by Fred Koehler
“COME OUT!”
“Why?”
“SO WE CAN EAT—OW!”
The sound of scuffling ended with the voice of a different spider. “WE TAKE YOU TO YOU FRIEND. HIM HURT.”
“What was that part about eating something or someone?”
“NOTHING!”
“I don’t believe you! Bring Archibald here! I won’t come out till I hear his voice.”
“OKAY.” More scuffling sounds along with the whispering of spiders.
“THIS IS ARCH-EEEY-BAAALD. COME OUT NOW, MOUSE.”
“That’s a terrible impersonation!”
“THIS HIM. PROMISE. SQUEEEEAAAAK.”
“It sounds nothing like him! And he doesn’t squeak; it’s more of a chitter. Bring him here or I’ll just starve to death in this houseboat and you’ll never get to eat me.”
“OKAY. WE COME BACK. BRING FRIEND. AND QUEENY.”
Chapter 16
The spiders deposited Archie in the city center, in a courtyard made of hardened silk pavers. He could balance on his haunches but remained otherwise immobile because of the sticky web binding him. Winding columns twisted toward the sky. More heavy silk ropes stretched into nearby towers.
Archie wondered why the spiders had scurried away so hastily. It’s not as if anything could sneak up on you here.
There was a zipping, whooshing rush behind him. He felt a sudden presence. A shadow. The click of metal on paver. Hopping on immobilized feet, he turned and beheld the spider queen.
A crown sat on her head. The head was impaled on a pike. The pike extended from the paw of the biggest rat Archie had ever seen.
Standing three shrews tall, the rat was missing a hind paw and part of her tail. A false paw made of brass nails and wire was attached to her leg with spider webbing. The last several inches of her tail had been rebuilt using lengths of fishing line wrapped round with silk. A small gold hook dangled from the end of her braided tail. It whipped back and forth as she studied Archie.
“Nasty business, the sticky web.” Her voice was sugary sweet, but with a hint of underlying venom.
“Do you think you could let me out? I’m getting a bit of a cramp.”
“I try not to touch the stuff. I’m afraid I might get stuck in it as well,” she said. “Who are you? And why are you here?”
“Well, I’m Archie—er—Archibald. I’m a shrew. A very sore and hungry one at that. Do you know many shrews?” he asked hopefully.
“You are the first I’ve ever met, friend shrew.”
Her response strengthened his notion that his family had not made it to this island. But at least she’d called him friend. Perhaps he’d get out of this without losing his skin. “I’d be glad for a friend right about now. For a moment I thought I was about to be eaten.”
“Oh, I’ve eaten many a friend,” said the hulking rat.
Archie chittered nervously as his self-defense odor filled the air around him.
“But I’ve yet to decide about you,” the rat continued. “You’re a bit scrawny and you stink. Again I’ll ask, why are you here on my island?”
Her island? Who exactly is this rat?
“I’d be happy to tell you my story, good lady. But may I ask precisely whom I am addressing?”
“You address royalty. I am the Spider Queen. At least I have been”—she gestured toward the head on the end of her pike—“since the previous leader stepped down.”
Archie gulped. “Your Majesty.” He tried to bow, but, still tangled in the spider web, he nearly flopped onto his face instead. Steadying himself, he asked, “Are you sure there’s no way you might get me out of this webbing? And I wouldn’t say no to some barnacle bread or a crab-cake sandwich. If you have any, that is.” If I am going to die, I’d hate to do it on an empty stomach.
“Both reasonable requests.” She stomped her metal foot on the pavers. “Refreshments! For … my friend.” Spiders scurried in the corners of Archie’s vision.
The rat flashed a dagger-sharp set of teeth at the shrew, more grimace than smile.
She’s definitely going to eat me. Unless I can invent a way out of this mess. Think, Archie, think!
“The secret to getting loose from sticky web is oil,” the rat continued. “And oil is rather rare, which is why I stay away from the webbing at all costs.”
“Oh, I see. I suppose I’ll need to be off to go find some.” He took a tentative hop toward the open end of the courtyard.
