“Have you been
“She’s observant,” John Pluckitt said appreciatively. “I like that. And young, which is good. She can help us, Mischief.”
“Either that or she can get us in even deeper trouble,” said John Serpent.
“We’re as deep as we can get,” John Slop observed. “I say we trust the girl, Mischief. We’ve got absolutely nothing to lose.”
“What are they all talking about?” Candy asked Mischief.
“Besides me.”
“The harbor,” he replied.
“What harbor?” Candy said. “There’s no harbor here. This is Minnesota. We’re
“What on earth is he talking about?” Candy asked Mischief.
John Mischief pointed toward the tower that stood sixty or seventy yards from where they stood.
“That, lady, is a lighthouse,” he said.
“No,” said Candy, with a smile. The idea was preposterous. “Why would anybody—”
“Look at it,” said John Drowze. “
“Somebody was crazy,” she remarked.
“Why?” said John Slop.
“Oh, come on,” said Candy. “We’ve been through this. We’re in Minnesota. There is no sea in—”
Candy stopped mid-sentence. Mischief had put his hand to his mouth, hushing her.
As he did so all of his brothers looked off in one direction or another. A few were sniffing the air, others tasting it on their lips. Whatever they did and wherever they looked, they all came to the same conclusion, and together they murmured two words.
“
,” they said.
6. The Lady Ascends
Mischief instantly grabbed Candy’s arm and pulled her down into the long grass. His eyes were neither wild nor sly now. They were simply afraid. His brothers, meanwhile, were peering over the top of the grass in every direction, and now and then exchanging their own fearful looks. It was most peculiar for Candy to be with one person, and yet be in the company of a small crowd.
“Lady,” Mischief said, very softly, “I wonder if you would
“Go on,” Candy said.
Given how unhappy and purposeless she’d been feeling in the last few hours (no, not hours: months, even years), she was happy to listen to anybody with a theory about why she was here.
“If I could distract Mendelson Shape’s attention away from you for long enough, maybe you could get to the lighthouse, and climb the stairs? You carry far less weight than I, and the stairs may support you better.”
“What for?”
“What do you mean: what for?”
“Well, once I’ve climbed the stairs—”
“She wants to know what she does next,” John Slop said.
“That’s simple enough, lady,” said John Fillet.
“When you get to the top,” said John Pluckitt, “you must
“Doesn’t it need electricity?” she said. “I mean, I can’t even see a lamp.”
“There’s one up there, we swear,” said John Moot. “Please trust us. We may be desperate, but we’re not stupid. We wouldn’t send you on a suicide mission.”
“So how do I make this lamp work?” Candy asked. “Is there an on-off switch?”
“You’ll know how to use it the moment you set eyes on it,” Mischief said. “
“Where?” said Fillet, turning to follow his brother’s gaze. He didn’t need any further direction. He simply said. “Oh Lordy Lou, there he is.”
Candy raised her head six inches and looked in the same direction that Fillet and Drowze were looking. The rest of the brothers—Mischief included—followed that stare.
And there, no more than a stone’s throw from the spot where Candy and the brothers were crouched in the grass, was the object of their fear: Mendelson Shape.
The sight of him made Candy shudder. He was twice the height of Mischief, and there was something spiderish about his grotesque anatomy. His almost fleshless limbs were so long, she could readily imagine him walking up a wall. On his back there was a curious arrangement of cruciform rods that almost looked like four swords which had been fused to his bony body. He was naked but for a pair of striped shorts, and he walked with a pronounced limp. But there was nothing frail about him. Despite the lack of muscle, and that limp of his, he looked like a creature born to do harm. His expression was joyless and sour, filled with hatred toward the world.
Having got herself a glimpse of him, Candy ducked down quickly, before Shape’s wrathful gaze came her way.
Curiously, it was only now, seeing this
The same world as Chickentown, as Miss Schwartz and Deborah Hackbarth?
“Before we go any further,” she said to the brothers, “I need an answer to something.”
“Ask away,” said John Swallow.
“Am I dreaming this?”
By way of reply, all eight brothers shook their heads, their faces for once expressing the same thing.
Mischief saw the sequence of thoughts crossing her face. The doubt that she was even awake, and then the fear that indeed she was.
“This is all Providence, I swear,” he said to her. “You’re here because you can light the light. You and only you.”
She did her best to put the fear out of her head and to concentrate on what John Mischief had just said. In a curious way it made sense that she was here because she
move
This must be what John Mischief meant by Providence.
