A Fox Called Sorrow

by Isobelle Carmody

  Little Fur became aware of a distant roaring. It gradually became so loud that she could not make herself heard to ask the bad-tempered rat what it was. Long before they reached the source of the noise, her nose told her there was water flowing ahead. She imagined a great subterranean stream, so she was shocked when they came to the top of a rise and she saw that the roaring came not from a river, but from a great cascade of water bursting from the wall of the cavern and plunging down to jagged rocks below.

  The waterfall was many times greater than the tiny falling stream within the wilderness, but for a moment, Little Fur imagined herself sitting peacefully on its mossy bank, cooling her feet and waiting for patients.

  She shivered, shaking off the sense that a cold shadow had passed over her, and let her eyes follow the roaring water. It fell from such a height that much of it was mist by the time it reached the black teeth of the rocks below. But there was still water enough to form a swift river that churned and surged, cutting a deep chasm in the stony floor of the cavern. The sight and sound of the waterfall and river were so compelling that it was a moment before Little Fur saw the first clear view of Underth.

  CHAPTER 11

  Underth!

  The city of trolls lay on the far side of the stony black plain on the other side of the river. Though swathed in a luminous yellow-green mist, Underth looked so like a human city that Little Fur gasped. Then she saw that what she had taken for black high houses were actually rearing pinnacles of rock. Some were so tall that their tops were lost in the general blackness that concealed the cavern roof. Underth was built about these pillars and crawled partway up their sides, a wild black infestation of crooked buildings made from the rock they were standing on.

  “That is where the Troll King lives,” Gazrak said, pointing to a building between two stone pillars with its back against the nearest wall of the cavern. “What you see is only part of the Troll King’s palace,” he continued. “Many tunnels and chambers are cut into the rock behind and under it.”

  Little Fur shifted her attention to the narrow streets coiling about the palace. There was a slow movement along them, and seeing where she looked, Gazrak explained that trolls were still returning from saying farewell to their king.

  “I smell humans,” Sorrow announced suddenly, his lips drawn back in a snarl.

  Gazrak glanced at the fox, a flicker of surprise in his red eyes. “No humans are here, but it is said by some that Underth is built on the bones of ancient human buildings swallowed up by the earth in the long ago. The king does not like that story. Those who tell it are whipped.” He gave a cackling laugh and then flinched.

  “How do we get across the river?” Sorrow asked.

  “There is a fording place,” Gazrak answered. “But water is now flowing deeply across it.”

  “Is there no bridge?” the fox asked.

  Little Fur caught the sharp and surprising scent of Sorrow’s fear. Perhaps, like her, he had once almost drowned. Because she was concentrating on the scent of the fox, Little Fur’s nose also caught a hint of infection. But before she could suggest cleaning the fox’s wounds, Gazrak pointed to the waterfall. “The only bridge runs behind that,” he said.

  “A bridge behind a waterfall?” Ginger said doubtfully.

  Gazrak turned on him furiously and snarled, “You will see!” He scuttled on over the stones.

  Ginger gave Little Fur a sideways look that glimmered with amusement. They walked along the tops of the rocky hills until they were close enough to see that a bridge did pass behind the falls. They toiled down an awkward path that brought them to the edge of the chasm, where the river boiled and surged, sending up billowing veils of mist. They were close enough now to see that the bridge was cracked and badly eroded, as well as slick and shining wet. Sorrow shook his head and ordered Gazrak to lead them to the ford. The companions followed the rat along the bank to the place where a solid bed of stones had been placed across the river.

  “When the ford was built, the water was not yet so high or strong,” Gazrak said.

  Sorrow dipped one red paw into the raging waters before backing away. “The current is so strong that any of us will be swept away and drowned,” he said.

  “I told you so,” Gazrak said obnoxiously.

  “We must use water bridge,” Shikra said, sounding regretful rather than afraid.

  Gazrak bared long yellow teeth at her.

