They left Snout’s barrow. Rose, Tim, and Yo-yo continued along the path.
“I’m hungry,” Tim said. “Is there anything to eat?”
“No,” Rose replied. “You mustn’t eat anything in Faerie, Tim. Not if you want to get back. Or at least, get back to the time that you left. A day in Faerie can be a hundred years in mortal lands.”
“So I stay hungry?”
“You get even hungrier.”
That didn’t sound promising. “So where are we?” he asked, a little sullenly, truth be told.
“I do not know,” Rose answered. “This path has never led me to this place before.”
That sounded even more worrisome, especially with the wisps of mist swirling around them, making it hard to see. “Then let’s go someplace else, then,” Tim suggested. “Somewhere you know.”
“We must stay on the path, Timothy. Once we have begun to walk our road, we must walk it all the way or we are lost. And all may be lost.”
The cold and clammy mist grew alarmingly thick, as if someone had turned on a fog machine full blast. “Rose?” Tim called. He could no longer see her. “Dr. Occult?”
“Still here.” Rose’s voice came out of the mist.
“I can’t see the path!” Tim called. “Or you. Or Yo-yo!”
“I’m here,” Rose replied, but her voice was muffled. Tim couldn’t tell what direction it came from. Afraid that she would get too far ahead of him, he quickened his pace.
“Ooof!” Tim stumbled over a thick root and fell face forward into the dirt. He scrambled back up again, and discovered the mist had vanished.
And so had Rose.
Tim searched for his glasses, which had fallen when he tripped. His fingers wrapped around them and he quickly put them back on. Luckily, they weren’t broken, just a little bent. But even with his glasses on, Rose was still gone. He hadn’t been completely abandoned, however: Yo-yo was perched on a nearby tree limb.
“Rose!” Tim called. “Dr. Occult!”
No answer.
Tim boosted himself up on the limb and sat beside Yo-yo. “Can you believe this?” he muttered. “She was the one who told us not to get lost. And now she’s gone and lost herself. Himself. Oh, whatever! At least we’ve still got the path.”
Now that the mist had evaporated, the path was clear again. Tim studied it, peering into the distance where it disappeared into a thick grove of trees. “What do you think?” he asked the owl. “Should we wait for him here? I mean, for her? Or should we go on?”
Yo-yo’s yellow eyes didn’t even blink.
“Fat lot of good you are. What the heck. It’s cold just sitting here. He’ll find us. Or she’ll find us. Whichever.”
Tim eased himself off the tree limb, carefully avoiding the jutting roots, and set out on the path again. “I don’t know about you, Yo-yo,” he said, “but I’m starving. I could eat a horse. An elephant, even.”
“Tim!” a voice cried out. “Come here! Hurry!”
Tim’s head whipped around in the direction of the man’s voice. A few yards away, Dr. Occult stood outside a little cabin, his back to Tim, his trench coat a familiar and welcome sight.
“Dr. Occult!” Tim exclaimed. He headed toward the man. “You’re a bloke again! How did you get ahead of me?”
“No time to explain. Quickly! It’s an emergency!”
Tim raised a foot, about to step from the path, and froze. Wasn’t that one of Dr. Occult’s rules? Don’t leave the path no matter what? Tim put his foot back down.
“Hurry, Tim! We’re in great danger!” Dr. Occult called again.
Tim had not heard that kind of urgency in Dr. Occult’s voice before. It must be serious. And wasn’t the first rule that he had to obey any order Dr. Occult gave him? Wouldn’t that rule supercede all the others? He had to risk it.
He leaped off the path and ran toward Dr. Occult, across the meadow. “What is it?” he panted as he came close to the man, who still had his back to him. “What’s wrong?”
The man whirled around, and as he did, he transformed. A hag in tattered rags, with wild gray hair, scrawny arms, and pointy yellowed teeth, stood before Tim.
“What’s wrong?” she cackled. “You’ve stepped off the path, boychick. That’s what’s wrong!”
With a swift move, she grabbed Tim’s wrist. She clutched it so tightly he was afraid she’d snap it off. Giving him a sharp tug, he stumbled toward her. Up close, he could smell her foul breath, see the hairs poking up from the warts on her chin and nose. And all the while, he felt her fingernails, sharp as claws, digging into his skin.
