Grizelda

by Margaret Taylor

  “There’s people coming, fourth level! We got to split!”

  Everything the Undergrounders were doing they sped up, and with feverish speed the last few cells were cracked open, the crowbars packed up, the lanterns dimmed. They almost didn’t make it. The prisoners were weak, and many of them were still confused; they needed to be gently herded into the downward stairwell. Pale people, men, women, children. They obeyed the Undergrounders without question.

  Jamin was just guiding the last few stragglers in when they all heard the footsteps coming. In a hurry, they scuttled down the stairs, crowded together so Grizelda’s elbows were mashed up against those of a couple of prisoners she didn’t know. A woman bumped into Mitchell and fell.

  They crashed and stumbled their way down the stairs, all the time listening for the sounds of pursuit. Nothing came. Still, there would be no working their way up through the prison levels, freeing all the prisoners of Promontory. How many people? Grizelda thought again, but now helping them was impossible. They would have to get away with what they could.

  It was a difficult journey to the meeting tunnel, but finally they made it. It was an unusually dry, broad place in the sewers not far from the cells. Geddy had discovered it on a scouting mission and they’d soon made it their breakout home base – a place to store their supplies and the place to go to if anything went wrong.

  Once they were there, there was still much work to do. Undergrounders whispered instructions to the prisoners as they organized them into groups and handed out warm coats, food, money. Those who were strong enough for the days and nights of hiding in the forest would go on foot. Where they would go was their choice. Some of them had relatives who would take them in and hide them; others decided to risk resettling in Corvain’s outer provinces, where hopefully they would not be recognized. Or they could try getting over the border. For those who were not strong enough for crossing country, and that was many, there were the train tickets.

  Grizelda kept herself busy tending to prisoners on the opposite side of the tunnel from Toby. Still, she couldn’t help glancing up at him now and then. How much longer until he told? Probably as soon as the prisoners were outside of the city. He worked as usual, showing no indication that anything had happened. He never looked back at her.

  All too soon the time came for the scary part of the mission: the way out. The ratriders said that getting to the secret exit from Lonnes required a long, winding route through the city catacombs. When they were all ready, the ratriders darted on ahead, leaving behind loopy lighting-bug trails from their lantern-sticks. The Undergrounders and their little procession of pilgrims moved out.

  At first people talked softly to each other, but the conversation died away when they passed the first shelf of bones. The ratriders bobbed and wove above people’s heads, calling out directions, offering encouragement, sometimes falling back to check nobody had strayed. Grimly they marched on.

  Grizelda didn’t like being surrounded by all these reminders of death; she’d had death on her mind too much lately already. The bones were sorted according to type; femurs went in racks on one side of the wall, arm bones went on the other side. Vertebrae filled in the chinks behind them. There were skulls embedded in the mortar like bricks. They grinned at her, seeming to move in the swinging lantern light. She looked away.

  She was surprised to find Elisabet squinting at her, as if she was trying to make her out at a great distance.

  “You know, when I first saw you, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Elisabet said. “You look so different.”

  “How could I possibly look different?” Grizelda would have chuckled under different circumstances. Really, how much could she have changed in three weeks?

  “You’re taller. No.” Elisabet reconsidered. “It’s not that, exactly. It’s more you look like you aren’t afraid.”

  Grizelda couldn’t help but snort. If Elisabet only knew. There were so many things she was afraid of, of the Committees, of Nelin winning the goblins’ election, of Toby’s revulsion. It seemed afraid was the only thing she felt nowadays.

  But maybe Elisabet was right, in a way. She wasn’t afraid of the catacombs, she realized. With all those things out there that really could hurt her, why should she be worried about bones?

  They heard shouts from up ahead. Somebody must have spotted the exit. Grizelda couldn’t see it from here – the road through the catacombs was too twisted – but she could hear the cheering all right. She looked at Elisabet. Hand in hand they pressed forward, and so did the rest of the crowd. They went up an incline, the racks of bones ended, and then there it was. A round opening in the stone, deep blue sky beyond.

