The Disappearing Dwarf

by James P. Blaylock

  ‘Unless what?’ the Professor asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Jonathan said. ‘Nothing at all.’

  Bufo stared at him wide-eyed. ‘Unless these are the Squire’s marbles, you meant to say. He’d have had some with him.’

  Gump, anticipating him, cried, ‘But whose mouth were they in?’ He looked down at the skeleton in disbelief. ‘You kicked his head down the stairs!’

  Escargot yanked the skeleton up by its shoulder blades and dangled it in front of Gump. The thing was half again Gump’s size. ‘It’s not the Squire,’ Escargot said, casting the skeleton back into the closet. ‘The Dwarf wouldn’t waste the Squire on a prank like this.’

  The Professor cleared his throat meaningfully.

  ‘Look here.’ Escargot pulled an old rusty cutlass out of the closet. ‘This is pirates we’re dealing with all right. If they want to put marbles in dead men’s ‘mouths, that don’t matter to us. Things don’t have to work the same way in Balumnia.’ Escargot tossed the cutlass back into the closet along with its owner. ‘Dooly,’ he said, ‘come along with me. We’re going downstairs.’

  Bufo peered down into the darkness where the skeleton head had disappeared. ‘Why downstairs and not upstairs?’

  But the answer to that was clear enough. The flight of stairs leading to the second floor was about half-gone. Broken treads dangled in the air below the stairway, and right up near the top landing, for the space of six feet, there were no stairs at all. The stairs leading down, on the other hand, were cut from stone, and although heaved up at one point as if from an earthquake, the stones appeared to be solid. So with candles lit, they descended, Escargot first with Dooly clinging to his coat.

  The yellow glow of the candlelight played off the walls and over a few pieces of broken furniture, gray with years of dust. Two rats leaped from the back of an old stuffed chair and ran across a wide and tattered rug. Like the several other pieces of furniture, the chair was in a state of advanced ruin: torn, soiled, and broken and with great tufts of yellowy stuffing thrusting through rents. Escargot pushed on the seat, perhaps suspecting that it was stuffed with treasure as well as cotton wool, but nothing resulted from the experiment other than the issuance of a cloud of ancient, tired dust. There were no closets of any sort that might hide gold and jewels. It began to look as if they’d all been played for fools, either that or the treasure was above them some place, in an attic perhaps. But that was highly unlikely, since, as the Professor had pointed out back at Hightower, treasure was almost always buried, not hauled up flights of stairs.

  Jonathan bent over and scratched at the packed earth floor. It was hard as rock and would have been almost impossible to pick through. Then suddenly he had an idea and he tugged at a long trestle table with a cobweb-strung candelabra on it, dragging it free of the rug. Escargot and the Professor, both understanding what he was up to, yanked the rug back into a wrinkled heap. Beneath it a trap door was set into a wooden frame in the pounded earth.

  Handholds had been cut through the wood of the door at each corner, and it was no great thing for the lot of them to tug it out of its depression and drag it aside. Beneath it was a very dark hole.

  The Professor filled the webby candelabra with candles and thrust it down into the darkness. Most of the light seemed to flee back out toward them as if it didn’t want anything to do with what lay below. Dimly, some six or eight feet beneath them, they could just make out the last couple of rungs of a fallen ladder.

  The hole in the ground and the flickering candlelight all reminded Jonathan overmuch of another hole that he had recently been talked into investigating. He had little desire simply to pop down into it and run into some blue, eyeless squid again. But it was getting on to nine o’clock, and they were bound to be back at the inn by noon. And this particular hole hadn’t quite the depth and mystery about it that the deep caverns beneath Hightower Castle had. So he said to his friends, ‘Be ready to pull me out,’ as he grabbed the lip of wood that the trap door had rested on and swung himself into the hole.

  Almost as soon as he began to drop into the darkness, he heard the tearing of rotten wood. The chunk he held onto ripped loose and came away in his hands, falling with him the few feet to the floor below. It seemed to him an awfully long way down.

