“If it did, wouldn’t Pomplemys have fixed it himself?” shot back Tully. The close quarters and the darkness and the fear had started to unravel his composure. At any moment the old Eft would wake up or his minions would come and find them. Then there would be no pretense. They would be enemies, indeed, and perhaps confined to some awful dungeon.
Aarvord paused. “She’s right,” he said heavily. “Someone with great magic made this box. We don’t have that magic. All we have are dull tools.” He held up ten fingers, each in the shape of a different mechanism.
“Great magic,” thought Tully, “which Hindrance had commanded.” But she had not shared how or why.
“We just have to shut the box to bring them back,” said Tully. He tried to force the lid but it would not bend. He felt like crying with frustration.
“There is more than one way to alter a hinge,” said Aarvord grimly, and he snatched the box from Tully’s hand and headed back to the main room, where the fire still burned. They quickly followed. He stood before the great mantel with the tusk of the Ele-Fant, and traded the box from paw to paw, contemplating.
“Don’t!” said Elutia, seeing what Aarvord was about. “The fire will just burn the box, not melt the hinge.”
“Yes, but there is something curious about this fire,” said the Grout. “You see how it burns and burns with no wood added, no fuel at all? This fire is no ordinary thing. It burns hot—enough to warm the sky and the gardens and make this place feel like endless summer. You see?”
Pomplemys snurfled in his sleep and gave a loud barking cry of “No! No!” which seemed to galvanize Aarvord. He configured two fingers on his right hand into the shape of tongs, and extended the box into the fire with the hinge dipped into the fiery heart of the flames. The fire licked at the wood of the box, but it was unharmed. The hinge grew white-hot. Aarvord pulled it from the fire and, with all the pressure of one of his huge, muscled arms, pressed the lid tight and firm. There was a wrenching sound in the air and the box blistered and broke apart completely. The wood shards shot out from under Aarvord’s arm, as if fired from a gun, and the lid ricocheted off one wall and into a cabinet, shattering the glass. Aarvord gave a yell of astonishment, for there on the hearth were sitting the three missing travelers: Copernicus, Nizz, and Deressema. Aarvord reached for his friend and clutched him close, squeezing the snake a bit too tight for comfort.
“Hands off!” shouted Copernicus, clearly disoriented. Deressema seemed well aware of what had happened, for she took flight immediately and shot down the darkened hallway into hiding. Nizz just lay there, as if dead.
The shrieking noise that the box had made when it was broken had woken Pomplemys, but only for an instant. His eyes shot open and they were bleary and bloodshot. He looked around and murmured, and then fell back into his stupor.
Tully then noticed Elutia, who was making small noises of distress. Her hands were fluttering around her midriff, and when she pulled them away he could see that one of the wooden shards of the box had struck her and embedded itself within her flesh. Her white clothing was stained with a greenish sap and Tully realized with horror that this was her blood. He had never seen a Went injured before, not in all his years with the four who had been his constant companions. He rushed to her side and helped her to sit, and then called for Aarvord. The Grout flung the snake around his neck and bent over to assess the wound.
Copernicus was now coming to his senses. “My friends!” he said. “Where are we? What is this place? What happened to the children?”
“What children? They were with you?” asked Tully, holding Elutia’s small hand in his own. She was trembling. He glanced over at Nizz before the fire, but there was nothing he could do for the bee now. It lay on its back, its legs curled up above it. It was surely dead or hideously damaged, and he could not bear to take his attention away from Elutia. She was growing paler by the second, and her eyes were very wide and dark.
“What have we done?” said Aarvord. “What have I done?” His big flat paws hesitated and trembled before the shard of wood, not sure if removing it would do Elutia further damage.
“Can you help her?” asked Tully. It was impossible, he thought, that Elutia could receive a mortal wound from something that Hindrance had imbued with her own magic.
“I hear such pretty music,” said Elutia suddenly, and smiled. “And oh! There is the river. But there is no snow, anymore. It’s all flowers and bright grass.”
“She’s there!” said Copernicus excitedly. “She’s where I was. Do you see the mountains in the distance?”
