter.
ъainspot drew himself up -- all thirty inches of him -- and
declared, "I wish to ъeorx that we had a copper --"
"Iron."
"-- switch to repair our engine with!"
Nothing happened..
"You're useless," said Bellcrank.
"Worse than useless," added Cutwood.
"Shut up!" Kitiara snapped. "He tried, didn't he?"
"I'm sorry," the weather seer said between sniffles. "I wish
it would rain again. Then everyone would be happy." Hard-
ly had he said this than a new cloud formed over his head.

The rain poured down on ъainspot, making a puddle in
the red dirt of Lunitari. It seemed insulting somehow, as if
ъeorx were teasing the gnome. ъainspot then did a rare
thing: He got mad.
"Thunder and lightning!" he cried. The cloud flasherd
once, and a puny clump of thunder sounded.
"Ha, some storm!" said ъoperig.
"It proves one thing," said Sighter. "The limits of ъain-
spot's power. He can make it rain. That's all."
"Useless, useless," said Bellcrank.
"Shut up," said Kitiara. "ъainspot's ability is very useful."
The gnomes regarded her blankly. "We need water, don't we?"
As usual, once the gnomes were sparked off, they
embraced a new concept with exasperating enthusiasm.
Planks were torn off the sides of the cart and pounded into
the ground with Cutwood's mallet. ъoperig ripped their
blankets into long triangles and sewed these together, leav-
ing a hole in the center of the resulting circle of cloth. The
edges of the blanket were nailed to the upright planks. One
of Fitter's canvas buckets was put under the hole in the cen-
ter of the blanket.
"ъainspot, sit in the middle and wish for rain," said
Wingover. ъainspot complied, and the water was captured
by the improvised funnel and led to the waiting bucket.
ъainspot sat on the soggy blanket, soaked and bedraggled,
wishing over and over for rain.
"I wish for rain." The cloud formed and sprinkled him.
"Wish for rain." Water ran in the bucket. The gnomes changed
buckets and filled it, too. "ъain," said the sodden, tired gnome.
Poor ъainspot didn't enjoy it at all, but he wished for plenty of
water to save them from the agonies of thirst.
"Happy to do my part," he said flatly when they finally let
him off the blanket, squishing in his shoes all the way.
"I wonder who will get it next," Wingover said as they
plodded into the first gully.
"Get what?" said Bellcrank.
"We seem to be acquiring new powers," Sighter said. "Kit-
iara's strength, ъainspot's rainmaking. The rest of us may
get new abilities, too."
Sturm pondered Sighter's claim. His dream (if it was a

dream) had been so vivid. Was it part of this mysterious
process, too? He asked Sighter if he could think of a reason
why they should be affected like this.
"Hard to say," said the gnome. "Likely, there is something
on Lunitari that has done this to them."
"It's the air," said Bellcrank. "Some effluvium in the air."
"Piffle! It's all due to the red rays reflecting off the ground.
ъed light always has strange effects on living creatures.
ъemember the experiments done by The-Clumsy-But-
Curious-Doctor-Who-Wears-The-Tinted-Lenses-In-
Frames-On-His-Face --"
"Hush!" said Kitiara. She held up a hand. The others
watched expectantly. "Do you feel it, ъainspot?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am. The sun's coming up."
A brace of shooting stars raced across the heavens from
west to east. The crests of the red hills glowed, and a subtle
ringing sensation filled the air. They all felt it. The line of
sunlight crept down the hillsides toward the shadowed
ravines. As the explorers watched, the soft, spongy cover-
ing of the hills writhed. Bumps appeared in the turf. The
bumps moved in an unpleasantly animal fashion, twisting
and swelling under the crimson carpet. The explorers had to
hop about to avoid the moving bumps. Then a single spear
of pale pink poked through the turf. It grew longer and
thicker, rotating in slow circles as it pushed itself toward the
sunlight.
"What is it?" breathed Fitter.
"I think it's a plant," Cutwood replied.
More pink spears bored through the ground and climbed
on wine-colored stalks. Other bumps erupted into different
types of flora. Fat, knobby puffballs sprang up and inflated
themselves. Carmine sticks popped after growing straight
out of the turf, and dozens of spiderlike flowers floated to
the ground from their ruptured stems. Toadstools with pur-
ple spots on top and lovely rose gills underneath emerged
and grew visibly as the explorers looked on. By the time the
sun shone fully into the ravine, every inch of the hillsides
was covered with weird, pulsating life. Only a narrow track
at the bottom of the ravine, still shadowed by the surround-
ing hills, was clear of the speedily growing plants.

