The Elfin Ship (36 page)

He found Ahab trotting down a little grass trail toward the river following a fat raccoon. Jonathan whistled, and Ahab stopped and watched as the raccoon disappeared around a bend. Then he turned and wandered back.

‘What ho, Jonathan,’ came the Professor’s voice from the creek bank on the other side of the brush.

‘There’s a trail here,’ Jonathan replied in hushed tones. ‘Goes toward the river. No one but a raccoon on it.’

A snapping of twigs and parting of bushes indicated that Escargot had pushed his way through to the trail. After him came the Professor and Dooly, hunching along through and pushing branches out of the way. They set off down the trail single file, sort of tiptoeing along stealthily until they sighted the river road ahead of them, winding along beside the banks of the Oriel. Dooly pulled himself up into the lower branches of an oak and managed to clamber high enough up to command a good view of the road and the surrounding woods. The other three hunkered down behind a tangle of brush and waited for Dooly to make a report. The brush seemed to be uncommonly full of spiders to Jonathan, and was still wet with morning dew. They waited five minutes as Dooly edged out onto a limb.

‘What do you see?’ Jonathan called, finally, becoming annoyed with the bugs.

‘A house,’ replied Dooly in a loud whisper. ‘A big old house, Mr Cheeser, and a cart in front. Windows on the ground floor are all boarded up, but it looks like someone’s living there anyway.’

‘How do you know, lad?’ asked Escargot.

‘Because there’s a guy hanging out wash,’ said Dooly. ‘Only it looks as if he’s worn hats all week. That’s all he’s got hanging.’

‘Hats?’ said Jonathan, thinking that somehow the idea of someone having to do with hats around Hightower wasn’t altogether new to him.

‘Gosset!’ said the Professor. ‘Remember that man at the pub, Jonathan, on the way down.’

‘Lonny Gosset,’ said Jonathan. ‘He was at that. Strange he’d be making hats with no one about to wear them. And why in the world would he be hanging them out on the clothesline?’

‘Likely just dyed the lot,’ Escargot suggested. ‘So you know this chap?’

‘I believe we do,’ said Jonathan. ‘And we may be able to count on him. I’ll just climb up into the tree and take a quick peek.’

There, sure enough, hanging hats on a clothesline in a weedy yard hidden from the river by scrub oak and lemon-leaf, was Lonny Gosset the milliner. His hair was considerably wilder than Jonathan remembered, and as he pinned caps and hats to the drooping line he looked furtively over his shoulder every few moments. Dooly and Jonathan watched as an opossum with an amazingly long nose chased into the yard out of the woods. Gosset jumped, flinging an oddly shaped cap – a nightcap, probably – into the air, and dashing across the yard toward the house. The opossum, scouring along on ridiculous little legs, headed him off, dashing between Gosset and the stick that lay against the front stoop and which Gosset seemed intent upon. Gosset stopped and eyeballed the opossum warily as it too stopped and scratched at its nose with one, fingered paw. It was a momentary standoff until, something came hopping from the edge of the woods, something that appeared to be an immense toad. The thing appeared to be too much for Gosset, who edged away toward the door, watching both creatures warily. Suddenly a cackle of laughter, goblin laughter, sounded from the trees beyond the clothesline, and Gosset broke and ran toward the house, slamming the door behind him. The opossum and the toad wandered off and disappeared. As they did, three goblins capered out of the forest, howling and laughing and plucking caps from the clothesline and stuffing them in a sack. Jonathan could see Gosset in the upstairs window, watching as the goblins stole his hats, then pulled down the clothesline and deliberately knotted up the thing, thereafter dropping it down the well. They never stopped hooting and cackling as they went about their mischief, and they fought over who was going to throw the rope into the well, pushing one another down and jabbing one another in the eye. Finally they leaped away into the woods, each wearing one of Gosset’s hats and jabbering like fools.

Jonathan and Dooly climbed down out of the trees, and Jonathan told the story to Escargot and the Professor. Upon mentioning the opossum, Dooly put in that it was one of them animals which carried its babies around in a spoon. Jonathan remembered seeing in an encyclopedia a picture of three baby opossums on a spoon, but the Professor clearly didn’t for he gave Dooly a fairly puzzled look.