  Brave Kell produced a strong plaited vine. Before they approached the bridge, they tied the vine around themselves so that they were connected, one to the other, with the fox in the lead. Glancing over the edge of the bridge, Little Fur saw that one misstep would bring them all tumbling down onto the rocks, jagged and black as rotted fangs below.

  The moment she stepped onto the bridge, her apprehension was swallowed up in wonder. Her troll senses told her that the bridge had once been intricately carved by the same trolls that had done the carvings she had seen on the way to Underth. Little Fur could not wait to tell Brownie the pony about them, to see if he had ever heard any stories of a fair age when trolls had valued carvings more than destruction.

  For all her delight, Little Fur was soon longing to get off the bridge. The thunderous bellowing of the water hurt her ears, and the air was so wet that she was half drowned with the effort of trying to breathe. The crossing went on so long that at one point, Little Fur wondered if it was a magical bridge that would never end. Then suddenly they were stumbling from the end of it.

  Little Fur wanted to rest, but Gazrak insisted they find a better place. He pointed to some low hills of black rock halfway between the city and the waterfall. “We must reach that spot before we can rest safely and make camp,” he said.

  By the time they had reached the hills, Little Fur was tired and numb with cold. But she became alert when the air grew suddenly deliciously warm. They had entered an area dotted with bubbling pools of mud. The veil of yellow-green mist that hung over Underth also rose thickly from the surface of the mud pools. Little Fur realized the troll city must have many such pools to give off such an intense light.

  The rat guided them to a small area of dry ground in the midst of the mud. Little Fur sank gratefully down beside Ginger. She was asleep in a moment, unable to care if a whole company of trolls came marching along.

  When she woke, the first thing Little Fur saw was Sorrow, sitting apart from the rest of them as he always did. She did not have to smell him to know that he had not slept. She slipped off her pouches and was relieved to find that they had kept her herbs dry.

  Laying out what she needed, Little Fur prepared a fresh tisane for the fox. Once it was ready, she carried it to him, steeling herself for an argument, but he drank willingly enough, refusing only to let her cleanse the wounds again. When she tried to insist, he snapped at her, saying he wanted to scout out the track to the city.

  Little Fur joined the others. Gazrak was asleep, but Ginger was awake and grooming himself, while the ferrets prepared food from their backpacks. Little Fur gave Shikra mushrooms and nuts from her pouch to season their meal. The ferret bowed as she accepted them.

  “What made you and your brother volunteer for the expedition?” Little Fur asked curiously.

  “Not volunteering. Great Mother send us to Sett Owl,” Shikra answered in a soft, whispery voice.

  “The Sett Owl asked your mother for help?” Little Fur asked.

  The ferret chittered delicately with laughter. “Queen, whom us call Great Mother, sent us. Once Sett Owl long ago gave advice. Shikra knowing not what it was, but Great Mother say she owe debt to Sett Owl. If Mother owe debt, then children pay. So each year, she send two young ferrets to Sett Owl to see if anything needful.”

  “Never was any of Mother’s children given such great and important task as us,” Brave Kell added solemnly.

  “Didn’t your own mother mind that this . . . this expedition might be dangerous?” Little Fur asked.

  “Someone must do. Why not us? Are us more valuable than
other things that live?” Brave Kell laughed. “Little Mother say us must serve Great Mother and Sett Owl with honor.” He glanced at his sister. “If us succeed, us be heroes.”

  “Great Mother say us not to think of heroing,” Shikra scolded. “She say, ‘Be brave but also wise. Hero only brave.’”

  The conversation was interrupted by the fox’s return. He announced that when they had finished their food, he and Ginger would carry the ferrets as close as they dared to the outer edge of Underth so they could begin their spying. Then he took his food a few steps away to eat by himself. Ginger came to sit by Little Fur. She stroked his soft coat, taking comfort from it, and wished there was something more nourishing for him to eat than the bit of crust he gnawed. When she said so, Ginger murmured that it didn’t matter, for there would be mice and cockroaches in the city.

  “But you must not go into the city!” she said, horrified.

  “There are cats in Underth,” Ginger rumbled.

