In a Glass Grimmly (13 page)

Meanwhile, the hall exploded with sound. Goblins screamed and shouted at Jack. “She’s ours!” “Leave her alone!” “No humans allowed!”

“Bring forth the casket!” the goblin guards yelled, and four other guards came forward with the great iron casket, suspended between two long poles. Again, they explained the task. “In this casket,” announced the four guards in unison, “are two slips of parchment. One says ‘Death!’ The other says ‘The Lady!’ If you choose ‘Death!’, you will be killed right here on the spot! If you choose ‘The Lady!’, you will become her husband for all the rest of your days, and you and she will spend countless hours together alone, engaging in whatever pursuits give her pleasure. Do you understand?”

Jack gave a curt nod.

Jill strained against the bonds on her wrists and ankles.
No, Jack . . . No . . .

Jack was blindfolded. Two soldiers pointed their spears into Jack’s back.

The casket was brought directly before him.

Its lid was drawn back with a slow creak.

Jill watched, no longer breathing, as Jack’s hand moved toward the casket’s iron darkness.

“Wait.”

It was Jack’s voice.

“Wait,” he said again. “Do you swear, on the honor of your kingdom and your queen, that this is a fair test?”

There was a pause. The great hall was deathly silent. Then one of the goblin guards, the one with the rich voice and the careworn face and the deep, old eyes, said, “It is a fair test.”

“On the honor of your kingdom and your queen?” Jack pressed him.

There was another pause. Finally, Jack heard, “On the honor of the kingdom and the queen!”

Jack nodded. He slipped his hand into the chest and withdrew a piece of paper.

Jill had not drawn a breath for a good minute now. Her head felt light. She could not feel her hands or her feet.

Jack put the piece of paper in his mouth and began chewing.

For an instant, Jill had no idea what was going on.

Then the hall erupted.

“What happened?”

“What’d he do?”

“Stop him!”

These cries and more exploded from the goblin men. They clambered upon one another and pointed and howled.

Jack finished chewing the paper. He stood up and removed the blindfold.

“Well?” he said, swallowing the last pulpy pieces. “Which one did I choose?”

The goblin guards stared at him, gaping. The frog stood up in Jack’s pocket and shouted, “How do we know? You ate it, you idiot!”

“Well,” Jack replied, making his voice loud enough that everyone in the hall could hear it, “why don’t you check what’s in the casket now? If the remaining piece of parchment says ‘The Lady!’, then clearly I chose ‘Death!’. If, on the other hand, the remaining piece says “Death!”, I must have chosen ‘The Lady!’”

There was another moment of silence in the hall, and then, from within her gag, Jill began to laugh.

She couldn’t help it. She laughed and laughed and kept laughing.

The goblin with the deep eyes and the careworn face was saying, “You see . . . well . . . it’s not strictly . . .”

But the other goblins clamored, “He’s right!” “It’s common sense!” “What’s the other piece of paper say?”

The goblin with the deep eyes glanced worriedly out at them, and then cast a dark look at Jack. He walked up, reached into the casket, and held the paper aloft. He closed his eyes as if he were very angry with himself and said quietly, “It reads, ‘Death!’”

A roar went up from the goblins in the hall. They shouted angry imprecations at Jack, cursed their own luck for arriving too late, damned the goblin with the deep voice for allowing a human to take their queen. They were so angry you could have colored each goblin’s face with that green that the crayon company makes, and you would have gotten it just about right.

Jack sprung up onto the throne and removed Jill’s gag from her mouth. She was grinning. “You crazy fool,” she said. He ripped the silken cords from her ankles and wrists, and she threw herself into his arms.

And then they turned around. Twenty goblins guards with glistering spears were arrayed in a circle around them. In the center stood the goblin with the careworn face, the rich voice, and the deep, old eyes. He did not look happy.

CHAPTER NINE

The Descent

O
nce upon a time, a boy named Jack and a girl named Jill landed roughly on the stone floor of a small room.

