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As the little wooden door closed above us, I heard again that strange musical chord, but this time, it sounded as though it was coming from within the confines of the Greenleaf house. An edge of bright white light bled through the edges of the cellar door just as Sara shut it.
“She’s already in the house,” Lemuel whispered.
“You mean, that’s Mother Sols ...”
“Don’t say it, boy!’ whispered Lemuel sharply. “You don’t understand her powers!”
“What’s the use? She must know we’re here anyway,” Flutterbold asserted.
“Sara can handle her. Just keep quiet!”
Then came the sound of kicking at the wooden door above us, and Sara’s voice calling out.
“Lem, there’s someone here to see you.”
“I’ll be right there, my dear, just a minute or two,” Lemuel shouted.
“You’d better come now,” Sara said, her voice muffled through the door. “She’s asking for you.”
“See?” Lem whispered to me. “If my wife couldn’t keep a secret from her for ten seconds, no one can. Now, you two, you should go.”
Lemuel grabbed my left hand and placed something in it, then closed his hand around mine. “Take this!”
“I don’t even know what it is!”
“Don’t worry about that, just take it.” With that, he held his lamp aloft and pulled me along after him to the other side of the little cellar. He pointed to a cellar door overhead. “That door will lead you back outside,” he said. “Just get under it and push up. Head for home, and don’t show anyone what I just gave you. I’ll be back for it later.”
“How will you find me ...”
“No time to discuss. Very nice to meet you, Mannie.” Lem gave a move-along gesture.
I crouched beneath the cellar door, then stood, arms above my head, to open it. The warmth of that December night rushed over me as I climbed out the door and back out into the forest. Flutterbold followed after. He threw shut the cellar door and then beckoned me to run.
“I can barely see,” I said. My lantern was still inside, in the den of the Greenleaf household.
“Let your eyes adjust, then,” the gnome said. “Hey, what did Lemuel give you just now?”
I hadn’t looked yet. I knew it was metal, attached to a small chain. I opened my hand. In the darkness, I could just make out that it was a medallion, with a gemstone set in its center. I told Flutterbold.
“Is the stone blue?” he asked. In a glint of moonlight, I could see that it was. Icy blue.
“An outrage!” Flutterbold bellowed. “It belongs to Trimble. How did he come to possess that!”
“He had Trimble, for a little while. Out by Sissy’s house.”
“Of course! So, that’s why he wanted that post! He wasn’t trying to protect Trimble. He just wanted to steal the medallion. Tell me, young man. When you first saw Trimble, was he wearing that broach? You would have seen it on his forehead.”
“No. I’ve never seen it until now.”
I heard noise from the tree nearby. Lights began to dance on the other side of it. I could hear voices.
“It’s time for us to go,” said Flutterbold. “Lem is facing the frightful consequence of his choice. You and I must seek the advice of the council. Come on!”
I followed Flutterbold into another clearing among the trees. He stopped to catch his breath. “I can’t run far, not like I used to do.” He sat on the ground. “Give me a moment, lad. I need to take stock.”
He sat and stared up at the sky for a while. The non-stop cycle of wild noises filled the air. Behind the calls of crickets and cicadas, I thought I heard the faint hum of machinery.
“Must be troubling for you, getting tangled in this business.”
“I don’t even understand it,” I said. “It seems like everyone is playing turncoat on everybody else around here.”
“You’re right. Until now, I didn’t grasp it myself. It’s the Grim Frost. It’s got to everyone; Drillmast, Lemuel, that poor brute in the black cape. I’ll wager each one of them made a deal with the Frost. I bet each was given a promise that Trimble would come to no harm.” Flutterbold struggled back to his feet. “There is only one thing left to do. I’ve got to find the council and make a report.”
“What about this medallion?”
“Keep it to yourself for now. The Grim Frost can’t show up on this island. And that gem is what he wants most, or I’m a kettle of mulled molasses.”
“What if I give it back to the lady? To Mother Solstice? Is she good?”