“Dr. Occult?” Tim whispered. “Have you, uh, changed again?”
The woman laughed hysterically. “There is no Dr. Occult here, boychick! Just the Baba Yaga. And the Baba Yaga played a good trick on you!”
“Let me go!” Tim shouted, trying to tug his wrist from her grasp.
“Now what’s Baba Yaga caught for herself, then? Is it a stew? Is it a roast? Is it blood pudding? Is it the tenderest of cutlets? Oh yes. All of them. Juicy and meaty and sweet.”
Gross! Tim cringed. She was actually drooling! “You better let me go,” he insisted, trying to sound brave and sure. “Dr. Occult is my protector. He’ll find you. You’ll be in big trouble.”
“Find us? I doubt it.” Baba Yaga swept Tim up into her powerful arms as if he were mere kindling for the fire. She easily carried him into her hut. “Baba Yaga’s little house is in the heart of the wild forest, and it will not be found in the same place two days running.”
How can that be? Tim wondered. How can her house change locations? It wasn’t as if she lived in a mobile home that could pack up and move to the next trailer park.
Baba Yaga stood in the center of her hut, still holding Tim. “Now, my house,” she ordered, “do your wandering.”
Gripped in Baba Yaga’s strong arms, Tim felt the house lurch. Slowly, awkwardly, it rose into the air.
“What’s doing that?” he cried.
Baba Yaga let out a shrieking laugh and carried Tim to the window. “My house has legs! Take a good look. You’ll see none other like it in all of Faerie.”
She grabbed Tim by the ankles and lowered him upside down out the window. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. The house was on top of a pair of chicken legs. He could see the huge clawed feet as they took great big steps forward.
She’s not kidding, he realized with horror. There’s no way for Rose to find me.
Baba Yaga dragged Tim back into the hut, banging his head on the windowsill as she did. No matter how much Tim squirmed or kicked or fought, her strong grip never loosened. It seemed that she didn’t feel the slightest resistance.
“You’re a thin one, but there’s a little bit of meat on those ribs. Good!” she declared, slamming him onto a table and poking his side. She flipped him over and smacked his butt. “Steak on that rump. Good!” When she turned Tim over again, he realized she’d wrapped him in twine. She was tying him up!
“And heart to chew.” Baba Yaga tossed him over her shoulder and carried him to the fireplace. She lifted him up and hung him, upside down, from a hook. “And eyes to suck and tongue to boil and eat piping hot.” She tweaked his nose through the twine.
“I really think you ought to let me go,” Tim said in as reasonable a tone as he could. He hoped being polite might win him some points. Seeing as he was trussed and hanging like a side of beef, he had no other options. Clearly he was no match for her in the strength department. Maybe the kids at home in London were right and he was a wimp.
“I’ll be back soon, my juicy. Baba Yaga needs vegetables, yes. And herbs and kindling.”
She grabbed a broomstick from the corner and crossed to the window. “Oooh, such feasting I will make. The grease will run down my chin, and I will crack your bones with my iron teeth to suck the marrow from within.” It seemed she would faint with anticipation. She pulled herself together. “Window! Open you wide!”
The window did as it was commanded
. Baba Yaga hopped aboard her broomstick and flew out.
“Oh, this isn’t good,” Tim moaned.
“I don’t know,” a small voice said nearby. “If she gets some nice crisp carrots, it might make for something quite passable.”
Startled, Tim turned his head. He had thought he was alone in the hut. He found himself staring into the face of a rabbit that was hanging upside down beside him.
A talking rabbit!
Chapter Ten
“DID YOU—DID YOU say something?” Tim said to the rabbit. He felt foolish even asking the question, but so many strange things had happened so far, why not talking animals? He had definitely heard someone speak, and the rabbit was the only one it could be. Well, the rabbit or the little hedgehog hanging upside down next to the rabbit.
“Tsk tsk tsk,” the rabbit tsk’d between its large front teeth. “You’ve done it this time, matey.”
“What?” Tim asked.
“He’s right, you know,” the hedgehog said in a little squeak of a voice. “You’re going to be stew.”
“I mean, me and Master Redlaw here.” The rabbit tipped its head toward the hedgehog. “We’re fairly used to the idea of endin’ up in a pot.”
