Brian and Kalgrash hardly dared to enter the house.

Over the whole place, there was the smell of decay. It was the wall-to-wall carpeting. It had sprouted mushrooms in the living room. They were black now, and dead with the cold. Their fragile heads were bowed down, mulching on the shag.

There was almost no furniture left. Brian and Kalgrash stared down the hallway past the living room. There were display shelves built into the wall. Something had been left on one of them and had melted, leaving thick yellow strands that drooped to the floor.

The two walked down the hall, their heels grinding on the dirt. It echoed through the empty rooms. Cables trailed out of the walls, connected to nothing. In some places, near the heaters, there were streaks of black, the outlines of easy chairs picked out in negative.

In the kitchen, the refrigerator was open, both the cooler and the freezer sides. The refrigerator’s plastic shelves were spotted with orange. It no longer hummed. Brian pushed the doors closed gently, like someone closing the eyes of the dead.

The stove had been dismantled with an ax. Huge black slices cut into the metal.

The dining room still had a table in it. Whitened by the weather, it stood near the broken sliding glass doors. Pine needles and leaves had blown in, leaving sticky white trails of sap.

The door to the basement was open. It looked like, at one point, the basement had been finished. There was old wallboard on the stairs. Kalgrash’s breath was uneasy. He was sniffing the air.

They walked carefully down the steps. The basement was a mess. There was broken furniture, broken glass.

“What happened here?” Kalgrash whispered.

“I don’t know,” said Brian.

Their voices echoed and whispered about the rooms as they talked. Their footsteps crackled and clunked loudly on the rubbish, sending worrying sounds through all of the abandoned rooms, the closets brown with mildew, the vacant bedrooms.

Brian peered in through a doorway. The floor was carpeted. There were windows high on the wall, just above ground level. The wallpaper had big sunflowers. It looked like a girl’s room.

There were smears of old blood on the rug.

“Blood,” said Kalgrash.

He sniffed. “Human,” he added.

That was when they heard someone walking upstairs.

Slowly and deliberately, someone was pacing from room to room.

Brian was breathing so quickly, he started to see spots. He could not stop staring at the dried puddles and swipes of gore on the rug. Kalgrash rushed to the window. He tried to force it open.

The footfalls were in the kitchen. Slowly, steadily, they approached the basement door.

Brian realized he would be fully in sight of someone on the stairs. He slipped into the bedroom behind Kalgrash. The troll was struggling with the window. It rattled in its frame, but would not budge.

The footsteps were coming down the stairs.

Brian couldn’t breathe. He held his chest. He was so frightened, he couldn’t even draw a breath. He sagged back against the wall.

Jack Stimple stepped in.

Brian gasped. “You’re dead.”

Jack pointed to the stains on the carpet. “That was where he died.” Jack walked to that corner of the room and crouched down, and put his hands on the stains. “The real estate developer. Last summer. This is where they found him. The state police found him after a long search. His bones, wet and clean; his hair, of no use to anyone, clumped next to his skull; his shorts and T-shirt wrapped around them all like it was Christmas.” Jack smiled. “It was not a deliberate death. He saw things he should not have seen. He went insane. He ran through the woods. It’s my understanding that he found this house and hid here. He wouldn’t come out and show himself. He starved. Over days. He died. Then things found him.”

Brian gasped again. “You’re dead.”

“See,” said Jack, “if I were dead, I’d be moving less. That’s the funny way people are, when they’re dead.”

“What are you?” Brian asked.

“Well done. The ‘what,’ not ‘who.’ I’m a Thusser. That won’t mean anything to you. We live in mountains. But that doesn’t matter right now.”

“We know you’re playing against us,” said Brian. “In the Game.”

Jack twitched his arched eyebrows. “Mr. Thatz, you should not be here. That’s the point I’m trying to make. I’ve tried to make it clear several times. Now you see the place where the real estate developer died. This might make my argument stronger. I would recommend that you leave.”

“Why? Why do you want me to leave?”

“Because I care deeply about your safety.”

“You don’t—”

“Also, if you leave, you forfeit. The Game is over and my people win. Everybody wins. You live, we win.” He dug into his pocket. “Look. I have something for you. If you’ve decided to reject my offer of help, at least take this.” He drew out a small glass globe. It had two chambers in it. In one, there was a yellow liquid. In the other, a blue liquid. There was writing etched all over its surface. “I am going to give you the chance to quit. If you are ever in real trouble—if it ever comes down to a life-or-death situation—throw this on the ground. The chambers will break, there will be smoke, and I’ll come. I’ll remove you from the Game. You’ll forfeit automatically when you leave. I’ll win. But you’ll live.”

“How does the globe work?” Brian asked suspiciously.

“Magic,” said Jack. “Spells. Hocus-pocus. Alacazam.”

Brian took it. “What are the Thusser Hordes?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” said Jack, glaring at the troll. “Your little potbellied friend should remember that if he tells you too much, he’s tampering. And if he tampers, the Speculant will get involved. Remember that, little trollkin. Any cheating, and you’ll be even more mythological than you already are.

“So look at the blood,” Jack continued. “Remember the danger. And run along.” He waved his hands. “Run along home. Leave Maximilian Grendle’s land. This isn’t an adventure story for boys. Lassie is not coming to the rescue. He’s not barking out instructions to the grown-ups. The grown-ups are involved in unforgivable things, and are making you their pawns.

“Think about that.”

Gregory was playing chess with Prudence in the sitting room when Brian returned. A fire burned in the hearth; Brian had seen its hazy smoke trailing above the brittle leaves from a ways off. He had run toward the house and burst in, short of breath.

“Did you have a nice walk?” asked Prudence.

“It was surprising,” said Brian. “Gregory, could I talk to you?”