“Hmm?”
“Mother Solstice. Is she good or is she evil?”
“She’s powerful,” said Flutterbold. “And good. Terribly good. I’m not ready to have a conversation with her just yet. Not now. Follow me. To the council.”
“Where are they?”
“Where any sensible council would be. The tavern!”
Flutterbold tugged at my sleeve and began to run.
“Slow down,” I said. “I don’t have a light to see by.”
But Flutterbold just kept running. He made plenty of noise, so I followed as best I could.
Ahead, the forest rose onto a slope, and in our way stood a great, gnarled oak tree. I could hear music coming from within it, and along one or two ridges, just above eye level, I saw a warm yellow glow coming from inside. There was noise, muffled, like the sound of gears turning and steam hissing. These were the machine-like sounds I had heard in the clearing.
“Here is the tavern, lad. Hidden away in this mighty tree, undiscovered for centuries.”
“It’s a little conspicuous, actually,” I said. “If I came walking along here, I think I’d notice it.”
“You’re gaining an eye for the strange magics. That’s rare. It’ll wear off as you get older.” He kicked twice at the base of the tree, and then shouted, “Seven Boughs of Holly!”
A voice came from within. “Seven Draughts of Beer!”
“Seven Secret Wishes.”
“Never Spoken Here!” And the door opened, seemingly by itself.
I had to duck to get through the short and narrow opening in the trunk of the tree. Inside was a comfortable candle-lit room. Seven beer barrels were arranged behind a long wooden bar. Each had a bough of holly perched above the tap. Above each tap was painted a name in red letters, Wish Number One, Wish Number Two, all the way through Wish Number Seven. At the far right of the barrels hung a painting, as tall as one of these little men. It depicted a reindeer, and riding on its back, a discreetly naked Lady Godiva, crowned with holly and holding aloft a mug of beer. Nearby, seven tables were scattered within cozy distance of the fireplace.
A little man stood behind the bar, helping himself to a tin mug of Wish Number Three. He smiled at me, and I saw that, unlike any of the forest folk I had met so far, he had pointed ears. So did his two companions, sitting at a nearby table.
When Flutterbold came in behind me, I heard him gasp and utter a word so foreign I cannot now recall it. “I am sorry, young friend. I have led you into a trap.”
“Close the door behind you,” said the one behind the bar. “It is a trap. But an agreeable one. Have some holly beer!”
“No, thank you, Wheatbrew. I’m on duty,” said Flutterbold.
“Suit yourself. We’re on duty as well but that ain’t going to stop us,” said the barkeep. His long-curled moustache wiggled as he laughed. “Who’s your friend?”
“I’m Mannie Candler,” I said, as politely as if I were addressing the archbishop.
“The name is Wheatbrew. Care for a mug of Number Five? Holly Lager.”
“None for me, thanks,” I said. If holly punch was poisonous, holly beer would surely be worse.
Wheatbrew whistled at his two companions, and they stood up from their chairs. They wore identical leafy garments that looked like military uniforms.
“I want you to meet my battalion,” said Wheatbrew.
The other two gave a kind of salute, their hands flittering to their brows, then fluttering back down. “Branchstaff, second in command,” said one, and the other followed with, “Copper, second second in command.”
Wheatbrew concluded, “I’m number one, of course. Chief Commander of the Forest Abduction Brigade!”
“You’re the F.A.B.” I said in disbelief.
“And you’re invited to join us,” said Wheatbrew.
I turned to Flutterbold. “Did you know that ...
“That they would be here? No, but it doesn’t surprise me. They’ve always been underhanded, duplicitous ...”
“You flatter us with your great big words, Flutterbold.” Wheatbrew raised his rusted mug. “We’re all impressed. Aren’t we boys?”
Branchstaff and Copper raised their own holly beers and shouted in unison, “All hail Flutterbold!”
“Und here’s to big words,” Copper shouted out in a gravelly high-pitched voice, with an accent so pronounced, ‘words’ sounded like ‘virds.’
