Текст книги "The Land of the Silver Apples"

Автор книги: Nancy Farmer

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Chapter Forty-two
YARTHKINS

There were several caves hidden behind vines and trees. All but one were found to be blocked by rockfalls. The last one opened under the sea and was covered by water except at low tide. They had to wait for hours until it was revealed.

It was an uninviting hole, choked with the litter of many storms. A small whale had wedged itself between rocks, and its bones were still draped with decaying blubber.

“We must hurry,” the Bugaboo said. “We have to go down before we go up, and if the tide comes in…”

We drown,thought Jack, eyeing the slippery rocks beyond. They had made torches for the journey, not good ones and not nearly enough. But the Bugaboo said there would be light farther on. Thorgil went first, brandishing a torch. Then came the hobgoblins, carrying Father Severus. Pega followed with Ethne, who breathed deeply of the odor of rotten whale.

“So that’s what decay smells like,” she said in wonder. “Nothing like it has ever existed in Elfland.”

“If you don’t move, I’m going to throw up,” said Pega.

“But why?” said the elf lady in honest puzzlement. “It is a strong scent, to be sure. So is the odor of honeysuckle, but I find them both equally enjoyable.” And she probably did, Jack thought. How would she know the difference between nasty and nice when nothing in her experience had taught her? Pega shoved her roughly to make her go on.

Jack came last, carrying both Thorgil’s knife and his staff. In his experience trouble usually showed up from behind. He looked carefully from side to side and listened for stealthy noises.

The floor sank into pools of brackish, fetid water. Soon they were wading through the muck to their waists. The hobgoblins hoisted Father Severus’ litter over their heads, and he clung on grimly. Shadows danced along the walls from Thorgil’s torch.

Waves echoed from behind, and now and then a fresh surge of water poured down. Jack’s legs itched with salt. His feet were frozen and the air reeked. He tried to appreciate the odor of rotten whale and failed.

A whoosh and sudden rush of water made him stumble. “Run!” cried the Bugaboo. “The tide has turned!”

They hurried as well as they could, sloshing and splashing with curses from Thorgil and even Pega. “What does ‘filthy #$@!!’ mean?” said Ethne.

“Tell you later,” panted Pega. Both she and the elf lady were weighted down with baskets of supplies balanced on their heads. Fortunately, the path began to go up. The floor of the tunnel changed to sand and the ceiling rose until all could walk freely without fear of bumping into rock. They came at last to a level section. Everyone collapsed on the ground, and Thorgil jammed the torch into the sand.

“I haven’t been here in ages,” said the Bugaboo after a while.

“It’s the same old pest hole,” grunted the Nemesis. A breeze moved fitfully from ahead, pushing back the remnants of ripe whale.

Jack looked around at the oddly bulbous rocks. They resembled balls of dough glued together. “What kind of pest?” he said.

“Yarthkins, mainly,” said the Bugaboo. “The wraiths stick to their hall, except for Jenny Greenteeth. She wanders a bit.”

“Why? What’s she looking for?” said Pega.

“Don’t you worry, my little moss blossom,” the Bugaboo said, wrapping an arm about the girl. “Old Jenny’s learned a thing or two about bothering hobgoblins since she last—well, I won’t go into details.”

“I’ve heard of yarthkins, but what exactly are they?” said Jack before Pega could ask further questions about Jenny Greenteeth’s habits.

“They’re old gods,” said the Nemesis. “They keep themselves to themselves. If you don’t bother them, they don’t bother you.”

Pega passed around cold, grilled leeks as a snack to keep up everyone’s spirits. She had smoked fish as well, but the Bugaboo said it would make them thirsty and shouldn’t be touched until they found freshwater. Thorgil’s torch had by now burned down to the ground, and she lit another one.

The walk was almost pleasant. The tunnel grew larger until it was wide enough for ten men to walk side by side with their arms outstretched. Jack was glad of the space. Narrow, underground tunnels made him nervous. The sand changed to dirt. The air became fresher with a hint of growing things, although nothing green could have lived in such darkness. Still, if Jack closed his eyes, he could imagine walking through a field. There was a liveliness to the air, a feeling that at any moment a leaf might burst out of the soil.

