Poor World Page 3

  But I couldn’t. Even wall-tapping (I tried) didn’t raise an answer.

  Finally I heard the scrape of the key in the lock and the door opened. Light glowed in, and there stood the creep from the forest. He looked at me as if I’d turned into something small and squiggly that you find under a moldering stone, then, without deigning to speak, he reached down and grabbed my arm.

  I stomped with all my strength on his booted foot and wrenched free, then with rage-shaking hands did the wipe-and-stomp-the-cooties routine.

  And he reacted most satisfactorily — just like a villain is supposed to act! He frowned, anger flushing his handsome cheeks, and I grinned and ducked through the door just before he could grab at me again.

  I scooted down the short hall and reached the dark-haired man’s door. When I paused to yank it open, the creep behind gave me a vicious shove right between the shoulder blades. I stumbled, fell flat, jumped up and attacked! I got in one good scratch on his hand as he blocked a kick, then he swatted me with the other hand and I slammed into a wall hard enough to send sparkling lights across my vision.

  “All right. That’s enough.”

  The man behind the desk sounded slightly impatient — which was apparently enough to send Lord Featherbrain skedaddling.

  The door shut behind him.

  “Well?”

  I was fighting for breath — luckily I had too little in my stomach for barfing. But hunger, fear, aches all enabled me to resist the temptation to pull the usual CJ-Antagonizes-the Creep-In-Charge and snap back, “Well what?”

  Instead I said, “I have to find out more about what you’re doing here. But I don’t say no.” I loathed my cowardice in adding that — but even more I hated the idea of three people being put to death on my account. Somehow I just knew this guy wasn’t bluffing.

  “Very smart,” he said approvingly.

  “The girls — ”

  “They said their decision rested on yours.”

  “You mean, I could have said no for all of us — ”

  “And you didn’t know it at the time,” he finished. “Isn’t that part of leadership, deciding for others?”

  “Not blindly,” I managed to say.

  “You weren’t. Your first choice was admittedly limited, but if you’d rather be put to death while still ignorant, then we don’t have the time to spend on you.”

  “Oh.”

  “You may have the run of the compound tonight. Feel free to explore. Except do not attempt the walls.” His tone didn’t change, and I think it was the total lack of threat in his voice that made my stomach feel like it had dropped out onto the floor.

  “I won’t,” I said, and I added, hoping it would keep me from being followed, “and I never deliberately break promises.”

  “I know,” he said, showing just the faintest hint of approval — and reminding me that, even though they hadn’t managed to nose out my Earth-origins, they had apparently snouted out a wealth of other detail about my short life so far. “You’re free to go, if you like,” he added.

  What I really wanted was home — and something to eat — but getting away from him was a close enough second choice. Peeking out first to see if the featherheaded slugbrain was lurking around, I sidled out, glad to get away, even though the man really had seemed pleased. Somehow the idea of a villain being pleased with me was creepier than having one mad, even if it did seem to lessen the threat.

  Or did it?

  That’s it, I thought as I slipped out into the darkness, looking carefully in all directions. It didn’t lessen the threat.

  I didn’t stop to consider that — not that I’d have gotten very far, even if I’d been stuck back in that closet for another brace of hours. Instead, I made straight for the prison.

  The warm air smelled dry and dusty. Brilliantly clear starlight mixed its soft silver with the golden glow from the windows behind me as I trod across the street. The dirt beneath my feet was hard packed and still warm from what must have been a hot day.

  A few paces from the jail I slowed my steps, half-expecting some kind of nastiness on the part of the guards.

  Nothing.

  Ohhhh ... kay.

  My insides were broiling away as I opened the heavy iron-reinforced door and oozed inside — and I actually paused, half-expecting the lock to engage behind me.

  There were no windows anywhere except in the front two cells; the rest of the first floor seemed to be storage of some kind. A middle door led downward, beneath ground level — an honest-to-villains’-code dungeon. No glowglobes save one just above the front entrance gave any light. I stared down the steps to the dungeon, feeling the air turn cold and close, smelling of mold, and dust, and fear-sweat.

