Edgar had needed a reason to make his visit to the inn plausible, but now that it was out of his mouth he began to wonder what he would do with ten rabbits if he actually got them. On quickly considering the matter, he determined he could leave them secretly on the doorsteps of those who had been kindest to him in the grove. No one would need to know where they came from.
Morris and Amanda looked at one another for a long, silent moment and then nodded. “We’ve got ten rabbits at home we can have here in no time,” said Morris, and he was out of his seat and heading for the door.
“Now hold on a minute!” said the man cooking the rabbits, whose name was Briney. “This is my place and if there is business to be had it’s going to include me.”
Edgar sat quietly and let the sparks fly between the people in the room. The woman with the broom stopped her work and came over to join the conversation. Edgar gathered that her name was Maude and she was the wife of Briney, the cook. What ensued was a long and heated exchange that drove up the price of the fig. When all was said and done, the terms of the deal were as follows:
Morris and Amanda would buy the fig and pay ten rabbits to Edgar and one rabbit to the cook. They were to retrieve the rabbits immediately.
As the proprietor of the establishment, Briney would take a corner of the fig, ground it up into powder, and use it to season the three rabbits hanging over the fire. Morris and Amanda would get the rest of the fig to do with as they pleased.
When the couple returned with the eleven rabbits, they would be given one perfectly seasoned and cooked rabbit along with a small cup of water. Edgar would get a cup of water and a whole seasoned rabbit for his dinner, and Briney and Maude would enjoy the remaining rabbit.
The longer Edgar stayed quiet, the better the arrangement became for him. This would be a mouthwatering feast to which he was unaccustomed, for Edgar had only enjoyed rabbit twice before—both times prepared by Mr. Ratikan—and both times it was dry as a bone. Morris, Amanda, and Maude hovered over Briney as he carefully broke off a corner of the dried fig, debating over whether the portions were fair. Shortly after they reached an agreement, the couple went to get the rabbits, leaving Edgar alone with the cook and his wife.
“Can I ask you a question?” Edgar said, leaning in closer to the rabbits on the stick and wondering what the crisp skin would taste like. Briney mumbled and nodded and seemed agreeable, though his real attention was on the piece of fig he was grinding up. It was altogether possible he hadn’t even heard Edgar.
“Have you ever heard of people falling out of the sky?”
Briney had finished grinding up the fig and was carefully sprinkling it on the rabbits while turning the stick with his other hand. He didn’t say a word until all the coarse powder was gone from his hand and the rabbits sizzled with flavor.
“That’s a very odd question, young man,” said Briney. He never took his eyes off the rabbits. They were almost ready. “Why would you ask such a strange thing?”
Edgar hadn’t thought of an answer to this question, and he was suddenly aware that it was a very odd question, especially from an eleven-year-old boy wandering around in the middle of the night buying rabbits.
“Those rabbits really do smell good,” Edgar said, trying to change course. He sighed with delight over the aroma.
Briney at last turned to face Edgar directly. “If ever someone did fall out of the sky, I can practically guarantee that I would know about it. Everyone comes through here on the way to somewhere, and they’ve all got a tale to tell. People falling out of the sky hasn’t been one of them, and I’ve never heard of anyone seeing a dead body at the foot of the cliffs.” He looked uncomfortable with the thought of a dead person, as though he found the idea hard to comprehend.
Edgar was relieved to hear the news. It certainly didn’t sound like Samuel’s father had fallen out of the Highlands, just as he had suspected.
“However,” Briney continued, moving the rabbits off the fire and onto the unused table. “There was once a man who came in here talking endlessly of a huge four-legged animal that fell from the sky. He heard it bouncing against the cliffs on the way down and only just got out of its way when it landed—or so he says.” Briney rolled his eyes and made a motion with his hand as if to say the person who told the story was probably crazy, then he pushed the rabbits off the stick, and they lay steaming on the table.
