The Elfin Ship
Page 32
Outside in the darkness was a tumult of activity. On more than one occasion goblins looked in at the window, saw the scatter of skeletons and rafters and fellow goblins, cast a quick look at their trussed master, and dashed away into the night once more. Now and then the howling receded down toward the swamp; then it seemed to work its way back up the road toward the tower. Wolves bayed, goblins shrieked, bats flew in through the window and out again – and, every now and then, a spindle-legged skeleton jerked past, head swiveling this way and that, hollow eye sockets seeming to peer about as if searching in earnest for something to frighten.
It was altogether odd that Dooly and Lonny Gosset were able to keep such a lunatic horde of grim beasts and goblins busy by themselves. Jonathan waited in expectation for the Beddlington Ape to come clambering in with Dooly under one arm and Gosset under the other. Escargot’s plan would run into an undeniable snag in such an event.
The Dwarf appeared to be thinking the same thing. He seemed to be at a loss as to what to do with his hands and looked as if he wished he could reach his pipe. But aside from that he was tolerably calm – waiting about, it seemed, to be rescued by his minions.
The howling and gobbling raged even louder outside, as if a pitched battle were being fought directly in front of the tower. After a few minutes of silence within the hall, Escargot spoke. ‘If the lad comes to harm,’ he warned, ‘it’ll go bad for you. Very bad.’
‘My friend,’ said the Dwarf in a sort of tired way, ‘it’s going to go very badly for a number of people – one of them a celebrated thief. You’ve made a mistake throwing your lot in with these scalawags. We could have accomplished great things, you and I. We still can. You haven’t any idea of the treasures I have, sir. Not an inkling.’
‘I’ll have more than an inkling before the night is through,’ said Escargot.
And so it went for another hour or so until it seemed to Jonathan that he could barely remember a time when he wasn’t sitting there among the bones listening to Selznak and Escargot strike bargains. Finally, through the window, the night turned from black to deep blue to gray. The tumult outside faded and returned and there was a deal of shouting and stomping around the side of the tower.
A wild voice, deep and strangely off key as if it were produced by something trying to imitate a human’s voice, sounded from out of the misty morning air, mouthing the following strange words: ‘Woe unto drunkards!’ came the voice, pronouncing the kard in drunkard like a person would pronounce card in playing card. ‘Woe unto drunkards!’ it shouted. ‘Woe! woe! woe!’ Then after a pause, ‘Bloated with ale!’ And after that a long, drawn out ‘Wooooo!’ and the Beddlington Ape, torn and deranged, staggered into view outside the window. It had a look of wild fury on its face. When it saw its master there, head in a noose, it growled low in its throat, reached into what it no doubt imagined to be a shirt, and pulled forth nothing less than one of Lonny Gosset’s caps which it jammed down over its squatty head.
Selznak shouted at the thing in an odd language, then turned toward Escargot up in the rafters. ‘This has grown tiresome. We’ll play a different game now.’ He shouted again at the Beddlington Ape and it bent over to climb in through the window, anxious to do its master’s bidding.
Jonathan wondered why Escargot didn’t simply hoist the Dwarf into the air. But then that likely was easier said than done. Besides, even if Escargot hung the Dwarf, things would go badly for him and the Professor. Then a grim thought struck him. If the Dwarf died, he and Professor Wurzle would remain puddings until the Moon Man could be summoned to set them free. All in all, there wasn’t much hope as the Beddlington Ape, shouting his grim lament, hunched toward them through the shattered casement.
There was a shout outside. Not a frightened or abrupt shout, but a deep, thought-out sort of a shout that seemed to shake the foundation of the tower. Even Selznak looked up in wonder, as did his beast, who paused midway through the window, turned to see about this new commotion, and was clubbed from behind with a three-foot length of wood shaped like a ball bat. The thing was staggered. It fell back outside. Then with a hollow thud as the club smashed down onto its head a second time and it fell in a heap there, atop the skeleton that had almost made it out into the night three hours before.
