We climbed over a stile and were soon in the fields, with a long drystone wall below us in a shallow valley and a small flock of shaggy sheep grazing above. We paused to enjoy the view again.
Dad and I had often gone on this walk. It was one of our favorites. This morning we had to cut it short, because Dad needed to get back and make the long drive to Lancaster along the twisting lanes which crossed the border from Yorkshire to Lancashire. There are still people on that border who fight those Wars of the Roses, at least verbally, and usually in the pub.
We were back safe and sound and ate breakfast before anyone else was up. Only when I had finished did I realize that Monsieur Zodiac must have left while we were on our walk. He clearly planned to come back, said Mum, scruffy as ever in her old dressing gown, because his door was open and his bag and clothes were still in his room, although his long, black instrument case was gone. Mum, who wasn’t at her best in the morning, wondered where he could be taking his guitar at this time.
“He couldn’t have a gig around here. Not even a rehearsal. Could he, do you think?”
Alfy, still asleep, made a weak joke about playing in the sunrise with the hippies in Kirby Lonsdale, at which Gertie expressed her disgust. The smell of coffee filled the room, followed by the acrid smell of burning toast. Alf preferred his breakfast black.
I saw Dad off and went back out onto the common for a minute. I climbed the hill so that I would see the last of his car, waved, and began to ascend again. Which was when the earth shuddered. Then stop. Then shudder again. Then shake.
As I got to the house, the earth tossed me up and threatened to throw me into the wall before I could get through the gate.
I was winded and scared. More explosions from the cavers, was my first thought. They’d gone too far. My second thought was earthquake. I tried to remember how you were supposed to respond in such circumstances. I only knew what we’d been told to do in the hotel, on our trip to Disneyland, about getting under a secure beam and so forth.
I suddenly felt myself slipping, as if the ground had tilted beneath my feet, and I knew I was sliding towards the mouth of what we sometimes called Claffam’s Cave—not a real cave at all, but a deep indent in the grass-covered limestone. I could hardly make out the grassy bottom. How had it happened that one moment I was near our quadrangle door and the next I was sliding down towards dark, slippery shale. I managed to get a strong grip on a bit of rock and hung on tight, stopping my descent.
The smell of rock dust clogged my nostrils, and I couldn’t get a foothold on anything. I didn’t have the breath to scream. Surely someone in the house knew what was happening and was taking the proper action.
The shale continued to clatter and hiss past me, and I was shocked to see the foreign-looking man, Paul von Minct, in the big greatcloak, shaking his dusty head out of the pit below me, his clawlike slate-colored fingers pushing back the shale as he came upwards, his long, grey face intense in its determination to keep climbing towards me. At last I started screaming. But nothing came out of my throat. This man, already described as my greatest enemy, was between me and my house. I couldn’t shout, so I let go of the rock, landed on his face, knocked him over, pushed past him, and was out of the hole and back on the green of the common. I had lost my bearings. Where was the house? I heard his heavy feet running behind me, and ahead of me I saw another cave opening. I jumped in to avoid his seeing me, but I could still hear him nearby.
“Miss Oonagh. Could I have a word with you, perhaps?”
I kept my head down.
He must have known I was close enough to hear him. “You have broken the spell,” he snarled. His voice was like the hard bluster of the wind. “You have shredded the net they put around you. Now you are ours!”
Then came the Puritan, Klosterheim, speaking in tones like a keening, shrieking blade on glass, behind his master. Could anyone ever forget that grating voice? Or those black and white clothes, straight out of my old nightmares? “You proved your own will, dear child. Your own will. You prefer to be with us …”
That was both so blatantly false and so nonsensical, I found some energy from laughing at it. I managed to stand, see where I was, spot the house, and start running for it.
To my relief, I saw Monsieur Zodiac beckoning to me from overhead. I had not recognized him before, since he had discarded the formal English evening dress. Now he looked just as I’d seen him in those old dreams, as if he had stepped out of one of those Hindu movies I love, with long turban ends and a flowing costume, scarfs and sashes, all of bright, beautiful colors. Why was he dressed so differently?