‘Poor bloke’s daft,’ said Escargot. ‘Goes crazy when he sees a ‘possum and a toad. Maybe
you
can count on him, but he don’t seem like any sort of prize to me.’

‘We have a chance,’ said Jonathan. ‘It’s clear he’s not in league with the Dwarf.’

‘Absolutely,’ said the Professor. ‘And Gosset was a good lad. We can’t abandon him.’

‘I want one of them orange hats,’ said Dooly.

‘Then you shall have one, lad,’ agreed Escargot. ‘Although it strikes me that this is uncommon crazy, hat or no hats.’ And with that, the four of them set out through the woods toward Gosset’s house.

When they got there a few minutes later, Gosset was bent over the well trying to fish out the lost line. He had one foot planted in the thick, green lawn and the other waving about in the air; his head and shoulders and right arm were thrust down the well.

Very wisely, none of the rafters spoke until Gosset had fished out the rope and there was no danger of frightening him into the abyss which, given his surprise at hearing the Professor’s voice, would surely have occurred.
‘Aaah!’
shouted Gosset, wheeling about and staggering back a step. He held the end of the line in his hand as if it were a weapon and menaced them with it, his teeth chattering like crazy. What he intended to do with the rope was unclear – likely it was the only thing at hand.

‘Mr Gosset, I believe,’ said the Professor, extending a hand. ‘Perhaps you don’t recall having met us.’

Gosset edged around the perimeter of the well and peered at them from the other side. He seemed to be thinking hard, as if wondering whether they were a pack of fresh devils from the woods or were, as they appeared to be, human beings. ‘You know me?’ he croaked.

‘We met at the pub,’ said the Professor. Only a couple of weeks back.’

‘Long weeks,’ said Gosset.

‘They have been that,’ said Jonathan. ‘You said you were a milliner, I believe. And from the look of those caps on the line, you still are.’

Gosset tossed his rope to the ground, seemingly convinced that there was nothing threatening about the rafters. Escargot didn’t make a sound.

‘Bloody hats,’ he said, then paused. ‘Won’t let a man alone.’

‘Hats?’ asked Dooly, astonished at this new fear.

‘Goblins!’ shouted Gosset. ‘They’re a filthy curse. Broke out my windows. Shoved toads into the living room. Howled down the chimney all night. A man can’t sleep with that. They run off my rabbits and poured slime in the well. Now I have to haul water up from the river.’ The three rafters shook their heads and clacked their tongues over it.

‘Foul creatures,’ said the Professor.

‘They are that!’ Gosset shouted a bit loudly. ‘Huh!’ he said, capping it off. ‘But not half so foul as – ‘ he began, then broke off, looking about him as if suspecting the very trees in the forest of listening in. Then he looked shrewdly at Jonathan and the Professor and Dooly, assuring himself, probably, that none of the three were disguised dwarfs. He shrugged and began to coil his rope.

‘As who?’ the Professor asked, and they watched as Gosset’s face grew red as a beet. It looked as if the top of his head were going to turn into a little volcano and he were going to start spouting steam.

‘As Selznak the Dwarf?’ asked Jonathan.

Gosset seemed to be stricken by the very mention of the name. He began dancing about and flailing away with the coiled rope at the sides of the well. He lurched across and stomped on a soiled cap that lay on the lawn, dropped by the goblins. The rafters watched in amazement until Gosset’s furious capering played itself out. Finally spent, he wandered in a small circle in the middle of the yard, seeming to have lost his bearings. Jonathan and the Professor latched onto him and led him along toward the house, neither of them wanting to say much lest they set him going afresh. The door shut behind them as Escargot followed them in.

The downstairs was a ruin of broken glass. One great chair was slashed to bits, and huge wads of stuffing were stuck to what had been a very noble marble bust atop a stand in one corner. The thing wore an impossible beard of cotton wad and had another pile of the stuff atop his head. Under any other circumstances it would have been funny. A small deal table was jammed into the fireplace and had been set afire several times but had smoldered out. Leaves and brush and a piece of tree stump lay heaped about amid the upset furniture.

Gosset, recovering, waved a hand at the mess. ‘Three nights ago they came,’ he said tiredly. ‘Twenty or thirty there were. Set the place to ruin. I bolted myself in upstairs. What could I do against so many?’

