In a Glass Grimmly

by Adam Gidwitz

  Jack watched Eddie carefully. It looked like he was trying not to smile. The frog, unnoticed by the grunting, heaving goblins, hopped awkwardly alongside Eddie’s head as it dragged along the ground. The goblins finally managed to get Eddie onto the platform.

  “WE DID IT!” one of them shouted up to Begehren. From above came the sound of giant cranks turning, and then, very, very slowly, the platform began to rise into the air. Jack scooped up the frog, and he and Jill clambered onto the platform with Eddie.

  “Hey!” shouted the goblins in the pit.

  “WHAT?” Begehren called down. The platform continued, slowly, to rise.

  “THEY’RE ON THE PLATFORM!” one of the goblins shouted.

  The enormous load came to an unsteady halt, suspended just a few feet above the ground. “WHAT?” Jack called up. “WHAT’S WRONG?”

  There was silence from above. Then Begehren called back, “COVER THE CHILDREN!”

  Thirty-six goblins turned and drew daggers from their belts and pointed them at Jack and Jill. Jack let his spear clatter from his hand to the ground below. The children raised their hands in surrender.

  A goblin grinned darkly and called up, “OKAY!”

  And the platform began to rise again.

  Up and up and up past the glowing walls, through the obscurity of the sinkhole, toward the red light of the Goblin Kingdom went the platform, the goblins, the children, Eddie and, hiding just beside Eddie’s great head, the frog. He continued to croak quietly in Eddie’s ear, reminding him to keep perfectly still. Jill could see that Eddie was definitely trying not to smile.

  Finally, the platform cleared the edge of the sinkhole. The children blinked and shielded their eyes, for though the Goblin Kingdom was dim, it was far brighter than either the sinkhole or Eddie’s cave. Thousands of goblins had filled the square surrounding them. Upon seeing Eddie, they began shouting and falling back. All, that is, save Begehren. He stared with wide eyes.

  “Get that thing off of the platform!” he cried. Two dozen more strong goblins surged forward and grabbed at Eddie’s limbs.

  But Jill smiled and said, “He can do it himself.”

  Begehren looked at her like she was crazy, and for one moment, the entire Goblin Kingdom seemed to stand still. Then the frog croaked something, and Eddie lifted his head and roared. A giant arc of fire burned the air above their heads.

  The goblins began screaming. High, shrill cries of terror. They screamed and cried and surged in a mass away from the horrible beast.

  Except for Begehren. Begehren stared, unmoving.

  Eddie closed his mouth, reloaded, so to speak, and recommenced in spraying fire all around him. Half a mile away buildings exploded and caught fire and people screamed.

  When Eddie finally closed his mouth, everything for half a mile around was charred kindling and burned cinders. And there was a pile of melted flesh, just a few feet from where Begehren had been standing.

  Eddie turned his curious little eyes on Jack and Jill and the frog. He roared again.

  “He wants to know what to do now,” said the frog.

  “Tell him to come down here,” said Jill. So the frog croaked at the salamander, and Eddie lowered his enormous pink head to the ground. Jill threw her arms around his nose. Jack did, too. The frog, in Jack’s pocket, croaked sad good-byes to their giant, lovely, smelly friend. Then Eddie lifted his head high into the air and roared the most deafening roar he had ever roared. The children covered their ears and stared as fire spumed all the way to the great roof of the Goblin Kingdom, hundreds of yards above them.

  “He says ‘Good-bye,’” said the frog.

  Eddie gave a little jump with his huge body, and the whole Goblin Kingdom shook. Houses in the distance cracked and tumbled to the ground. Then he turned and leaped back down into the sinkhole, sliding down the walls with a horrible tearing sound.

  “I think he likes it down there,” said the frog. “It’s like a big, warm well.”

  Jack turned to Jill. Her face, her skin, was blistered and covered in salamander stomach acid. As was his. “You look lovely,” he told her.

  Jill grinned and curtsied. “Why, thank you. You, on the other hand, smell like a cesspool.”