“Big words und a big stomach,” said Branchstaff.
The F.A.B. are from Switzerland, I thought. Lemuel had mentioned this before I could have known what he was talking about.
Flutterbold cleared his throat. “I will have you all know that Mother Solstice is only yards away, in the home of Lemuel Greenleaf.”
“Poor Lemuel,” said Copper.
“He’ll be incarcerated for sure,” added Wheatbrew.
“Ja. Incarcerated and put in gaol for the season!” shouted Branchstaff. “All hail Lemuel!”
“And all hail to the gaol!” added Copper. He and Branchstaff tipped their heads back in unison and quaffed the remainder of their holly beers.
“My point is, her ladyship is likely to stop here next.”
“And she’s welcome to my very best Number Four.” Wheatbrew tapped the wooden keg proudly.
“I don’t think she’ll be so keen on holly beer. She will demand to know where you have taken her dear pet.”
“Dear pet! Zat is a good one,” shouted Branchstaff.
Copper joined in. “Ja! Her pet is a deer. Get it? Dear pet! Pet deer! All hail Flutterbold, the jester!”
Wheatbrew walked around from behind the counter and approached me. “What’s the matter with you, boy? Don’t you like Flutterbold’s joke?”
“I don’t care about that! I want to know where Clive is!” I surprised myself with the force of my reply. It startled all four denizens of the tavern.
“Clive?” Wheatbrew said. “I don’t know any Clive.”
“Is Clive your pet reindeer?” said Copper.
“Clive is another human child,” Flutterbold said. He pulled up a chair at the closest table, then sat down with a sigh.
“Now that you mention it, there was a human child here just a while ago,” said Branchstaff.
“Very recently,” added Copper. “Didn’t care much for him, if you want to know the truth.”
“Very rude,” added Branchstaff.
“That was Clive,” I said.
“Hmm. I’ve got some good news, then.” Wheatbrew began a slow saunter back to the bar as he spoke. “And I’ve got some bad news to go with it.”
“Careful,” said Flutterbold. “He’s going to speak in riddles.”
“Fine,” I said, not in the mood for games, but resigned to this one. “What is the good news?”
“The good news is that your Clive is safe and sound, and probably still in Trimble’s company.”
“All right, what is the bad news?”
“The bad news is, they’re both so far away, you have no hope of catching up with them.”
“How far away could they be?”
“Have you ever been to New Zealand?” Copper chirped.
“Of course I have. We’re in New Zealand now.”
“Well, Trimble and your silly little friend aren’t,” said Wheatbrew, and all three of the F.A.B. laughed.
“Aren’t in New Zealand? That’s absurd.”
“It certainly is,” said Copper, nodding. “But it’s true.”
“If it isn’t so, my name isn’t Branchstaff,” said the other. “Und my name is Branchstaff, so there’s your proof!”
“Though, actually, when he is at home, his name is Zweigstock!” Copper laughed, then added, “Und I am really called Kupfer. But when we are in this forest, we speak the language of the locals.”
I sat down next to Flutterbold. “This is making my head hurt.”
“These elves have that effect on all of us.”
“Not elves! Root folk,” said Wheatbrew.
I sighed and then said, “If they aren’t in New Zealand, where are they?”
“In another forest,” Wheatbrew said airily, as he drew a mug of Wish Number One. “I don’t know which.”
“If your friend chose the West door, he is in a rainforest in Brazil,” said Branchstaff.
“If your friend chose the East door, he is on a mountain in Bhutan,” said Copper.
“If he chose either of those doors, he is among friends, and Trimble is safe,” said Wheatbrew.
“But if he chose the other door,” said Copper.
“As we instructed him to,” said Branchstaff.
“Yes, if he followed our instructions ...” added Copper in turn.
“And we doubt it, because he doesn’t seem the type that follows instructions ...”
“Then he has gone north,” said the two of them together. “Very North.”