‘Nothing at all,’ said Escargot unwisely.

Gosset paused for a moment in wide-eyed horror before asking in a hoarse whisper, ‘Who said that?’

The Professor decided to be truthful. Our friend here, ’he said, gesturing toward the seemingly empty space beside him.

Not waiting for any further explanation, Gosset shoved past Jonathan and ran howling up the stairs in a single mad rush. Jonathan looked at the Professor and shrugged. ‘That was an ill-chosen moment to speak,’ he said to Escargot.

‘True,’ said Escargot. ‘It was stupid of me. I forgot about this bloody cloak. We better go after him.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Jonathan. ‘If we all go he’ll likely run amok.’

At the top of the stairs a hallway wandered away toward either end of the house. Goblins had quite apparently had as high a time upstairs as they had below, for scattered about the landing and down the hallway were odd pieces of clothing and the tattered remains of lace curtains. Two of the legs had been kicked out from under a carved sideboard, and it lay on its face in the disarray. Fish skeletons were tossed helter-skelter.

Some six doors opened onto the hallway. Two were ajar, but the other four were shut. There was nothing to be done other than to try the doors and seek out Gosset.

‘Mr Gosset?’ said Jonathan tentatively. ‘Oh, Mr Gosset?’ There was no reply.

Jonathan tried the first of the closed doors and found it unlocked. He swung it open and peered into the room. It was empty. The second door was locked, but appeared to be nothing more than the door to a linen cupboard or coat closet. He wiggled the knob on the third door. Like the first, it turned and the door swung in on its hinges. ‘Mr Gosset?’ said Jonathan, peeping into the dim interior through a foot-wide opening. ‘We’re friends, sir. We’re here to drive this Dwarf away. Rid the woods of goblins.’

There was no response from within the room. Jonathan poked his head in just a bit – just to the point where he could make out a four-poster bed and a massive frame and panel sideboard. Next to the bed was an endiable with a lamp atop. Below was a scatter of books and a coffee cup. He decided to check the final room, not wanting to go prying through Gosset’s home unnecessarily. As he backed out into the hallway, however, he heard the
whoosh
of a breath being let out followed by a wild and ill-controlled shout. On the wall to Jonathan’s right was Gosset’s moving shadow, the arms upraised and hands gripping a wooden kitchen chair. The chair came smashing down, cracking into the edge and back of the door. The door slammed shut, shoving Jonathan over backward into the hallway. He rolled smack up against the rail that ran along the edge of the hallway and separated it from the open mouth of the stairwell, giving the thing a solid push. For one wild moment he thought he felt the railing give way, and grabbed wildly about him for a handhold. The railing wobbled and tilted and snapped and cracked, but in the end it held.

The Professor and Dooly and Ahab and, likely, Escargot clattered up the stairs toward the upper landing, but Jonathan motioned them back down. He rolled forward onto his knees, then leaped to his feet. Clearly had he shoved any farther into the room Gosset would have smashed him on the top of the head with the chair instead of just wildly pummeling the door. He waited in case Gosset should come lunging out. When nothing happened, Jonathan crept forward and knocked lightly. He could hear sobbing of a sort within.

‘Mr Gosset?’ said Jonathan. ‘The invisible man downstairs is an elf warrior in a magic cloak. He’s on his way to Hightower to have a word with Selznak the Dwarf.’

The door inched open, and Gosset’s nose appeared, the rest of him remaining in the shadow of the room. ‘What?’ asked Gosset. ‘Elves?’

‘That’s right, Mr Gosset,’ said Jonathan in a friendly way. ‘We have major elf magic here. Selznak’s end is near. By Friday there won’t be a goblin outside the Wood.’

The door opened a bit more, and Gosset squinted out. He seemed to ponder for a moment; then he swung the door open and waved Jonathan in. The remains of the crumpled chair lay on the floor behind the door, but other than that the room was in fairly good order. It was a large room that opened onto another room through a pair of French doors. The second room was apparently a library or study that contained a couple of easy chairs, a comfortable-looking couch, and an old, dark library table. A door, the fourth of the six upstairs doors, led from the library back out onto the hallway above the stairs. From the look of it Gosset was a man who loved books. The titles seemed to Jonathan to indicate that he was an intelligent sort, driven toward desperation and lunacy by the goblin doings.