Dead silence. The ape twitched once and groaned. ‘Woe!’ It wailed convincingly, then gave up and lay there, breathing heavily. From out of the shadows lumbered one of the finest things Jonathan could remember having seen. If a unicorn had stepped out, the sight of it wouldn’t have been half so rare as was the sight of Squire Myrkle, laughing in that slow way of his and dressed for mayhem. He had a squint-eyed look on his wide face as if searching for someone else to poleaxe. When his eyes lighted on the Dwarf, he seemed to perk up, and he set about climbing over the sill and into the hall – no light task for the Squire.
Most amazing of all, however, was what seemed to Jonathan to prove the old adage: ‘Once lost, twice recovered.’ For there atop the Squire’s head was perched nothing less than Mayor Bastable’s hat, battered but recognizable. It wouldn’t have come close to fitting the Squire except for the odd fact that the Squire’s head rather narrowed on top. All in all, Jonathan didn’t know what was the greater marvel, the appearance of the Squire or of Mayor Bastable’s hat.
Bufo and Yellow Hat stormed up about then shouting something about wild men, but they paused long enough to help the Squire in through the window before nodding to Jonathan and the Professor and dashing off. They were back in a trice, though, along with Dooly and Stick-a-bush. Among the four of them, they carried an inert Lonny Gosset. Dooly had a wide slash on his forehead, and his face and hair were matted with dried blood. Somehow, though, he looked as if he’d never been happier – as if the wounded and bloody head was about ten times as valuable as a head without such decorations. Dooly and the linkmen piled in, bumping Gosset across the back of the collapsed Beddlington Ape. The combined weight of Gosset and the ape served to smash the skeleton beneath into a pile of ribs and backbones. The skull popped loose and rolled into the hall, stopping near the loose skull that had, hours before, shot out of the fire.
The Squire poked at it with his club, then poked at the other one. Then he chivied one about the floor, lining it up with the open mouth of the fireplace, and whacked it with the end of the club as if he were playing golf. The skull sailed upward like a comet, square into the still hovering flame, and smashed into the chest of the skeleton that was waiting there. The thing just broke apart and the pieces fell back into the coals. The Squire shook with laughter. He picked up the second skull, lifted Mayor Bastable’s cap off his head, and shoved the skull into it before putting the hat back on. He turned to Selznak and said with a convincing air about him, ‘The Squire has a skullcap now,’ then laughed again.
Selznak looked to Jonathan as if he were about to go blind. As if he’d seen a few wonders in his time, but was faced here with something outside his ken.
The Squire bent over and peered into Jonathan’s face, poking him on the tip of his nose with a pudgy finger. ‘The Cheeseman is asleep,’ he said. ‘But he has his eyes open. That’s an odd thing. The Squire hasn’t seen such a thing before. And this Dwarf seems to be hanging himself. He’s a sad Dwarf, living among goblins.’
‘Hello, Squire!’ Escargot shouted. The Squire looked up into the ceiling beams but, of course, saw nothing but the dangling rope.
‘It’s Grandpa!’ shouted Dooly. ‘He’s up there in his invisible coat!’
‘Can he fly?’ asked the Squire.
‘I don’t know,’ said Dooly, not quite sure how to respond. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Take the watch from the Dwarf,’ said Escargot. The Squire hulked across and plucked the watch from Selznak’s hand. Selznak was fuming. It seemed to Jonathan that steam would soon start pouring out of the Dwarf’s ears if he didn’t simmer down some. He could picture Selznak tapping up the cobbles of Gosset’s drive with fog issuing from his ears rather than from his pipe.
‘So now you must have the blasted watch,’ said Selznak darkly. ‘And what will you do with it?’
‘I don’t want it,’ replied Escargot. ‘But you’ll break the spell or you’ll die when the sun comes up over the forest.’
‘Don’t get theatrical with me,’ said Selznak. ‘What do I care for your threats? It’s me who breaks the spell or no one at all. You know that as well as I do.’
‘Squire,’ said Escargot, ‘send your lads upstairs to find the dog. He’s sleeping in the long corridor on the third level. On the fourth you’ll find a room full of cages of beasts. Have them carry the beasts down, take them outdoors, and release them. On the fifth floor is a laboratory. Let them smash it to bits. But make sure they stay away from the sixth floor if they value their lives and their sanity.’