“Goodness, no!” She scrambled between Archie and the exit, moving faster on the false foot than Archie would have thought possible. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving in your state. The spiders will think I’ve set you free.”
“Is that bad?”
“Exceptionally. If I let you go, they’ll think they get to eat you. I’m afraid once you’ve made it this far inside the island the chances of not being eaten are relatively small.”
“That is bad.”
The rat leaned in furtively. “Now listen, I’ve got some oil that I keep for emergencies. But I’d hate to waste it on someone I intend to eat. So if I were you, I’d try to convince me that you’re more useful alive.”
“And how might I do that?”
“My friends used to tell me the best stories,” she mused. “But I haven’t had one in some time. Tell me a story, Archibald.”
“A story?”
“Your story. Make it dramatic! And desperate! Those are my favorite kinds of tales. Make it good and perhaps I’ll get you out of the sticky web.”
“And off your island?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how good a storyteller you are. So, will you attempt to entertain me with your unbelievable tale?”
That should be easy, thought Archie. There’s nothing less believable than the truth.
“I accept, but it will be rather difficult, wrapped up as I am. I’m one of those shrews who likes to use his paws when telling a story. You’d miss out on the drama.”
“You’d run away.”
“I wouldn’t! Shrew’s honor.” He crossed his fingers as he said it.
“Did you cross your fingers?”
“No!” Archie crossed the digits on his other paw as he told a second lie.
“Very well, then. But if you’re lying, I get to eat you.”
“Agreed.” He tried to cross his toes, but they were stuck together.
From somewhere in her rolling, matted fur, the Spider Queen Who Was Actually a Rat produced a vial. As the rat dripped tiny beads of oil from her claws onto the shrew, Archie squirmed out of the sticky web. He marveled at how easily it came loose once the oil ran down his fur.
The queen recoiled when she saw the arrow launcher still strapped to his back.
“Oh, this? Please don’t worry, Your Majesty. It’s not loaded or anything.”
“Will you set it down? It frightens me.” He did. She stepped between Archie and his weapon, casually kicking it backward.
Not that I could fight my way out of this mess in any case. She’d flay me open with one of those wicked claws before I could spit. Free of the web, Archie stretched and preened, more for show than anything else. It did little to improve his ragged appearance.
But then the refreshments came—fish eyes, sea horse livers, and a tiny plastic bottle filled with fresh water. All of it descended from the top of a nearby column wrapped in silk. The spiders won’t come anywhere near her. Probably better for their health. But why don’t they trap her the way they did me?
Archie ate and drank ravenously. He finished off the last eyeball with an inelegant burp.
“I’ve given you food and drink and freed you from your bonds,” said the queen. “And now I expect a tantalizing tale in return.”
Archie rose to stand before her in a formal sort of way. He tried to look past her toward his arrow launcher, but her girth hid the exact location of his weapon. “My lady,” Archie began, bowing all the way to the ground. “We are wayfarers lost at sea!
Realizing we have trespassed on your island, we beg your forgiveness. But had we not made land, we certainly would have been, um, most horribly wrenched from this life into, er, Poseidon’s Boneyard.”
“We?” the rat interrupted. “How many of you are there?”
“There are two of us, Your Majesty. Well, three, if you count the egg.”
“Two of you and an egg.” She sounded disappointed. “That’s not very many. And what manner of animals are your companions?”
“Mr. Popli is a mouse. And the egg is, well, an egg.”
“Yes, well, forgive me. Now pray, continue your story. But tell me how it began! When did you set out? And from where?”
“Of course, my lady.”
And so Archie, thinking more about his escape than his words, began to tell his story truthfully. He didn’t notice her eyes gleam when he mentioned the hundreds of small, edible animals on his island. Nor did he see her tail quiver with excitement, right down to the gold hook, when he detailed their storehouses filled with food and the exact defenses designed to protect them.