Presently, they came to a spring bubbling up from the ground. It flowed into a brook, and huge, pale mushrooms as tall as a man grew along its banks.

The Bugaboo called a halt. “We’ve been walking for hours. I’d guess it’s already dark outside.” Jack realized, with surprise, that it was true. He’d been so interested in this last part of the journey, he hadn’t noticed how tired he was.

“You can douse the torch,” the Nemesis said. “We won’t need it here.”

With some misgivings, Jack saw Thorgil reverse her torch and extinguish it. The light went out, and for a moment all was dark. Then—here, there, far, and near—a gentle glow rose like mist. Jack couldn’t make out the source at first, but after a few moments it had strengthened enough to cast his shadow on the ground.

It was the mushrooms. Pale green and misty pearl, they shone like veiled moons. Along the ground by their massive trunks crept glowworms. A spark of greenish light flashed from the ceiling and was answered by another flash. Fireflies suddenly filled the upper air.

“We can drink the water here,” the Bugaboo said. They were all extremely thirsty by now, and all knelt by the spring with cupped hands. The water was cold and clean with a hint of something green in it.

“If it were not blasphemy, I would say this is the water of life,” Father Severus said.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” said the Bugaboo. “This was the heart of the old gods’ kingdom before people invaded the land. It is this that nourishes the roots of the forest and sweetens the waters welling from the earth. Ancient things still abide here that care nothing for the affairs of mankind. We hobgoblins were once part of it before St. Columba gave us souls.”

“God gave you souls,” the monk gently reproved him. “St. Columba only awakened you to their existence.”

Now they could eat the smoked fish and the pignuts and garlic steamed in seaweed by Pega. It was a jolly gathering in spite of the weird surroundings. Thorgil told several tales of bloodcurdling battles, each ending with everyone getting killed and being devoured by ravens.

“Why don’t you give us a poem?” said Jack, hoping to divert her from her depressing sagas. He knew Thorgil was proud of her poetic ability.

“All right,” she agreed, smiling.

 
The battlements crumble, the mead-halls decay.
Joyless and still, the warriors sleep
Where they fell, by the wall they defended.
The bright ale cup lies trampled underfoot
And only the gray wolves drink deeply
Of the lifeblood so carelessly spilled—
 

“What?” said Thorgil, halting her recitation. The hobgoblins were staring at her in horror, Father Severus was shaking his head, and Pega looked ready to cry.

“Are those men dead?” Ethne said earnestly. “I need to know because I’ve never seen a dead man.”

“It’s a poem!” shouted Thorgil. “You’re supposed to enjoy it!”

“It’s very good,” Jack said quickly, “but I think everyone’s tired after such a long walk. Perhaps we need something less stirring.”

“I’ll tell a story,” Father Severus said. Jack had no great hopes for the gloomy monk’s offering, but he surprised everyone with a tale called:

THE BEST AND THE WORST NAIL IN THE ARK

Long ago (began Father Severus) Noah set out to build the ark, but he was a busy man. He had to gather two members of every creature on earth, and that took time and a great deal of money. So he gave the task of ark-building over to a drunken carpenter. The carpenter nailed a board here and a board there. He worked only when Noah’s sons—Shem, Ham, and Japheth—threatened him.

Finally, the ark was done, but there was one flaw. The carpenter had left out one nail at the very bottom of the ship, and so there was a hole for the water to come in.

Now the clouds gathered, the thunder rolled, and the rain came down in buckets. Shem, Ham, and Japheth herded the animals into the ark. Two by two they went, but Noah’s sons made a mistake. There were not two, but three snakes. The Devil had decided to sneak aboard in the shape of a serpent.