  His right foot cracked through some brittle business when he landed. Whatever it was bit at his leg and stuck to him like a spring-trap. The Professor shoved the candles into the hole again, and Jonathan found that he had a ribcage on his foot like some kind of impossible shoe. Pieces of the rest of the skeleton were tumbled about, and once again a cutlass lay near one of the thing’s hands. Nearby was a cocked hat and a torn and mouldering heap of dark cloth that had once been a cuffed jacket. The dim glow of the dozen candles cast a pink and yellow circle up the side of a hill of gleaming rosy coins – heaps and heaps and heaps of them like dunes of sand in a desert.

  Jonathan whistled in amazement and took a wide and cumbersome step toward the coins. Then he remembered the skeleton and kicked his right foot in the air to dislodge the ribcage. Behind on the floor lay the rough wooden ladder. He yanked on the end of the thing and tilted it up to where the others waited, then he pulled on the rungs to sec if they were stout enough to hold everyone’s weight. The condition of the ladder didn’t seem to matter much to his companions, for as soon as it touched the edge of the hole, Bufo began to clamber down, and Gump hollered at him for being too slow. Everyone, Ahab included, crowded into the cellar a moment later, gawking at the gold coins and at the heaped treasures that lay beyond. It seemed to Jonathan as if the vault was as large as the room above, and the whole thing was one tumultuous chest of treasure.

  Gump and Bufo were immediately knee-deep in coin; odd eight-sided coins, and round gold plate as big as a man’s hand. Jonathan could see gold balls with weird elf runes carved into them, and oblong coins with holes in their centers. There were square coins and round coins and coins strung on golden chains, all plundered from distant lands, no doubt, by the pirates of the Flappage Islands.

  On beyond the heaps of coins lay oaken chests, some closed, many thrown open to reveal diamonds and emeralds and rubies and huge pearls with rainbow colors aswirl in the candlelight. There were oceans of jewels, of golden rings set with precious stones and necklaces so heavy with gems that no one could possibly have worn them. There were swords with hilts encrusted with sapphires and moonstones and amethysts.

  Other trunks overflowed with damasks and silks brocaded with diamonds and emeralds, and laces embroidered with spun gold and beaded with rubies – the riches of a thousand kings and palaces. Dooly wasted no time before climbing into a huge velvet robe and a pair of monstrous boots. Then he found a golden crown which he settled onto his ears before thrusting at imaginary foes about him with a peculiar, wavy scimitar almost as long as himself. ‘Avaunt! Avaunt!’ he shouted, menacing the heaps of coin.

  Everyone cheered to see him in such a wild display. In the space of a few moments, Bufo and Gump were dressed to match in the most outlandish sorts of finery and were oohing and ahing and clambering about in the treasure. Jonathan plucked up handfuls of precious stones, letting them run through his fingers like liquid fire. He filled his pockets with coins, then emptied them out, filling them again with diamonds. Then he dumped out the diamonds in favor of emeralds, which had always appealed to him more than diamonds anyway. Then, getting into the spirit of the thing, he found a hat, filled it with gems„ and upended it onto his head, the flashing jewels spilling out over his ears and into his shirt collar.

  Escargot approached the whole affair more seriously, methodically filling small chests with jewels. He paid no attention at all to the gold, which, comparatively, was small beer anyway. The Professor was the only one among them who seemed entirely indifferent either to the wild value of the treasure or to the idea of finding it there, heaped up so and in such splendid abundance. Once he’d gotten a glimpse of the round rune coins he had eyes for nothing else. He pointed out to Jonathan
that each coin was different from its fellows, and that each was carved with runes very much like those used by the Light Elves in the White Mountains. Jonathan didn’t much care where the coins had come from, although he admitted that it was strange to see coins from the White Mountains in the cellar of an ancient house in Balumnia. But that was the sort of thing that fell into Professor Wurzle’s line, and Jonathan was content to let him puzzle over it. The Professor went about digging out the heavy little gold balls, squinting at each in turn before putting it into his pocket. Soon his trousers bulged with the things and sagged desperately.

