On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness (17 page)

34

Peet's Castle

T
he boys stood as still as stones, but Leeli stepped forward. She limped out onto the bridge and stopped in front of Peet. White hair wild, face smudged with dirt, he stood there unmoving, gazing at her. His eyes were deep and blue, and they shone like jewels.

At once, Janner knew that somehow beneath the stench and beyond the strangeness, Peet the Sock Man was full of goodness. His eyes were so deep and so peaceful, Janner even began to believe that maybe Peet wasn't crazy at all.

The rope bridge creaked in the silence as they stared at one another.

“Hello, Mister Peet,” Leeli said after a moment. “I'd love to come to your castle again.” She reached out to his face and he stood frozen, a skittish animal about to spring. “Did something happen to your lip? It's swollen.”

Peet shook his head slowly, staring blankly at her.

Janner cleared his throat.

Peet blinked and looked up with surprise. “Yes, well then. Hello. Follow me patee-tee-teeee.” He whirled around and strode away, leaving the Igibys no choice but to follow in stunned silence.

After six more creaking bridges, they saw the tree house where Podo had found Leeli four days earlier. It was cradled in the boughs of the largest tree they had yet seen, towering twenty feet higher than the bridge that led them to it. The structure looked to have been made from the old lumber of fallen houses that littered the meadows near Glipwood. The planks were of mismatched grains and shapes, but arranged and nailed together neatly. Green-leafed branches cast quiet shadows on the sides of the little building and made it look to Janner as sturdy and welcoming as The Only Inn. There were even windows in Peet's tree castle.

The last bridge led to a thick, winding limb that was worn from much traffic and had no rope railing. Peet ambled across the limb without a thought, but it was too precarious for Leeli to cross with her crutch.

Peet turned back and noticed this, gasping. He bounded back, swept up Leeli, and carried her across in one fluid motion. Neither Tink nor Janner received such service, but they crossed without trouble.

Another rope ladder on the other side of the trunk led up to a trap door in the floor of the tree house through which Peet was already helping Leeli. The boys scrambled up and into Peet's castle in the trees.

Peet was humming as he tore the diggle carcass into pieces and dropped them into a pot.

Leeli made herself at home and sat cross-legged on the floor against the wall.

“Come in, young men, come in. Diggle cooking, rumple eating, diggle diggle rump food,” he said in a singsong voice.

Tink and Janner climbed into the tree house and sat next to Leeli, who wore a very satisfied expression on her face. She looked up at Peet and gestured to her brothers. “Mister Peet, these are my broth—”

“Janner and Tink, Tanner and Jink, Jinker and Tan, Janker and Teeeeen,” Peet said without looking up from the pot.

“But—how did you know our names?” Janner asked.

“Small town, boys. Crazy people hear lots of things, Wigiby,” Peet said.

“It's Igiby,” Tink said.

Peet shrugged and lit a small bundle of sticks and moss that sat in a crude fireplace beneath the pot. The fireplace was lined with stones, and above it he had fashioned a chimney of sorts from some kind of hide sewn together to make a tube.

Janner was impressed by Peet's ingenuity—that is, until the tree house filled with smoke. Peet didn't seem to notice.

Tink coughed. “Mister, uh, Peet the Sock Man, sir, aren't you worried that your house will catch fire?”

Peet fished a leather pouch from a small box beside him and sprinkled some of its contents into the pot. A delicious smell rose from the pot and mingled with the smoke.

“Worried? Not at all, young Wingiby.” He pointed through the nearest window and the children could see three nearby trees whose branches were charred and leafless in places. “I've burned down my castle three times before, and I've always survived. I'm not borried a wit. Worried a bit.” He went back to stirring the pot. “But this time I think I figured out the problem, see, problem, see, problem, see,” he sang with a wink. “Rocks. See these rocks? They don't catch fire. Nope.” He coughed and for the first time noticed the smoke filling the room. “Eeep!” he cried. Peet tugged on a piece of twine that dangled from the chimney tube, and the smoke slowly cleared. “Open the flue, open the flue, open the flue for me and for you.”

Janner began to rethink his opinion of Peet. He was as crazy as a moonbird.

Peet dropped the diggle carcass into the boiling water and turned to the children. He sized the three of them up, particularly the brothers. His lips were moving, and he was absently scratching his flurry of hair with one socked hand. The pot began to steam and Tink's stomach rumbled.

Peet looked at him, and a flash of pain came over his face. “Hungry, are you, Tink?” he murmured. “Of course, you are.”

Janner could see the stack of leather-bound books Leeli had mentioned beside an old trunk against the opposite wall. Something about them tickled at the back of his mind.