  “Look, stars!” somebody shouted.

  And then they tumbled out into the crisp grass and snow and brilliant stars overhead. They were on a little knoll in a plain of snow, beyond the city walls. From this direction, the exit looked like a sewage drainpipe. In one direction there were the distant lights of the city, in the other, an indistinct smear that was the forest.

  Grizelda threw herself down in the snow. It bit her skin, but she didn’t mind, it made her feel more alive. Something went thump into her back. She rolled over just in time to catch Elisabet looking guilty. She scooped up a snowball and threw it back at her.

  All around her, the other people were celebrating in similar fashion. They had done it! No matter what happened now, they had done it!

  The ex-prisoners hugged the Undergrounders and thanked them, then one by one they went their separate ways. Some of them braced themselves and began the hike into the forest. Others struck out parallel to the forest’s edge. They would eventually hit the road that would take them to the little town of San-Marent, almost at the border. The town had a train station that ran regular lines into Salinaca.

  Roughened fingers grasped Grizelda’s arm. “Are you that fine young lady Grizelda?”

  She turned around, and there was Toby’s grandfather, looking back at her. He was handsome in a weatherbeaten sort of way. He had a craggy face and fuller hair than was usual for a man his age, very white. He was actually smiling at her.

  “I–”

  “I’m Lionel. Lionel Dunnag.” He offered his hand for shaking.

  Confused, Grizelda held out her own hand and limply let him shake it. She was at a loss for words.

  “Congratulations on doing such a spectacular job here. Toby’s been telling me all about you. Fine young lady.”

  “All about me?”

  Toby was standing a little behind Mr. Dunnag, half turned away, his hands in his pockets. She tried to read some sort of answer in that shadow-obscured face of his but could not. Toby had had plenty of time to tell his grandfather she was a sorceress. Why hadn’t he?

  “So, what do you say?”

  Startled, Grizelda turned her attention back to Mr. Dunnag. She’d been so absorbed trying to puzzle out Toby she’d almost forgotten him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “When you come to Salinaca City, you will come stay with us, won’t you? Toby tells me you haven’t got a family of your own.”

  “I’m not going to Salinaca, Grandpa,” Toby said, not lifting his eyes to them. But Mr. Dunnag ignored him. He waited for Grizelda’s answer.

  Invite her to Salinaca? What had Toby told him about her? She’d get to meet Toby’s mom and dad. She’d be able to walk around outside without fear. Never have to endure a goblin’s hate-filled stare again. But … how could Toby possibly stand to have her near him after what had happened?

  “It would be so much, um, trouble…” she began.

  “Nonsense. After all you’ve done for the family, the least we can do is spare a little house room.”

  Again she looked over Mr. Dunnag’s shoulder at Toby. He still stood as if in the background, looking uncomfortable. She had to make a decision, fast.

  How many people? Probably hundreds.

  “In fact, I don’t intend to go to Salinaca,” she said.

  There, the hard part was
out. But instead of being confused, like she expected, Mr. Dunnag was angry.

  “Why ever not?”

  She pointed to the prisoners who still remained on the top of the hill. There weren’t very many left now; they were slipping into the woods as quickly as sand.

  “We’re not done here. See these people? Corvain isn’t really a republic anymore, even though they say they are. I just can’t leave until we have Liberty, Equality, Fraternity back.”

  Toby looked up at her sharply, as if somebody had just poked him. Then he looked away again.

  “But you can’t do anything more here,” Mr. Dunnag said, his voice starting to rise. “You’re wanted. They’ll kill you if you stay.”

  “Then I’ll take that risk. I know places I can hide.”

  She could have left. She could have gone to Salinaca where she’d never have to hide. There was still time. She could tell Mr. Dunnag she’d changed her mind, and he would still take her. But she forced herself to keep silent.

