Part 22 (2/2)
I hope, in such a situation, that you would do the sensible thing-and run away as fast as you possibly could.
In other words, I hope that you would not do what Jack and Jill did.
For Jack and Jill had seen cruel giants, and murderous mermaids, and child-s.n.a.t.c.hing goblins, and Eddie. It was going to take more than a bone staircase to make them run now. Once on their feet, they pushed the horror in their chests down as far as they could, clasped hands once more, and started down the stairs again.
The staircase twisted around and around, and now distantly s.p.a.ced candles in candlesticks of bone lit their way, leaving just a single stair in complete obscurity before the dim light of the next candle made their horrible surroundings visible again.
And then the stairs ended, and a series of candles lit a long hall. Jill covered her mouth. Jack looked away. The walls, the ceiling, the floor were all made of bone.
Down the long, gruesome corridor, Jack and Jill saw a square where the flickering candlelight was brighter. Slowly, walking as silently as they knew how, they approached it. It was a doorway.
Stronger candlelight danced through it. Jack looked at Jill. She nodded.
Slowly-so slowly that you would not have seen him moving if you did not know that he was-Jack extended the edge of his head past the bone door frame, until nothing more than his ear and his eye would have been visible within the room.
Jack jerked his head back.
Jill stared at him. He gestured for her to do as he had done. Just as slowly, just as imperceptibly, Jill moved her head so that with a single eye she could see the contents of the room.
The first thing she saw was a light fixture-an enormous chandelier, in fact-hanging from the center of the chamber. It was suspended from the vaulted ceiling by tangled cords of rib bones, interlocking crazily. Below them hung the nine-pointed chandelier, each point made of a skull resting on a platter of pelvises. Strung between the nine points were femurs, hanging like laundry from a drooping line. The chandelier was covered with candles, dripping their yellow tallow over the white bones. Jill's gaze ran upward to the ceiling. It gave new meaning to the term rib vaulting. Ribs were extended in undulating curves from the top of the walls to the center of the ceiling, where a line of skulls smiled down at Jill. And one could tell, from the chandelier, from the ceiling, from the walls and the floor, that these were not just any human bones. They were the bones of children.
From the rib vaulted ceiling, long cords of rope hung taut, and at the end of each cord was a sack. A yellowed, bloodstained sack. Just about the size of a child's body.
Below these sacks, in the center of the room, stood a bone altar. On it sat a s.h.i.+ning circle. It was, without any doubt, the Seeing Gla.s.s, its surface now perfectly clean, perfectly clear.
Before the Gla.s.s, before the shrine of bone, knelt the three Others.
”Please!” the silk merchant moaned. ”Show us your secrets, great Gla.s.s! Give us your wisdom!”
The Seeing Gla.s.s sat on the altar, silent.
”What must we do for you?” pleaded the oil merchant. ”Mirror of truth! Show us your power! We beg you!”
The Seeing Gla.s.s stared down from its shrine, impa.s.sive.
”Guiding light of the Goblin Kingdom . . .” intoned the old woman. ”Repository of the world's greatest secrets . . . Giver of power . . . Keeper of truth . . . Please . . .”
”We are so close . . .” the silk merchant whispered.
”We have sought ye a thousand years . . .” murmured the oil salesmen.
”Please!” cried the old woman. ”PLEASE!”
Nothing.
The old woman sighed bitterly-a sigh of a thousand years of frustration-and lifted herself to her feet. ”I will try to read the spell again,” she said. She approached the Gla.s.s. Jack's and Jill's heads now both peered, ever so carefully, around the bone door frame.
The old woman bent her silvery head over the gla.s.s. ”Fo timb hat da jeek, bok no father,” she read. ”Fo timb hat da jeek, bok no father! Fo timb hat da jeek, bok no father!”
”What the heck does that mean?” whispered the frog. Jack clamped his mouth shut again.
”EVERYONE!” she bellowed. ”EVERYONE CHANT IT!”
”Fo timb hat da jeek, bok no father!” they chanted. ”Fo timb hat da jeek, bok no father! Fo timb hat da jeek, bok no father!”
”It isn't working!” the old woman cried. ”It doesn't work!”
”They will pay!” the silk merchant bellowed, on his feet now. ”Just like all of the other children have paid for failing!” And he gestured violently at the bones and b.l.o.o.d.y sacks above their heads.
Jack's and Jill's eyes followed his gesture and then met. Jill jerked her head toward the stairs. Jack nodded and straightened up.
”Yes . . .” muttered the old woman. ”We must admit it. They have failed.” She shook her head.
”I bet they'll taste good, though,” the oil salesman shrugged. ”That is a small consolation.”
The children's faces went white.
Jill made a small movement toward the stairs.
Jack, on the other hand, stepped into the room.
Jill turned, saw Jack, and had a heart attack. The frog had two. In a row.
The Others spun. For a moment, they stared, too stunned to speak.
And then the old woman managed to say, ”Just who we were looking for.”
The two men moved toward Jack and clamped their hands around his thin arms. ”h.e.l.lo there,” said the silk merchant.
”It turns out,” smiled the oil merchant, ”that this Gla.s.s of yours isn't all it's cracked up to be.” Their grips felt like they would crush Jack's bones.
”Turns out,” the silk merchant agreed, ”it's a fake.”
The old woman shook her head. ”And we did have a deal.”
Jack's chin was set and his eyes were flas.h.i.+ng like flint when he said, ”Let us try. Let us try to make it work.” Jill was standing in the doorway behind him, watching him, trembling.
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