“Und he is probably very sorry,” added Copper.
Flutterbold’s expression was grave. “This is worse than I thought. You had better brace yourself, lad. Our mission has already failed.”
“And it’s a good thing, too!” said Wheatbrew. “You may not realize it, but we’re a force for good. You should join us in our victory celebration. We’ve delivered Trimble to our master, and all is well.”
“I don’t understand,” I said to Flutterbold.
Copper and Branchstaff came over to our table and sat down with us.
“That is because we haven’t explained it.”
“Your friend Clodhopper,” said Branchstaff.
“Clive,” I said, though I did like the alternative he had just proposed.
“Well, however you say it, he had with him a key.”
“A key with the mark of VN.”
"That wasn’t his,” I said. “It was more properly mine, or really, I think it was meant for his sister Olivia.”
“Irrelevant detail,” said Wheatbrew. “The thing is, only someone with a key like that can get anywhere close to Very North.”
“And we really wanted Trimble to get there,”
“As quickly as possible,” said Copper.
“So, we told Cloppy to take Trimble through the North door.”
“But we don’t know if he did.”
“News travels fast, but not quite that fast.”
“We’ll know inside of the hour.”
Flutterbold put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s our greatest secret, young man. The forest passages. With the right key, we can cross oceans and continents in a matter of moments. These ancient tunnels can link us to other tunnels in other forests throughout the world.”
“But you have to know where to look.”
“Und you have to have a key!”
“And those are hard to come by,” said Wheatbrew. “We led your friend to the Crossway Passage. We let him make up his own mind.”
“If only we had a key, we could try to follow,” said Flutterbold.
“But we have a ...” I began to say, but Flutterbold cut me off.
“If we had a key,” said Flutterbold. “But we don’t.” I understood at once that the key in my pocket, bent though it might be, was best kept secret.
“If what you say is true, what will happen to Clive?”
Wheatbrew whistled casually, then smiled. “Honestly, there’s no reason to fret.”
“None vhat-soever.” Copper made a carefree hand-waving gesture.
“What’s done is done!” Branchstaff brushed his hands off against each other as if to say “job finished. ‘
“I’m sure he will be back in a month or two,” said Wheatbrew.
“Until then, it will be a treat for his family, ja?”
Flutterbold stood. “Don’t you care about Trimble? Have you thought what could happen if he’s captured?”
“It’s beyond our control now. We’ll get word soon, if ...” and Wheatbrew gave a small chuckle.
“You laugh at the thought of Trimble lying dead. Is that the sort of elf you are?” Flutterbold was turning red.
“I hate that word. We are root-folk.”
“You’re criminals,” Flutterbold cried. “And you are aiding our common enemy in the destruction of that innocent animal.”
“We aren’t aiding the enemy. We are appeasing him. And you should be glad we are.”
I began to understand what had been at stake for poor Trimble all along. “Are they saying Trimble is going to be sacrificed?”
“To an unholy monster, yes,” said Flutterbold.
“That’s awful!” I turned and looked at Copper and Branchstaff, who were smiling as merrily as if I had just recited a funny limerick. “How can you smile?”
“It’s our job.”
“Merriment, it’s what we root-folk are known for.”
“It’s all very well to be merry, but killing an animal for a sacrifice ...” I could feel indignation rising to the surface and taking over. “You mean to make merry over that?!”
“We do and we will! And if you knew our reasons ...” said Wheatbrew.
“I don’t give a damn about your reasons!”
Flutterbold took my shoulder and drew me aside. “All right, young man. I salute your strength of feeling, but it’s prudent not to let it govern you.”
“The boy needs a drink,” Wheatbrew said. “I have a harmless crabapple cider. It’s sour. Perfect for him.”
“Are all human children so impolite?” asked Copper.
“Wait!” said Branchstaff. He lifted his nose and sniffed the air. “I smell something.” He moved closer to me. “Human child, I smell the faintest whiff of strange magics. Are you hiding something?”