“So to speak, Master Leveret,” the hedgehog said, nodding its prickly head rapidly. “Although mostly us hedge-pigs is encased in clay and roasted in embers.” He stretched his neck in an attempt to bring his face closer to Tim’s. “On account of us havin’ us prickles,” he added in a confidential whisper.
“Stands corrected, Master Redlaw,” the rabbit conceded. “Stands corrected and grateful to yer, I must say.”
“Um…” Tim began, but then didn’t know what else to say so he left it at that.
“Oooooh, blimey,” the rabbit said. “We’s forgettin’ our manners again, matey. Must be something to do with hanging upside down. All that blood to the tips of the ears.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” The hedgehog nodded enthusiastically. Tim twisted to avoid being pricked by the hedgehog’s spines.
“I’m Master Leveret,” the rabbit said. “And this is Master Redlaw.”
The hedgehog nodded. “That’s me!”
“We is all she’d caught before she got you.”
“And you might be?” asked Master Redlaw, the hedgehog.
“I’m Tim. Timothy Hunter.”
First a gasp, then both animals chuckled. They looked at each other, and Tim had the distinct feeling that if they were untied—and human—they’d be slapping each other’s backs over the joke they shared.
“A hunter, eh?” chortled Master Leveret the rabbit. “Well, then, this must be a might turnaround for you.”
“Hah! Here’s a hunter, and he’s the one what’s been hunted!” Master Redlaw guffawed. “And caught, I must say!”
“I’m not a hunter,” Tim protested. “It’s just my name.”
“Oh, lad, we know all about names. Just so long as you don’t hunt hares, I won’t make issue of it, laddie.”
“Or hedge-pigs,” Master Redlaw added. “I won’t be standing for people who’d be hunting hedge-pigs. Because of me taking it personally, don’tcha know.”
“Well, sure,” Tim said. “I’m taking this pretty personally myself.”
A sudden flutter and a dark shape by the window caught their attention. Yo-yo flew into the hut.
“Yo-yo!” Tim cried.
“It’s an owl, Master Redlaw,” said Master Leveret.
“Remarkable,” the hedgehog exclaimed. “That was my thought exactly, Master Leveret. Blow me down, I thought. If that doesn’t seem to be an owl.”
“When was the last time you spent any time with an owl?” Master Leveret asked.
“Come to think of it, never. But perhaps—”
“Be quiet, you two,” Tim begged the chattering animals. He turned to address the owl. “Yo-yo, can you get a message to Dr. Occult? I mean, Rose? Tell her—or him—whatever he is now—where I am and to come and get us!”
“Whooo!” Yo-yo replied.
Yo-yo didn’t move. He and Tim stared at each other. Tim was the first one to blink. “Well, Yo-yo, go on.”
“What your owl said, if you’ll pardon me translaterin’ for you,” offered Master Leveret, “is that it’s terrible afraid it wouldn’t know where to find the lady or gentleman in question.”
“That’s what it was a-sayin’ right enough,” the hedgehog agreed, nodding vigorously.
“You got all that from ‘whoo’?” Tim asked.
All three creatures stared at Tim as if he were a complete dolt.
Tim flushed. It was bad enough to be shown up in gym class. Being treated like an idiot by a rabbit, a hedgehog, and an owl, well, that was a new and highly unpleasant experience for him.
“Okay, that’s what Yo-yo said,” Tim agreed. “Yo-yo, listen, that old woman—”
“She’s not an old woman,” Master Leveret interrupted, a long ear twitching.
“She’s the Baba Yaga,” Master Redlaw added, as if that meant anything comprehensible.
“Ooooh, she’d spit if she heard you call her an old woman.”
“Fine. That—Baba Yaga—wants to eat me.” He heard a sniff and a throat being cleared beside him and quickly added, “Eat all of us, that is. She just went off to get some herbs.”
“Probably chives,” said the rabbit. “And thyme. And bay leaves, I expects. And cow butter, for the sauces.”
“We hedge-pigs don’t hold with that fancy stuff,” Master Redlaw said disdainfully. “My granny used to say, no one ever used fancy foreign sauces on a hedge-pig. Clay and embers is what you gets, and a little salt, if yer lucky.”