Bufo, Yellow Hat, and Stick-a-bush dashed off up the stairs to do his bidding. In a few moments Bufo clumped back down carrying Ahab, who was in much the same condition as Jonathan and the Professor. He laid the dog next to Jonathan, who was, all in all, relieved to see Ahab, enchanted or otherwise. Shortly thereafter the three of them began to file down the stairs carrying cages of strange animals. Some of the cages held identifiable rabbits and raccoons and opossums and such, but many of the cages held beasts that no one beside Selznak the Dwarf had seen before. There must have been many cages of such things, for the three linkmen kept about their business industriously – up and down and up and down the stairs, then up and down some more. The Squire took a grave interest in the beasts, acquiring an instant fancy in one – another winged pig but with the nose of an opossum and the tail of a beaver. He instructed Stick-a-bush, who carried the cage, to lay it in the corner.
Dr Selznak watched the proceedings, seemingly without interest. Finally he said, ‘Breaking my laboratory apart won’t serve, you know.’
Escargot remained silent. The Squire walked over and looked the Dwarf in the eye, pulling the snake out of his pocket and waving it in his face. Selznak pretended to pay him little mind. ‘You can reduce the tower to rubble, but your friends won’t be any better off. I’ll propose an option. If you’ll give me your word that there’ll be no chicanery, I’ll start them back up. We’ll revive my ape and he and I will leave. You’ll not see us again.’
‘And the watch?’ asked Escargot.
‘The watch is mine,’ Selznak stated flatly.
‘You haven’t got any sense,’ said Escargot. The Squire apparently assumed that it would be a good time to tickle the Dwarf’s ear with the tail of the snake. ‘There’s another man,’ said Escargot, ‘who can start that watch up again. You know who I mean.’
‘And how,’ asked the Dwarf, ‘will you summon him? Send up a kite? A pigeon?’
Escargot was silent.
‘The Squire will fly a kite,’ said the Squire helpfully, thrusting the ridiculous snake once again toward Selznak’s ear and giggling. ‘The Squire must have a kite to fly.’
Dooly, watching the proceedings but wary of coming within ten feet of Selznak, edged around past him and untied the bag on Jonathan’s belt.
Jonathan felt like cheering when he realized what Dooly was up to and was powerfully glad that Dooly knew about the four coins. He was immediately deflated, however, when he considered that Dooly couldn’t possibly know how to arrange the things.
‘By golly, lad!’ shouted Escargot. ‘You’re the only one among us with an ounce of brain matter.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Dooly. ‘I have a powerful lot of it. Mr Bing said these coins was eyeballs – his eyeballs. But now I don’t hardly see how they can be.’
Selznak watched contemptuously, not knowing, of course, what it was Dooly was after in the bag. He seemed tired and had a new look of nervousness about him. Dooly found two of the coins and laid them on the hearth. He scrambled them this way and turned them over that way, and seemed amazed at the weird fishes that appeared then disappeared as the coins were flipped. Squire Myrkle watched the process nodding sagely, then turned the two coins over once or twice, marveling at a couple of particularly strange specimens.
‘What ho?’ shouted Escargot.
‘Not much ho,’ said Dooly. ‘I don’t get no eyeballs. I only get fish.’
‘Do you know the order?’ asked Escargot.
‘What order? I just heard there was eyeballs involved. I didn’t hear about no order.’
‘Of course there’s order, lad,’ Escargot replied. ‘There always is. Nothin’ works without it except maybe goblins. Lay out one of the coins with the fish swimming east.’
‘Where’s east?’ Dooly sounded puzzled.
‘Toward the broken window,’ said Escargot. ‘Turn it so it looks like he’s swimming toward the window. Then take the next and make him swim toward the fireplace.’ Dooly carried out the orders down below. ‘Now put one next to that, but make sure it’s faced west, out toward the big door.’
‘One next to that?’ asked Dooly. ‘There ain’t but two.’
‘There’s four,’ Escargot said. ‘There’s got to be two more in the pouch.’
Dooly rummaged in the pouch once again, pulling out a red bean and a horse chestnut and a little round ivory ball with an elf rune on it before coming up with a third coin.
‘Here it is,’ said Dooly, laying it next to the other two so that the fish on it faced the door.
‘Now the fourth,’ said Escargot.
‘Fourth?’ said Dooly stubbornly. Ά man ain’t got but two eyes. Who needs four of ’em?’