  Mr. Dunnag opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and sighed. “Very well. Luck be with you, young lady.” He turned to Toby. “Come along. We have a train to catch.”

  But Toby would not move.

  “I said I’m not going, Grandpa.”

  Mr. Dunnag waved it away. “I’ve had enough of your foolery, Toby. We’re going.”

  “No.”

  For the first time since Grizelda had been with them Mr. Dunnag looked at him, really looked at him, full in the face. Toby was serious.

  “Now, look here!” Mr. Dunnag blustered. “I have a responsibility to see to it that you get to your parents safe!”

  “I’m fifteen years old, Grandpa! I can look after myself!”

  “What am I supposed to tell them when I get there?”

  Now Toby shifted position. It was almost imperceptible the way he did it; he turned a little, took a step. Grizelda had no idea what he could possibly be up to. He folded his arms.

  “Tell them I’m staying behind to help Corvain. Mom would agree with me.”

  “Well, your mother–”

  Something had changed on their little knoll. Grizelda saw it, and a moment later, so did Mr. Dunnag. The way Toby had moved – now there were two fronts. Toby and Grizelda were on one side, and Mr. Dunnag was on the other, alone. He was outnumbered.

  Grizelda could not understand it. What was Toby doing? But she folded her own arms and took a step toward Toby.

  Mr. Dunnag stared at the two of them. “Very well,” he said finally. “But you will regret it, the both of you.”

  Toby and Mr. Dunnag shook hands stiffly. He even gave Grizelda a little nod. Then he turned and joined the last remaining group of prisoners, who were waiting for him.

  This last group was bound for San-Marent. Elisabet was among them, and as Grizelda hugged her a tearful goodbye, Elisabet didn’t say a word to her about the staying, though she must have overheard the argument. She just squeezed her tight and told her to take care. Grizelda could have blessed her for that.

  It was time for them to go. Grizelda stood back, Elisabet waved to her one last time, and they started to move. Toby stood a little way down the hill watching his grandfather. The group diminished, passing out of the range of the Undergrounders’ lanterns, and they became impossible to see before they had gone very far.

  Abruptly Toby turned and started heading back up the hill. He blazed past her without a word. She wanted to call out after him, but she knew she’d never get him to stop. Instead she ran up the hill and caught up to him. He didn’t speak to her, but he suffered her presence. Why hadn’t he told on her?

  They started walking side by side, very fast up the hill. The Undergrounders packing away the last of their things at the top were shocked to see the two of them still there and heading away from San-Marent. Jamin called after them, but neither answered. They were practically flying by the time they got to the drain. Side by side, but still not looking at each other, they descended together back into the hall of bones.

  Warden Calding stumbled into the lobby of the main building of Promontory. He was still not fully awake, but he was already scanning the room for signs of trouble. The runner who had just dragged him out of bed would not explain what was going on as he led him across the courtyard, only saying that something had gone wrong at the prison.

  And something was definitely wrong here. It seemed like the whole gendarmerie was up and milling about in the lobby. Some of them ran to and fro on apparently urgent errands, but most of them just looked up at him, paling as he entered the room. He snagged the nearest one as he ran by and held on.

  “What’s all this about?”

  “It’s the prisoners on level five, sir. They’re all gone!”

  “What?” Convulsively he brought the young man forward in a death grip, but then he let him go. Whatshisname. He had to find that officer Whatshisname.

  He stalked off in search of his prey and the gendarme gratefully ran off. It didn’t take long for him to find his man. Plenty of the officers had been woken along with the regular grunts, that new lieutenant Whatshisname included. He stood against one of the walls, baggy-eyed.

  “What happened?”

  Whatshisname looked like he would have liked to flee. Now he was pinned, though, and escape was going to be impossible. He saluted as best he could.

  “I don’t know everything yet, sir, but Delauney was the first to see it. All the cell doors were pried loose, and they were gone. There wasn’t any trace in the whole floor.”

