Freeglader (26 page)

‘But he'd done nothing wrong!’ Xanth blurted out.

‘That's exactly what I told him,’ said Tweezel. ‘But I don't think he was ever able to accept it – which possibly explains what happened later…’

‘What?’ said Xanth.

‘I'm coming to that,’ said Tweezel calmly. ‘Time passed, and Quint and Maris became friends.’ He smiled. ‘
Close
friends. Inseparable, they were. Maris nursed her father when he became ill and Quint took up a place in the Knights' Academy. They were happy times, exciting times! I often think about old Sanctaphrax, and that long cold winter …’ The spindle-bug's eyes closed completely, and he seemed to have fallen asleep.

‘Tweezel?’ said Xanth. ‘Tweezel? Maris and Quint … What happened to them?’

The spindlebug opened his eyes and shook his huge, glassy head. ‘Many, many things,’ he said. ‘They got married, they set sail on a sky ship captained by a brutal rogue by the name of Multinius Gobtrax …’ He shuddered.

‘And?’ said Xanth, struggling to contain himself.

‘They were shipwrecked,’ said Tweezel simply. He took Xanth's glass and topped it up with tea. ‘I never quite got to the bottom of exactly what took place out there in the skies above the Deepwoods. Quint wouldn't talk about it, and poor Maris couldn't talk about it. There was a storm, that much I know. And, in the tumultuous wind and rain, Maris gave birth to a son on board the sky ship. Then …’ The great creature's eyes misted over. ‘Oh, my poor mistress,’ he said, his voice quavering with emotion. ‘Even now I find it hard to think about what happened.’

‘What?’ said Xanth.

‘They had to make a terrible decision,’ said Tweezel. ‘They were stranded in the middle of the Deepwoods with a new-born baby, and Gobtrax and the rest of the crew refused to take it with them. Quint and Maris both knew the young'un would never survive the journey on foot back to Undertown.’

Xanth's jaw dropped. ‘What did they do?’ he murmured.

‘They found themselves near a woodtroll village. They knew that woodtrolls feared and distrusted sky pirates – but a foundling might just stand a chance,’ said Tweezel. ‘So they left the young'un there and set off for Undertown.’ He shook his head. ‘Maris never spoke again.’

‘That's terrible,’ said Xanth.

Tweezel nodded. ‘The guilt, Xanth; it was the guilt that almost killed them both. I came the moment I heard that
they'd made it back to Undertown. And a sorry sight they were, too. They were both half-starved and Maris had come down with a fever. Nothing but a bag of bones, she was. I found them in lodgings above a tavern – the Bloodoak Tavern, run by an avaricious old bird-creature by the name of Mother Horsefeather. Quint, by this time, was calling himself by his sky pirate name – Captain Cloud Wolf…’

‘What did you do?’ asked Xanth.

‘The only thing I could do,’ said Tweezel. He placed his empty glass down gently on the tray. ‘I packed up my belongings and left Sanctaphrax at once. After all, since Linius Pallitax my master had died, there was precious little to keep me up there. Besides, I had known the young mistress since
she
was a baby. I nursed her back to health, though it was touch and go for a few weeks, I can tell you.’

‘And Cloud Wolf?’ said Xanth.

‘Cloud Wolf set sail in a sky pirate ship of his own,’ Tweezel explained, ‘with money lent to him by Mother Horsefeather. He hated leaving Maris, but he'd promised her that if they made it back, he'd return to the Deepwoods to find their child. I think he realized what a terrible thing they'd done. Of course, Mother Horsefeather was only interested in the lucrative cargoes of timber Cloud Wolf would bring back.’

‘Did he find the baby?’ said Xanth.

Tweezel shook his head. ‘No,’ he said sadly. ‘Voyage after voyage he made, each time returning with a heavily-laden ship – but without the one thing he'd actually set out for. And all the time, I could see the guilt
eating away at him. It got so bad that eventually he couldn't bear to see the look in Maris's eyes when he returned empty-handed. At last, he just stayed away from the tavern.’ Tweezel sighed heavily.

‘When Maris finally recovered from her fever,’ he went on, ‘she had changed. She, too, was racked with guilt, that much was plain to see in her face. And, like Cloud Wolf, she set out to do something about it. Each night, she would leave the tavern by the backstairs and roam Undertown, looking for young'un waifs and strays with no parents of their own, and bring them home with her.

‘The first one, I remember, was a young gnokgoblin whose parents had disappeared in the Mire. Then a pair of slaughterers. Then a young mobgnome lass who had had to run away from her violent uncle…

‘And yet, despite the good she was undoubtedly doing, Maris was never truly at peace. Her terrible loss weighed too heavily on her heart, and she yearned to go back to the Deepwoods.’

‘To search for her lost child?’ Xanth asked.

‘I thought that, at first,’ said Tweezel, ‘but I think there was more to it than that. I think she wanted to face up to her guilt, and ease it by trying to put right the terrible thing she'd done. If she couldn't find her own abandoned baby, then she would find and care for those abandoned by others. I think
that's
what she yearned to do.’

‘And did she?’ said Xanth, feeling the weight of his own guilt tugging at his heart.

‘Let me finish my story,’ said Tweezel, ‘and you can decide for yourself.’ The spindlebug took a long, slow
breath that set the papery tissues of his lungs fluttering inside his chest. ‘It was a cold and stormy night when we all set off – Maris, myself, and our little family of Undertown orphans, on foot…’

‘On foot!’ said Xanth, amazed.

‘Certainly,’ said Tweezel. ‘We were in no hurry. And as we travelled, across the Mire, through the treacherous Twilight Woods – led blindfolded by a shryke-mate, Dekkel, his name – and into the Deepwoods themselves, we picked up waifs and strays every step of the way. Through woodtroll villages, slaughterer encampments and gabtroll clearings we wandered, attracting more and more young'uns wherever we went – orphans with no future, drawn to our growing band, because no one else would have them. And you should have seen Maris!’ Tweezel's antennae trilled at the memory. ‘She was radiant. Like a mother to them all!