It was only when he’d finished describing precisely how he’d gotten in and out through his secret entrance in order to rescue the egg, and the rat queen whipped her tail triumphantly, that Archie realized his mistake. He’d just betrayed his island to a rat queen with an army of spiders, who could now sneak past the wall, through his secret door, and into an unsuspecting community filled with his friends and neighbors.
“So which way do you spin the board to open the secret door?” the rat questioned. “Just out of curiosity.”
Snakespit. “Um … Up?”
“And I suppose if up failed to work then one would try down.”
Double snakespit!
“But what else can you tell me about your journey? How long have you been at sea? From which direction did you come?”
“Oh, um. East. I think. Or was it west?”
“Which was it?” Her fur bristled impatiently. The edges of her snout curled into a snarl.
Think, Archie, think! “I forgot to tell you the most important part!” he blurted. “We have a snake! Her name is Colubra. Mr. Popli tells her what to do. When he whistles for her, she comes as fast as a tuna. And she’s as big around as an eel!”
The rat queen grimaced. “Really? As fast as a tuna? As big as an eel? And this Mr. Popli commands her? The one that’s here on my island with you?”
“Y-y-yes,” stammered Archie. All the hairs on his back tingled with alarm. The rat’s tail swished with delight, the gold hook clinking against the courtyard pavers.
“I wonder if he remembers where you left your island.”
A trembling spider approached, having apparently drawn the short straw. The rat leaned down so the spider could whisper in her ear. She nodded, a smile spreading. Her thick, hairless tail undulated back and forth like a shark on the hunt. Message delivered, the spider began to slink away. She snapped her jaws. The spider jumped and scurried backward. She winked at Archie as if they were sharing a joke. Then, with a flick of her tail, she impaled the retreating spider on her golden hook and swung it into her mouth. Snap. Chomp. Swallow. It was gone.
“Thank you for such a fascinating story, Archibald Shrew. As it turns out, your Mr. Popli wants to meet me as much as I’d like to meet him.” With an impressive leap, she whipped her tail up and over one of the thick ropes stretched tightly across the courtyard. The hook caught the rope and the queen rode it like a zip line from one end of the courtyard toward the other. Halfway across, she swung herself up and flicked her tail again, catching a different rope and zipping back to where Archie stood, awed by the simple genius of her invention.
“So that’s how you get around without getting caught in sticky web!” said the shrew. He then remembered all of the ropes stretched across the city. Fascinating!
“Just who are you?” he wondered out loud.
“I doubt you really want to know.” And with that, she lifted Archie with one paw, tucked him under her arm, and leapt up to the nearest line. A moment later, they were zipping above the city toward the coast.
Chapter 17
The spiders skidded and stumbled over one another in their rush to get out of the queen’s way. News traveled fast when she was particularly hungry. Or angry. Or when her tea arrived tepid. Honestly, the smarter spiders kept a permanent distance. Natural selection took care of the rest.
With an acrobatic flip, the rat landed on the totem pole to which the Abigail was tethered. She deposited Archie in front of her and dug thornlike claws into the nape of his neck. She nudged him to speak. When he hesitated, she tightened her grip.
“H-hello, Mr. Popli! I’m here!” Archie called. “Archibald?”
“Yes! It’s me!”
“Is it safe to come out?”
“I should think not! No, not even a little!” The rat twisted her claw. Archie whined.
“Mr. Popli, is it?” said the Spider Queen.
“Yes, and who are you?”
“I rule this island, which you have trespassed on and ransacked.”
“Completely unintentional, I assure you. I don’t suppose you’d be satisfied with a sincere apology?”
“I will promise you safe passage,” said the rat. “But as for the return of your friend, we’ll need to negotiate.”
“Then perhaps we ought to discuss this over tea. Will you come aboard?”
“I’d never fit. But I will invite you ashore and promise your safety. For now. My palace is not too far.”
“I’m not sure I’m willing to leave my ship,” Mr. Popli called back. “And heading inland sounds like a wonderful way to end up as someone’s dinner.”
“It is!” Archie yipped as the queen twisted a claw into the tender part of his back.