I didn’t answer, which proved answer enough.
“What is it?” said Wheatbrew, running over from the bar counter to our table. “Did you steal something?”
I looked at Flutterbold, hoping for some guidance. He shook his head in resignation and said, “Go ahead and show them what you have in your pocket.”
I had two objects, of course, a bent key, and a medallion. I took out the key and set it on the table. All three elves burst into raucous laughter.
“How in the seven realms did you manage to do that?!” Wheatbrew said, and he followed with a bellowing guffaw. “Did you walk the Moss Circle while reciting the Tin Bird’s Lament?”
“Oh, it’s precious!” said Copper. Branchstaff echoed this. “Ja, precious und pathetic!”
Suddenly, Wheatbrew shouted, “Wait!” He froze in place. “He’s got something else. He’s got something... rather powerful.” Wheatbrew’s look hardened as he stared at me. “Empty your pockets, boy.”
Flutterbold looked frightened, but he nodded. “Go ahead. Let them see.”
Standing by the little table, I reached into my left pocket first. I turned it inside out. It contained nothing but a bit of lint. From the right pocket, I brought out a folded slip of paper and set it in front of Wheatbrew. He unfolded it and read the slip out loud.
“This is bonkers!” He read the note and frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s nothing,” I said. I then held open my hand and showed the stolen treasure. It was the first time I got a good look at the medallion myself. It was a small bronze cross, encircled with metallic scrollwork. The four equal arms were joined at the center by a bright blue gem, round with seven facets.
“Sacred Sunflowers!” said Wheatbrew. “That’s Trimble’s medallion.”
“Oooooh!” Copper’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t know you were such a master thief, boy!”
“I didn’t steal it,’ I said.
“You must have done! Trimble didn’t just give it to you.” Wheatbrew appeared to be awed by the gem. The other elves were staring at it with comparable wonder.
“If there are any takers, I’ll gladly give it up,” I said.
“No, Mannie! Don’t let them have it!” Flutterbold placed his hand over mine to cover the little prize.
“We wouldn’t dream of touching it,” said Wheatbrew.
“Nein! We may be criminals, but if her ladyship found us with that? There would be no mercy!”
“But I don’t want it!” I shouted.
As if responding to my outcry, the musical blast came again, like the trumpets of a pipe organ. White light bled through the cracks of the knotted opening to the tavern.
“The lady is here,” said Flutterbold, as he let go of my hand. “She will arrest us all.”
“Best get to the brewery,” said Wheatbrew, and he cocked his head back to the picture frame. “She’ll arrest you, for certain. We’ve got alibis. Air tight.”
Flutterbold stepped to the portrait. “Come along, Mannie. There will be a right time to face her ladyship. Now is not that time.” He stood in front of the lascivious painting and scanned it. “There must be a switch somewhere,” he said.
“Press on the pretty lady’s mug of beer,” Wheatbrew said, and then he motioned me toward the portrait. I pocketed the key and medallion and joined Flutterbold.
The old gnome had to jump up to reach the mug in the painting. He slapped his hand against it. The portrait swung forward on hidden hinges. Flutterbold and I stepped into the passage behind it. As he pulled it closed, the tavern was flooded with light, and the musical chord, beautiful and frightening, sounded louder than I had yet heard it. My hands went to my ears. I caught a last glimpse of the F.A.B. turning their heads to the tavern entrance and holding their arms up to their eyes against the bright light.
Once the portrait doorway was closed, we turned around and groped our way in darkness, until Flutterbold struck a match. In the glow, he found a tiny candle lantern and lit it.
The passage went down into the roots of the tree, and into a room at least as large as the tavern above. Five metal vats were arrayed in a circle, and on one wall, a row of wooden barrels. Each vat had its own distilling machine, with steam-powered pistons that chugged and gears that turned to stir the vats. This had to be the source of the mechanical noises I had heard outside.
“The distillery! Of course. It’s the perfect hiding place.” Flutterbold was highly excited.
