CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

There was a moment of silence, then Trinket did what Jane had noticed she always did: she stared the problem right in the eyes. Wheeling the horse so that it stood sideways to this little Drizzle named Demurmur, Trinket raised herself up into full princess mode, tall with posture and arrogance. She towered over the little Drizzle, who drew back.

Speaking with command (and menace) Trinket said:

‘Do not throw mud at our Lord.’

Demurmur grunted and, ignoring the Princess, she stepped toward Jane’s horse. Tom was leaning out, watching Demurmur, his two buck teeth sitting on his bottom lip. His ears were red with the flush of the attention he was getting from these Drizzles.

Demurmur said, ‘Was it you my Lord?’

Tom said, ‘Because I don’t remember my past I have to ask: What exactly are you talking about?’

‘I think it was you that made people disappear. I mean, of course the crows were there when my sister disappeared. I blamed the crows like everyone else. But then I thought about things, and I asked questions, and it seems that the crows only came when you were in the machine.’

Tom smiled and a dimple popped out on his cheek.

‘I don’t remember.’

‘He doesn’t remember … you hairy pomble,’ said Trinket.

‘He didn’t send the crows,’ said another Drizzle,

Demurmur thrust her hands through the curtain of hair falling to the floor from her head. An accusing finger unrolled and pointed at Tom.

‘But now you are going back to the machine.’

‘I will not make people disappear.’ Tom had a shrill voice.

‘Enough’, said Trinket. She called out to the crowd. ‘Move aside, we are in a hurry.’

She dug her heels into the side of her horse, too aggressively, as though trying to inflict pain. The horse stepped sideways, heels clopping, then it leaned back, the muscles in its chest ballooning. The Drizzles parted, and Trinket’s horse surged through their midst.

Jane touched her heels against her horse’s belly, and her horse fell in behind the heels of Trinket’s horse.

Tom kept watching Demurmur, and as the horse moved away he turned his head and spoke the way a teacher might speak, with authority and instruction.

‘I will not make people disappear. I will not make Drizzles disappear.’

He smiled and Dimples pressed into his cheeks.

Demurmur bowed her head then turned so suddenly her hair whorled out, like an opening umbrella. She scurried back into the open door of the little hut she had emerged from a moment ago.

As the horses moved through the crowd the Drizzles reached up to touch Tom’s leg. Finally the horses and their riders had passed the hairy little folk and were moving along the road lined with the colourful rugs.

From the town the travellers continued into a blue walled cave where thousands of tiny glow worms cast a faint light. The air smelled faintly metallic.

The path struck up a steep staircase and dipped through an arch that had been lined with marble blocks. Here was a short corridor tiled with red and green stones, then a wide staircase of marble, with stone hand railings on either side. At the bottom of the stairs the carved hand railing continued through a bend.

Around the corner the riders came to an enormous chamber. This chamber was milky and bright. The floor of the chamber was strewn with boulders and stalactites and crystals, and along the side of the chamber was a building carved into the white stone. This was the Cave Spiders Inn. The Inn was three stories high with stained glass windows. Orange light flickered from within.

A cobblestone courtyard ran along the front of the Inn. Benches and chairs were arranged beneath green and white umbrellas that shaded the benches from the milky light.

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Dwarves and Thrips and Men and Drizzles sat around the benches with their voices loud. A shabby man with a pock marked face was showing off a knife to another man, who was nodding in agreement to whatever was being said about the knife. One fellow had two little horns protruding from a mop of wildly thick hair. This was a fawn, and under the bench his hairy legs and hooves were tapping a percussion against the cobblestones.

Plates of food and mugs of ale were scattered across the tables. Ragged bread and fried onions and stewed mushrooms and blackened tomatoes.

As the horses clip-clopped up to the courtyard the men and creatures fell silent. Several hands rested on the handles of various weapons, as though the patrons recognised that something substantial and dangerous was arriving. In this time of political uncertainty, hands were never far from weapons.

A tall thrip with ears like green spears, stood from the table where he sat with three other thrips. He adjusted his green tunic, pulling it down to remove the creases, and he put his chin up and cleared his throat.