  I eased farther down the steps, then called, “Puddlenose? Christoph?”

  “CJ?” Puddlenose called — not sounding glad at all. “That you?” He spoke in Mearsiean.

  “Where are you?” I called, pretending I hadn’t heard the ‘oh, no’ in his voice.

  Just keep comin’.” That was Christoph. “We’ll tell you when to stop.”

  I was already out of the faint pool of light cast by that glowglobe behind me up the stairs. I inched forward what seemed forever until Christoph said, “Stop! This way — feel the door?”

  “Iron bars?”

  “That’s it. Welcome to our happy home.”

  I heard the shift of cloth behind me, and elsewhere the deep, harsh breathing of unhappy sleep. There were others in the prison, though as yet I’d heard no voices.

  “Can ya pick the lock in the dark?” Puddlenose asked.

  I felt the door, and found the lock mechanism, which was the old type that had been used by the Chwahir for centuries. Diana, whose past was unknown to us girls, had taught us all a lot about locks — and picking them. “Sure,” I said, wondering what horrible surprise lay ahead — because if I could pick the lock (and I did) then they ought to have been able to pick it and escape ages ago.

  The door swung open, and Puddlenose said quickly, “Don’t touch us. There’s some kind of ward on us.”

  “Ugh. On everybody?”

  “No. Just on us,” Puddlenose said dolefully. “He’s got an extra grudge going against me.”

  “Why? Because you’re a stupid?”

  “Because I know him for a Chwahir.”

  “That’s his accent!” I snapped my fingers. “Ugh! Go on.”

  “I’m sure I’ve seen him before, back when Uncle Doumei first turned me over to Shnit to use against Clair’s mother. He didn’t recognize me because I was a little kid.”

  “It’s not that,” Christoph cut in.

  “No,” Puddlenose said. “I’m telling it badly. He knows I hate Shnit too, y’see, and so he really expected me to throw in with his plans, and, well, I didn’t.”

  “What plans?”

  “To take over the world.”

  My wits leaked right out of my head and scampered away into the darkness, leaving the slowest ones. “Hoo. So it’s like that. He have a chance?”

  “Yep.”

  “Mmm-mmm.”

  That explanatory comment was from the tall figure in the corner of the cell, just barely visible as an outline against the paler stone wall, who until then hadn’t spoken.

  By then I could just make out the others’ silhouettes, and details: Christoph’s blond head (hair shaggy and overlong); Puddlenose’s white shirt (tattered); and Rel’s looming shape, there in the corner.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  “Well, we’d met up by accident and decided to travel together. So we were funking along down south — or is it north of here? West? Anyhoo, we’d just come out of a strange country none of us had ever seen before. Weird lingo — sounded backwards, kinda.” Puddlenose was obviously trying to be cheery. “Anyhow, this gang appears in the road before us and tries to put the grab on us. Rel took out half of ’em and Christoph and I did our best with one or two of the others before they got the drop on us.”

>   “Like it was a test,” Christoph added.

  “Was.” The single word was from Rel.

  “Think so?” Puddlenose said, almost absently, and I knew whatever they talked about in this miserable place, it wasn’t the circumstances that had led to their being imprisoned. “You’re probably right. Anyway, despite my head feeling like melted rock and my vision being flooey we certainly got the welcome treatment, especially me and Rel. He — ”

  “What is his name, anyway?”

  “That’s what I can’t remember! I know I saw him back in the bad old days with Uncle Doumei — before Shnit had him murdered — but I was such a little kid — not that he was that much older, then. He was probably my age. Anyway, back to our being grabbed and hauled here. We were only there long enough for us to hear his plan an’ give him some lip. “

  “He doesn’t tell anyone his name until they join,” Christoph said. “Guess he doesn’t want it sullied by the lips of stupids. No one down here knows it — and none of the ones who’ve died knew it either.”

  “Died,” I whispered, my guts tightening.

  “Haven’t been many,” Christoph murmured softly. He added, “Apparently he’s picky about who he takes on, and most of the people apparently join with enthusiasm.”

