The Slippery Map (11 page)

T
he Dogger stood on the noisy shore of the Breathing River, his small, bony hands folded on his narrow chest, clearly impressed. “Doggers don't give their names out first off,” he said. “They've got to be earned, you know, only given when a Dogger has gained enough faith.”

Oyster's wet pants clung to his shins. His socks were soaked. He wondered if the Dogger had gained enough faith or whether he was just teasing him. There was a long pause. And then finally the Dogger said, “I'm Drusser, and this is my Growsel, Tipps.”

His hand shot out, and Oyster shook it, feeling very happy. “I'm Oyster, and this is Leatherbelly.”

Drusser didn't allow him to dwell on the new friendship. He said, “It's time to go underground. Keep an eye out for the Snapping Dirt Clams. They'll pinch. And every once in a while a Dragon'll find a Dogger's hole and he'll
breathe fire down it, hoping to char a meal. So watch when you see the light of holes or if you smell smoke.”

“I will,” Oyster said. He thought of Sister Patricia Tough-Pork who, when it was her turn to cook, burned the meat to blackened cubes that were impossible to chew. He didn't want to be someone's charred meal. Leatherbelly drew near to Oyster's heels. Oyster untied the map bag from his belt and was ready. “What do the Dragons look like?”

“Like Dragons, of course. Huge, green, lizardy creatures with enormous teeth,” Drusser said.

The Growsel had to dig a slightly larger hole near the roots of a tree so that Oyster could fit; but once underground, the tunnels were wide and tall enough. Lanterns hung from the walls, casting a dim light. There were offshoots going in different directions, mazelike. Down some tunnels, all of the lanterns were yellow; down others, blue. Oyster couldn't tell what that meant.

Tipps, the Growsel, was quick. Oyster and Leatherbelly had to jog to keep up. The leather bag banged along behind. Soon enough, Oyster's lungs were burning in his chest. He took a moment to catch his breath. Leatherbelly paused and panted, too.

Oyster leaned against the tunnel wall. “Drusser!” he called ahead. “We need to rest!”

He heard Drusser say up ahead, though he couldn't see him, “Hurry up!”

Oyster gulped air. Then he heard a sudden flurry of clacking at his shoes and sharp pinches on his calves. He looked down, and his wet pants were covered with fat Snapping Clams.

Leatherbelly cried out. He had five attached to his tail. He wagged his tail violently and batted it against the tunnel wall. As soon as Oyster yanked the clams from his pants, they charged his face with their chattering shells. Oyster threw them back down the tunnel as fast as he could, but it didn't matter: more clams burrowed up from the dirt.

Oyster started running again. “C'mon, Leatherbelly!” he shouted. They had to keep moving.

They found Drusser up ahead. He held his finger to his lips. There was a cloud. “Smoke?” Oyster whispered. He was afraid of a Dragon.

Tipps was bucking nervously. Drusser was trying to keep steady. He shook his head. “Dirt,” he said. “Being pawed up by eight legs.”

“Eight legs?”

“Back up slowly,” Drusser said. “The clams will start to sniff us out and they'll make a clatter.”

Tipps and Oyster inched backward. Only Leatherbelly held his ground. His nostrils pulsing in the air, his fur up
on his spine, he started to growl.

“Hush,” said Oyster. “Back up, Leatherbelly.”

But Leatherbelly only stiffened and bared his teeth. Oyster could see the Dirt Clams nosing up from the ground. He kept backing up. But Leatherbelly wouldn't follow suit.

“No,” Drusser said, shaking his head vigorously. He was already headed back toward a split in the tunnels that they'd passed. “Spider Wolf isn't something to fight.”

Oyster had heard of a wolf spider in the textbooks that Sister Mary Many Pockets used to teach him science—furry and eight-legged crawlers in a web—but what would a Spider
Wolf
look like? He didn't have to imagine for long. The cloud of dirt thinned, and the creature took shape. At first he looked just like an enormous dog, growling. He had a dark muzzle with large teeth, shiny eyes. It was the hunch of his back that made him different—that, and his eight legs. They were furry and long and double-jointed. They cocked out at the knees, and instead of a wolf's paws, the Spider Wolf had pincers, two of which were raised over its head like snakes ready to strike. The Dirt Clams were bouncing and snapping around Leatherbelly's paws. Oyster could feel his own heart skipping, but he tried to remain calm. He kept moving back slowly. “C'mon, Leatherbelly,” he urged.

Leatherbelly wasn't ready to retreat. He lunged and barked loudly three times.

The Spider Wolf's eyes widened, and it hunched lower.

Leatherbelly shrank and gave a little apologetic bark more like clearing his throat. Too late. The Spider Wolf pawed at the ground.

“Run!” Drusser shouted.

They all turned and ran as fast as they could down one of the twisting tunnel's other passes. They turned and turned again. The Spider Wolf was gaining, and Oyster could hear its eight legs pounding against the dirt. He could hear its labored breath. They took one left turn after the next. Oyster felt dizzy.