A growl from behind me.
“Here!”
There came a single deep note from the rock at his feet, and releasing me he reached down to pick up the black sword.
“Only this blade remains unchanged.”
He gasped and reached towards me, but I was drifting past him while he shouted my name. I knew I was lost from his protection, possibly from all protection. Then I was running on solid ground in the dark, then slipping. All the others had disappeared, and I could see no opening to the cave.
As I turned while falling, the only light before me now was in the green, reflecting eye of a very large cat!
Then this light, too, blinked out.
CHAPTER THREE
I WASN’T SCARED at that point, because I was confident someone would come and rescue me. I didn’t think anyone had planned to trap me in the cave system. Monsieur Zodiac had, I was sure, protected me as best he could from von Minct and Klosterheim. So it was hours before I gave up and began to feel my way downwards to where I was sure I saw a faint light. It could, of course, just be the glaring eyes of the big cat I had seen in the dark, but I had no choice.
I moved carefully, trembling with cold. All I wore was a T-shirt and shorts. I was going steadily downwards, hoping to find cavers there who could get me back to the surface. Then behind me I heard a loud crack, and the ground shook faintly. Bits of stone rattled down, but nothing hit me. I had a sick feeling in my stomach, but I was trying to keep control of myself. If Klosterheim could scare me so readily, then I ought to have all my wits about me. I climbed over a ridge of rock and suddenly was looking down into a deep underground valley and the strangest city I had ever seen. It was like something out of a silent black-and-white sci-fifilm. I knew it, of course. I had seen it in those old, terrifying dreams.
Crystal spires, which could almost have been natural formations, rose a thousand feet or more below me. A sil very river ran through the city center, and strange, elongated beings, scarcely different in appearance from the crystalline spikes, came and went on the slopes. As in those dreams, I felt no fear of them or their city. In fact, I knew a sense of relief and wasn’t really surprised by my own lack of surprise. After all, I had known the city and its strange beings all my life.
Then I realized some inhabitants had seen me and were coming towards me.
Just as in those dreams, I started to run away from them, even thought they offered me no harm. Then I saw the outlines of a gigantic fox ahead, standing on his hind legs. My thought was, I can’t let him be killed by that Puritan. So I turned and ran back towards the denizens of the city. I was prepared to do almost anything to make sure the bad part of the dream didn’t come true.
Two of the weird-looking creatures in pointed hoods were approaching me now. I knew they were harmless. I just had to change the dream, make sure the fox wasn’t shot. I let them come towards me. They must have been nine or ten feet tall, with hands so elongated they reminded me of bones. The tall, pointed hoods, which could have been some kind of carapace, made them look like priests in an auto-da-fé or members of the Ku Klux Klan. Beneath these long, pointed skulls were faces at once alien and amiable, with stone-colored folds of skin, their features seemingly formed from flowing volcanic rock and suddenly frozen, utterly unhuman and beautiful. Within their strange masklike faces were eyes like ice, which clearly held nothing but goodwill towards me.
When they spoke, it reminded me of the soft music of wind chimes, and though I could not understand their Ianguage, I accepted the first being’s cold, long-fingered hand when he offered it. He knew I had no business being where I was. I felt confident he would soon get me home. Taking his hand, I noticed an ordinary black cat with a thin body and long ears, which had situated itself at the feet of the two alien beings. It regarded me with its almond-shaped eyes. As my hosts led me back towards their city, the cat followed. Soon several similar cats, tails high, joined us. We made a strange procession as we walked slowly down towards crystal spires.
At that point I was still convinced I would soon be reunited with my parents, or that at least Monsieur Zodiac would be contacting me. Somehow I thought they already knew about this world. I had no possible notion of the adventure on which I was about to embark.