“So, lady?” Mischief said. “What is your decision?”
“If I’m not dreaming this, then perhaps it is Providence.”
“So you’ll go?”
“Yes, I’ll go,” Candy said simply.
Mischief smiled again, only this time, they
And without offering any further instruction, he and his brothers darted off through the grass, bent double to keep out of Shape’s sight until they were clear of her.
Candy’s heart was thumping so hard she could hear her pulse in her head. Ten, fifteen seconds passed. She listened. The grass hissed all around her. Strangely enough, she’d never felt so alive in her life.
Another half minute went by. She was tempted to chance another peep above the surface of the swaying grass, to see whether Mendelson Shape was limping in her direction, but she was afraid to do so in case he was almost upon her.
Then, to her infinite relief, she heard eight voices all yelling at the same time:
Shape threw open his arms, his huge, iron-taloned claws spread as wide as five-fingered fans.
“
His eyes fixed upon Candy, and he let out a bloodcurdling cry at the sight of her. He spread his arms wide, and with swords in hand, he began to move toward her.
He didn’t run; he simply strode through the grass with terrible confidence in his uneven step, as if to say:
She turned away from the sight of his approach and pushed on the broken door. The hinges creaked, and there were a few moments of resistance, when she feared that fallen timbers on the other side might have blocked it. Then, with a deep grating sound, the door opened and Candy slipped inside.
Though there were plenty of holes in the walls, and the sun came through in solid shafts, it was still far chillier inside than it was out. The cold air stank of rotting wood. Large fungi had prospered in the damp murk, and the boards beneath her feet were slick with mildew. She slipped twice before she had even reached the bottom of the stairs.
The prospect before her looked dangerous. No doubt once upon a time the spiral wooden stairs had been perfectly safe to climb, but that was decades ago. Now all but a few of the railings had collapsed, and the structure which had supported the staircase had been devoured by woodworm and rot, so that it seemed the stairs themselves had virtually nothing to depend on for their solidity.
She peered through one of the holes in the wall, just to confirm what she already knew: Mendelson Shape was still advancing toward the lighthouse.
Unlikely as a safe ascent seemed, there was no way back now. Shape would be at the front door in just a few seconds. She had no choice but to try the stairs. She put her hand on the shaky bannister and began her cautious ascent.
Outside in the long grass, the John brothers watched the silhouetted form of the lady Quackenbush as she started up the stairs.
“She’s something special, that one,” Drowze murmured.
“What makes you say that?” Moot remarked.
“Look at her!” Drowze said. “Not many creatures of this wretched Hereafter would be so brave.”
“She’s half mad,” said Serpent, “that’s why. I saw it in her eyes, right from the beginning. She’s a little bit crazy.”
“So we send a crazy girl to do our handiwork for us?” Pluckitt said. “That’s not very heroic.”
“Will you just shut your
is
“You’re not…” Moot began.
“…intending to attack…” Pluckitt continued.
“…Mendelson Shape?” Slop went on.
“Not with
“Well—” said Mischief. “Unless somebody has a better idea?”
“He’s twice our size!” said Sallow.
“Three times!” said Moot.
“He’ll tear out our heart,” said Slop.
“Well, we can’t leave the lady Quackenbush undefended,” Mischief replied.
“I vote we run,” Moot said. “This is a lost cause, Mischief. At least if we get away now, the Key’s safe with us. If we throw ourselves into the fray we’re not just endangering our lives—”
“—which are
“—we’re endangering the Key,” Moot reasoned. “We can’t afford to do that.”
“Moot’s right,” said John Sallow. “We’ve got a chance to run. I vote we take it.”
“Out of the question,” Mischief remarked. “She’s risking her life for us.”
“As I observed,” Sallow replied. “The creature’s half mad.”
“And as
So saying, Mischief set off running through the grass toward Mendelson, his little knife at the ready.
As he came within six or seven strides of his target, Shape sensed his presence and swung around, the swords whining through the air. His mouth was wide and foamy, as though he was working up an appetite as he approached the tower. The pupils of his eyes had gone to pinpricks, giving him an even more monstrous expression. His aim was poor. The blades missed the brothers by a foot or more, simply lopping off the feathery heads of the prairie grass.
Mischief just ducked down and doubled his speed, running at the enemy.
“Everybody—”he said. “Give the
“EEEIIIGGGGORRRAAARRGUU—”
—that even Shape hesitated, and for a moment looked as though he might retreat.