“Keep up!” Drusser shouted.

“Are we going in circles?” Oyster cried back.

“Yes!” Drusser said. “It's working!”

Oyster wasn't sure what was working exactly. But he and Leatherbelly kept on turning down the same lantern-lit tunnels—yellow-lit tunnel; yellow-lit; then blue, blue, blue; and then yellow again—around and around. And the Spider Wolf began lagging behind. Oyster looked over his shoulder and saw the Spider Wolf bounce off a wall. It staggered in a dazed circle. Drusser had made it too dizzy to stand.

“Almost there!” Drusser cried. “Hurry!”

“Almost where?” Oyster shouted back.

Finally the tunnel seemed to come to a dead end. But as they reached it, Tipps hopped up and slid down a hole, disappearing from sight and taking Drusser with him.

Oyster and Leatherbelly ran to the hole, then stopped and looked down it.

“What are you waiting for?” Drusser called from below.

Oyster could hear the Spider Wolf coming. It was a distant moan. And the clams were already aware of their scent. Oyster could see the edges of their shells wriggling from the ground. He looked at Leatherbelly. “You first.”

The dachshund pawed the ground but couldn't jump in.

“So
now
you've lost your nerve!” Oyster said. He jumped into the hole, which was really a winding slide that took him deeper underground.

He shot out of the bottom of the chute and landed on the floor. There was Drusser and Tipps, and sleeping on a hammock was a girl-Perth. She was small, as Perths tend to be. Not as small as Drusser, but still she seemed a miniature version of a human girl. She had brown hair, a perky nose, a jutting chin, and a few freckles spread out on her nose. Her bare feet were caked in dirt. She slept sprawled out with her hands behind her head. She was a cocky sleeper, Oyster was thinking. She looked like she was taking in the sun, but it was clear that she'd never taken in any sun. Her skin glowed so white, it nearly shone through the patches of dirt on her face.

Oyster sat there on the floor, just taking in the sight.
He didn't want to wake her. Even lying down, completely asleep, she looked poised for battle. But then Leatherbelly shot out of the chute and slammed into Oyster's back. The Spider Wolf, too big to fit down the hole, barked vigorously.

The girl jumped up, and in one swift motion, she grabbed a shovel and waved it in the air above her head. She glared at Oyster and Leatherbelly and swung the shovel backward, ready to flatten them right there. But Drusser jumped in between. “No, no!” he shouted. “He's good! Don't kill him! His parents were friends with your parents! He's the boy!”

“Don't kill me!” Oyster shouted. Leatherbelly jumped into his arms. Oyster closed his eyes tight and waited for the blow, but it didn't come. Slowly Oyster opened one eye and then the other. The girl was still holding the shovel over her head, but her face had gone still, her eyes wide and a little teary. She tilted her head. She looked at him in a way he recognized. Sister Mary Many Pockets had looked at him like this many times—and it was at these times that he could hear her heart speaking to his heart, a conversation leaping from one chest to the other. And, listening in this way that Oyster knew so well, without words, his heart could hear the girl's heart say, quite clearly:
The boy. I've been waiting for you.

“Ippy?” Oyster said.

But then the voice of her heart went silent. She threw the shovel into a corner. She wiped her nose and rubbed her eyes as if they'd only gotten some dirt in them. “Yep. I'm Ippy. Sure. What's it to you?”

I
ppy's room was spare. It didn't contain anything the least bit childlike. There were no textbooks, no bird's nests or eyedroppers or collections of moths in mesh boxes. There weren't any sentimental memorabilia like, say, a Dorsey's Pickled Foods box or a Royal Motel towel.

The walls were cool and mossy. The hammock was stretched between them. There was a bag of potatoes and turnips, a little cookstove with a pipe leading out of the room, and an overturned bucket. Drusser sat on it, resting one foot on his knee. He held on to one of Tipps' tusks like a staff.

“Found 'em hiding behind a tree,” Drusser said. “But Oyster here crossed the Breathing River by swinging on vines.”

“I've done that,” Ippy snapped.

“And Leatherbelly here, he wrestled one of the Water Snakes and killed it.”

“I've done that, too,” Ippy said.

“And then underground, we met up with a Spider Wolf,” Drusser said.

“Did you kill it?” Ippy asked.

“Well, no,” Drusser said. “We just made it dizzy. They've got no balance.”

“I know they've got no balance. But I'da killed it. One less Spider Wolf to deal with.” She was still small, but she didn't
seem
small anymore. Oyster was afraid of her, weapon or not.

“Well,” Drusser said. “I think they did fairly well for being new to the tunnels. It isn't easy.”

“I know it isn't easy,” Ippy said. “I've lived here all my life.” She stared at Oyster. “Where have you been all these years?”

“I've been in a nunnery,” Oyster said. “It's hard there, too.”

“Spider Wolves? Dragons? Vicious Goggles? Snapping Dirt Clams?” At the mention of Spider Wolves, Oyster could hear the grunting breaths of the one they'd beaten to the hole. It was pawing and pacing above.