At last we reached the city. The tall, irregular towers had an extraordinary and profound beauty. I felt an emotion similar to one I had known when visiting York Minster and Westminster Abbey, but far more intense. I had sensations of tremendous joy and was so absorbed in the experience, I did not notice the creature standing in the nearest doorway, smiling at me.
“I see the city of the Off-Moo has impressed you, young miss.”
I was being addressed by that same large fox, somewhat bigger than the average man and standing a little uncertainly on his hind legs, dressed with exquisite taste in the finery of a late-eighteenth-century fop. With one paw the fox held a tall ornamental pole, with which he kept his balance. The other he extended to me. “How do you do, mademoiselle.” His pad was soft and sensitive, with a living warmth to it. “I am Renyard von Grimmelshausen, Lord of the Deep City, hereditary keeper of the secrets of the center. Oh, and many other things. I am named, I must admit, for one of my favorite authors. Have you read Simplicissimus? I’ve written a few books of my own, too. I will be your guide, young mistress. At your disposal. Not in this city, of course, which is not mine, but the other city, parts of which are mine.”
“There’s someone wants to shoot you,” I said, shaking his paw. “You’d better be careful.”
“I am used to it,” he assured me. “I am always careful. And you are …?”
“I am Oonagh Bek. I’m hoping to get back to Ingleton as soon as possible.”
Lord Renyard frowned, not understanding everything I said. Then he bowed again. “Enchanted, mademoiselle.” He spoke in faintly accented English. “You appear to have won the approval of our friends the Off-Moo.”
“Who’s that, again?”
“Those gentlemen. They are the builders and inhabitants of yonder city. I think it’s safe to say they are allies of mine. They’ll not harm you.”
“But Klosterheim’s around!” I looked, but I could no longer see the skull-faced Puritan.
“Oh, he’ll not bother us for a while yet, believe me. He cannot come here. How can I help you?” He was serenely confident. I calmed down.
“Maybe you could point me in the right direction for the village,” I suggested. There had to be another exit or entrance or whatever. “Or even take me a bit of the way to Ingleton…”
“Ingleton, my dear child?”
“It’s where I live.”
“Is that where you entered the World Below?”
“It is.” My granny had told me bedtime stories about the World Above and the World Below when I was a little girl. I’d forgotten all about them. “So? Any ideas about Ingleton?”
He shook his long head. For the first time I became genuinely worried. “Then how can I find my way home?”
“We’ll have to look, I suppose.”
“Is it possible to stay lost for a long time?”
“Sometimes it’s always possible.” He was regretful. “But I’m sure I can help. I have a good many maps where I live. A very extensive library on all subjects. I was paying a casual visit to my friends the Off-Moo, so we can leave without risking offense. I come here to relax. They see nothing strange in me, whereas most of your kind and mine are suspicious of a fox who not only wears human clothes but is also educated, as I am, in all the Encyclopedists.”
“I don’t know much about encyclopedias, Lord Renyard.” I felt a bit silly saying that. Had he read them all?
“I am an intellectual child of Voltaire and Montaigne.” He spoke with a slight air of self-mockery. “Of whom, no doubt, you’ve never heard.”
“I’ve heard of Voltaire, but we don’t really do much French history or philosophy yet at school.”
“Of course you don’t.” He opened his muzzle and barked several times. It took me a moment to realize that he was laughing. “How old are you, mademoiselle?”
“I’m twelve.”
“Another six years before you go to university.”
“About that. My sister goes next year.”
He asked after my family, and I told him. I said our family name was really von Bek, and at this he barked again.
“Von Bek? It could be I know your father. Or one of your relatives at least. Is his name Manfred?”
“It’s one of his names, but they have so many names. I don’t think there’s been a Manfred first name. Not for about two hundred years at least.”
“That could easily be, of course. I met him in about 1800.”
“Over two hundred years ago.” Was I dreaming or not? Somehow the logic seemed to be that of a dream. “What’s the year here?”