Just then the door flew open and in charged Morris and Amanda, each of them carrying armloads of rabbits. To Edgar’s surprise, the rabbits were still alive. He had assumed they would be wrapped and ready to go. Morris closed the door to the inn and dropped the rabbits onto the floor. The rabbits bounced in every direction, and Edgar began laughing, but everyone else in the room acted as though eleven rabbits hopping around the place was a completely normal occurrence.
“How will I get them home?” said Edgar. He imagined himself walking back to the grove with ten rabbits on a string. He might never make it back.
“Not to worry, Edgar,” said Maude, who had been sweeping. She had just finished putting all the cooked rabbits on wooden plates. As she approached Edgar’s table with his meal, he observed that she had a rather round face and big red lips. She seemed like the kind of person who would be plump if given the chance. Maude set the rabbit on Edgar’s table, grabbed hold of two of the legs, and tore them off with a snap.
“That’s too much rabbit for such a small boy,” she said. “I’ll trade you these legs for a bunny sack.”
Edgar nodded, and Maude started eating the rabbit leg in her left hand as she walked away. A moment later she returned with a cup of water, then sat with Briney and enjoyed what remained of her own meal.
The next half an hour was one of the best of Edgar’s young life. Everyone seemed to invite Edgar into their lives, if only for an evening, nearly giddy from the unexpected treat of figencrusted rabbit. They told a fable about gigantic child-eating rabbits and another about a man who wished so long and hard to be a rabbit himself that one day he hopped out of the village and never came back. Everyone was kind to him, they all laughed, and the dinner tasted very good. When there were only bones on his plate and an empty water cup in his hand, Edgar was content and cheerful.
After the meal was finished and all the stories had been told, Morris gathered up the rabbits in the bunny sack, a useful item made of rabbit skins tied together with little holes everywhere so the rabbits can breathe.
“You’d better be getting on if you must,” Morris said. “You’ve got a long walk ahead of you and ten rabbits weigh a little something. Are you sure you have to be back? You could stay the night with us if you like.”
Edgar was about to answer when Morris put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and stopped him.
“Be cautious, Edgar. All that shaking of the ground, there’s a reason for it. Things aren’t safe, at least not for long.”
“Morris!” hollered Briney from where he stood at the fire. Morris looked at him helplessly, but Briney shook his head with a stern look on his face. Morris turned back to Edgar.
“Just be careful, all right? Get back to the grove and stay put for a while. No more night errands.”
“Let the boy go, Morris,” said Briney.
“Is there something I should know?” asked Edgar.
Briney gazed into the fire and didn’t look up when he answered.
“You’re welcome back here anytime if you find yourself with no place to go, but for now you need to go back home.”
Edgar didn’t quite know how to thank his new friends, for thanks was something he had had little occasion to give. Hoping they would understand, he nodded to the cook, picked up his bunny sack, and walked out of the inn.
Before long Edgar was out of the village with a squirming bag of rabbits on his back. Even if he traveled fast, he would only get a couple of hours sleep in the grove before light. He changed course this time, walking close along the edge of the cliffs reaching up to the Highlands. This late at night he didn’t ex
pect to see anyone so far away from the waterfalls. He could see the cliff and liked to run his hand along its surface as he walked. It was a habit he’d grown accustomed to, as though the rocks were his companions.
Edgar’s mind drifted to Samuel and the Highlands above, and he imagined his new friend alone in his room reading books. It would be a good bit of news that his father hadn’t fallen, or at least that no one in the Village of Rabbits ever saw falling people or bodies lying near the cliffs. But Samuel would have to wait a few more days to hear the news.
Edgar doubted that he would also need to travel to the Village of Sheep to continue his investigation. He felt sure he would get the same answer there as he’d gotten at the inn. In the Village of Sheep there were more people—about five hundred—and they traveled to the Village of Rabbits frequently. Surely someone would have made mention to Briney at the inn if they’d seen something so noteworthy.
