A gnome appeared beside the pillar, looking too small to do anything. The six-inch figure put its shoulder to the pillar and leaned against it. Grating rock cemented in place for centuries groaned open, the chamber itself shaking, a skein of dust drifting down from the ceiling.
“You sure this is safe?”
“No guarantees of anything, Nann,” Culann said.
She threw him a glance and shifted closer to him. “You've managed not to kill us thus far.”
Finnán began counting on his fingers. “Trapped on a grasslands planet, suspended in an indefinite void. Third time's a charm, right, Cull?”
“You're such an optimist. Go ahead, Satch, pay no attention to my usual detractors.”
“Detractors? I've never known anyone to say a bad word about you. Anyone give me a light?”
A salamander ran up Finnán's back
