Lilliput

by Sam Gayton

  Wasting two hours turned them blue.

  Finn had never wasted three hours before. If he did, the Waste-Not Watch would tighten right down to his bone, and his hand would shrivel and fall from his arm like a dead leaf.

  ‘At the end of each day I shall unwind your wasted minutes,’ Mr Plinker had told Finn, showing him the copper turnkey on a chain around his neck. ‘But only if you work like a slave for me, boy. Only if you do everything I say … Unless you’d rather be a one-handed beggar, starving on the street.’

  Finn had wanted to scream. He had wanted to cry. But screaming and crying wouldn’t do him any good, because he would always be trapped. Like the bird in the Astronomical Budgerigar he was a prisoner of Mr Plinker’s cruel imagination.

  And there was no one to set him free.

  ‘Oh yes there is!’ Lily answered when she saw the thought in his eyes. ‘There is someone who can free you, Finn – me!’

  Lily scurried up Finn’s leg and jumped from his knee onto his wrist. And before he could stop her, she stuck her hand inside the watch.

  ‘Lily!’ Finn hissed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Rescuing you, like you rescued me!’ Lily answered. Her whole arm rooted inside the machine, fingers brushing past sharp-toothed cogs.

  ‘Take your hand out, Lily,’ Finn pleaded. ‘Take it out, while you still can!’

  Lily gulped and wiped the sweat from her brow with her free arm. The clock ticked and buzzed in her ear as she reached further in. She knew Finn was right. If she poked or prodded in the wrong place, the Waste-Not Watch could bite off her hand …

  ‘There’s a reason we found each other,’ she told him. ‘We’re the keys that unlock each other’s cages.’

  It was hard to explain how she knew this. It was more a feeling than a thought. Lily needed Finn, and he needed her.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Finn Safekeeping!’ said Lily fiercely. ‘Trust me! And keep still!’

  Finn stared open mouthed. ‘I will,’ he said at last. ‘And I do trust you, Lily. Even though we’ve only just met. I really do.’

  Lily looked up at him. Into his eyes. She could see that he meant it.

  And that felt wonderful.

  Then doubt flickered into his gaze. ‘But how? You don’t know anything about clocks, do you?’

  Lily scowled and said nothing. She just kept poking and prodding the insides of the watch until she found what she was looking for.

  ‘They should be around here somewhere … Where are they?’

  ‘Where are the what?’ asked Finn anxiously.

  Suddenly her face lit up: ‘There you are!’ she cried, and then her face darkened again. ‘Poor things … you’re trapped. All caged up somehow.’

  ‘What are they?’ Finn was wide-eyed.

  ‘Wasted seconds,’ said Lily. ‘Oh, hundreds of them; all imprisoned inside. It’s full to bursting with them. They’re what’re squeezing you so bad.’

  Finn gaped in amazement.

  Lily frowned as she felt around the wasted seconds. They were packed in the clock so tight, and they couldn’t get out. How was the Waste-Not Watch doing it? Magic? Mechanics? Alchemy?

  Whatever it was, Finn was right – Mr Plinker was a genius.

  ‘Giants love keeping things in cages,’ said Lily darkly. She turned her attention back to the wasted seconds. ‘Poor things,’ she murmured to them. ‘All trapped. All squashed. I’ll free you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Finn whispered, clenching his jaw. ‘Yes, Lily. Free them. Hurry.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘My hand’s around a cog right now … And if I twist it this way …’

  The buckle tightened on Finn’s arm and he cried out. The hand of the Waste-Not Watch had just added another ten minutes to the total of his wasted time.

  ‘Sorry!’ said Lily. ‘I’ll turn it the other way.’

  ‘No, don’t!’ Finn cried.

  But Lily, with a heave, pulled at some part of the mechanism and – miraculously – let loose the wasted seconds. She couldn’t see them, but she felt them go. They all flew free in one long moment that seemed to stretch out and last for ages.

  And, at last, the buckle loosened. The hand of the Waste-Not Watch spun anticlockwise in a whirl, and Lily jerked her hand free, shouting: ‘Do it! Take it off!’

  Finn pushed the strap and it slid from his wrist. The Waste-Not Watch went over his hand, fell to the floor and cracked like an egg on the rug. Black oil spilled out of it, and a purple spark flew into the air like a firework.