“I see them. I’m flying to them now. I can see the river below me,” said Elutia dreamily. “This is what it’s like to fly.”
“Do you see the children?” asked Copernicus.
“Yes!” said Elutia. “They are waiting for me. I can see them. A little boy and a little girl.”
“That’s Bax and Natty,” said Copernicus eagerly.
“Bax and Natty,” said Elutia, with a worried frown. “But they are in trouble. They are trapped in a dark place. It’s getting darker and…I can’t see the sunlight anymore.”
“Please,” said Tully to Aarvord, “you must get the shard out. Wake Pomplemys if you have to! He may know what to do!” Tully rose to his feet, about to roust the old Eft into wakefulness.
“Don’t,” said Copernicus suddenly. “I don’t like the looks of the fellow. He smells like something bad. Like death.” Copernicus’ eyes flicked to Nizz, lying prone and still by the fireplace. He whipped off Aarvord’s neck like a slick rope and slid to Nizz, poking at the bee’s body gently with his snout.
“No,” said Copernicus. “It can’t be.”
Tully was glad to have the snake’s attention distracted, although he was sorry for his pain and wondered if Copernicus and Nizz had become fast friends in that other world.
It was too late for Elutia, however. The Went had folded in on herself—like a dying blossom—and her head drooped over the wound with the awful sharp shard protruding from it. Tully did not think. He placed his hand on the shard and, with one swift movement, drew it out of her. With that, at that very moment, she vanished entirely from the room. There was a brief sigh, an exhalation, like mist. Tully groped for where Elutia had been, just a moment before, but there was nothing left of her at all. He clutched the shard to his chest, and Aarvord gave a curse of pain and despair.
“She’s gone,” said Tully. “What have I done?”
“Take heart,” said Aarvord. “She isn’t dead. She’s gone to that other world. She can come back.”
“How?” said Tully, holding the shard out in his palm. “How, when the box is broken forever?”
In the midst of their confusion and misery, something good happened: Nizz began to stir, and waved his legs gently in the air.
“Look!” said Copernicus. “Nizz is alive!”
But then Copernicus turned from Nizz and hissed loudly, for a stranger had entered the room. It was an UnderGrout, who had been tending the fire earlier, and he did not look half as stupid as they had originally supposed. In fact, he looked as sly and brimming with intelligence as Pomplemys himself. If it were not for the fact that they were different species altogether, one might have thought that the UnderGrout and the old Eft were related. Their facial features were astonishingly similar, from the shapes of the eyes to the twist of the mouth. With a shudder, Tully wondered if the UnderGrout was the result of some kind of scientific experiment—a clone made in the old Eft’s image. It would be like Pomplemys to have the hubris to try such a thing.
“What trickery is at work here?” said the Grout, in high tones of disdain and suspicion. His voice even sounded like Pomplemys’ own. “What have you done to my master?”
“Whatever he did,” barked Aarvord, “he did to himself.” And Aarvord gestured at the empty pitcher that had once held the brown, inebriating liquid.
“You’ve poisoned him!” shrieked the Grout, and rushed to his master’s side. He bent down and p
ulled Pomplemys’ face up by the chin, turning it from side to side. The old Eft groaned and smiled sleepily.
“We’ve done nothing of the sort!” Tully exclaimed.
“Treachery, treachery!” shrieked the Grout. He rushed to one of the many locked cabinets that lined the room and pulled a flask of something from it. This he took to Pomplemys and, prying open his lips, poured a few drops of liquid into the old Eft’s mouth. Pomplemys spluttered and sat up, awake and disgruntled. He clutched at his head and moaned. No doubt his drunkenness was a common occurrence, and this potion was a sort of antidote.
“Master,” whined the Grout. “This group of traitors was up to no good. They have broken into your cabinets and stolen things! They have destroyed a valuable item. See its broken pieces around the fire?”
Pomplemys looked hideously pale for a moment.
“The bones!” he muttered. “Snell! Are the bones safe?”