  They laughed. Then the two children took hands and walked through the now-deserted Goblin Kingdom, searching for a way back to the light.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Others

  Once upon a time, two young heroes stood in a forest, their shoulders heaving, inhaling the fresh, familiar scent of redwood and pine needles. They had triumphed. In every way, they had triumphed. They had climbed an enormous beanstalk, they had killed murderous giants, they had evaded an evil mermaid, they had outwitted a kingdom of goblins, they had made friends with an enormous, fire-breathing salamander, and they had won a mirror so rare and powerful a king could trade his kingdom for it and be counted a wise man. They had won the Seeing Glass.

  At least, they were pretty sure it was the Seeing Glass. It was still so caked in Eddie’s stomach juices that they weren’t even certain it was a mirror, much less the mirror. But what else could it be? Meas, the giant guard, had told them the Glass was with the goblins. Begehren, the goblin leader, had told them Eddie had it. Eddie told them it was in his stomach, right next to his intestines. And this little disc was lodged right between Eddie’s stomach and Eddie’s intestines. So it was probably the Glass.

  After leaving Eddie, Jack and Jill had made their way through the dark, nearly empty Goblin Kingdom. The goblins had all fled the return of the terrible Eidechse von Feuer, der Menschenfleischfressende, but they had also blockaded the ramps to the surface, to keep the beast under the earth. So the children had wandered and wended, scrounging for food and counting the days.

  At last, they had found a tunnel in a black rock wall and had followed it up, and up, and up. It led, finally, into a sandstone cave, and the cave led out into this pine forest.

  Excited, anxious, they moved out into the red-barked trees. Soon, they came to a road. It was red dirt and well worn and looked, strangely, familiar. Around the bend appeared a flock of sheep, and, herding them from behind, a young boy. As he passed, Jill called out, “Excuse me! Where does this road lead?”

  The boy shouted back, over the bleating of his sheep, “To the kingdom, of course!”

  “Which kingdom?” Jack asked.

  The boy looked at Jack like he was stupid. “Märchen!”

  Jack and Jill looked at each other, and then looked down the road, and then looked at each other again.

  Here they were. Home again, home again, jiggedy jig.

  * * *

  Fear and excitement made their fingers tingle, their breath fast, their hearts beat crazily in their chests as Jack and Jill walked down the road toward the kingdom of Märchen.

  What will my mother say? Jill wondered.

  What will Marie and the boys say? Jack wondered.

  What moronic things will the salamanders say? the frog tried his hardest not to wonder.

  But as Jack’s and Jill’s minds wandered down those old lanes again, something tickled at the back of their thoughts. A new wisdom, still unformed and uncertain. A wisdom that had been creeping up on them throughout their terrible journey. A realization that, perhaps, they had been con-fused all along. Perhaps they had, all along, been looking for the wrong things.

  * * *

  This was a very wise thought indeed.

  But beware, dear reader. For we go out into the wide, wild world, looking to change, looking to grow, looking for wisdom. But wisdom is hard to come by, and once achieved, it is very easily lost. Especially when one is leaving the wide, wild world—and returning to the place you once fled.

  * * *

  More, though, than all of these questions and worries and prickings of new wisdom, Jack and Jill wondered whether the grimy disc that Jill carried really was the Seeing Glass. And what would happen—what would really happen—if it were not.

  So preoccupied were the ch
ildren that they barely noticed all the people that passed them on the road. They did not notice the fat man who was carrying his prize goat in his arms to see the doctor in town, nor the young woman with four baskets of fresh-picked wildflowers to sell at the castle.

  They did not notice a man with a round face and pale blue eyes lugging two enormous cases of silks, who eyed them for a moment as he passed by. They did not notice an old woman with the face of a baby who hobbled along with a stick and watched them for just a moment too long. They did not even notice when a great cart rattling with bottles of potions and elixirs passed, and a man with long black hair and missing teeth peered out at the two children, smiled, and hurried his nag ahead.