  ‘You did it,’ Finn said, stunned. ‘You freed me.’

  ‘It was easy,’ Lily blushed. ‘I’m good at getting out of cages.’

  Finn grinned, rubbing his poor swollen wrist. Lily saw his hand throbbing in pain. At least it was still attached to his body …

  ‘Oh, Lily.’ He smiled and blinked, and a tear fell down his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Hey!’ Lily yelled as the tear splashed right by her feet. ‘Why are you blubbing buckets? Now we can go! We can get out of here – together!’

  Finn grinned and leaped over to the counter. He frantically plonked things into his waistcoat pocket – a little brown penny, a thimble, Lily’s scrap of paper, an iron key…

  ‘Hey!’ cried Lily, running over the rug towards him. ‘What’s going on?’

  Finn paused with a hunk of bread in his fist. ‘I’m packing!’ he said, face flushed with excitement. ‘We’re getting away from Mr Plinker for good.’

  Lily caught and scoffed a few crumbs as they floated down from the bread. She was ravenous.

  ‘Well, remember to pack me too, you mungle boff,’ she mumbled with her mouth full of bread.

  ‘I will,’ Finn grinned. ‘I’m done. Let’s go!’

  Shaking her head Lily scurried across the workshop towards him. A moment later, Horatio padded softly down the stairs with a rat hanging limp in his jaws.

  THE CAT WAS so close that Lily could have reached out and stroked him. The sound of his ginger fur swished in her ears like long grass in a summer breeze. Lily froze, but Horatio walked straight past her.

  He plopped his prize on the rug – splat. Then he dipped his head and, with a rumbling purr, started to suck the stringy guts from the rat like Lilliputian squighetti.

  ‘Shoo!’ Finn hissed, too far away to scoop Lily to safety. ‘Shoo, Horatio!’

  It was the wrong thing to say. Horatio looked up from his dinner, tail flicking, back arched. And Lily saw herself reflected in the creature’s huge green eyes.

  Before Finn could move, Horatio crouched and pounced. He flew through the air, swiping with his claws. Lily screamed and tried to jump back, but she slipped on the Waste-Not Watch’s oil and fell. Ginger fur whooshed over her in a blur.

  Finn lunged for the cat, but Horatio hissed and in one fluid motion he turned and jumped away again. Lily barely had a chance to stand up straight before the claws raked through the air, an inch from her face. She fell back again, and her fingers found something.

  Finn’s needle.

  ‘I’m not your breakfast!’ Lily screamed, and she held out the needle with her two hands.

  Horatio had already jumped. He couldn’t stop. The silver point went straight into the soft, fleshy part of his paw.

  With a deafening screech Horatio recoiled, licking his poor foot. A bright bead of blood rolled and then hung suspended on the white tip of a claw.

  Finn reached over to snatch Lily to safety.

  ‘That was for Squeak’s tail!’ she called from Finn’s hand, shaking the needle at Horatio. ‘Go on, you horrible thing, shoo!’

  Horatio gave a last hiss, then he scooped up the rat in his jaws and limped away towards the stairs.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ said Finn breathlessly. ‘I thought for a moment—’

  ‘I’m fine, you daft old quog!’ Lily told him breathlessly. She jumped in his pocket quick, so he wouldn’t see her shaking. Adrenalin was racing through her veins like lightning. ‘Just don’t leave me lying
around again! I’m delicate, you know.’

  Finn blushed and grinned with relief, but only for a moment.

  The ceiling creaked, and a trickle of dust fell into the sunbeams. Somewhere above, a door slammed. And footsteps started on the stairs.

  All the noise had woken Mr Plinker.

  A smell came oozing down the stairway. A smell of rot and swamps.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Finn whispered. His hand plunged into his pocket and began to pull out handfuls of the things he had packed. Lily’s note dropped to the floor, then a button and the hunk of bread.

  ‘Unwind my alarm clock, did you, boy?’ Mr Plinker’s voice was deep and wet. It poured into Lily’s ears like oil.

  She hid in the pocket, terrified. Why wasn’t Finn running?

  Then she understood – the iron key in his pocket unlocked the front door.

  ‘It’s here!’ she hissed, pulling his fingertips in the right direction. ‘No, not there! Here!’