“No,” Oyster said. “A lot of shushing and shooing. And, well, you can't really be a kid much in a nunnery. It isn't set up for it. In fact, I was the only kid there.”

This information made Ippy stop. The Spider Wolf's bark was traveling away from the hole. It was a distant echo. She stared at Oyster. “You've been alone?”

“Well, no, there were the nuns.”

“What are nuns?”

“They're mostly older women who all live together and wear black. These don't talk and they don't ever go out of the nunnery. I didn't go out except to get my tooth fixed, but it didn't get fixed, even.”

“I've been alone too,” Ippy said. “I don't go out aboveground much.”

“So we've got that in common,” Oyster said.

“We're strangers,” Ippy said. “No matter what. I don't care if your parents knew mine.” She sat down on the hammock. “How did you get here, anyway?”

Oyster felt shut off. Ippy was tougher than he'd expected. The Spider Wolf gave a howl overhead. “Through the Slippery Map,” Oyster said, patting his leather bag.

Drusser and Ippy both sat up and leaned forward. She glanced at Drusser sharply.

“I didn't know,” Drusser said. “I thought it was just his overnight bag!”

“Let's see it,” Ippy said.

Oyster unbuckled the bag, showing her the large scroll.

“Pull it out,” Ippy said.

“No,” Oyster said, “I've got to keep it safe. I only want to take it out if I need to.”

“Fine. You'll need it to get back one day,” Ippy said. “You don't belong here.”

“I might not want to go back,” Oyster said. He was thinking about the nuns: Were they happy without him? Were they enjoying their peace and quiet for once?

“What do you want?” Ippy asked. “You want something from me. I can tell.”

He cleared his throat. “I'm going to get my parents out of jail, defeat Dark Mouth, and save the Perths,” he said.

Ippy started to laugh. Drusser did too. They laughed for a good long time, and Oyster simply patted Leatherbelly's ears and waited for them to stop.

“You're serious,” Ippy said.

“I am serious,” Oyster said. “And you're going to help me.”

Drusser stood up nervously. “I've got to go,” he said. “I've got things to do.”

“Sit down,” Ippy said, and Drusser did. “Look, Oyster.” She leaned over him, pointing at his chest. “I don't help people. I survive on my own. I survive by my wits because I'm strong. My parents are dead. Your parents only got put in jail. You'll be fine. You got saved,
right from the beginning. They got you out, and where have I been all this time? Hiding underground. I'm not helping anyone.”

Oyster didn't mean to stand up, but he did. He felt hot, suddenly, all of his emotions rising to his face. He was unsteady on his feet. He said, “Your parents died. My parents sent me away. I don't know which one of us should be angrier!”

Ippy seemed surprised by Oyster's outburst. She sat back, a little stunned.

Oyster was surprised too. He looked at Drusser and Tipps, a little wide-eyed, wondering what might happen next, and then back at Ippy. He brushed off his cape, scratched his head through the top of his cap. Everyone was quiet. He had no choice. He was scared, but he had to go forward. He was needed. He looked at Leatherbelly and said, “Okay, then. We'll do it by ourselves.” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to have met you.”

Ippy paused, then stood. She came up only to Oyster's chest. She looked up at him and shook his hand.

“Best to climb back up the way we came?” Oyster asked.

“You won't get past the Spider Wolf. He's there waiting for you. You'll have to be patient,” Ippy said.

Oyster didn't want to waste time. “Maybe not,” he
said. He opened the leather bag and pulled out the menthol-flavored figs. He leaned into the chute, dug his shoes in as best he could, and started heading up.

“What are you doing?” Ippy asked nervously.

Oyster climbed until he saw the Spider Wolf's pincers, then he threw the paper bag upward. It landed on the lip of the chute. The Spider Wolf dug into the contents as Oyster eased himself back down.

“What was that?” Drusser asked.

“Some menthol-flavored figs,” Oyster said. “They may make him listless and dull.”

“I doubt it!” Ippy said.

But after a few minutes, the grunting and pawing were replaced by snores.

“Enough of them might even put it to sleep,” Oyster said proudly, picking up his leather bag and walking to the mouth of the chute.

Ippy nodded. “Follow the blue-lit tunnels to Dark Mouth. Blue will take you to the other side.”

“Thank you,” Oyster said.

“If you even make it as far as Dark Mouth, he'll eat
you alive. But you won't make it,” Ippy said. “I can tell.”

Oyster pushed Leatherbelly ahead of him and up the chute. “I will make it, Ippy. You don't know anything about me. We're strangers, just like you said.” Oyster's voice echoed in the chute. He imagined Dark Mouth's huge Torch, the smoke pouring into the sky, and his parents in prison somewhere beneath the Torch. “No,” he said aloud. “I'm going to fix this.” He followed Leatherbelly, who was dragging his calloused belly toward the dim light and the Spider Wolf snores above.