  Little Fur wondered how he knew that, but she wanted to listen to the conversation Sorrow was having with Gazrak.

  “Which way did the Troll King go out of this cavern?” the fox asked.

  “The entrance to the under-road is on the other side of the great cavern,” Gazrak answered. “To reach it from within the palace, the Troll King would have used Kingsbridge, which begins within the palace, passes over the city and the river and ends at the entrance to the under-road. All trolls who went with the Troll King to see him off would have marched with him on Kingsbridge. But when they return to Underth, they must use Lessbridge, for none may walk Kingsbridge without the king. If we had taken the path we saw leading to the hills when first we entered the great cavern, it would have brought us to Lessbridge.”

  “Perhaps we can use Lessbridge when it is time for us to leave, rather than the water bridge,” Sorrow said.

  “You may travel that way, fox,” the rat sneered. “On it you will find the end you seek. But I will use the water bridge, for I wish to live.”

  The fox merely looked at Ginger and nodded, then told the ferrets to climb onto their backs. As they left, the fox cast Little Fur a strangely pointed look and said, “Stay here with the food, Healer.”

  Little Fur clambered to the top of the nearest mound of stones so that she could see Ginger, Sorrow, Shikra and Brave Kell enter the city. She was startled at how much more she could see of Underth. The façade and ramparts of the Troll King’s palace were clearly visible now, as well as the open square before its gates. She could even see Kingsbridge arching away from it on the other side.

  Fox and cat flowed over the black stone plain and vanished into another cloud of luminous yellow-green mist that hung over a tumble of black boulders close to the edge of the city. Once they had gone out of sight, Little Fur watched to see if she could spot the ferrets entering the city, but they were invisible. After a long moment, she gave up. Heaving a sigh, she turned to climb back down to their camp, only to see Gazrak picking and pulling at one of the tiny ferret packs, trying to get at their meager supply of food.

  “You greedy thing!” she cried without thinking.

  After a stunned glance at her, Gazrak fled, dragging the pack with him. Little Fur dared not shout again, and she turned back to the city, terrified that her cry would bring trolls to investigate.

  “I am sorry,” Little Fur said later.

  Sorrow had returned alone, leaving Ginger stationed among some boulders to watch for the ferrets.

  Sorrow shrugged. “It can’t be helped. And it may be that the rat’s disappearance is the betrayal the Sett Owl foresaw. If that is so, we can be glad it is so small a betrayal.”

  “But how will we get back to the overworld?” she asked.

  “I can sniff the way, now that I know where and what the dangers are,” Sorrow said.

  “Do you think Gazrak has run away for good?”

  “For good or ill, he has gone,” the fox answered. “Now we must find a better place to make camp. I want to be able to see the city at all times.”

  Once they had found a place that suited him, Sorrow wanted to look for Gazrak, but Little Fur insisted on being allowed to cleanse his wounds. He gave a terse sigh and submitted. She washed the two gashes on his flank, noting that they were red and unhealthy-looking. There was nothing wrong with the stitches she had made, but the fox’s spirit was not letting the wounds heal.

  “Tell me of the dog,” Sorrow demanded.

  Realizing he wanted to be distracted, she described the one-eyed cat Sly and her encounter with the dog behind its web of metal. “I could smell that Sly liked it that the dog was hurt,” Little Fur said, remembering how this had shocked her.

  “Some creatures are like that,” Sorrow answered. “It is in their nature to walk the edges between things like safety and danger, pleasure and pain. It is the balancing they like, rather than one thing or the other.”

  “Why do you suppose the humans were hunting the dog?” Little Fur asked.

  “Humans do not like to lose the things they regard as their own.” The bleakness in his eyes had leaked into his voice.

  “You don’t like humans much, do you?” Little Fur asked.

  “There is nothing to like in them,” the fox said coldly.

  Little Fur said softly, “I thought that once, too. I believed that humans were as ill-intentioned as trolls, loving nothing better than hurting and killing things. But . . . many of them do not smell of hatred and cruelty. Some smell of wonder and kindness, and when they sing, it is so beautiful that they drive away the darkness in themselves.”