Goblin guards swarmed into the room behind them, followed by the goblin with the old eyes. He walked slowly. It looked as if he always walked that way, as if there were nothing in the world that could make him hurry, nothing in the world that worried him, nothing in the world that those old eyes had not seen.

“Clever.” His rich voice reverberated through the small room. “I was outwitted. Begehren is not often outwitted.”

Jack and Jill pulled themselves to their knees. Jill squinted balefully up at the goblin.

His uniform was the same as any of the goblin guards’. But the age and wisdom in his face made him look as much like the other guards as a swan does a duck.

“Nor do I enjoy it,” he added. “So tell me, and tell me swiftly: What is it you want?”

Jill pulled herself to her feet. “We want the Seeing Glass,” she said.

The goblin Begehren started as if he’d been hit in the gut. He said, “The what . . . ?”

“The Seeing Glass.”

Around the walls of the room, the goblin guards began muttering to one another. Begehren rubbed his hands together.He muttered, “You do, do you? The Seeing Glass . . .”

“Do you know where it is?” Jack demanded.

Jill said, “Of course he does . . . just look at him.”

Begehren stared into the middle distance. Then, quite suddenly, he roused himself. “What? Oh, yes. The Seeing Glass. I know where it is. But no one has sought the Glass for a thousand years.” His deep eyes scoured their faces. “How do you know of it?”

Jack hesitated. But Jill said, “We swore we’d find it. We swore on our very lives.”

The goblin smiled. “Ah. But to whom did you swear?”

“An old lady,” said Jill.

“A crazy old lady,” added Jack.

Begehren’s eyes narrowed. “She didn’t happen to have pale blue eyes and a face eerily like a babe’s, did she?”

Jack and Jill nodded warily.

“Ah.” Begehren smiled. “The Others have come to your kingdom. Too bad for you. And how,” he asked, “are you supposed to carry the Glass back to this ‘crazy old lady’?”

“What do you mean,” said Jack. “Is it . . . very heavy or something?”

“Is it heavy?!” The goblin laughed. “It is the greatest treasure horde in the history of the world!”

Both children now started as if
they
had been hit in the gut.

The goblin’s eyes glazed over as he spoke: “It is a treasure so great a king could trade his kingdom for it and be counted a wise man. The ancient writings say that the sun becomes dim when the shining face of its riches is revealed to the sky. Pilgrims would travel the world over just to look at it. It was the pride, the guide, the purpose of the Goblin Kingdom.

“You see, the golden age of the Goblin Kingdom lasted a thousand years,” Begehren went on, and his voice was deep and rich as polished wood. “We were ruled by wise, errorless sages. And they made every decision by consulting the Seeing Glass.”

Jack was about ask,
How do you consult a treasure?
, but Jill hushed him.

“They consulted the Seeing Glass, and, as wise as it was valuable, it always told them the truth. It was, as I said, a golden age. But alas,” the goblin continued, “we live now in an age of error; we see, not with the Glass, but dimly. For there came a day, one horrible, dark day, when something evil erupted from the belly of the earth. It was massive and vicious—a beast unlike anything ever seen before. It sought to lay waste to our kingdom. We arrayed our vast armies against it and gave our lives to defend the kingdom—and our Glass.

“The tales that survive from those days of war, when the fate of the goblin people was in flux, are our greatest epics, and our greatest tragedies. For in the end, though our soldiers fought to the very death, they were no match for the beast from the center of the earth. For the Eidechse von Feuer, der Menschenfleischfressende.”

“The what?” said Jack.

“The Eidechse von Feuer, der Menschenfleischfressende,” the goblin repeated.

You want to say that word, don’t you? How could you not? I mean, come on. It’s like thirteen syllables.

Here’s how:

I-DECK-SUH VON FOY-ER, DARE MEN-SHEN FLYSH-FRESS-ENDUH.

See? That wasn’t so bad.

Now, I expect you to say it every time I write it, because it takes a minute and a half to type it out, and if I’m going to all that trouble, you’d better, too.

“What’s does it mean?” asked Jack.