Edgar walked for a long time with the weight of the rabbits on his back, listening to his feet crunching on the ground. Then he heard a strange noise he couldn’t quite place. At first he thought it might be the sound of the rabbits squirming in the bag, but when he stopped, the rabbits sounded as if they’d gone to sleep. The sound persisted, like rocks scraping and sparking against each other.
Edgar set the bunny sack on the ground and watched it flatten. The top of the sack was cinched tight with a string, holding the rabbits in as they hopped back and forth inside. The holes throughout the bunny sack were about as big as the tip of Edgar’s thumb, and quite a few sniffing rabbits poked their noses through the openings.
Edgar listened deeply, placing his hands flat against the cliff. He could feel a vibration in the stones that made him jump back. Why was the wall shaking? It sounded to Edgar like the sound was coming from the rocks themselves. But the origin of the sound was lower. Edgar got down on his knees and examined the base of the cliffs. And there he saw the source of the strange sound in the dim light.
At first he couldn’t believe his eyes. But then he put his hand on the thin layer of dust where the cliff met with Tabletop. He could see and feel what was happening. The cliff was slowly moving down, scraping against the earth of Tabletop and disappearing into the ground.
Edgar understood then why his holds had been off when he’d climbed to the Highlands. He understood why the ground had been trembling.
The Highlands were sinking.
The rest of the way home Edgar watched and listened to the cliffs. He saw in that hour of night the cliffs descend twice the length of his hand. And then—as though he had been dreaming what he’d seen—the sound stopped. The cliff sat still and quiet and didn’t move again for the rest of the journey back.
An hour later Edgar was standing in the village by the grove with dawn rapidly approaching. If the bag were opened, all the rabbits would hop away. He couldn’t very well leave them on doorsteps, so he walked into the grove, dropping a live rabbit here and there along the way. When he finally lay sleeping under the trees, there were ten busy rabbits making mischief in the grove.
CHAPTER
9
DANGER IN THE GROVE
A little more than two hours later, Edgar was jolted awake by the sound of Isabel’s voice.
“Get up, Edgar! Get up!” She tugged his arm, trying to get Edgar into a sitting position. Edgar jumped up and steadied himself with his hand against a tree.
“Mr. Ratikan is fuming! Someone let rabbits loose in the grove and they’ve chewed up some of the saplings. I’ve never seen him so angry.”
She looked at Edgar and saw immediately in his expression that the orphan boy of the grove was in big trouble.
“You did it?”
She had been hoping Mr. Ratikan was only blaming it on Edgar, but that Edgar hadn’t actually done it.
“But why, Edgar?”
Edgar was having some trouble coming to grips with the situation. Two hours’ rest had left him with a dizzy buzz in his head.
“I thought they’d be cooked when they gave them to me,” said Edgar, which made Isabel think he was still asleep and dreaming.
“Wake up, Edgar! This is serious! Mr. Ratikan is really angry this time. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds you here.”
He had finally come fully awake and realized the stupidity of his actions the night before. If Mr. Ratikan was coming toward them, then he had very little time.
“Listen to me, Isabel.” Edgar motioned for her to join him behind the tree where he stood.
“It might be getting too dangerous for me to stay here. If he comes for me, I’m going to have to leave.”
Isabel couldn’t imagine the grove without Edgar in it.
“I want you to do one more thing for me,” continued Edgar. “Everything is changing, Isabel. I don’t understand why or exactly how, but there’s a place I can go where I might find some answers. If I’m gone when you try to find me again, I need you to put your sneaking and spying to good use, do you understand?”
Isabel nodded. She was beginning to have a sense of where Edgar was going, and it sounded like a terrible idea.
“You can’t go to the Highlands, Edgar. They won’t help you. They’ll punish you for going up there.”
Edgar peered around the tree to see if anyone were coming and found no one, then turned back to Isabel.
“Keep an eye on Mr. Ratikan like you never have before. Listen to what the people in the village are talking about. Find out whatever you can. I’ll come back, I promise I will.”
“Take this with you.” Isabel untied the bag of black figs from around her waist. “There’s a little dough in there with the figs, and my sling. I can make another.”
