ropes all down his left sleeve.
The gnome looked up and saw Mara staring at him. “Well, I can't always find a sheet of
paper when a thought strikes,” he said with some asperity.
“Is each shirt a different project?”
“Of course not. In fact, some designs are on five or six different shirts. I keep hoping,”
he said wistfully, “that some day I'll be able to cross-index them, but every time I even
get close, I need to do laundry. And here you are.” He peered at her. “Speaking of you,
are you someone I should know?”
“Everyone should,” Mara said proudly, standing very straight.
“Everyone doesn't,” the gnome said thoughtfully, “because I don't. Who are you?”
“I am known,” she said with a bow and flourish, “as Mara the Wild.” She did a standing
flip. “Also Mara the Clever.” She tapped the gnome's pockets significantly. “Also,” she
said in a loud whisper, “Mara the Queen of Thieves.”
The gnome blinked. “Goodness,” he said disapprovingly, “have you stolen much?”
“Not - much,” the Queen of Thieves admitted. She scuffed her toe on the tunnel floor. “Not
anything, in fact.” This was why, after announcing her current planned heist to her
family, she was also known as Mara the Dangerously Stupid.
She looked defiantly at the gnome. “But I'm sure that I could steal something if it was
really important. I am also,” she said demurely, “a woman of dazzling beauty, whom all men
worship and crave.” She coyly brushed at her short-cropped dark hair.
The gnome only looked at her.
“Okay,” Mara said grudgingly, “so I won't be a woman of dazzling beauty for a couple of
years. It's going to happen, I promise.”
“I hope,” he said seriously, “that you can accept all that worship and craving without
becoming overly vain.”
Mara smiled and, in the absence of a mirror, admired her slender shadow against the rock
wall. “I'm sure I'll manage perfectly. Anyway, what's your name?”
The gnome immediately went on at some length, pausing for breath in what were clearly
accustomed places.
“I only asked your name,” Mara broke in finally.
The gnome looked disconcerted. “I'm not even halfway through it.”
“Maybe I asked the wrong question. What does your name mean to humans?”
He nodded. “It's very descriptive, even for my people, and surprisingly apropos. I'm known
among humans as He Who Will Not Stand Upon Accepted Science, But Will Research Back Into
Dangerous and Even Unworkable Ideas, Nor Will He Stand on Conventional Testing, But Will
Fall Back on Hazardous and Injurious Techniques, and Will Stand up for Belief in
Technology, Which, Back Before the Great Cataclysm - ”
“What,” Mara said desperately, “do humans call you for short?”
The gnome said simply, “Standback.” Mara leaped back. “No, no,” said the gnome. "That's my
name.
Standback.“ ”Are you an inventor? Where's your workshop? Do
you do all your work down here? You're not going to tell anyone you've seen me, are you?"
Poor Standback had no idea how to answer four questions thoroughly without taking a month
off. “Would it upset you terribly if I answered in brief?” he said diffidently.
Mara, realizing with a shudder how narrowly she had avoided dying of old age during a
participial phrase, put a hand on the gnome's arm. “Please, take as little of your
research time as possible.”
Standback was flattered and grateful. He
concentrated. “Yes, I'm an inventor. These tunnels are my work area; I know they don't
look like much, but they're roomy. I do all my work here. And no, I won't tell anyone I've
seen you,” he finished with slight melancholy, “because there's no one else to tell. I'm
the only one - down here. It's nice to talk to somebody. Where are you from?”
Mara assumed an heroic stance, arms folded across her thin chest. “I am from Arnisson, a
village under siege,
The gnome looked up and saw Mara staring at him. “Well, I can't always find a sheet of
paper when a thought strikes,” he said with some asperity.
“Is each shirt a different project?”
“Of course not. In fact, some designs are on five or six different shirts. I keep hoping,”
he said wistfully, “that some day I'll be able to cross-index them, but every time I even
get close, I need to do laundry. And here you are.” He peered at her. “Speaking of you,
are you someone I should know?”
“Everyone should,” Mara said proudly, standing very straight.
“Everyone doesn't,” the gnome said thoughtfully, “because I don't. Who are you?”
“I am known,” she said with a bow and flourish, “as Mara the Wild.” She did a standing
flip. “Also Mara the Clever.” She tapped the gnome's pockets significantly. “Also,” she
said in a loud whisper, “Mara the Queen of Thieves.”
The gnome blinked. “Goodness,” he said disapprovingly, “have you stolen much?”
“Not - much,” the Queen of Thieves admitted. She scuffed her toe on the tunnel floor. “Not
anything, in fact.” This was why, after announcing her current planned heist to her
family, she was also known as Mara the Dangerously Stupid.
She looked defiantly at the gnome. “But I'm sure that I could steal something if it was
really important. I am also,” she said demurely, “a woman of dazzling beauty, whom all men
worship and crave.” She coyly brushed at her short-cropped dark hair.
The gnome only looked at her.
“Okay,” Mara said grudgingly, “so I won't be a woman of dazzling beauty for a couple of
years. It's going to happen, I promise.”
“I hope,” he said seriously, “that you can accept all that worship and craving without
becoming overly vain.”
Mara smiled and, in the absence of a mirror, admired her slender shadow against the rock
wall. “I'm sure I'll manage perfectly. Anyway, what's your name?”
The gnome immediately went on at some length, pausing for breath in what were clearly
accustomed places.
“I only asked your name,” Mara broke in finally.
The gnome looked disconcerted. “I'm not even halfway through it.”
“Maybe I asked the wrong question. What does your name mean to humans?”
He nodded. “It's very descriptive, even for my people, and surprisingly apropos. I'm known
among humans as He Who Will Not Stand Upon Accepted Science, But Will Research Back Into
Dangerous and Even Unworkable Ideas, Nor Will He Stand on Conventional Testing, But Will
Fall Back on Hazardous and Injurious Techniques, and Will Stand up for Belief in
Technology, Which, Back Before the Great Cataclysm - ”
“What,” Mara said desperately, “do humans call you for short?”
The gnome said simply, “Standback.” Mara leaped back. “No, no,” said the gnome. "That's my
name.
Standback.“ ”Are you an inventor? Where's your workshop? Do
you do all your work down here? You're not going to tell anyone you've seen me, are you?"
Poor Standback had no idea how to answer four questions thoroughly without taking a month
off. “Would it upset you terribly if I answered in brief?” he said diffidently.
Mara, realizing with a shudder how narrowly she had avoided dying of old age during a
participial phrase, put a hand on the gnome's arm. “Please, take as little of your
research time as possible.”
Standback was flattered and grateful. He
concentrated. “Yes, I'm an inventor. These tunnels are my work area; I know they don't
look like much, but they're roomy. I do all my work here. And no, I won't tell anyone I've
seen you,” he finished with slight melancholy, “because there's no one else to tell. I'm
the only one - down here. It's nice to talk to somebody. Where are you from?”
Mara assumed an heroic stance, arms folded across her thin chest. “I am from Arnisson, a
village under siege,
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