  Nor did they notice when the road forked and they, without even thinking about it, followed the smaller, lonelier fork that led them under the heavy branches of dark trees. They did not notice when the path became narrower and narrower and narrower. They did not notice that the light was falling, the air was cold, the smell of the pines became sharp like winter.

  But they absolutely did notice when the path ended altogether, and they found themselves in a clearing of towering trees, a ramshackle cart parked off to one side, and an enormous stone mansion tucked into the dark pine needles. Three people stood on the steps of the stone mansion, watching Jack and Jill expectantly: a round-faced silk merchant; a dirty, ponytailed snake-oil salesman; and a bent old woman with a baby’s face. All three followed the children with eyes so pale they were almost white.

  Jack and Jill stopped dead in their tracks.

  “You return!” said the old woman. “How nice.”

  “Do you have the Glass?” asked the silk merchant, stepping down from the stone steps and walking toward them.

  “They would be foolish indeed to return without it,” added the ponytailed man, following close behind.

  Jack opened his mouth. No sound came out. Jill looked from the old woman to the silk merchant and back again. She stammered, “You . . . you know each other?”

  The three pale-eyed people grinned.

  “Know each other? We’re siblings!”

  Jack closed his eyes tight and shook his head. He opened his eyes again.

  “They call us the Others,” said the silk merchant silkily. And something Begehren had said echoed in the children’s memories.

  “And we have been watching you,” continued the old woman, “for a long, long time. We thought, perhaps, you were special. That you would, perhaps, be able to get the Glass. Were you?”

  Jack turned to Jill. She took a deep breath, and then she held out the disc, encrusted with Eddie’s stomach juices.

  “What is that?” the ponytailed man demanded.

  “Don’t play with us, children,” said the silk merchant, his pale eyes glowing in the dusk. “We had a bargain. You remember the terms.”

  The two men stepped closer to Jack and Jill. The shadow of the great house enveloped them all. Its windows twinkled with yellow candles.

  The snake-oil salesman snarled. “Have you failed us? That is not the Glass.”

  The silk merchant grabbed it from Jill’s hands. He turned it over. “What is this crud on it?”

  Jill swallowed. Jack said, “From the stomach of the Eidechse von Feuer, die Menschenfleischefressende.”

  The Others stared at the children. Then the old woman reached for the disc and said, “Let me see that.” The silk merchant gave it to her, and the Others huddled around. The dusky light, gray and blue and yellow, filtered through the trees. The old woman drew a deep breath, and then began to chant:

  Mirror, mirror, of the truth,

  Old in years, long of tooth,

  Reveal to us your honest hue;

  Shine to us like you were new!

  Around the disc, the three strange figures bowed and hummed. Then they all began to make disgusting gurgling sounds in their throats. Finally, they all spat on the disc. The old woman rubbed it with her elbow.

  Suddenly, in the clearing, there was a light much brighter than the dying light of dusk. It shone clear and clean and silver and true out of the small disc.

  “Yes . . .” the old woman murmured. “I think it is . . . It may be . . .”

  The silk merchant said, “We must test it! We must try it!”

  The oil salesman was grinning like an idiot and clapping his hands together. “At last! At last!”

  “Come with us,” the old woman said to the children. “We will try it. And then you shall have your reward!”

  Something about the way she said this did not inspire joy in Jack and Jill. They wondered why.

  * * *

  The foyer of the great stone house was grand and bright, with rich carpets on the floor and paintings in gilded frames hanging from the walls.

  “You have a lovely home,” Jill said politely.

  “Thank you, my dear,” replied the old woman. As she said it, the oil salesman bolted the front door behind them. Jack saw him pocket a large iron key. The old woman said, “We need some time with the Glass. To ensure that it is indeed what you say it is. Feel free to look around.”

  Jack and Jill watched the three pale-eyed Others disappear through a small door. It shut quietly. The children looked at one another.

  “Let’s get out of here!” the frog hissed, hidden deep in Jack’s pocket.

