As he ran, mutinous thoughts ran through his mind. Annoying, was he? As annoying as taking three times longer than planned just getting into the cottage? At this point, they might as well knock on the front door and ask the granny to let them inside.
Nearing the side of the cottage, he heard hushed, arguing voices, way too many for one team alone. It looked like Teams One and Two had coalesced, for some reason.
A faceless silhouette was turning over a bulky, box-like object in its hands.
“I’m tellin’ you, Chief. You open it by bendin’ this way. I’ve done this a thousand times.”
“Bolbo’s doesn’t know half o’ what he’s talkin’ about. You gotta bend it this way.”
“Oh, really Cheevy?” That was Jrunta, his irritation comically minimized by a hissy whisper. “And what next? You rub its top, kiss it for good luck, and ask it real nice to stand up on its own?”
“Thank you, Chief. Cheevy got hisself mixed up. ”
“And you shut up, too, Bolbo! You’ve done this a thousand times? Well, we’ve been sittin’ here for who knows how long while you and Cheevy been screwing around for over fifty! We can’t get onto the roof without the ladder. You’re the Grapplers, grubs — figure it out!”
Graddle spoke up in his gravelly, even voice. “What about the doors and windows?”
Gumbo’s voice came eagerly from the side. “I got the breaching tools ready, Chief. Just say the word.”
“Too noisy,” growled Jrunta. “The granny’s sure to hear.”
Tryle approached cautiously. “Chief? What’s going on?”
The talking ceased. If he could see Jrunta’s face now, Tryle was sure several veins would be popping out of his forehead. “Bodkin! What in mother-green earth are you doing here?”
“To see if you needed help. I thought — I mean, we the reserve team thought something was wrong. Have you been stuck with the ladder all this time?”
“Never you mind,” said Graddle roughly. “We’re handling it. Get back to the tree line!”
“Just let me try,” whispered Tryle fiercely. “It’s not like you’ve all been doing any better! What’s worse? Letting me take a shot, or having the granny wake up once she hears us messing around?”
Nothing moved for a moment. Maybe it was the desperate nature of the situation, but the gathered goblins seemed to be listening for once. Then Tryle saw a shadow shift in the darkness and hand over the ladder with a snort.
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“Won’t make a difference,” said Bolbo petulantly. “But be my guest.”
Tryle dragged the collapsible ladder into a patch of moonlight. Though it was risky to expose himself like this, the only other alternatives were to fumble around in the dark like the rest of the goblins or light up his surroundings with a glowstone.
He crouched down and examined it closely. He didn’t know what kind of metal it was made of. If he had to guess, he’d say it wasn’t steel or iron. It was too light, relatively speaking. But forcing the contraption still wouldn’t help.
Jrunta’s heavy breathing hung over Tryle’s shoulder. He sounded on the verge of losing his temper.
“Bodkin, I swear…if you don’t get your butt back to the reserve team, I will tan your hide so badly you won’t be able to sleep on your back for a month!”
Tryle ignored him. There was a confusing networking of switches and latches near the middle of the ladder — two sets, one on each side. From what he could tell, the switches and latches needed to be undone in a specific order to loosen it up.
But then there was another problem: completing the opening mechanism on one side opened it somewhat, but not all the way. The latch on the other side prevented it from swinging out completely.
Tryle fiddled around for another minute before figuring out the correct order of unlocking one side. He turned the ladder over in the moonlight. Suddenly, the answer was obvious. A hinge on the back was locking the two sets of latch configurations together. In order to lift the hinge up, you had to release the sets at the same time.
Standing the ladder in front of him, Tryle did just that. It unhinged in the middle, joints snapped into place, and the thing sprung to its full length with an audible clack. He froze, glancing at the window. Nothing stirred from within the cottage.
He took a moment to admire the gleaming ladder. Say what you want about humans, but some of them had to be pretty clever to make something like this.
Someone brusquely grabbed the ladder out of his hands.
“Okay, we’re back in business!” said Jrunta in a loud whisper. “Graddle, take your team out to the perimeter and wait for my signal. Bolbo and Cheevy, get the ladder and set up on the side of the house. Gumbo and Yorin, with me!”
Enthusiastic movement all around. Excitement and relief had returned to the raiding party at this new sign of progress. Nobody gave Tryle a hint of congratulations, no utterance of “good work”, but nobody told him to go back to the reserve team, either.
Overall, Tryle was just happy the operation was now one step closer to being over.
The Grapplers Bolbo and Cheevy carried the ladder over their heads in an awkward procession to the cottage. They labored to get the heavy ladder set up, leaning it gently against the side of the roof.
Jrunta, Yorin, Gumbo, and Tryle followed closely behind. Once the ladder was secure, Bolbo and Cheevy scurried up with coils of rope slung over their shoulders, disappearing over the curved lip of the roof. Seconds later, two lines quickly slid down the roof with weighted precision.
Yorin leapt up and caught the ropes before they thumped to the ground. Jrunta and Gumbo were already sticking large nails into the ground, making sure that their heads stuck up enough above the doughy soil.
Yorin tossed the rope ends over to the rest of them. “I’ll see you on the roof.” He climbed up the ladder.
Jrunta dusted his hands and gestured at Tryle. “Bodkin, you and Gumbo secure these ropes.” A strange tone entered his voice. “Afterwards, if you’re goblin enough, get up there with the rest of us.”