“Well,” replied Begehren, “it’s the beast’s name. But, roughly translated, Eidechse von Feuer, der Menschenfleischfressende means something like, ‘Lizard-that-is-made-of-fire-and-eats-human-flesh.’”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Of course.”

“The Eidechse von Feuer, der Menschenfleischfressende was invincible. Made of bone and fire, he never once, in all the great battles the goblins waged against him, was so much as injured.” Begehren’s deep eyes seemed to cloud over with memories, as if he had himself seen that horrible war, a thousand years ago. Perhaps he had. “He kills reflexively, as if he were born to. Were he even to breathe in your direction, you would be burned to a cinder. He is as cruel and perfect a killing machine as has ever lived.

“Eidechse von Feuer, der Menschenfleischfressende took the Seeing Glass from us, and withdrew with it to his lair in the belly of the earth. Our kings were dead. Our heroes defeated. Now it is left to me, inadequate as I am, to care for the kingdom until the Glass is recovered, and our sage-kings and heroes return.”

Jack and Jill felt almost sorry for him.

Begehren was staring at them. With his goblin-green fingers, he played thoughtfully with a single long hair that grew from the end of his chin.

“But you,” he said, “you two are sworn to get the Seeing Glass.”

Jack and Jill hesitated.

“On your lives, you said.”

The frog began to quiver.

“Well,” Begehren announced, suddenly grinning, “what are you waiting for?”

They traveled in something like a carriage. It was golden and royal and very luxurious. But, like all very luxurious things, it had much in common with a cage. Jill stared through silver bars at the dark, winding alleyways of the Goblin Kingdom. Cobblestone streets twisted out of sight, and buildings of four stories hung out over the little alleys crazily.

Jack said, “I don’t get it. Is it a treasure or a mirror?”

Jill shrugged. “Maybe it’s both.”

“What does that mean? It’s a giant mirror of gold or something?”

Jill shrugged again.

“What does it matter?” the frog moaned. “We’re going to be murdered by this I-deck-suh-whatever as soon as we get down there anyway.”

“That’s true,” said Jill.

Jack was watching the Goblin Kingdom go by. “You know that deal we made with the old lady?” he said at last. “I don’t think it was a good one.”

In the center of the Goblin Kingdom was a great sinkhole. It was protected by a thick iron fence. Forged into the iron were intricate images of a terrible beast blowing fire and destroying a kingdom and devouring goblins. All around the iron fence, staring darkly at Jack and Jill, were dozens and dozens of soldiers.

Begehren stood before a heavily padlocked gate. He followed the children with his deep, old, black eyes. “Give them weapons!” he called. Two goblin guards stepped forward and handed Jack and Jill spears.

“Thanks,” said the frog. “Those’ll do a lot of good.”

Begehren moved to the iron gate and unlocked it with a twisted, ancient key. A soldier led Jack and Jill to the edge of the sinkhole. Heat radiated up from it. Next to the sinkhole there stood a giant bucket, attached to a long rope. Jack and Jill were told to get into the bucket. Once they had, four goblin guards lifted the bucket and held it, and the children, too, out over the darkness.

Begehren said to Jack and Jill, “Are you ready?”

Jill was about to shake her head.

Jack was about to ask, “How far down is it?”

The frog was about to scream at the top of his lungs.

But suddenly, their stomachs jolted into their throats and tried to squeeze out of their mouths. Jill’s hair was standing straight up on her head. The frog was upside down in the air, gripping Jack’s shirt with his froggy hands. They were falling.

They fell and fell and fell and kept falling.

And then, suddenly, the bucket stopped in midair, and the frog plunged back into Jack’s pocket and the two children slammed into the bottom of the bucket.

They shook themselves. They raised themselves to their feet in the great bucket. Jack said, “Frog, did you just throw up in my pocket?”

The frog poked his head up woozily. “Can I go in Jill’s pocket now?” he moaned. “This one smells.”

“Absolutely not,” said Jill.