"An instant forest," said Sighter.
"More like an instant jungle," said Sturm, observing the
clogged path ahead of them. He drew his sword. "We'll have
to cut our way through."
Kitiara drew her sword. "It's an insult to honest steel," she
said, eyeing the garish plants with distaste, "but it has to be
done." She raised her arm and slashed into the growth
crowding the path on the right. With her greater strength,
she had no difficulty hewing the pink spears and spider-
sticks cleanly off.
Kitiara stepped back. The chopped-off parts lay on the
ground, wriggling.
The stumps oozed red sap that looked amazingly like
blood. She noticed her sword was smeared with the same
fluid. Holding the blade near her nose, she sniffed.
"I've been in many battles," she said. "I know the smell of
blood, whether it be human, dwarven, or goblin." She
dropped the blade from her face. "This is blood!"
The gnomes thought this was terribly interesting. They
bunched together over the bleeding stumps, taking samples
of the bloodsap. Bellcrank picked up the shorn length of a
spiderstick. It popped, and eight white flowers burst out.
Bellcrank yowled in pain. Each tiny flower had ejected a
thorn into his face.
"Hold still," ъainspot said. With a pair of bone tweezers,
he plucked the thorns from his colleague's face.
The gnomes filled fifteen jars and boxes with specimens of
the Lunitarian plants. Sturm and Kitiara had a head-to-head
talk and opted to travel a little farther. If they didn't find
any ore by nightfall, they would return to the ship.
Steeling themselves, they started hacking. The plants
groaned and screamed; when severed, they bled and twitch-
ed horribly. After a mile of this, Kitiara said, "This is worse
than the massacre of Valkinord Marsh!"
"At least they don't appear to suffer long," Sturm said, but
the screams and blood were wearing on him.
The gnomes wandered through the path the humans had
cut, poking and sniffing and measuring the dying plants.
For them it was, as Cutwood said, "better than a train of
gears." The trail led down a broad draw. Being well shaded

from the low sun, there were fewer plants growing there,
and Sturm called for a break. Kitiara borrowed a bucket
from the gnomes' cart and filled it with rainwater. She
dipped a soft rag in the water and wiped the sticky bloodsap
Erom her blade. The sap dissolved easily. She lent Sturm the
rag and he cleaned his weapon.
"You know," she said, as he rubbed the sap off his sword
hilt, "I'm no coward, and I'm certainly no delicate lady who
faints at the sight of blood, but this place is disgusting! What
kind of world is it where plants grow before your eyes and
bleed when they're cut?"
"How's your sword arm?" Sturm asked. "How does it
feel? I noticed that you're not even breathing hard. Look at
me; I'm tired, as you should be, having swung a heavy
sword for more than a mile through that weird jungle!"
  "I feel fine. I feel -- strong. Want to wrestle?"
"No, thank you," he said. "I wouldn't like to trust a bro-
ken arm to gnomish medicine."
"I won't hurt you," she said mockingly. Kitiara's smile fad-
ed. She scraped a shallow line in the turf with her heel.
"What are you so worried about? We're alive, aren't we?"
"There are strange forces at work here. This new strength
of yours is not normal."
Kitiara shrugged. "Lunitari isn't my idea of paradise, but
we haven't done badly so far."
Sturm knew this was true. So why did he feel such fore-
boding? He said, "Just be wary, will you, Kit? Question
what comes to you -- especially what seems like a great gift."
She laughed shortly. "You make it sound like I'm in per-
sonal danger. Are you afraid 111 fall into evil ways?"
Sturm stood and emptied the sap-stained water from the
bucket. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of." He wrung out
the rag and left it to dry on a stone, then walked away to
speak with Wingover.
The empty canvas bucket sat by her boot. Where Sturm
had poured out the water, the turf was dark and slick. It
looked like so much blood. Kitiara wrinkled her nose and
kicked the bucket away. The toe of her boot split the fabric
and sent the bucket soaring over the tops of the pink and
crimson foliage.

Chapter  11
The Crusty Pudding
Plant
The trail wound between the hills in no particular
direction. Among the fast-growing plants, there was no
way for the adventurers to identify landmarks or remember
where they'd been. Sturm discovered that the path they had
made grew tall again after they had passed. The explorers
were virtually cut off in the living jungle.
Sturm halted the party finally and announced that they
were lost. Sighter promptly tried to find the latitude by
shooting the sun with his astrolabe. Even though he stood
on Sturm's shoulders, the sun was too low for him to sight
correctly, and he fell over backward trying. Fitter and ъain-
spot picked Sighter up and dusted him off, for he'd fallen on
a puffball and was coated with pink spores.

"Useless!" Sighter said. Spores got up his nose and mouth
and he coughed in fits and starts. "All I can tell you is that
the sun is setting."
"We've not had but four or five hours of daylight,"
Wingover protested.
"The position of Lunitari in the heavens is eccentric," the
astronomer gnome explained. ъainspot tried to dab the dust
from his face with a damp rag, but Sighter swatted his hands
away. "The nights are very long and the days very short."
"We haven't found any ore yet," Bellcrank said.
"True," said Wingover, "but we haven't tried digging,
either."
"Digging?" said ъoperig.
"Digging," said Sturm firmly. "Wingover's right. Pick a
spot, Bellcrank, and we'll dig to see what we can find."
"Could we make supper first?" the tubby gnome asked.
"My stomach's so empty!"
"I don't suppose an hour will matter too much," said
Sturm. "All right, we'll camp here, eat, then dig."
The gnomes fell to in their cheerfully scatterbrained way.
ъoperig and Fitter unpacked the cart in a very simple way:
they upended it. Fitter was buried in the mound of junk and
came out with his favorite clay kettle.
"Supper will be ready in a jiffy!" he said brightly. The oth-
er gnomes hooted derisively.
"Beans! Beans! Beans! I'm sick of beans," Cutwood said.
"I'm sick, sick, sick of beans, beans, beans."
"Shut up, you dumb carpenter," said Sighter.
"Ah-ah-ah," Kitiara warned, as Cutwood picked up a
mallet and tiptoed up behind Sighter. "None of t