  “Anyway,” Puddlenose said, his voice low, “he started talking about you, CJ, and how you were Shnit’s enemy, and how you’d enjoy ruling MH once all the rulers were disposed of — ”

  “What?” I nearly choked on the word.

  “Oh, yes. You get to off Clair. No more hereditary rulers, no more aristocracy and rot — all leadership by merit, with him on top. Of course.”

  “And you think this insanitic has a chance?”

  “Knows what he’s doing on the war part, anyway,” Rel said, his voice a low rumble.

  I felt like saying snidely, And you’re such an expert on world-conquering along with everything else you’re brilliant at? but I managed not to. After all, they were stuck down in the darkness and I wasn’t. (And besides, that blasted Rel probably did know. He certainly showed me up in everything else!)

  “Well, one thing for sure, we gotta get outa here,” I said, and I wondered if they knew their lives had been set against my agreement. With Rel there, I was too embarrassed to discuss it. We’d once been on opposite sides, and though everything had long since been straightened out — and I’d even helped him cut free of a bad situation — I just couldn’t give up that grudge.

  I said, “I guess I’d better take off before they decide I want to move in. I’ll see if I can get back — and maybe bring you some new clothes and some scissors while I’m at it. If you look this bad in the dark, I don’t want to think about your beauty in daylight.”

  Puddlenose snorted. He did look silly, with his thick brown hair birdnesting out, and Christoph wasn’t much better, but good old Rel managed to look like some of tapestry of a young pirate king. I thought about what I would look like after a couple months in a dark cell, and once again I managed to get that gut boil of jealousy because I sure wouldn’t look like any pirate king. Not Rel’s fault. I know. But if I’m going to write these records I have to put in my stupid parts as well as everyone else’s.

  At least the anger at least got me back up the stairs and out the door, to face whatever nastarooni was going to pounce on me next.

  Three

  I recrossed the street, sneaking a quick peek at the bright-lit office window. I could see the desk, but the man was gone.

  I hustled inside, and made straight for the parlor where I’d last seen the girls. They were still there.

  Sherry had stretched out on three chairs and was asleep, and Diana had the other chairs. The rest sat in a circle on the floor.

  A glowglobe, fastened above the door, lit this room as well. When I stepped in the girls all looked up, their faces pale and strained, their expressions ranging from wary to scared, then came the relief when it was just me. I sensed that the magic over the room was now gone.

  “CJ! What’s going on?” Gwen cried.

  “I’ve got the run of the place — ” I began.

  Irene pointed to her nose, then cupped her ear and motioned with her other hand toward the door.

  “He’s gone,” I said. “I don’t think he wants to bother listening to us. Maybe it’s a test, or maybe he’s just waiting for us to decide to join up. Me. Waiting for me to decide. He didn’t tell me, but I was deciding for all of us. Isn’t that nasty?”

  Seshe closed her eyes in relief. “You will do the right thing.”

  Like what? I wailed inside, but there was no time for a good whine. “What happened here?” I asked forebodingly.

  “That guy who looks a little like Shnit said ‘will we stay’ — ” Irene began.

  “Shnit,” I breathed, and the resemblance — the distinctive shape of the eyes — was suddenly there. I’d thought that maybe the man was a flunky who’d escaped the Chwahir (who would blame them?) but no, this splatoon was one of them, the Sonscarnas, who ruled Chwahirsland.

  Irene went on. “He told us not to move, and left.”

  Seshe murmured, “We voted not to test that, in case it would put you into danger.”

  “Just as well,” I said. “The problem isn’t me, but two big hulks right across the street, toting crossbows, and who knows what kind of orders they’ve got?”

  “They don’t feel like making a run anyway,” Dhana put in, indicating Sherry and Diana. “One of those slobs hit Diana pretty hard.”

  I sucked in a breath, trying — without success — to think about six totally unrelated things at once. “Shnit.” Of course his name would surface first, like a long-dead fish. “He does look like Shnit. The one living Sonscarna prince. I’ll just bet.”