They hung in near-blackness. The only light was the glow from the fires in the Goblin Kingdom way up above their heads, and an eerie phosphorescence on the rocks all around them. The long rope swung slightly back and forth, back and forth, creaking. Jack peered over the edge of the bucket. There was no sign of a bottom to the sinkhole.

Again, the bucket began to descend. But slowly.

And then, they heard a voice. “How will they get the treasure back up?”

Jill looked all around her. Jack gripped the edge of the bucket.

“Who said that?” the frog whispered.

“They’ll just hoist it up, piece by piece,” said another voice. It sounded like Begehren. But they could hear it as if he were right next to them.

“But if the treasure’s anything like what the legends say, that could take a lifetime!” Jack and Jill stared at the glowing walls, passing slowly by. The voices seemed to be ringing through the stone.

“If it takes a lifetime, it takes a lifetime. What’s another eighty years,” said Begehren, “after the thousand we have waited?”

Jack and Jill looked at each other, their eyes wide.

“But they won’t get it, right?” asked the voice. “They’ll be killed.”

“One way or another,” Begehren replied. “Almost certainly by the Eidechse von Feuer, die Meschenfleischfressende. And if not, once they hand over the Glass, we won’t need them anymore. So I’ll kill them myself.”

Jack went pale.

“I like him less and less,” whispered Jill.

The frog began to weep.

The bucket descended farther and farther into the impenetrable gloom, and beads of sweat began to stand out on Jack’s and Jill’s foreheads, faces, necks, arms. Farther, farther, farther. With every few yards the children descended, the heat climbed another degree. The air was so thick they could barely breathe. It was as if they were being lowered into a forge, as if the children were metal, and they would melt and re-form themselves in the heat of the sinkhole. At least, those were the strange thoughts that passed through Jack’s head as he gasped for breath. Jill was so hot she could not think of anything at all. And the frog was still weeping.

At last, the bucket landed with a bump on a craggy outcropping of stone. The children crawled out. There was no relief from the heat. The spears, which had been jarred from their hands when the bucket stopped suddenly in midair, lay on the black rock. One was shattered to pieces.

“Great,” said Jack.

“Oh, because it would have helped,” said the frog.

Jill said, “Where do we go now?”

There was a small, dark tunnel that led away from the outcropping where they had landed. Jack pointed to it. Jill scanned the rest of the walls for any other passageways or doors. There were none. “Okay,” she said.

“Yeah,” said the frog. “Fantastic.”

So Jack scooped up the remaining spear, took Jill’s hand, and they walked into the dark, narrow, oppressively hot tunnel. Here, too, the rock glowed with that eerie phosphorescence. All it allowed the children to see, though, was that the tunnel was dark and rocky and descended gradually toward the center of the earth.

The children walked in silence, thinking about what Begehren had told them of the beast.
He kills reflexively, as if he were born to. Were he even to breathe in your direction, you would be burned to a cinder. He is as cruel and perfect a killing machine as has ever lived.
And they thought of all that they had heard of the Glass.
It is a treasure horde so great a king could trade his kingdom for it and be counted a wise man . . . The greatest power, it is said, resides in that Glass . . . If you can’t find it, you die.

Deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper into the darkness. The children stopped and tried to catch their breath. Even walking in this heat was a trial. Deeper and deeper. Hotter and hotter.

“I may be turning into a casserole,” the frog muttered.

Deeper.

Hotter.

Deeper.

Sweat poured off the children’s faces. They could barely breathe for the heat.

The frog was now praying.

The dark tunnel continued down, down, down. The heat wrapped them in a bear hug and squeezed their lungs. But the heat was not the only thing that intensified. It began with Jill sniffing and wrinkling her nose. Then Jack said, “What
is
that?” Soon, the children—and the frog—were covering their noses and mouths, trying not to breathe because of the horrible, putrefying stench. It was as if flesh were rotting, had been rotting, for a thousand years. Jack bent over, put his hand on the pockmarked black wall, and tried not to be sick. He gagged and held his throat. At last, he straightened up, and the children staggered on.