“They are safe,” said Snell, apparently the name of the UnderGrout. His eyes unconsciously flicked to a tall cabinet, and Tully marked its location. Whatever was inside—these bones—must be very valuable to Pomplemys.
Pomplemys sat up straight in his chair and took in the scene: Copernicus and Nizz by the fireside, Tully with a shard of the box in his palm, Aarvord still drenched in sweat from his exertions.
“Where is the young Went, Elutia?” he said sharply.
“She’s gone,” barked Aarvord. “She fled the house while you were sleeping.”
“A lie,” said Snell. “Nothing escapes these walls.”
“Search for her,” said Pomplemys. “And where did we find the snake and the bee? How do they come to join our merry company?”
Tully and Aarvord stared at him mutely, unwilling to give up the secret.
Pomplemys, now fully sober and recovered, leapt from his chair and wrested the shard from Tully’s grasp. He was surprisingly strong and he had snatched it before Tully could defend himself.
“Snell is right,” said Pomplemys, turning the shard over and over. “You have broken my pretty plaything. Stupid creatures! Your little Ell will never get back now.”
“But she is back,” said Copernicus, who still did not fully understand the significance of everything that was happening. “She came back through, with us. And she flew away.”
“Ah!” said Pomplemys, smiling now. He clapped his hands furiously. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he said in a wheedling tone.
“She won’t,” thought Copernicus. “She is smarter than that.”
But, much to his surprise, the little Ell came buzzing into the room, hovering near where the wall met the ceiling as if she was afraid of being slapped down by enemy hands. She lit on Pomplemys’ shoulder.
“You were successful?” asked Pomplemys.
Dee preened and shimmied her wings proudly. “Indeed, I was!” she said, as loudly as she could, so that everyone in room could hear. “I delivered the children to the place where you told me.”
“Lovely!” laughed Pomplemys. “Perfect! You will be rewarded indeed. And none of this other nastiness matters. This treacherous group has nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. The children are ours now.” He beckoned to Snell.
“Go to the pit and collect them,” said Pomplemys. “If they are not in the room with us now then they must have been diverted there.”
Snell ran from the room. Deressema wondered for a moment at that. She realized that something had changed. Weren’t the children supposed to be delivered to the Shrike stronghold, not to Pomplemys himself? Suppose she had been tricked in some way? She nervously watched Snell’s exit and looked around for a way out herself, should something go wrong for her.
Tully had but a moment to think. Not only was Pomplemys mad, but also he had good reason to hate them now. It was likely he would trap them forever in some cage, or even kill them. But the mad creature had his weakness: his very valuable and repulsive collection of bones and skins and oddities. Snell had left the room, and Tully saw his chance to wreak havoc.
Tully snatched up one of the drinking goblets and ran to the tall cabinet, raised his arm, and smashed through the glass. Inside the door of this particular case, there were several trays lined with old, matted felt. The fabric looked as if it had been handled repeatedly—by loving or obsessed hands—as it was threadbare in places. In each of the trays there were several yellowish and chipped bones. Nothing was very sizable. All together, they could not have made the skeleton of a single beast or even a very small Eft.
When the glass smashed, the bones inside met the air and immediately turned to dust—a yellow, fine dust that rose into the air and clogged Tully’s nose and seared his eyes. He heard Pomplemys shout out behind him. But he did not stop.
Tully hurried to another cabinet that contained a strange device made of metal, covered with knobs and tubes. He had seen Pomplemys glance at it earlier. The glass on this was tougher and would not break easily. But, to his delight and surprise, there was Aarvord beside him, with a finger white-hot like a blade. Aarvord’s finger seared through the glass in this cabinet in quick, straight lines, and it fell out onto the thick carpet beneath. Tully snatched the device and held it under his arm. It was heavy and he wished that their remaining companions were larger than a snake and a bee.
Copernicus had sensed what they were about. Not knowing much about what Pomplemys valued, he began tearing at the leather and fur-covered chairs with his fangs. Deressema fluttered above in a state of agitation.
Tully held out the device. “I will smash it!” he cried. “Unless you give us these children you have caught and let us leave.”