  “There is nothing good in humans,” the fox snarled. “If ye think there is, ye are a fool. If ever ye were in the hands of a human, ye would soon discover that this one-eyed cat’s cruelty was nothing beside the cruelty of humans.”

  Suddenly the clangor of bells filled the air. The fox was up in a flash, running to where he could see the city. Little Fur followed, her heart shuddering at the thought that the ferrets had been caught.

  “Now we miss the rat, for he could have told us what the bells mean,” Sorrow muttered.

  “Where do you think he went?” Little Fur asked.

  “Not into the city,” Sorrow said. “Gazrak feared coming to Underth. He stank of it. If he is not still here and hiding somewhere about us in these stony hills, he is headed for the surface.”

  CHAPTER 12

  A Bottle of Sickness

  Sorrow searched for Gazrak while Little Fur kept watch. But there were no more bells, and there was no sign of trolls moving beyond the edge of their city. When Sorrow returned, he wearily told Little Fur that he hadn’t found any trace of the rat. He cast himself down and slept briefly, then rose and went to relieve Ginger, refusing the food Little Fur had prepared.

  Little Fur did not insist that he eat, or tell him he ought to have rested longer, for his mood seemed darker than ever. After he had gone, she slept fitfully and dreamed the Old Ones were calling her. When she woke, it was with the distinct feeling that it was Crow who had been calling.

  She sat up, stretched, and found Ginger curled beside her. He stirred as she prepared them a scanty meal. “Did you see anything to explain the bells?” she asked.

  “No,” the cat replied. “But I do not think they signaled the capture of the ferrets.” He paused and then added, “I also do not believe that Gazrak’s disappearance means the rat is the betrayer the Sett Owl warned us of.”

  “The betrayer had to come because it was needed, and we needed Gazrak to guide us to Underth,” Little Fur said.

  “I do not know if running away can be called a betrayal,” Ginger said. “Perhaps the rat was merely frightened away by your shout.”

  Little Fur flushed. Her troll blood was affecting her in ways other than improving her ability to sense the nature of earth and rock. Suspicion and doubt were part of her trollness, for a troll would need such instincts to survive among other trolls. They were less of an evil than they were a necessity. Little Fur wondered w
hat else she would come to learn about herself before this journey was over.

  Ginger ate and curled up to sleep again, asking her to awaken him in an hour. Little Fur wanted to lie down with him but feared that she would sleep too deeply, so she sat by him and studied the troll city, wondering where Shikra and Brave Kell were and whether they were safe. She decided that it was harder to wait for someone who was in danger than to be the one facing the danger.

  Ginger woke less gracefully than usual at Little Fur’s touch. For a moment he stared at her, his orange eyes clouded by sleep. Then he said, “I dreamed that Crow was calling for me. . . .”

  Little Fur gasped. “I dreamed of Crow, too.”

  Ginger stretched. “No doubt his heart aches for us as well.”

  When she was alone, Little Fur set about preparing another tisane for the fox, puzzling over how she might convince him to let her try to heal his spirit. When she heard a sound behind her, she turned to present him with her carefully thought-out argument—only to find it was Ginger.

  “Sorrow is gone,” he said, smelling of concern. “His scent trail leads to the city.”

  Little Fur felt a sick sense of things going wrong. “Maybe Shikra and Kell came to get him.”

  “I will follow his scent trail, but you must come with me and wait in case the ferrets return while I am gone,” Ginger said.

  It took them twenty minutes to reach the spot the fox had chosen as a rendezvous for the spies. It was a good hiding place, because a concealing haze of bright steam rose from pools of bubbling mud. Ginger slipped into the city like a gray shadow, and Little Fur sat down to wait. She was close enough now to see that all of Underth was built upon a great slab of natural rock. That explained why the city had such an abrupt edge. No doubt the black stones were too unstable to build on. The troll dwellings looked even less impressive close up, constructed of more black stones carelessly mortared together with mud.