“The Off-Moo don’t have calendars as we do. But in Mirenburg, the City in the Autumn Stars, where I rule as a prince, it would be about, I don’t know, 1820 perhaps. To tell you the truth, my dear, it could as easily be 1920. If I had any means of measuring, I’d be better able to compute exactly what year it was in comparison. When we arrive there I’ll be able to help you more.”
“Then I suppose we’d better get off to Mirenburg. My mum and dad will be worrying. We can probably phone from there.”
“Perhaps they won’t be worrying, child.” His voice softened in reassurance. “Time has substantial variations, and only a moment or two might have passed in Ingleton while days and weeks go by out here.”
For some reason I was reassured by him, just as I had been in my dreams.
“Or several years,” added Lord Renyard. Then, realizing he might have disappointed me, he leaned down, offering something like a smile. “But it’s generally only a matter of moments. I was just finishing my business here. Would you like to come with me to my home? From there it might be possible to reckon a little more specifically.”
“I don’t seem to have much choice,” I said.
“You could, of course, also stay with the Off-Moo. That gentleman over there is Scholar Ree, their spiritual counselor. He can be very kind.”
“I think I’d better stay with you, Lord Renyard, if it’s all the same…”
“I shall be glad of the company.” The handsome fox again offered me his paw and began to lead me back to the larger group of stonelike beings. “First we’ll make our adieux.”
With grace Lord Renyard bowed to his hosts, then led me out along a narrow trail of smooth rock. Above us the enormous cave widened. The roof of the cavern seemed miles overhead. Instead of stars, crystals glittered and a silver river ran away into the distance, its luminous waters lighting a landscape of stalagmites and stalactites and what seemed like forests of fronds, all pale, shimmering and ethereal.
Reconciled to my inability to contact my parents at that moment, I felt better when Lord Renyard’s soft padded paw grasped my hand and we left the Off-Moo city behind. As we walked, he told me a little of the people inhabiting the land he called Mu-Ooria. They had lived here long before the surface of the earth was occupied by sentient beings, he said. Their world was sometimes known as the Border Land or the Middle March, existing on a plane shared in common by many aspects of the multiverse. I was familiar with the idea of alternative universes, so I grasped what he told me fairly easily, though I had never really expected to experience what old-fashioned
writers sometimes called “another dimension,” and had until now pretty much taken the ideas as fiction. Most of the children’s stories that my brother and sister and I read were the kind which describe another world parallel to ours, and I had never thought the idea strange. That said, I knew it might be difficult to escape from such a universe once you had fallen into one, and I remained concerned for my worried parents, feeling somewhat guilty that the fascinating underground world kept distracting my attention.
The Off-Moo had few natural enemies and were peaceful, Lord Renyard told me. The cats I had seen often visited them and communicated between them and certain humans. “Felines often come and go from that city. They have a special fondness for it. I know not why.”
Lord Renyard said he found the intellectual stimulus he craved by visiting the Off-Moo. Most of his colleagues in Mirenburg were positively anti-intellectual, he said. “Many are outrageously superstitious. But if they were not, I should probably not rule them.”
“You are Mirenburg’s ruler?”
“Not the whole city, dear young lady.” As we strolled along he told me that he had enjoyed the company of my great-great-great-umpteenth-grandfather and that of another adventurer, his friend the famous aerial navigator, the Chevalier St. Odhran.
“You know the Chevalier St. Odhran? I met him yesterday!” I was excited to have a friend in common with him.
“Indeed? Not his descendant?”
“Only if his descendant is also a balloonist.”
He described his friend who often visited Mirenburg. It was my St. Odhran to the letter. And sometimes, I heard, he came here with two friends who had to be Lobkowitz and Fromental. This gave me more hope. If the Scot had been able to fly his balloon to Ingleton, then it suggested there was a way I could easily be reunited with my parents and that the Chevalier St. Odhran might also know where to look for me. In that way kids can do, I made up my mind not to worry and to enjoy the experience as much as possible. If a minor earth tremor had opened the world to me, there was a good chance that a similar tremor would get me out.
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