  ‘Running away, Finn?’ A laugh bubbled up from Mr Plinker’s lips, like squelch from a swamp. ‘Have you forgotten about my Waste-Not Watch, boy? You can’t escape. Besides, where will you go? No one in this city cares for you. Only me.’

  For a moment Finn faltered. Then he found his voice and his fingers found the key. ‘That’s not true any more,’ he said. ‘Someone does care. I’m not your prisoner now.’

  Mr Plinker choked on his chuckles as he spotted the ruins of his Waste-Not Watch on the floor. ‘You despicable boy! What have you done? That was my greatest invention, and you smashed it!’

  Finn looked at Lily in his pocket. ‘You might want to cover your ears now,’ he whispered to her, slipping the key in the door. ‘And hold your nose.’

  ‘Where did you get that key?’ Mr Plinker hissed. Suddenly he was rushing down the stairs. ‘What’s that in your pocket? Boy! ANSWER ME!’

  But Finn twisted the key in the lock, threw open the door, and ran out into the light. The clock-maker’s shouts were swallowed up by the city of the giants.

  UP IN LILY’S birdcage the city had been a faraway rumble – something distant, like the waves at low tide. Down here in the streets it was deafening. She covered her ears and gasped.

  Then the smell hit her too and she almost fainted. It lay over the street like a blanket. And just as a blanket is stitched with a thousand smaller threads, so the stink of London was made up of a million interweaving pongs, reeks and stinks, all woven together.

  Horse muck mingled with the lavender of perfume shops. Soot and smoke blended with roasting coffee. Fresh bread baked, turnip tops rotted, tar bubbled and beef broth boiled.

  London was a city of reek and clamour.

  But there was something else besides. It landed on Lily’s cheek like a kiss, wonderful and warm.

  It was the sun, glinting through the weave of the pocket. Lily raised up a hand until her fingertips were outside in the air. It was very good to be in Firnn’s waistcoat, safe, with the warm light soaking her skin. An entire moon she had been in that attic and the only sunbeams she ever got were weak ones, poking through the window at the day’s end …

  ‘Yuck!’ she said suddenly. ‘What’s that smell?’

  Finn darted into an alleyway to catch his breath. ‘The city,’ he panted. ‘The sewers. The river. You’ll get used to it.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not that. Something else. It’s worse. It smells like a thousand slubbers all sitting in their own oik.’

  Finn took a few deep sniffs and shook his head. ‘I can’t smell anything.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ grumbled Lily. ‘It stinks. And it’s getting closer.’

  Suddenly she realised – it wasn’t a thousand slubbers sitting in their own oik at all.

  ‘It’s Mr Plinker!’ she yelled. ‘He’s chasing us! Run, Finn!’

  Finn whirled round. ‘Where?’ he said in a panic. ‘I can’t see him!’

  Lily stuck her head out of the pocket and followed her nose, trying to find the clock maker.

  ‘Go left!’ she cried as Mr Plinker came rushing in from the right.

  ‘Running away with Gulliver’s secret, are you?’ he bellowed, and in his fingers was a tiny scrap of paper.

  It was Lily’s note.

  ‘I always knew he had something up there,’ Mr Plinker shouted down the alley. ‘I didn’t know he had someone.’

  The clock maker lunged forward, but Lily’s nose had given Finn a head start. He skidded round the corner as Mr Plinker grabbed at empty air. Lily rattled about the pocket with Finn’s remaining things – the penny, thimble and needle – as they pelted down the street and plunged into a crowded market.

  Suddenly there were giants everywhere, more giants than Lily thought could exist. They chit-chattered, chin-wagged and haggled. She gasped and covered her ears. There were so many, and they were so loud! How did the world not sink into the sea under all their weight? How did the sky not shatter from all their noise?

  The giants stomped past, and Lily peeked out at them. They carried entire fields of food on trays: walnuts like boulders, whole forests of carrots, leeks and spinach.

  A butcher carried a bucket of grease and grey meat, crusted with old blood. A woman with a boiled-red face came up to him and bought a hog’s head the size of a house.

  ‘Get yer offal!’ he bellowed at Finn, shaking his tray. There was a sound inside like a hundred wet mops slopping over dirty floors. ‘Chitterlings! Tripe! Giblets!’

  ‘Can you smell him?’ Finn murmured at Lily. ‘I think we’ve lost him. I think we’ve—’

  ‘Lost me, have you, boy?’