“Can you please be quiet!” Tim snapped. “Sheesh! You’d think you were looking forward to being the main ingredient in a recipe.”
“If she has a good hand with the thyme, I wouldn’t mind so,” the rabbit said.
“Don’t want any of those fancy foreign heavy sauces,” the hedgehog grumbled. “Not if she knows a thing or two about good eating.”
“Yo-yo,” Tim tried again, “can’t you cut the ropes with your beak or something?”
Yo-yo flew in a circle around Tim. “Whoo,” he said.
Tim looked to Master Leveret for translation. “It says it doesn’t think so,” the rabbit said.
So this is it, Tim thought. I’ve made a complete mess of things, and now I’m going to be cooked into a stew. Trussed like an animal and heavily seasoned. What a way to go.
“Yo-yo,” Tim said bravely. “If you see Dr. Occult again, tell him I’m sorry I stepped off the path. And that I wish I’d never started on this magic stuff. And tell him to say good-bye to my dad for me. And Molly. She can have my entire comic book collection. She should like that. Okay?”
“Whoo.”
“It said, fair enough,” said Master Leveret. He sounded sad, and Tim wasn’t sure if the rabbit was feeling sorry for him or if Master Leveret was translating the owl’s feelings along with his words.
“You know,” Master Redlaw ventured. “There is a remarkable peculiar thing about yon hootyowl.”
“You mean it bein’ out in the daytime when everybody knows owls is nighttime folks?” asked Master Leveret.
“Why, that’s exceedin’ perspicious of you. But no. What I was thinking was more in the nature of the chain wrapped around itself that is out of the ordinary.”
“It’s just a chain we got at the market,” Tim explained. “Nothing special. Yo-yo picked it out from a pile of junk.” What did any of this matter anyway? he wondered. Were they just keeping themselves entertained until the Baba Yaga came back to cook them? If so, maybe they could come up with something a little more distracting.
“‘Just a chain’?” said Master Redlaw. “That’s Empusa’s Infinitely Extensible, that is! Now there’s a thing. Empusa’s Infinitely Extensible Chain a-wrapped around an owl!”
“What are you talking about?” Tim asked.
“Famous it is, matey!” the hedgehog exhorted. “One of E
mpusa’s lost treasures, right up there with the Drum Unescapable, and the Heliotrope Gamahaean Union.”
“Well, paint me pink and call me a noodle,” exclaimed the rabbit. “If I didn’t completely miss the point of what you was getting at earlier. You must think me a right old puddin’ head.”
“Think nothing of it, Master Leveret,” said Master Redlaw graciously. “Us hedge-piggies are natural born thinkers.”
“So is this going to rescue us?” Tim asked. Hope was returning, even if the circulation in his arms wasn’t.
“No, laddie, no. I can’t with all honesty say that it will,” admitted the hedgehog.
“But it’s a definite something to tell yer grandchildren, eh, Master Redlaw?” The rabbit ahemed and then affected a very pompous tone: “‘Coincidentally, the very same day I was popped into a cookpot I discovered Empusa’s Infinitely Extensible Chain on an owl.’” The rabbit laughed. “Now that’d be some story.”
“Although, that being said,” Master Redlaw offered, “if that there owl was to fly down to the underside of the Baba Yaga’s little hut, and if it was to wrap the chain around the legs of the house…”
“And wrap ’em and wrap ’em and wrap ’em, it being infinitely extensible, like…” said Master Leveret, his ears waggling in excitement.
“Until—thump—over it’d topple,” cheered the hedgehog.
Tim’s eyes widened as he understood what the animals were suggesting. It might actually work!
“And then we’d just need to figure out how to undo all these knots. And then us’d all climb through a window and we’d be off into the long grass and gone before you could say Januarius Gammadion Fontarabia Dagonet Knipperdollings,” continued the hedgehog.
“Just the ticket!” said the rabbit.
“Brilliant!” Tim exclaimed. He faced the owl. “What do you think, Yo-yo? Can you do it?”
Yo-yo gave a little hoot, and hurried out the window in a flurry of brown-tipped feathers.
Tim wished he could see what was happening. Were the little animals right? Was that junky chain really some incredible special extensible thinga-ma-whazits—and their way out of this mess?
The Invitation Page 11