‘Our Princess.’

He suddenly turned and pointed at the seated patrons. ‘Stand for our princess.’

Chairs scraped and the men and the Drizzles and the thrips all stood. The dwarves didn’t stand. They stayed seated, and smirked at one another.

’This is an honour,’ said the tall thrip. He dropped his chin into his chest. ‘What brings you into the catacombs?’

‘A great secret.’

‘Who are your companions?’

Trinket ignored this question. Instead she asked, ‘Is there a horse groom in this Inn?’

‘We don’t get a lot of horses,’ said one of the dwarves, a smirk in his tone, one of his eyes squinting.

The tall thrip turned his cat’s eyes and gave the dwarf a wild look. ‘I have had enough of you. You are as stupid as the rocks you dig.’

The dwarf stood so quickly his chair fell over. Although he was tiny, he took a chunky little step toward the tall thrip and raised a fat little fist.

‘For the love of Elion,’ said Trinket. ‘Sit down dwarf. I don’t need nonsense … I need a groom.’

Shrugging, the dwarf spat.

The tall thrip turned to a skinny thrip who wore square framed glasses that looked like windows.

‘Go get Gallor.’

‘Gallor isn’t a groom,’ said the squinting dwarf, who still stood.

’She knows horses,’ said the thrip with the glasses.

The thrip with the glasses went off into a dark doorway near the corner of the Inn.

While all this was going on Tom had been hiding behind Jane. He had his forehead against her back, between her shoulder blades, not showing his face. He was getting tired, and he didn’t want attention.

Trinket alighted from her horse and handed the reins to the tall thrip. She turned and spoke to Jane.

‘I have been thinking about our situation going forward. Because you have refused to remain here until Elion and I have completed our mission … and because you have decided to make it dangerous by putting two people on a horse … and because you have put your interests ahead of those of the people of Paris, we must come up with a plan for how we can get three people past the silent children with only two horses.’

Jane was just suspicious. She didn’t trust Trinket, especially with the oddly stiff manner that Trinket now spoke. Tom was also listening, and he looked concerned, and thoughtful, like he was calculating logistics. The dwarves were listening attentively, with sceptical lines across their foreheads. The standing dwarf put a hand in the air.

‘Whoa whoa whoa. What is this about Elion?’

’Shut your mouth half pike,’ said Trinket mildly. She spoke to Jane again, ‘I will ride ahead, and Elion will ride with me. You will ride behind, alone.’

Before Jane had a chance to answer the tall thrip said:

‘Elion is on the horse.’

The tall thrip stepped around and was staring up at Tom who still had his face against Jane’s shoulders. Tom slowly sat up straight and turned to the thrip.

‘Hello,’ said Tom.

Still holding the reins of Trinket’s horse, the thrip suddenly knelt and put his head down. The fawn with the little horns in his head did likewise. So did the men. Even the dwarves stood and dropped their heads in a sign of respect.

’Okay,’ said Tom, and he waved his hand to tell everyone to be at ease.

Trinket made an exasperated sound in her throat. Jane got a sense that she didn’t have as much respect for Tom (Elion) that everyone else did. Trinket said:

‘Thrip, have the groom rub the horses down and prepare them for a run past the silent children. I have some business to attend to.’

She turned on her heels and walked up to the Inn, disappearing through the front door.

The dwarf closest to Jane and Tom, raised his face and looked up at Jane, and said, ‘How much do you trust the Princess of the thrips?’

The fawn must have sensed that the dwarf was about to say something embarrassing, and spoke with a hiccup, staccato voice.

‘Leave the girl alone.’

The dwarf put his chubby hand up in the direction of the fawn, then pointed his fat little finger at Jane.

‘The Princess is trying to get you killed.’

‘How?’

The dwarf squinted his left eye, and suddenly there seemed to be treachery swirling in the air. He stepped close to where Jane’s leg dangled against the side of the horse. He put a hand around Jane’s ankle. He squeezed her ankle.

‘The silent children almost always kill the second horse.’