  “Didn’t you post guards down there? Why didn’t they see something?”

  “This was their first night. Delauney was one of them. They’re searching right now, and they haven’t found anything human, but – mind you, I only just heard this – they found something else.”

  Calding raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Holes, sir.”

  “Yes?”

  “The goblin tunnels that used to run under the old fort. We’d boarded up the places where they intersected with our own excavations, but apparently, over the years, the boards have … decayed.”

  “You mean the whole place is run through like a cheese?”

  Calding said it more to himself than to Whatshisname. Horrified, he was already running through the implications–

  “May I have a word?”

  Cold fear ran through him as he turned around. There before him stood Implication Number One: Mr. Paxon, the inspector from the Committees of Public Safety.

  “We’re already conducting a thorough search of the area!” Whatshisname squeaked, and fled. Calding was left to face Paxon alone. He coughed in order to delay speaking.

  “Would you care to explain the situation in your own words, Warden?” said Paxon. “The men at the Committee will want to know.”

  Finally Calding found his tongue. “With all due respect, Warden Mant left this prison in a state of ruin. A system this broken takes time to repair…”

  “And yet Warden Mant let one prisoner disappear,” Mr. Paxon said with an edge in his voice. “You? How many were in custody on that level?”

  “Ninety-five, I believe, sir,” Calding said stiffly.

  “The men of the Committee are going to wonder if this was intentional.”

  “My career is at stake. I understand,” said Calding.

  “Rather more than that,” said Paxon. “You might get labeled as a Royalist sympathizer.”

  Unbidden, Calding’s thoughts flew to the Auk execution blocks he’d seen as a child. No, there was no more of that anymore, that was the whole point. Rather, there was the firing squad out in the courtyard…

  He swallowed. “My life?”

  Paxon smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. “Precisely. So shape up. I don’t want to bear the Committee bad news.”

  Grizelda didn’t sleep well that night. Well, what remained of the night by the time she’d dragged herself back to the laundry. She lay awake on her mattress for a while, stewing over the break
out. Finally sometime in the early morning she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  She sat up, threw back the covers, fumbled around under her mattress in the dark until her hand hit the stack of Grendel’s paper. Her throat tight, she yanked it out. She tried to tear the package in half, but of course that didn’t work. Instead she tucked it under her arm. She wanted to slam the door behind her as she left the room, but there was the ever-present danger of waking Crome across the way. For a moment she waited. No sound came from the room where he slept.

  Once outside, she stormed through the silent streets of the goblin city. The smell of motor oil was thick in the air. Only half the electric lights in the ceiling were on, to simulate night. No goblins out right now. She took the pass up to the Lonnes sewers.

  There she stood on the bank. She had once thought her magic was a harmless hobby. That’s what she had told Elisabet the day they discovered her power. As long as nobody from the government found out, she could go on making her paper toys at the shop, and nobody would be hurt. Harmless? It had cost her everything. Her old life, her chance to ever see sunshine again. Now Toby’s friendship, too.

  She drew the stack of papers out from under her arm and threw them into the water.

  I’ll never be a witch again, she thought. I promise.

  Chapter 25

  Grizelda stayed shut up in her room for the rest of that morning. After a while, the sounds of the workday starting drifted up to her through the floorboards. The deep rumble of the washing machines, the voices of workers. They must have missed her at work, but Crome did not come to call her down. She stayed curled up in her blankets, in her own tight cell of misery.

  Then she heard a familiar voice.

  “Hey.”

  “Go away, Geddy. I want to be alone.” She threw the blanket over her head and dug herself deeper into her cocoon.

  “Fine, then. I won’t leave until you tell me what it is.”

  Grizelda sat up. It was true. Geddy had planted himself on top of a paint can and it didn’t look like he had any intention of moving. She sighed and threw back the covers. Here we go again. If Geddy wanted to talk, he was going to talk, no matter what she had to say about it.