Noah went around to check all the supplies and animal pens. The Devil hid here, he hid there, because Noah had very sharp eyes and knew the difference between a real serpent and a fake. Finally, there was no other place to hide but that one hole at the bottom of the ship. The Devil went in, and—oh, my goodness!—he was stuck. He could go neither in nor out. He couldn’t even wiggle. So there he stayed, plugging up the leak until the Flood was over.

That is why the Devil is called the best nail and the worst nail in the ark.

“That’s a fine story,” said Pega, laughing.

“I must remember it for the other hobgoblins,” said the Bugaboo.

“What kind of seafarer puts out to sea without checking for leaks?” argued Thorgil. “And what were his shiftless sons doing, letting that drunken carpenter slack off? I would have thrashed the lot of them and hired a good shipwright.”

Jack realized she had missed the point, but he kept silent. He knew she was still smarting over the reception of her poem.

Last of all, Pega sang. That was how it had been in the dungeons of Elfland and on the beach as well. No one wanted to perform after Pega because she was so extremely good.

Jack had to admit it. He was jealous of her, which he knew was unworthy. After all, she had nothing else but this talent. I suppose I’m not any different from Thorgil, wanting everyone to admire my poetry,he thought. He didn’t pay attention to Pega’s voice, brooding as he was, until she screamed.

Jack leaped to his feet, staff at the ready. Everyone else was huddled in a group. The light was suddenly brighter—now the mushrooms really did look like moons. All around Jack saw that the lumps in the wall, the lumps that had reminded him of bread dough squashed together, had changed. Each one was wrapped in long, silky hair the color of wheat, and inside these cocoons were little curled-up bodies as brown as freshly turned earth. The faces were old beyond imagining, masses of wrinkles so deep, you could hardly believe they were real. And in the middle of each face were two bright black eyes watching Pega intently.

“Yarthkins,” whispered the Nemesis. “They’re fine as long as you don’t upset them.”

“What should we do?” Jack whispered back. There were so many of them, all squashed together like cells in a honeycomb. Each one was no larger than a year-old child, but together they might be dangerous.

“Keep quiet,” advised the Bugaboo. “If we do nothing, they might go back to sleep.” Everyone sat very still. A sigh, soft and high like a little bird twittering, passed over the walls. One of the lumps oozed out of its place and landed with a soft thump on the ground.

Jack saw what appeared to be a tiny man wrapped head to toe in a long beard. He looked as harmless as a pussy willow, but Jack wasn’t fooled. He’d had too much experience of otherworldly creatures to trust anything.

Sing,murmured the yarthkin in the same high twittering voice.

Pega cast a worried look at Jack. “I think you’d better do it,” he said in a low voice. So Pega repeated the hymn she had just given them. She went on to a ballad and then to a song about gathering flowers in May. She stopped to catch her breath.

Sing,repeated the yarthkin.

“I need some water,” said the girl. The yarthkin dipped his long beard into the brook, and it curled up like a fiddlehead fern.

He hopped over to Pega, and she recoiled against the Bugaboo.

“It’s all right, dearest. I think he means no harm,” murmured the hobgoblin king.

“Yet,” added the Nemesis.

Put out thy hands,said the yarthkin. Pega cupped her hands, and he squeezed the tip of his beard. A cascade of water flowed out and splashed over her fingers. Drink.

Pega made a face, but she was too frightened to disobey. She drank the water in her cupped hands, and a delighted expression crossed her face. “It’s delicious!” she cried.

The yarthkin nodded. Sing,he said. So Pega gave them “The Treacherous Knight” and “The Jolly Miller” and “The Wife of Usher’s Well.” She was beginning to tremble slightly, and Jack realized she was tired. How long would these creatures demand to be entertained? They weren’t like anything in Middle Earth—or, rather, they were what lay underMiddle Earth. They were part of the stones, water, and soil.

Sometimes, when Jack had cast his mind down to the life force, he had felt, among the roots and burrowing creatures, other presences he could barely comprehend. This was one of them. Jack suspected they might want to listen to music for a very long time.