  “His eyes don’t bug out like the Bearded Blunder’s do,” Dhana said, holding her nose and waving.

  “Same shape, though,” Gwen observed. “So he’s really a Chwahir? This place sure doesn’t feel like Chwahirsland.”

  “Puddlenose says he remembers him — ”

  “Puddlenose?” Irene exclaimed, her hand to her brow. “Are they here?”

  “In the klink,” I said, and I motioned the girls to make the circle tighter. Then, in a low voice, I explained quickly what I’d heard and seen. “So until we can figure out how to escape, I think we’d better just go along,” I finished. “He said there are other kids here. If they aren’t creeps — ”

  “How can they not be?” Irene said sourly.

  “Maybe he thinks he’s a good guy for getting rid of villains like Shnit,” Seshe said. “There are plenty of bad rulers around — we all have seen some. Not everybody’s going to feel about their government like we do about Clair.”

  “But taking over the world?” Irene rolled her eyes.

  “Sounds crazy, that’s what it sounds.” That was Diana, awake, though still lying stretched out on the chairs.

  “Either that or he’s the world’s biggest busybody,” Irene said, sniffing.

  I was twisting my ring on my finger. Again, a really intense longing to pull it off and throw it down nearly overwhelmed me. After all, wasn’t this an emergency? And hadn’t Clair set that spell up for emergencies?

  Except if she did get trapped here as well — and I remembered that business about magic wards — then that would leave Mearsies Heili completely open for any passing insanitics to move in and set up housekeeping.

  I looked up. The girls were waiting. “We have to solve this mess ourselves. Somehow,” I said. “And get the itchfeet out as well. Ugh! It’s hard to think! Despite everything, I’m starving.”

  They looked surprised. “Really? They did give us a dinner, right at sundown.”

  I looked around quickly, hoping for leftovers, but Gwen said, “Gone. Trays appeared suddenly, transferred from some kitchen is my guess, and as soon as we set them aside, they disappeared again.”

  More evidence of very complicated magic.

  I groaned, and my stomach growled. “Wel
l, he did say I could wander around, so I think I will. Look for info — and grub. And not necessarily in that order. I’ll be back quick’s I can.”

  I left, hearing them settling back into the circle to play a game.

  As soon as I stepped into the hall, I felt the illusion of normalcy — of safety — fall away. I was tempted to stay with the girls and while away the time with one of Faline’s silly word games. Danger never seems quite as bad if you’re able to laugh. But I remembered that business about everyone’s lives depending on my word, and I turned away.

  A quick look, I told myself. Some food, some conversation if I could find a kid or two, and I’d go back and give the girls a report, then we could all decide together what to do next.

  Outside, the air was dry and clear and a cold wind swept out of somewhere. The stars were even more brilliant, in familiar patterns, but cockeyed, not quite the same as Mearsies Heili’s sky at this time of year.

  I walked quickly down the street. The ground was hard-packed dirt. Everything was tidy, plain, laid out in measured lines. I remembered what it reminded me of: Earth. A military compound on Earth — everything completely plain, utilitarian. No special-looking building for the commanders, unlike in a castle — also no real defense stuff, except for the high wall round the perimeter. To keep away prying eyes? The man didn’t seem to expect to be attacked. There were no guards on the wall at all, only those two before the prison.

  Either confidence or really, really strong magic, I thought, turning a corner. Barracks buildings were laid out in neat rows. Most were dark. Full of sleepers, or empty and awaiting new world conquerors? Just how far along was this plan? Puddlenose and the others had been in that jail for months.

  Here and there plainly dressed people walked about, looking purposeful. One or two of these adults glanced my way but they did not speak, and I was reluctant to stop adults and talk to them.

  I found a building with tables inside. The lingering aromas of food drew me to the windows. Empty. They probably had regular meal times — and I’d missed dinner while I was locked in the storage room.

  Ahead seemed to be more barracks. I cut my journey short and headed up parallel to the street on which was the jail and the Sonscarna insanitic’s building.