‘Of course, it was dangerous,’ Tweezel continued, his eyes narrowing. ‘The Deepwoods is a treacherous place at the best of times, even for well-armed sky pirates – though I like to think that my own considerable knowledge of the place helped us survive. There were flesh-eating trees, bloodthirsty carnivores, slavers with wolf-packs and innumerable shryke patrols. Many was the time we had to take to the trees, or hide out in hollows, until the dangers had passed. And that's the way it would have continued if we hadn't found what we were looking for…’

‘And what
were
you looking for?’ asked Xanth, intrigued.

‘A home, Xanth,’ said Tweezel, a smile playing on his face. ‘A home.’

‘Where?

’ ‘Can't you guess, Master Xanth?’ The spindlebug trilled with pleasure. ‘I remember it as if it was only yesterday. We emerged from the dark depths of the forest into the most beautiful place any of us had ever seen.

‘There was a wide expanse of grassy slopes, strewn with flowers and fruit bushes, which led down to a crystal clear lake, one of three stretching out in a line. In the centre of one was a small island, the lullabee trees growing upon it filling the air with a soft, turquoise mist. To our left was a tall cliff, studded with caves and rising out of the forest like a vast, curved edifice; to our right, on the other side of the lakes, an ironwood stand, with trees so tall and straight, it seemed as if they were skewering the clear blue sky, high above our heads. The sun was shining. Birdsong filled the air, joined at once by the sound of laughter and singing as the young'uns gambolled down the grassy slopes to the water's edge.

‘And when I turned to my mistress, Maris, I could see by the look in her eyes that our long trek was over. We would wander no more.’

Xanth gasped. ‘It's the Free Glades, isn't it?’ he exclaimed. ‘You'd found the Free Glades!’

‘Indeed we had,’ said Tweezel. ‘Indeed we had. That first night, we camped out beneath the stars. No creatures disturbed us; no tribes attacked. It was as if we were surrounded by an invisible mantle that kept us safe from danger.

‘The following morning, we began to explore the area. It was, for the main part, uninhabited, but we discovered first that there were oakelves living on the island of lullabee trees, and later that a colony of spindlebugs dwelt in caverns beneath the Ironwood Glades.’

‘Spindlebugs!’ said Xanth, and chuckled.

‘To our eternal good fortune,’ said Tweezel, nodding. ‘I was able to persuade them to take us in, and we stayed with them until we had constructed the first buildings which were to become New Undertown.’ He paused. There were tears in his great eyes. ‘And that's how it all began, Xanth. From such simple and humble beginnings…’

Xanth could feel a lump forming in his own throat once more.

‘Soon others came, and stayed. Everyone who arrived at the Free Glades immediately felt at home. Slaughterers and woodtrolls established villages to the south, while cloddertrogs, inspired to give up their nomadic existence, started living in the eastern caves. Even passing goblins decided to stay, and settlements sprang up all along the eastern banks of the lakes…’

‘And Maris?’ asked Xanth. ‘What happened to her?’

The spindlebug cocked his head to one side. ‘Ah, Maris,’ he said, and smiled. ‘She was the mother of the Free Glades and, I think, as she saw the young'uns grow and settle down and have families of their own, she found the peace she had searched so long for. And when, some years later, she died, she was as happy as I had ever seen her – even though she had never again set eyes upon her son…’

‘So the Free Glades made her well,’ said Xanth thoughtfully, speaking as much to himself as to the great spindlebug. He stared down bleakly at the half drunk glass of tea, cold now, before him. ‘She found peace,’ he murmured.

‘For many, the Free Glades have been a place of healing,’ Tweezel broke in. ‘To those who are lost or abandoned or mired in their own unfortunate pasts, it can be a place of sanctuary and rebirth.’ He paused. ‘Of course, the first step is to confront the guilt you carry, not hide from it…’

Xanth flinched. ‘Is that what I've been doing?’ he said. ‘Hiding from my guilt?’ His face paled. ‘But if I face it, will I really be able to live with it? Or will it destroy me and?’ He fell silent, unable to put the terrible thoughts into words.

Tweezel leaned forwards. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is what we'll find out at your Reckoning.’

• CHAPTER FOURTEEN •
THE NEW GREAT LIBRARY

A
s they walked through the lush farmland that stretched before them, Rook glanced back over his shoulder. New Undertown, with its narrow cobbled streets, bustling squares and thronging lakeside, had almost disappeared from view. The mighty Lufwood Tower poked up above the gently undulating hills and the tall, irregular pinnacles of the gyle goblin colonies to the west glimmered in the morning sun – but the roofs of the Hive Huts were lost from view, and Lullabee Island to the east was no more than a distant memory.

At the top of a low hill, criss-crossed by small fields and edged with copperleaf hedges, Rook stopped, threw back his head and let out a great, joyous shout.

‘Oh, Felix,’ he laughed. ‘I can't tell you how good it is to feel the sun on my back and the wind in my face, and to be surrounded by all this.’ He spread his arms wide.

Felix laughed in turn. ‘You mean sour cabbage and glimmer-onion fields?’ he said.

Several low-belly goblins looked up from the field next to them, where they were pulling large red turnips, and doffed their harvest-bonnets in greeting.

‘No,’ said Rook. ‘I mean … well, yes,
all
of it. The Free Glades, all around us. Isn't it wonderful!’

‘Well, it certainly beats Screetown, I'll give you that,’ said Felix. ‘Now, if you've quite finished disturbing the peace, let's get a move on, or we'll never get to Lake Landing!’