Pega reached the end of a song, and Jack knelt before the yarthkin and said, “She is but mortal, spirit of the earth. She wishes to obey you, but her strength is small.”

The creature observed Jack with its bright eyes, and a twittering rustle passed over the walls of the tunnel.

Sing,said the yarthkin wrapped in his cocoon of beard.

“I’ll sing,” Jack said. “My voice may not be what you’re asking for, but Pega can’t go on forever.”

“Forever is what these creatures are about,” the Nemesis muttered.

Jack cast his mind back to all the Bard had taught him about animals, men, trolls, and elves, but he found nothing about yarthkins. Then, unbidden, he saw an image of his mother. In early spring, when the soil was warm enough to plow and the sky had turned from gray to blue, she walked in the fields. And as she walked, she sang:

 
Erce, Erce, Erce eorþan modor,
Geunne þe se alwalda, ece drihten…
 

“Erce, Erce, Erce…”repeated Jack, giving the ancient call to earth in a language so old, no one knew its origin. Perhaps it was what the Man in the Moon spoke. Jack went on in human speech:

 
Mother of Earth, may the all-powerful
Lord of Life grant you
Fields growing and thriving,
Green leaf and tall stem,
Both the broad barley
And the fair wheat
And all the crops of the earth.
Erce, Erce, Erce…
 

As he chanted, Jack saw his mother in his mind, bending over each furrow, praising it and planting it with seed. The charm was long, and he repeated it nine times. When he had finished, he looked up to see a whole host of yarthkins. They had all dropped out of the walls. To Jack, they looked like a mass of little haystacks, and his heart leaped to his throat. What had he done? One yarthkin had been difficult to entertain. What was he going to do with hundreds?

But the first creature, who stood apart from the rest, spoke: Thou art a good lad, Jack, to bless the fields. And thou art a fine lass, Pega, to sing as the earth did at our beginning. What shall we do to reward thee?

“Best not to answer,” whispered the Nemesis. But Jack thought that would be ungracious. Besides, he liked the little haystacks, strange though they were.

“We were but thanking you for the kindness you have shown my mother’s fields. We ask your permission to travel on to Din Guardi.”

A twittering hiss blew through the gathering, like the wind rattling ripe wheat. Din Guardi is a place of shadows. A ring of Unlife lies about it.

“It is nasty,” Jack agreed, “but, you see, my father’s there, and the Bard, my master. I’ve got to make sure they’re all right. Don’t worry, we’ll leave as soon as possible.”

The yarthkins conferred among themselves with many a sigh and hiss and a vague rumble like thunder in the distance. Jack wasn’t happy about the thunder. It sounded like anger. Finally, the chief yarthkin replied: We will not hold thee, but we will not forget thee.

“Thank you,” Jack said uncertainly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be remembered. The yarthkins crept back to the walls and fitted themselves in. It was difficult to see how they managed this without using hands or feet, but they did. Soon they were all tucked into their beds, as snug as peas. The straw-colored hair faded into the wall until it became a collection of brown lumps again.

“I think we should go now,” said the Bugaboo, and Jack was surprised to see he’d turned bright green with alarm. It was the first time he’d seen the hobgoblin king afraid, and it made him realize that the little haystacks weren’t quite as harmless as they looked.

Chapter Forty-three
THE KELPIES

The tunnel changed abruptly from brown dirt and glowing mushrooms to a harsher landscape of rock. The air had a cold mineral smell, and water dripped from the roof. Jack relit Thorgil’s torch.

“Let me take that,” said the Nemesis. Thorgil reluctantly handed it over. It was but another reminder that she had only one useful hand and couldn’t protect the flame. She fell back to walk with Father Severus, who was looking surprisingly vigorous.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, wondering. “I’m feeling extremely well, like a man half my age. Perhaps I only needed time to recover.” But Jack thought, privately, that the water in the land of the yarthkins had something to do with it. He felt immensely better since drinking it. The depressing apathy of Elfland had lifted, taking with it the sorrow over Lucy.