  Mr Plinker! He was there. In the crowd.

  ‘He’s got me, Lily!’ Finn cried, trying to wrestle free. ‘Get away! Go!’

  ‘Too late!’ Mr Plinker smirked, and his fingers slithered in the waistcoat pocket like eels.

  Lily gritted her teeth. If she couldn’t escape, she would have to fight. Just as Mr Plinker’s fingers wriggled round her foot, she gripped the needle like a sword.

  WHOOSH! The pocket vanished as Mr Plinker whipped her into the air. Lily dangled upside down in front of his eyes. For a moment she gazed into them. They were dark as caves. And the black thoughts squirming and slithering in them made her want to scream.

  ‘What’s this I’ve got a hold of?’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s a foot,’ Lily said. ‘And it already belongs to me!’

  Raising the needle she jabbed Mr Plinker’s thumb as hard as she could.

  He threw her into the air with a scream. Up Lily went, the needle flashing in the sun beside her. For a moment, she hung there alongside it, suspended. As if the Ender’s invisible hand had stitched her onto the sky. Then she was tumbling down, head over heels, stomach plunging …

  Lily shook her dizzy head. She lay in a hamper of sheep’s wool, carried by a wrinkly giant lady like a basket of clouds. Climbing up the swaying wicker sides, she jumped again.

  She landed on a wheelbarrow of apples, slipped, slid down the back of a blue swishing cloak, and then rolled into the gutter. The mud went splash. It was deep. It sucked her in.

  ‘Help!’ she called, up to her waist already, not caring who heard. ‘Help me!’

  All around feet stomped and crashed. No one saw. She looked about in panic for a way to pull herself out. It was too late. The mud was up to her armpits.

  As she flailed about, her fingers gripped something. Lily pulled it out from the sludge. A hollow straw of hay, as long as she was tall. Lily put one end to her lips, and pointed the other end upwards. As long as it stayed clear of the mud she could breathe through it and stay alive. The mud seeped up to her neck.

  At last she could no longer struggle. She gathered all the breath she had for one last scream, then bit down on the hay stalk.

  Let Finn find me, she prayed to the Ender.

  There was nothing to do but let the mud take her. She focused on the straw. On each precious sip of air. Sludge bubbled up her nose. Her eyes oozed below the surface. The mud swallowed Li
ly whole.

  LILY WAS STUCK at the bottom of a bowl of Gulliver’s porridge. She was eating her way to the top before she drowned, but after a few mouthfuls she had to stop, because the porridge was full of tiny pebbles and tasted like dirt.

  In fact, it was dirt.

  Suddenly she woke from the dream and remembered: Mr Plinker, the gutter, the straw …

  Lily sat up with a start, spitting out earth and gulping air. Mud was everywhere – she had to scoop it from her ears, blink it from her eyes, sneeze it from her nose. She squinted through the grit, trying to see where she was. Then the world turned sideways and she plunged into cold water.

  She flailed about until her feet found a floor and her fingers found a rim. Lily pulled herself up to the surface, the mud sliding off in slabs. At last she could see. And she knew she was safe.

  She had tumbled into a teacup, and holding it was …

  ‘Finn!’ she spluttered. ‘You look awful.’

  He managed a smile. ‘I suppose I do,’ he said. Muck was splattered over his clothes and sweat dribbled clean streaks down his grimy face. He looked exhausted.

  ‘You found me,’ she said. ‘Again. I knew you would.’

  ‘I always will,’ he promised. ‘And look what else I found …’

  ‘M-my needle!’ Lily shivered, reaching out her hand for it and swishing it back and forth. ‘This little sliver saved m-m-my life – twice! I think I’ll c-call it Stabber.’

  ‘That’s a good name,’ Finn nodded. ‘Now come and get dry before you freeze.’

  Lily tucked Stabber under her arm. Then she clambered out of the teacup and Finn threw it back onto the rubbish pile where he must have found it. Lily towelled her hair dry on his sleeve, but her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.

  ‘M-m-m-my d-d-dress is r-r-ruined,’ she said. The silk was still caked with mud.

  ‘You just get warm,’ said Finn. He cupped his hands together and she clambered in, shivering and coughing.

  ‘I feel like a bird in a nest,’ she said. It was dark now. How long had she been sunk in the mud? Hours and hours. So long, she’d fallen asleep.