Isabel wanted to say more—to persuade him not to climb to the Highlands—but she was forced to stop when the sound of a man’s voice came barreling through the trees.
“Edgaaaaaaaaaar!” It was Mr. Ratikan.
Isabel said, “You’d better run, Edgar—we’d both better run.”
Mr. Ratikan had come into view, his walking stick in one hand and a squirming brown rabbit in the other. Isabel was gone in a flash before Mr. Ratikan could see her, but Edgar remained a moment longer, tying the bag of black figs around his waist.
Mr. Ratikan spotted Edgar hiding behind the tree. He pointed his walking stick toward the tree and wished he were close enough to knock the boy down.
“I know you did this. I just know it! Do you dare try and deny it?”
Edgar thought of his options: He could confess, lie, or blame someone else. Whichever he chose, Edgar was sure he’d get no food and a frightful beating. Mr. Ratikan knew, and there was no getting out of it. So Edgar turned from mean Mr. Ratikan and sprinted away from the grove faster than he’d ever gone before.
“EDGAAAAAAR!” Mr. Ratikan screamed, his anger boiling into a rage as he started after the boy. But Edgar just kept run ning, sure of where his legs would take him. Atherton was changing, and Edgar needed to find more answers than the grove had to offer. He needed to get the book and find Samuel.
Edgar hid all day in the village between a stack of wood and a house. It was a tight squeeze, but once there he was able to lie down and fall asleep. When darkness came, the village was still alive with activity and it was difficult to find a moment in which he could make his escape. He had to lie there for a long time until finally things began to settle down and he was able to sneak quietly away to the cliffs.
As he scaled the rock face, he stopped to retrieve the book of secret things. Sometime after that he felt the cliff’s slight vibration under his hands. Was it going up or down? Could it be that the Highlands were always rising and falling, like a deep breath in the night when no one was awake to notice?
Night passed and early morning came as Edgar climbed. His late start would bring him into the Highlands in the light of day. When he reached the very top of the cliffs, the trembling stopped and everything was still once more. It was as if the rocks themselves knew Edgar was about to climb over the edge,
to see the Highlands for the first time, and they had paused to pay respect to his visit.
Edgar’s excitement was momentarily tempered by a sudden dread. His stomach rumbled as his head came even with the edge, for he’d long ago eaten the small bit of dough from the bag. He had no other food or water and no idea what he would encounter in the Highlands. He was a visitor to a hostile place with four days to fill before his only friend would come looking for him.
The trees he’d only seen in the dark on his last visit were close by. They were different than those in the grove, much taller and more majestic, with milky white bark. He couldn’t see beyond them. Before the trees there was a sea of tall green grass that looked soft and inviting. It would make a good place to hide.
Edgar rolled into the Highlands and darted toward the line of green. When he reached the grass, he found that it came as high as his waist, but it moved out of his way like water as he pushed it from side to side. He broke some off in his hand, sniffed it, then tried to eat it. It tasted bitter and Edgar spit it out, wishing more than anything for a cup of water.
He was soon to be distracted from his thirst. Edgar was an inquisitive boy to begin with, but access to an entirely new world he’d never seen made his head hum with excitement. Edgar ducked down into the meadow and crawled until he reached the end of the field and parted the grass.
The trees before him were thick with golden leaves that drooped down in every direction. He walked out among them and put his hands on the smooth, white bark. He touched the golden leaves and was momentarily lost in the idea of climbing through the branches and jumping from one limb to another, feeling the wide leaves brush past his face as he flew.
On the other side of the trees, obscured through dangling leaves, Edgar spotted more grass—only this time it was yellow. Curious what it might feel like, he walked toward it, but when he was a few steps away, he was startled by a noise. It sounded like Mr. Ratikan sneezing, all the wet juices flying out of his mouth, but it was much, much louder. When the sound came again, Edgar sprinted forward, diving headfirst into the yellow grass on the other side of the trees.
The House of Power Page 6