Everyone looked happier, even Thorgil. Ethne, of course, was always radiant, finding each new experience fascinating, no matter how disturbing it was to the others. “Those yarthkins are so cute,” she gushed. “I could just cuddle them!”

“Never, ever,attempt to cuddle a yarthkin,” said the Bugaboo.

The Nemesis walked ahead, waving the torch back and forth to avoid drips. “We’re near the sea,” he called. “Can you feel the waves?”

Jack noticed for the first time a tremor passing through the rocks. A cold breeze stirred and brought whiffs of seaweed and salt. “What’s that noise?” he said. Everyone stopped. From far away came a mournful howl.

“That’s not Jenny Greenteeth, is it?” said Pega.

“Wraiths are quieter,” the Bugaboo explained, “more like heavy breathing in your ear.”

“Bedbugs! Just what I wanted to know,” said Pega, leaning closer to Jack.

As they went on, the howls became louder. It was clearly the voices of many beings. Some cries were high and screechy. Others were deep like the bellow of a bull. “I’ve heard that before,” the Bugaboo remarked. “Was it wyverns? Or manticores? Ah! I have it! Kelpies.”

The Nemesis halted, making everyone bump into one another. “Kelpies! I’m not going a step farther!”

“They’re far out to sea, old friend,” the Bugaboo said.

“You don’t know anything. They could be waiting for us.”

“I’m quite sure they’re not. You see—”

“Look, I’m willing to follow you anywhere. You’re my king. I’m the one our people chose to protect you from your stupidity. Besides, they like you. Ilike you—oh, St. Columba! I can’t believe I said that. But, please, Your Royal Ignorance, don’t ask me to go near kelpies.They eat hobgoblins. They’ll eat me.” The Nemesis had turned ashen. His ears furled and unfurled, and his eyes blinked so rapidly that Jack was afraid the creature was about to faint.

“I know you like me,” the Bugaboo said, grasping his friend’s hand. “It’s the worst-kept secret in the world. And I absolutely admire and respect you. But I was about to say that the kelpies are howling at the approach of a storm. They can feel the winds building, and it drives them mad. I’ve seen it before. They’re all sitting on islands looking out to sea. More importantly, the wind is blowing from them to us, so they won’t smell a thing.”

The Nemesis blushed orange. “Are you sure?” he said.

“Just as sure as God made little brown yarthkins.”

“Oh my.” The Nemesis shivered. “To think I’d have to admit you knew something that I didn’t.”

“St. Columba would be proud of you,” the king said warmly. “He used to say humility was the greatest of virtues.”

The group walked on again with the hobgoblins in front. Father Severus said quietly, “They may look like demons, but their soundness of heart puts me quite to shame.”

Pega pulled Jack to one side and whispered, “I’ve just remembered. Yffi is a half-kelpie. We should tell the Nemesis.”

“And do what?” Jack said urgently. “Go back? Spend winter on the beach? Father Severus would die.”

“But we can’t lie.”

“Wouldn’t you bend the truth just a little to save someone’s life? There’s Father, too. He needs us.” Jack and Pega had stopped. The others went ahead, with the Nemesis holding up the torch.

“I—I suppose you’re right,” Pega faltered. “Only, we have to find the Bard right away. He’ll take care of Yffi.”

“That was my idea, too,” declared Jack as they hurried to catch up.

They went more slowly now, stopping frequently to listen to the howls. Waves clashed. A cold wind began to whip through the tunnel, blowing the torch flame back. And now a faint light came to them from an opening not far away.

They came out to a rocky shore, wading through a small inlet before climbing up to the trail again. Jack suddenly felt dizzy, like he was about to faint. Then the sensation passed. The sea surged in, sending fountains of spray high into the air. Jack braced himself to get drenched, but the spray never reached him. “How is that possible?” he asked the Bugaboo, pointing at the edge of the water. It stopped abruptly, as though something was forcing it back.

“We’ve passed into the realm of Din Guardi,” the hobgoblin said. “It’s protected.”