“If we must hide,’ I said, “it better not be for long.”
“I don’t mean a hiding place for us! I mean, this is where they’ve been hiding the Crossway Passage! We found it!”
Flutterbold lit three more lanterns that hung along the walls opposite. Each wall had a painted inscription: East Door, West Door, and opposite to where I stood, the letters VN. Beneath each inscription was a keyhole.
I noticed that the noises of blasting chord and chatter had died away from the chamber above us.
“Is Mother Solstice gone?” I asked.
“I believe so. And I’ll bet everyone else is, too. She wouldn’t have had to ask. When she possesses full power, she is persuasive. She can take a prisoner without a word.”
“So if we had stayed up there ...”
“We would have followed her as well. Against our own will. She is a powerful sorceress. And good! Good, but ...”
“Frightening?”
“Powerful.”
I looked at the door marked VN. “The key, the good one that Clive took from me. It would have opened that door, right?”
“It would have opened any of them. I just hope that, if Trimble came this way, he went through the West door or the East door. Very North is Trimble’s first home, but he is not safe there. Not tonight.”
On the floor, I saw hoof prints pressed into the dirt. “Trimble’s been here, all right” I said.
Flutterbold held the candle lantern closer to the ground and followed the tracks. They led straight to the VN door at the north end of the room.
It was a picture of a door painted as a fresco against the smooth north wall. A fissure in the rock was painted to resemble a keyhole. The opening was large enough to accommodate a key much larger than the bent specimen in my pocket.
“I don’t know if it will work,” said Flutterbold, “but you could try the key. It’s imperfect, but it did come from the Moss Circle.”
“You want me to go through?” I asked.
“You need to find your friend. While he could have gone through any door, I feel sure he chose this one.
“And Trimble went with him?”
“Oh yes.” Flutterbold’s expression spoke the dread that his words did not.
“Is Clive in danger?”
“I don’t know. More likely in trouble than in danger, but ...”
“I should go to him,” I said. “Unless you ...”
“The key is Kris’s magic. You walked the circle. I did not. Only you can attempt that door. So, will you?”
“I guess I have to.” I stood for a few moments and thought my way through it. “Can I get back?”
“Some way or another, but it won’t be this passage.”
“Where will it take me? Where, really?”
“North. Very North. I can’t be more specific than that.”
I fetched the key from out my pocket, and the bronze cross on its chain came out along with it.
“What about this medallion? It’s trouble, I bet. I don’t want it.”
“Return it to Trimble, if you can.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then be on guard. The Grim Frost will be looking for it.”
There were so many things to be uncertain about. I had more questions than I could count. Was I really about to go willingly into an underground passage, on behalf of strangers? Could all these gnomes and elves truly be real? Or was this an elaborate trap? Perhaps I was about to be kidnapped, by way of the most fanciful conspiracy. That was troubling, too. But when it came down to it, I had to follow Clive.
“My mother, can you tell her where I am? Can you tell her I’m safe?”
“She can’t see or hear me.”
“But you could leave her word. You could write something down.”
“Yes.”
“Let her know that I’ve gone to find Clive. I’ll contact her the first instant I can.”
“Sensible lad,” he said. “All right. There is no time. Try the key.”
I pushed the key into the hole, about halfway, and then something unseen grabbed it away. It vanished through the hole, as if under its own power. Then the wall opened just a tiny bit, at it’s left end. There was barely enough room for someone my size to squeeze through.
Flutterbold handed me the candle lantern. “You’ll need this,” he said. “One day, if our fortune is good, we may meet again. You’ll have a tale to tell. I’ll be interested to hear it.”
He stepped back and waited as I wriggled my way through the opening. On the other side, all was dark. Flutterbold leaned against the wall on his end and pushed the rocky panel shut. I could still hear the machines of the distillery clanking and hissing. I could smell the wet, earthy scent of the underground tunnel. My tiny light flickered in its iron cage. I took a breath and turned around to find out where this adventure was taking me.