  Just about then Ahab, wearing a crown that Dooly had found for him, came sliding past in a rush of coin, dragging half of a jewel-bedecked skeleton by a boney hand. Still prancing with his sword, Dooly spied the grinning skull and the ivory curve of the thing’s ribcage, and he gasped and shouted, pulling his velvet robe up over his head after casting his sword onto the pile of coin. At the sound of Dooly’s cry, Bufo and Gump gave off their shouting and dancing. The skeleton rattled on the coins. Ahab dropped it and sniffed at it. As he got a good look at the empty eye sockets and the long, gumless teeth, he stepped back a pace with a look of growing distaste. Finally he seemed to come to the conclusion that it wasn’t a dog treasure at all, as one might easily have thought, but was something he didn’t want any part of. So he left it grinning there with one yellow claw lying across Dooly’s fallen sword.

  Dooly peeked out through the folds of his cloak, feeling a bit braver. He avoided looking at the skeleton and grinned weakly at Escargot instead.

  The Professor pointed out that their candles were burning down. Four of them were nothing but little heaps of soft wax, and several others were guttering and fizzling, threatening to sputter out. None were longer than an inch or so. The thought of being left in the skeleton-inhabited cellar in the darkness sobered everyone somewhat. So following Escargot’s example, they heaped treasure into chests small enough to carry and stacked them near the ladder. Jonathan climbed out and helped lift the chests and Ahab to the floor above. Then, one by one, the rest of the company followed, shoving the trap door back into its place finally and yanking the rug back across it.

  The Professor pulled out his pocketwatch and had a look at it. ‘Almost ten-thirty,’ he said. ‘We’d better get these chests back to the inn. Miles is due pretty soon.’

  Escargot was dumbfounded. ‘To the inn? Not a chance, mate. None of this is going to sit around in any inn. It’s going aboard the submarine, and it’s going there now. Miles can wait. There’s been a change of plans here. If you lads feel inclined, go along without me. Dooly and I can take charge of this treasure. I aim to find a cart and horse and load it all out of here – every last nickel. I don’t figure to be through for two days.’

  The Professor clearly did not like the tone of Escargot’s speech. He had the look on his face of a man who’d been right all along. Jonathan didn’t like it much either. Not that he cared a great deal about abandoning the treasure – he could always take a pocket full of emeralds with him if he wished. And when it came down to it, he trusted Escargot not to make off with his share. But Jonathan had rather counted on Escargot’s help in rescuing the Squire. He felt just then like a general who hears that his hoped-for reinforcements had quit the army to become farmers. Escargot, however, was adamant. He didn’t stand around to argue his case, he just hefted the chest to his shoulder and climbed up the stairs toward daylight. There was nothing to be done but follow him.

  ‘Well,’ the Professor said, putting his chest down in the room above, ‘this chest of gold balls is going along with me. It’s far too important, historically speaking, to be given over to the first adventurer who wanders past in a submarine.’

  ‘I’ll give you a receipt,’ Escargot said, heating up. ‘We can get it notarized.’

  Dooly, Gump, and Bufo laid their chests on the floor too, and Bufo, as an afterthought, ran back down the stairs to retrieve the skull that had sailed out of the closet. He puffed up with it a moment later and shoved it into his knapsack. ‘I thought I’d take this as a trophy,’ he said, ‘and put a candle on it when we get home.’ Gump looked a bit envious for a moment. Then he seemed to remember that he had all of a sudden become an astonishingly wealthy linkman – that he could buy any number of hippo heads which would make Bufo’s skull-candle pale in comparison.

  Jonathan thought about it all for a moment. Finally, although it bothered him to do it, he sided with Escargot, who most likely couldn’t be budged on the issue. ‘Take my chest along then. We’ll leave a message for you at the inn. Maybe you can come along after us.’

  ‘I’ll be there …’ began Escargot, but he was interrupted by the Professor, who made a sort of whooshing sound and looked put out.

  Jonathan shrugged. ‘He’s right. There’s nothing else to do with the treasure. We can’t possibly carry it about, and if we leave it at the inn it won’t be there when we get back – if we get back.’

  After a moment the Professor nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps so,’ he said reluctantly. He patted his pockets, which still held a dozen or so gold balls.

  On that note of agreement, they once again hefted their chests and followed Ahab out across the ruined front porch and into the street. Escargot talked over his shoulder as they moved off down the road. ‘If we can get these down the blasted alley to Royal Street, we can rent a horse cart. For that matter we can buy a horse cart. Two horse carts. Dooly can drive one and I’ll drive the other. We can cover the treasure with that old rug and some of that furniture. Everyone will take us for junk men.’