  Jill looked to Jack. “Maybe, for once, we should listen to him. I don’t trust them.”

  “Too bad,” said Jack. He gestured at the heavy door, bolted shut. “They have the key.”

  “We can try a window,” said the frog.

  “Come on,” Jack gestured. “Let’s just have a look around.”

  “I say we start by looking at the windows,” the frog insisted.

  They began to explore the house. Each room was different, and each more luxurious than the last. Great beds sat on plush rugs or shining, polished floors; the wallpaper was a riot of color in one room and a luscious cream in another; grand salons sat silently under towering, painted ceilings.

  As they explored each room, the children’s nervousness grew. What if it wasn’t the Glass after all? What would the Others do? They wouldn’t really kill them, right?

  Furthermore, they noticed that the house had no windows.

  “I don’t get it,” the frog murmured. “There were windows on the outside. Lots of them.”

  Jack wiped his brow with his sleeve and found that it was wet. Jill had begun chewing her bottom lip.

  “What’s taking them so long?” Jill wondered.

  “Do you think that’s a good sign, or a bad sign?” Jack asked.

  “Bad sign,” said the frog. “Definitely a bad sign.”

  They were on the first floor again. Jill walked to the front door and tried it. It would not budge.

  “I’m going to ask,” said Jack. His hand was on the door to the Others’ room.

  “I wouldn’t,” Jill said.

  “Me neither,” agreed the frog.

  But Jack turned the knob and opened the door. He peered in.

  The room was empty.

  “Where are they?” Jack asked, scratching his head.

  “Did they leave when we were looking around?” Jill wondered.

  “I do not like this,” the frog said. “I do not like this at all.”

  The room was not quite as spacious or grand as the others, but it had a definite, delicate beauty. The floor was covered with a rug as deep and pure a blue as the sea. And, like the sea, it seemed to rock and shimmer beneath them. Around its border was a filigree of golden thread that looked for all the world like the pristine coast of a magical land. The children were mesmerized. “Look at this stuff . . .” muttered Jack. Against the wall stood a chest. Inside were stacked bar upon bar of gold that glittered red instead of yellow. Jill examined a small cherrywood box, sitting on a side table. Cautiously, she opened it. High ethereal music rose from within: “Come, come, where heartache’s never been . . .” Jill shut it quickly and shivered. She looked at Jack. He h
adn’t heard a thing. He was examining the plush blue rug.

  “Where are they?” Jill whispered.

  “Not here. Let’s go,” said the frog.

  Jack had lifted a corner of the rug. Its blue shifted, the golden border spreading out into the middle, as if the water of the sea were draining away. And then Jack said, “Here. They’re here.”

  Jill moved to his side. Under the rug was a large, stone trapdoor.

  “That’s weird,” said Jill quietly.

  “Yes, it is,” replied Jack.

  “Why would they hide that?” Jill asked.

  For a moment, no one uttered a word. And then Jack said, “Why don’t we find out?”

  * * *

  And now, dear reader, I will give you a little warning. I have not warned you much through the course of this book (and occasionally I forgot to until it was too late—sorry about that).

  But now I must indeed warn you. I do not know if little children are reading, or hearing, this book. After all that revolting bloodshed with the giants, and then the goblins, not to mention that horrible scene with the mermaid and the drowned girl, I certainly hope they are not.

  But in case they are, or in case older children are reading this story and do not appreciate having the bejeezus scared out of them, or in case you are an adult and you just aren’t really in the mood to be upset, I warn all of you:

  This next part is not so nice.

  * * *

  It took both children, using all of their combined might, to lift the heavy stone trapdoor. Behind it, beneath it, was darkness. The small flames of the candles in the room fluttered as a rush of wind came up from the pit.

  “Uh, guys?” said the frog, peering just above the edge of Jack’s pocket. “We’re not going down there, right?”

  But Jack and Jill had come too far, done too much, to turn back now. Besides, the only door to the house was locked, and there were no windows. Where else could they go?