"It's a wager." They shook hands.
Wingover was giving his colleagues an impromptu course on steering and braking. "Mostly you steer by leaning in the direction you want to go," he advised. "For stopping, use the heels of your shoes, not the toes. The downhill momentum can turn your feet under and break your toes."
Rainspot and Cutwood flipped open their notebooks and scribbled furiously. "Given a maximum velocity of fifty-six miles per hour — "
"And feet approximately seven inches long — "
"One can expect to break three toes on the left foot — "
"And four on the right," said Rainspot. The gnomes applauded.
"Wingover just told us not to use our toes, so why in the name of the suffering gods do you calculate something no one in his right mind would try?" Kitiara asked.
"The principle of scientific inquiry should not be limited to merely the practical or the possible," explained Sighter.
"Only by investigating the unlikely and the unthought-of is the sum total of knowledge advanced."
Sturm was looking at his feet. "What I don't understand is why more toes on the right foot would break than on the left."
"Don't encourage them!" Kitiara told Sturm. She dragged her shaky bundle of slats to the edge of the cliff. The glass smooth slope plunged down at a breathtaking angle. Kitiara inhaled sharply and looked back. The gnomes crowded for ward to the edge, quite unafraid.
"Obviously an example of vitreous concretion," observed
Cutwood, running a hand over the smooth, bubbly surface.
"Do you think? Volcanic?" Wingover said.
"Hardly. I should say this entire valley constitutes a ther moflexic astrobleme," theorized Sighter.
Kitiara uttered an angry snort that cut off further gnom ish theorizing. She dropped her sled and straddled it. When she let her weight down on it, the slats creaked ominously.
"You did say even odds?" she said to Cutwood. The gnome babbled something about "within two standard deviations," and Kitiara decided not to query further. She pulled herself forward by hands and heels until she teetered on the brink.
"C'mon, Sturm! Or do you want to pack my bedroll for the next forty miles?"
Sturm laid his sled on the ground. He told Wingover that he and Kit were going to race. Wingover replied, "Oh! Then you'll need someone at the bottom to see who wins! Wait, wait — I'll go down first, and when I'm in place, I'll call you."
"All right with you, Kit?" She waved a casual affirmative.
"All right, lads. Here I go!" said Wingover. "For science!" he proclaimed, and slid over. immediately, the other gnomes lined up and went right after him.
Cutwood called, "For Sancrist!" and went over.
"For technology!" cried Rainspot, as he tipped over the edge.
"For the Cloudmaster!" was Roperig's toast.
"For raisin muffins!" Fitter followed close behind his boss.
Sighter, the last, pushed his sled forward and slipped into the seat. "For Bellcrank," he said softly.
The gnomes' sleds bounded down the hill, swaying and leaping over bumps in the glasslike rock. Wingover, lying prone on his mount, steered skillfully around the worst obstacles. He'd built a front yoke on his sled, and weaved a serpentine course down the slope. On his heels, Cutwood howled straight down, knees tight against his chin, his silky beard clamped firmly between them. Sturm and Kitiara heard his high-pitched "Woo-haa!" as he hit bump after bump.
Rainspot had a drag-brake on the tail of his sled, and he coasted along at a relatively mild rate. Roperig, who had designed his sled to be ridden in a standing crouch, whistled by the weather seer, frantically waving his outstretched arms in an effort to keep his balance. His apprentice was having all sorts of trouble. Fitter's mount was wider than it was long, and it tended to rotate as it slid. This made his progress somewhat slower than the others but the spinning threatened to turn his stomach. Sighter, cool and rational, proceeded under perfect control. He would touch his heels to the ground at specific points to correct the direction he was taking.
All was going fairly well until Wingover reached bottom, four hundred feet away. There the glass cliff face changed to dry red gravel, and Wingover's sled stopped dead on its run ners. His stop was so sudden that the trailing gnomes piled right into him — Cutwood and Roperig immediately, Fitter and Rainspot a little later. Slats and tools and gnomes flew through the air after a series of hair-raising crashes. Sturm saw Sighter move unflinching toward the pile, but averted his eyes and missed Sighter's sharp turn, which left him two feet to the right of the scrambled group.
Kitiara burst out laughing. "Acres of slope, and they all have to stop on the same spot!"
Sturm frowned. "I hope no one's hurt."
Feet and legs and wreckage untangled into six shaky gnomes. Sighter helped them untangle themselves.
Wingover finally waved to the humans.
"That means go!" Kitiara shouted, and pushed herself off.
Sturm was caught off guard.
"Not fair!" he cried, but dug in his heels and tipped over the cliff lip in hot pursuit.
He immediately lost control. The sled careened sharply to the right, and Sturm leaned away from the turn. There was a sickening snap, and his seat sagged under him. Sturm less ened his lean, and the sled slowly corrected itself.
Kitiara barreled straight down the slope at full speed, her feet pressed together and her knees poking out on either side. "Ya-ha-ha-ha!" she crowed. She was far out in front of
Sturm, who couldn't seem to get his sled to run in a straight line for more than a few feet at a time.
Kitiara hit a hump and bounced several inches off her seat. Instead of frightening her, the bump only increased her delight. A whole series of bumps approached, and she didn't slacken speed at all.
It wasn't until she hit the fourth bump that she realized she was in trouble. That bump slammed her hard against the flimsy seat struts. The left runner splintered along its length.
Kitiara put her left boot down to slow herself. The hobnails in her shoe sole bit, and her left leg was yanked back. Mind ful of what Cutwood had said about breaking toes, she didn't resist the pulling and was swept off the sled. She land ed hard on her right shoulder and rolled over and over.
Sturm didn't dare try to stop his sled, and coasted to the bot tom. The second his runners stuck in the gravel, he was on his feet. Kitiara lay motionless on her stomach.
Sturm ran to her, closely followed by the gnomes. He dropped on one knee and gently turned her over. Her face was contorted, and she uttered a ferocious curse.
"Where does it hurt?" he said.
"My shoulder," she hissed through clenched teeth.
"Could be a broken collarbone," said Rainspot.
"Is there any way to tell for sure?"
"Ask her to touch her left shoulder with her right hand," suggested Roperig. "If she can, the bone must not be bro ken."
"Such anatomical ignorance!" said Sighter. "One must probe with one's fingers in order to find the ends of the sepa rated bone — "
"Don't let them touch me," Kitiara whispered. "If they can't prove it any other way, they may decide to cut me open to examine my bones." Just then Sturm heard Cut wood saying something about "exploratory surgery."
Wingover, who was standing by Kitiara's feet, said, "No bones are broken."
"How do you know?" asked Cutwood.
"I can see them," he replied. "There don't even seem to be any cracks. It's probably a sprain."
"You can see through flesh nowt" Sturm asked incredu lously. Put so bluntly, Wingover suddenly realized what he was doing.
"By Reorx!" he said. "This is terrific! I wonder what else I can see through?" The gnomes crowded around him, Kitiara forgotten. They took turns having Wingover peer through their bodies and describing what he saw. Cries of "Hydro dynamics!" filled the air.