“It sounds nice,” said Prudence as she moved her queen nimbly out of the way of Gregory’s impatient bishop.

“What did you find?” asked Gregory.

“A house,” said Brian, looking carefully at Prudence. “A house near a steeple of stone.”

“What?” said Gregory, turning back to the board.

Brian was impatient. He started to go upstairs.

“Will you excuse me?” Gregory said to his cousin. “It looks like someone has his underwear in a twist.”

Brian was up on the landing. Gregory followed, gloating, “You’ll never guess what I found today.”

“Listen—”

“No, you listen. Guess what I found!” They entered the nursery.

“What?”

“I realized it earlier today, as I was sitting in here…well, trying to get a particularly big chunk out of my nostril or whatever.”

“What?”

“Look around, my friend! See a propeller appear before your very eyes!”

Brian surveyed the room eagerly. China dolls were slumped on shelves. Teddy bears dangled threadbare arms. A hand-knit clown drooped onto a red-lipped sock monkey. Suddenly, the dark-haired boy cried softly, “The iron pinwheel!”

“Yup. Stick the stick into the socket on the motor and the propeller part will be in just the right position.”

“Brilliant!” Brian commended.

“Thanks. I’ve had Uncle Max set us up with backpacks and provisions. Sick or well, I don’t care. We don’t have time. No time for hurling. Tomorrow, we’ll be on our way down the underground river.”

They sat then and talked about what Brian had found that day.

Brian told him about the house, right down to Jack Stimple telling them Lassie wouldn’t come to their rescue.

“I don’t know what it means,” Brian concluded, pacing.

“I know what it means,” Gregory said. “It means that jerk has Lassie tied up somewhere. It means our dear, precious little varmint is—”

“Will you stop joking?” Brian said. “Would you—I’m sorry. Would you just stop it.”

“I can’t stop. I can’t stop it,” Gregory said miserably. He lay down and put his arm over his eyes. “I keep on thinking of jokes right now. I’m thinking of them faster and faster. All about Lassie.”

“We have to do something,” said Brian.

“I know,” said Gregory. “I know, I know, I know.”

“We’re in danger!”

Gregory was stunned. He said, “Hey. You shouted at me.”

Brian looked down. He said, “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever yelled at me.”

“It’s just—sometimes you get—you know… Sometimes things aren’t funny.”

Gregory said quietly, “No. Sometimes they aren’t.” The he looked out the window. He said. “What will we do? What will we do, what will we do?”

Brian said, “I don’t know.”

And Gregory said, “It’s almost time for dinner.”

The silence of the dinner hour was filled with the bumpings and muffled rattlings of the wind outside the house. Through the dark panes of the winter garden’s glass, the trees could be seen, flinging from side to side against the incandescent blue night. Occasionally, the wind would whip through some grotto and yowl like an angered cat, and everyone would carefully look up from their food, then look down again as the keening faded away. The tapping of silver against china, the whispers of requests for second helpings, and the burbling of water into goblets were the only sounds to be heard, besides the wind’s angry shrieks and thumps.

Gregory announced loudly, “Brian found your house today.”

Uncle Max said, “I don’t believe in speech during the supper hour. It interferes with digestion.”

Gregory said, “He found your house. Your real house.”

He let this sink in. Then he added, “The house where Prudence lived in a room downstairs with sunflower wallpaper. ”

Uncle Max turned to Brian. “Where did you find this…house?”

Brian answered, low in his seat, “Near the…near the Crooked Steeple.”

Uncle Max glared at the boy. “Boy. Did you go off the path?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You left the paths?”

Brian simply nodded, his already pale face turning paler.

Uncle Max rose darkly, his beak-like nose turning scarlet. “I told you never—NEVER!—to go off the paths, didn’t I?”

Brian nodded.

“You FOOL!” shouted Uncle Max.

Prudence flinched, but then, in a quavering voice, said, “What…why?”

The man turned to her. “What do you mean?” he snapped.

“I asked why they can’t go off the paths. I’ve gone off the paths—”

“Because I said so. IS THAT NOT SUFFICIENT REASON?” He glared around wildly. “AM I NOT MASTER IN THIS HOUSE?” he shouted. “I AM MASTER! IT IS FOR ME TO DICTATE WHAT OTHERS DO! IS THIS UNDERSTOOD?”

Prudence looked down at her lap and touched her fingers skittishly to her face, a dark blush spreading across her smooth cheeks. Brian bit his lower lip and stared at the candelabra.

Gregory rose. “I think you owe us an explanation, sir.”

Uncle Max turned hotly toward his foster-nephew. He hissed, “What?”

“I think you owe us an explanation. You have obviously brought us here for some purpose, for some strange game, and it’s time we found out the rules. It’s time we found out what we’re playing for.”

Uncle Max’s eyes were wide and white. His face was scarlet.

“Our lives have been in danger, sir, as a result of this game. Something has stalked us out in the woods. Jack Stimple tried to kill Brian on the roof that night. If we’re going to play your game, we demand to know the rules.”

Uncle Max merely stared, incredulous, at his nephew.

Prudence looked up timidly and said quietly, “Yes. What IS going on?”

Brian added, “We…we need to understand how and why all of this is here.”

Uncle Max stared at the floor, whispering silently to himself. Prudence could not bear to look at him, but ducked her head, almost crying.

Rubbing his mustache, he turned to the wall and quietly said, “All right. You’ll hear about it. In the parlor. Burk—coffee, tea, and dessert in the parlor.”

“Very good, sir.”

“After we finish our meal.”

He kept eating in silence. His eyes were almost closed. The others watched him as they ate. He put far too much beef between his lips. His cheeks bulged. He gnawed for a long time and jerked his head as he swallowed.

It took them ten minutes to finish.