“Protected?” echoed Jack, thinking that it made more sense to keep Din Guardi from threatening everything else.

“Long ago, when this place was taken from the Man in the Moon, a barrier was made to keep him from returning. The old gods still claim the fortress. The Sea God tries to storm it with his tides. The Forest Lord waits on the land.”

“Is that the ring of Unlife the yarthkins spoke of?” said Jack.

“The same. They cannot enter either.”

“Nothing keeps kelpies out,” the Nemesis said. “Keep moving unless you want to be dinner.” A line of pillars partly hid them on the left. On the right rose a cliff topped by gray walls so crusted with lichen, they looked as though they’d grown out of the earth.

Jack glimpsed a sunrise between a sky filled with roiling clouds and a lurid sea thronged by dangerous-looking rocks. Tall figures rose and fell as they welcomed the coming of the storm.

“Keep down,”the Nemesis hissed.

Jack obeyed, but he couldn’t resist another look. He’d never seen kelpies, except for King Yffi, who’d been bundled in clothes from head to toe. Anyhow, Yffi was only half kelpie. The creatures on the rocks were much taller. It was difficult to see much with the light behind them, but they appeared to be covered in fur. More than anything, they looked like huge otters. Their feet—Jack only had a glimpse of these—ended in long, hooked claws. The kelpies’ cries were horrible and yet oddly musical. The longer Jack listened to them, the better they sounded. He could use such harmonies in his own music. But first he had to get closer.

The Bugaboo yanked Jack so hard, he fell down and cut his lip. “Do you want to get us all devoured?”screeched the hobgoblin. The others were far ahead, watching anxiously. Jack wiped the blood from his mouth and hurried after the king. When they got to where the trail went underground again, they all sat down to rest. The Nemesis was a pasty yellow, and he kept flinching whenever he heard a howl.

“What was wrong with you?” asked Thorgil. “The Bugaboo had to go back.”

Jack looked at the sea. He couldn’t see the kelpies, but he could hear them. It wasa kind of music they made, full of longing and another emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. He wanted to hear more.

“Hello? Anybody home?” Pega waved her hand in front of Jack’s face.

“That’s how kelpies attract their prey,” the Bugaboo said. “They make you wantto be eaten. You’d march right down their throats unless someone stopped you. We should go on before the storm hits.” The sun had completely disappeared, and a flash of light, followed immediately by thunder, made the kelpies redouble their howls.

Very little light penetrated the tunnel, and they soon had to halt. “Who’s carrying the torches?” said Thorgil.

“I am,” replied Ethne. “Oh, thistle fuzz! The water drenched my basket. I suppose it happened when I floated it on that stream we passed.”

“Why ever did you do such a thing?” cried Pega.

“I don’t know,” the elf lady said vaguely. “Perhaps the basket reminded me of the toy boats we had in Elfland. We used to sail toddlers in them, you know, to make them scream. Such fun!”

“I can draw fire from the earth,” Jack said before Pega lost her temper. He still had the flint and iron from Elfland, but the torches were so wet, only magic could light them. He made a small heap of kindling from the charred stub of the Nemesis’ torch.

“Is this the wizardry you practiced in the dungeon?” remarked Father Severus.

“Yes, sir,” said Jack, bracing himself for a lecture, but the monk didn’t try to interfere. The boy cast his mind down through the rocks and the water oozing through cracks below. Once, he would have found it impossible to work magic with an audience, but his skill had strengthened with practice.

The rocks were old beyond imagining, although it had never occurred to Jack before that rocks could have an age. They felt used up,all the life gone out of them. Trees and grass would never grow here, no matter how carefully you tended them.

Jack realized that he’d seen no garden in the fortress, not even the herbs cooks and wise women grew. Come to think of it, there’d been no women, either.

He reached deeper. The water had a faint radiance as it fell from the sky, but it lost it in the dark channels of the rock. Was this what happened when you banished the old gods? Dangerous and unfriendly they might be, but they ruled the green world.