  Right at the mouth of the alley, Gump stopped and lowered his chest. ‘This isn’t mine,’ he said, fingering some tattered leather straps atop it. ‘This is yours, Bufo. You’ve got mine.’

  ‘I haven’t either. I have my own. I put nothing but rings in it. About a million rings, and it’s mine. It’s for my collection.’

  ‘Collection!’ Gump cried. ‘You’ve gone and swapped chests. You’ve got my jewels and you’ve given me your filthy stupid rings that aren’t worth a thing. Who wants a million rings? A man hasn’t got but two hands.’

  ‘He could wear them on his toes,’ Dooly offered helpfully.

  Escargot had stopped ten steps down the alley and was watching the altercation angrily. ‘Open the bloody things up!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Not that it matters. They’re all heading in the same direction anyway.’

  The Professor let another little whoosh of air out of his mouth as if he read more into Escargot’s remark than was visible on the surface. Gump and Bufo were immediately happy, not so much because they could settle the question of what was in Bufo’s chest, as because they could have another look at the wonderful treasure. Dooly dropped his chest and tore at the straps on it too – just to make sure.

  One by one the lids on the three chests fell back, and as they did a very mysterious thing occurred. The diamonds and the emeralds inside, the rings, gems, and scattered gold coins, seemed to shimmer in the sunlight and ripple like a landscape seen through distant summer heat. Then, bit by bit, they collapsed inward onto themselves, metamorphosing into junk: twisted bits of wire and bent nails, shards of bottle glass, and the bleached skeletons of little peculiar fish. A dead beetle the size of a mouse lay among the scrap in Bufo’s chest. The rusty carcass of an old pocketknife, its broken blade shoved into a cork, sat in Gump’s. Dooly’s chest, which a moment before was filled with rainbow gems, was a mess of iron filings, sand, and the beaten hub of an old buggy wheel twisted through with bent wire coat hangers.

  Professor Wurzle reached into his pockets and pulled out two handfuls of gold balls. When he opened his hands in the sunlight, he held a little pile of bottlecaps with dirty cork washers in them. He threw the lot of it disgustedly to the pavement.

  ‘Goblin gold,’ Escargot said, taking a wild kick at his chest. ‘Enchantment. Nothing but filthy, goblin-enchanted trash.’ He fetched the chest another whack, kicking the side in and cascading a
fortune in jeweled necklaces and brooches out onto the cobbles – necklaces that shone for a second in the sunlight and then became fish carcasses and cuttlebones.

  The Professor picked up a cuttlebone and scraped a white path across it with his thumbnail. ‘Squids,’ he said. ‘River squids. Miles was right. It was squid ink on the maps, not octopus ink.’

  ‘Of course it was,’ Escargot laughed out loud. ‘And it took us right in.’

  ‘I don’t quite follow.’ Jonathan knew nothing more about squid and octopus ink than he had back at Myrkle Hall.

  ‘Pirates would have used octopus ink,’ the Professor explained. ‘Goblins don’t go out into the ocean. So they make their maps with the ink of river squids to fool people like you and me. It gives them a great deal of amusement, I don’t doubt.’

  ‘Aye, and another too, whom I won’t name,’ Escargot said, ‘but who was kind enough to let us onto these maps.’

  ‘Us?’ the Professor said doubtfully.

  ‘That’s right. I found mine at Hightower Castle last winter while you lads were entertaining Selznak. We’ve been set up, is what I think.’

  The Professor shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it for a moment. Not for a moment. He’s not that clever. It’s altogether impossible.’

  Jonathan pulled the lid back from his chest, watching the gems within flutter into a heap of trash – dried fish eyes and shining scales that had once covered a great river perch. Scattered across the bottom were handfuls of watch parts: gears, lenses, little nuts and bolts and screws. Nestled in among all of it was a brass pocketwatch – a very familiar looking brass pocketwatch. Reaching in and pulling it out by the fob, Jonathan dangled it in the air. ‘Zippo was a better magician than we thought.’

  ‘Is that yours?’ asked Bufo, who still had the little half-dollar watch that Jonathan had given him after the magic show at Tweet River Village.

  ‘The very one.’ Jonathan was mystified. He wound it up and it began to tick away.