To his surprise, Pomplemys smiled in a slow, languid fashion. “Very well,” said the old Eft. “Smash it if you must, young one. But then I will smash this.” And he held up the very same jar that he had used to trap Deressema. Inside it was Nizz. The bee, still weak, buzzed helplessly up at the lid of the jar. Pomplemys had been very quick. They had underestimated him, yet again.
Pomplemys smiled again at the discomfiture of the companions. Deressema was pleased; she had never liked the bee. She lit on Pomplemys shoulder again to clearly align herself with him, as well as to protect herself from any further outrages of the group.
Nizz waved an antennae weakly at Tully, in an effort to let him know that his life was of no consequence. Nizz sensed that he had not long to live. He tried to speak out but he was too weak, and no one could see his small gesture.
They were at a complete stalemate. Tully, Aarvord, and Copernicus stood together, facing Pomplemys who held the jar in his hand. He seemed ready to hurl it to the ground at a movement from the trio. Aarvord had taken the heavy device from Tully and cradled it in one big palm.
The snake had wrapped himself around Tully’s ankle and was gazing at Pomplemys with beady-eyed malice. So this was the “friend” that Deressema had praised back in the older world! Deressema now sat on his shoulder, preening herself in a haughty manner. She cast one scornful look at the little snake and flipped her wings up at him in a rude gesture that Ells were known to use. Copernicus resolved that he would never again trust one of her kind, or the horrible old grizzled Eft. Blasted Trilings…but then, of course, Tully was a Triling Eft, and Tully was loyal and good. More than all of this, though, Copernicus was still concerned for the two children. He longed to see them again and to know that they were safe.
They stood in this way for many long moments, no one saying a word. Pomplemys continued to smile, secure in his cleverness. Let them think that he had many guards at the ready prepared to come and capture them, Pomplemys thought. He had long ago lost them all to a wasting disease that had entered his compound accidentally. He had allowed a visitor in out of the cold—in those days he had been more trusting. The visitor had been ill and had infected his entire group of servants. No, not only the servants. Everyone he cared about. He would not think of them. They had all died within days. His mind had not been the same since that dark time.
But then h
e had made Snell, and his loyal Wents. The process had been long and arduous, but it had resulted in a servant who was as like him as any being could be. Snell was entirely loyal and strong. The Wents were true to him, but stupid and lacking any gifts that true Wents would have had. He had intended to make more beings like Snell, but he had not acted quickly enough; that he regretted. But, Snell and his own magic were all that he needed.
Then Snell entered the room. He was alone.
“Master,” said Snell, sniveling with fury and sorrow. “There are no children down there.”
Chapter Twenty-Four: Pomplemys’ Revenge
Pomplemys turned quickly as if to smite Deressema from his shoulder or trap her in his grip, but she was too fast. She flew up to the ceiling and hovered there, knowing that she had done something wrong and that now she would pay for it.
“Must there be traitors everywhere I turn!” shouted Pomplemys, the feathery antennae on top of his head bristling with impotent rage. He gestured at the small Ell, who was fluttering this way and that, as if she could escape him and his magic curses. “You turned. You turned against me,” he said coldly.
“I didn’t! I didn’t!” squeaked Deressema, darting from corner to corner as his eyes followed her. “I did everything you asked. It all went perfectly to plan.”
“Clearly it did not or the children would be here!” roared Pomplemys. “You have wasted my time!” He glanced down at the captive bee within the jar and clutched it as if he might squeeze it into shards. There was a small and brilliant flash of light. Then Deressema was in the jar as well, trapped with Nizz.
“Now if he is smashed, you are smashed too,” said Pomplemys very coldly. “You would do well to tell me exactly what you did, and the foolish mistakes you made.”
“I did everything,” sobbed Deressema. She was acutely aware that everyone in the room hated her now—from her recent mentor, to the snake, to the bee inside the jar with her who gazed at her with protuberant eyes that were filled with pity, and something else: disdain.
The Hundred: Fall of the Wents Page 28