‘It won’t work without four,’ said Escargot. ‘I know about these coins. Find the fourth and put it down facing the hall. Then take all four and turn them around clockwise so that they all face each other. So that their noses almost touch.’
Dooly fumbled in the pouch, shaking out several odd items. ‘I have it!’ he shouted finally. ‘It was lost down in the corner.’
Then a very strange thing happened. The coins, all at once, were not on the hearth at all; they were, apparently, back in Jonathan’s pouch, or at least they weren’t apparently any place else.
Escargot spoke from above: ‘Well, what are you all goggling at? Did he come?’
‘He came,’ said Dooly, ‘but he went away again.’
‘Capital,’ said Escargot. ‘Absolutely first rate. We’ll see some results now, by golly. Let’s see if he can out-trump us now!’
Selznak didn’t appear to be in the mood to out-trump anyone. He seemed, in fact, a bit haggard, as if the evening had worn him thin. Bufo, Yellow Hat, and Stick-a-bush dashed off upstairs for another load of cages, taking them, as instructed, outside and opening the cage doors.
‘Fish!’ said the Squire abruptly. ‘Fish and chips! Fish and vinegar! Clams and oysters! Squid and crab!’ He confronted Selznak, who was clearly pondering his next move. ‘I’ll eat now,’ said the Squire. The Dwarf said nothing. Once the idea of eating sprang into existence, it seemed to overwhelm Squire Myrkle. When Bufo strode up to report the laboratory smashed up and the strange animals outside, the Squire didn’t seem to hear him. ‘The Squire will eat now,’ he said to Bufo.
‘I could do with a spot myself,’ Bufo replied. ‘Let’s have a look around for the pantry.’
‘The Squire will eat the pantry,’ said the Squire, who quite possibly was capable of such a feat. Bufo, knowing it was useless to argue, set off toward a likely looking alcove near the stairs in front of which stood the two inert goblins, one of them still holding in his hand a cup which contained whatever it was the goblins were drinking when Jonathan and the Professor first put the bench through the window. The Squire pushed at one of the goblins and the thing went over like a tree but landed in the same position he was in when he stood. Squire Myrkle shook his head as if in wonder over the goblin’s stupidity. ‘Her
e we have it!’ Bufo shouted from within the alcove, and the Squire, anxious to see what it was they had, lumbered in after him.
‘I’m tired of this,’ Escargot called from his perch overhead. ‘My legs are beginning to cramp up and my foot’s asleep. What do you have to say for yourself, mate?’
Selznak at first apparently had little to say for himself, but it looked as if he were thinking hard. He really hadn’t many options. It likely seemed a poor idea all the way around to hang around and wait for the arrival of an airship full of unsympathetic elves.
‘Perhaps we can come to an agreement,’ he said slowly.
‘Of course we can,’ Escargot stated. ‘As quick as you please. Any number of them. They all begin with your waking up the Professor and Mr Bing.’
‘I’ll need the watch. The fat man took the watch. He’s probably eaten it by now.’
‘Squire!’ shouted Escargot. Not a moment passed before the Squire, squeezing through the arched stone doorway of the alcove, hulked back into the hall. He held what appeared to be a turkey leg in one hand and a tankard of ale in the other. There was a long, crusty loaf of bread shoved in under his arm. His cheeks puffed out like balloons, as if he were storing food against the winter.
‘Give Doctor Selznak his watch, Squire. There’s a good fellow,’ said Escargot.
The Squire lumbered over to where Selznak stood with his head in the noose and peered into his face. He broke off a lump of bread as big as his fist and offered it to him. The Dwarf seemed inclined neither to accept the piece of bread or to refuse it. He just stood there with his mouth clamped shut looking at the Squire evilly. The Squire waved it in front of his nose for a moment, shrugged, tore a great bite out of the turkey leg, and headed back toward the kitchen.
‘The watch, Squire,’ shouted Escargot.
The Squire stopped, set his mug of ale down, and rummaged in his pockets. He brought out the stuffed snake, a rubber lizard, a handful of big marbles, and a glass globe about five inches in diameter, but no pocketwatch. ‘What do you have there, Squire?’ asked Escargot. ‘What’s that big glass ball?’