“Then I suppose we’re through here,” said the queen. “Say good-bye to your friend.”
“Good-bye, Archibald!”
“Mr. Popli?” Archie never imagined the mouse would leave him to die. After all they’d been through, he’d begun to think of Mr. Popli as a friend.
“Just kidding. I’m coming out. But I insist we make space to picnic on the shore. Otherwise our tea will get cold.”
“I do hate cold tea.” The queen agreed.
Minutes later, on a silk picnic blanket draped across the totem pole, the three mammals sat sipping tea like old friends. More food had been brought by the spiders. Mr. Popli carefully chewed a bit of pickled mackerel kidney. Across from the mouse, Archie appeared small and frightened, seated before the hulking rat. An army of spiders skulked in the surrounding garbage cliffs.
The Abigail listed against the strong web ropes that held her firmly in place two rat lengths away. Small bait fish darted to and fro near the water’s surface—almost as if they sensed a meal about to be served and hoped they might have a chance at the table scraps.
If it surprised Mr. Popli to discover a giant rat as the queen of the spiders, he hid it convincingly. “My queen, how are you enjoying the dandelion tea? The secret is to squeeze in a drop of barnacle juice just as it’s steeping. How fortunate that you had all the ingredients right here on your island.”
The queen, for her part, eyed Mr. Popli uncertainly. She ruled with fear and guile and savagery—but this mouse seemed intelligent and unafraid, yet savage in his own way.
“Unusual,” she said. “Delicious. But stolen waters are sweet.”
“So they are,” the mouse confessed. “And so it seems we must beg for your mercy. But I am curious, how precisely did we come to steal from you? It seems … unusual that a figure such as yourself would command a host of carnivorous predators. To be more direct, why haven’t the spiders eaten you?”
“Oh, they tried. When I stumbled onto this island seven moons ago, I was as skinny as you are. And wounded. I got caught in the spiders’ sticky web. They thought I would make an excellent meal. They had no idea of my … hunger … to survive.” She smiled maliciously.
“They came with ten warriors. A
snack. They attacked me with twenty. I ate them all. And then they wouldn’t come close anymore. They hid in the shadows, taunting me, waiting till I fell asleep or passed out. But I wouldn’t. And when the previous queen came to investigate, I chose that moment to free myself from my bonds.” She flashed her teeth and chomped menacingly, then jingled her brass foot and swished her tail. “The old queen had a sweet flavor, like caramel.”
Mr. Popli shivered. “It sounds as though our histories are similar. We came to this island lost and in need of help, just like you. We were trapped by the spiders as you were. Perhaps you can see yourself in our story and find a way to pardon us for this unintentional trespass.”
“Don’t forget attempted thievery.” She indicated a silk bag overflowing with the treasures Archie had collected. He stared at it and thought mournfully of his arrow launcher, lost forever back in the queen’s lair.
“If you can see us safely away, we’d be happy to compensate you.” Mr. Popli had brought out all the valuable objects he owned. His knife, blankets, various inventions—anything useful was spread out as an offering to the queen.
The rat picked up each of the items in turn. She considered a contraption made of rubber bands and paper clips, then flipped it over her shoulder into the ocean.
“Hey!” said Archie. “That was my bottle cap shooter!”
“Your trinkets don’t interest me.”
“It was very helpful.” Archie sulked.
“But I understand you have an egg. I haven’t had an egg in ages.”
Mr. Popli looked startled for the first time and glanced sharply at the shrew. Archie stared guiltily down into his lap. “The egg is a member of our crew and as such is protected by your promise of safety.”
“That’s an unfortunate interpretation of my promise,” said the queen.
What is this game they play? thought Archie. She could have all of us to eat, including the egg, anytime she wants. And Mr. Popli can do nothing to stop her.
“What else could you offer me?” said the queen. “Stories? I’ve heard all about your wonderful island with its ingenious wall. But what about your journey? From which direction did you come? How many days did it take to get here?” Her hooked tail swished excitedly.