Jack reached a barrier. He pushed at it, and the barrier pushed back, making his stomach heave and his heart flutter in his chest. He came awake with his skin drenched with sweat and his hands clenched for battle.

“I can’t do it,” he gasped. The storm was at full strength now. Wind howled in the mouth of the tunnel, and thunder shook the walls.

“Thor’s driving his chariot across the sky,” Thorgil said.

“I wish he’d go somewhere else,” said Pega.

“Nonsense! That’s a glorious noise. It means Thor is hurling his hammer at enemies.”

“As usual, you are steeped in ignorance,” said Father Severus. “God casts down lightning to remind us of the final judgment. It would be best to fall to your knees and implore His mercy.”

“A thrall god’s idea,” sneered Thorgil. “I’d rather shake my fist at Him.”

“Stop wasting time,” cried the Nemesis, who was dancing from one foot to the other in agitation. “If one of those kelpies sticks his snout in here, you can kiss your drumsticks good-bye.”

“He’s right,” the Bugaboo agreed. “I’ve been through these tunnels often enough to feel the way.”

“What do you mean—” began Jack, and stopped. In the dim light he saw the hobgoblin king’s ears unfurl to their fullest. They were as wide as his outstretched arms, and framing the rims were long, white hairs that stuck straight out like a cat’s whiskers.

“I’ll have to ask you all to be quiet,” the Bugaboo said. “My hearing is painfully keen right now. Join hands, please.”

They joined hands, the Bugaboo and the Nemesis in front, followed by Ethne, Father Severus, and Pega. Jack and Thorgil brought up the rear, being the better warriors. Silently, they moved forward, with the hobgoblin king’s whiskers brushing the sides of the tunnel, and soon they were in complete darkness.

They wound around pillars and stumbled over rocks. The Bugaboo whispered instructions: “Left now. Left.Ow. Sorry. Mind the hole.”

The hard floor was unrelieved by sand, and when Jack touched a wall, he was shocked by how cold it was. It was summer outside, but here, it seemed, winter never lifted. An icy chill found its way through his boots. The others must have been affected too, for they began to stumble.

“Almost there,” whispered the Bugaboo. “Courage, dearest Pega.”

The trail began to go up, and the deadly chill lessened. A light came from ahead. Encouraged, they began to walk faster. Now the grim walls were visible, a blue-black stone that swallowed whatever illumination fell on it. Long shafts of what Jack could only call “lesser gloom” fell from openings overhead.

They passed great iron doors. Dungeons,thought Jack. I wonder if anyone’s in there?They must have come close to the sea again, for he heard a distant boom of waves and the kelpies howling.

“Ah, that feels better,” said the Bugaboo, furling up his ears. First the whiskers lay down flat against the skin, then the rims folded over them and rolled up as neat as you please. They looked like fat little sausages when he was finished. “The Nemesis and I will wait here—mud men make such a fuss about hobgoblins. You go up those stairs and come out into the courtyard. Later you can sneak us in through a side door.”

“Don’t take too long about it,” growled the Nemesis, listening to the kelpies out at sea.

“I’ll ask the Bard for help,” Jack promised.

The two hobgoblins found a recess in the wall and fitted themselves inside. In spite of not having motley wool to conceal them, they blended well into the shadows.

Jack led the way up the stairs. He wasn’t quite certain of King Yffi’s welcome, but the king was afraid of the Bard. He wouldn’t harm anyone under the old man’s protection. Once again, Jack felt a twinge of guilt for not telling the Nemesis about Yffi. The Bard will figure something out,Jack thought, willing the uncomfortable feeling away.

He couldn’t help smiling as he approached the iron door at the top of the stairs. He was back! They could all go home. Father Severus could move into St. Filian’s Monastery. Ethne could become a nun. Pega could marry the Bugaboo—here Jack had another twinge of guilt, but honestly, what better opportunity did she have? In the village she’d only be an ex-slave, so ugly that no one would ever ask for her hand. In the Land of the Silver Apples she could be a queen.