“So…do we call you Peet?” Janner asked, fishing for more answers to his mounting questions. “Is that your real name?”

The Sock Man stirred the boiling pot with a long wooden spoon and didn't answer.

The Igibys stared at him in an awkward silence.

“What's a real name?” Peet said finally. He pointed the spoon at Janner. “Is Janner Igiby
your
real name?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is it?” Peet said, turning back to his cooking.

Tink could think of nothing but food. After several minutes of watching Peet fuss over the stew, he cleared his voice. “Is that almost finished, sir?”

Peet raised the spoon to his lips and tasted the broth. He nodded, then produced four wooden bowls from a crate and ladled the stew into them, smacking his lips. They ate in a silence punctuated only by Tink's and Peet's occasional grunts of pleasure. Janner was surprised to find that snapping diggle was delicious.

“Now, little Dinglefigs—”

“Igibys,” Tink corrected again, through a mouthful of meat.

“—Iggyfeathers, whatever.” Peet grew serious and sat up straight. “I thank you for your kindness and your visitation.” His face darkened. “However, I must ask that you never, never, ever come here again.” His voice cracked and he sank to the floor. “You cannot visit me. I tell smerrible. I smell terrible. You sweet birds could be eaten by a dapping sniggle—snapping diggle, flapping figgle, Igibys. Or a toothy cow! Oh, the horror. And I might be dangerous—I hight murt you—might hurt you without meaning to, you see. I—”

Peet stopped short and cocked his head to one side, listening. He shrieked and leapt to his feet, but his head smashed into the low ceiling. Unsteady from the blow, he staggered, a socked hand lifted to his head.

“Something…
outside!
” he breathed, and collapsed in a heap. The children stared with shock at the figure on the floor, all lanky limbs and white hair. Then they heard a whine from below them.

“Nugget!” Leeli cried, and she scrambled over to the trapdoor. Nugget was looking up at her from the foot of the tree, wagging his tail. “He found us!” Leeli said, then panicked. A creature of the wood could have gobbled him up! “We have to get him up here!” she insisted.

With a careful scan of the forest below, Janner climbed down the ladder and managed to carry up the little dog under one arm.

Peet was still unconscious but didn't look hurt. In fact, he appeared to be taking a happy afternoon nap.

Just let him sleep,” Tink said. “He wanted us to leave anyway.” Tink slurped up the last of his bowl. “Snapping diggle stew,” he declared. “Who could have guessed it would be this good?”
¹

Janner crept past Peet to the pile of books in the corner.

“I don't know if that's such a good idea,” Leeli said.

Janner shushed her. “I just want to have a look.”

He crawled over to the pile and slipped out one volume. He opened it, and Tink and Leeli saw him gasp and look at Peet with wonder.

Peet stirred.

Quickly, Janner slid the book back into place and scooted back to where he had been sitting.

Tink and Leeli questioned Janner with their eyes, but he shook his head, then cleared his throat and said loudly, “We should go.”

The Sock Man groaned and sat up, rubbing his head.

“Bye, Mister Peet.” Janner was extra polite. “Thanks for the food.”

“That's what? What's that? Food?” Peet's eyes widened. “Something's out there!” he shrieked. He leapt to his feet and crashed into the ceiling again. “Ouch!” He staggered about with a socked hand on his head.

“It's all right, Mister Peet,” Leeli soothed. “That was just my dog, Nugget. Remember little Nugget?” Leeli scratched the dog's chin.

“Nemember little rugget,” he said, wincing and looking at the dog with confusion.

“We have to go,” Janner said.

“Yes, you do,” said Peet, plopping back down. “And don't come back. I'm so sad to say it, but don't come back.” He touched his swollen lip. “You mustn't come back.” His head drooped. “Good-bye, Wingiby Igifeathers.”

Peet carried Leeli across the high limb and placed her gently on the bridge while the boys followed. After they crossed the second bridge, Janner turned to wave good-bye. Peet was back in his castle, watching them from the window. Janner couldn't be sure, but it looked like Peet was crying.

Janner didn't speak the whole way back. Several times Tink asked him what he'd seen in the book, but Janner didn't answer. The Igiby children wound their long way over the bridges until the trees began to thin out again.

The only sound was Nugget whimpering as the little dog scrambled across the bridges, more afraid of falling than of a whole gobble of toothy cows. Janner marveled as Tink tried to reassure Nugget that heights were nothing to fear.

Halfway back Janner and Tink heard familiar, chilling howls that made them and Leeli freeze in their tracks. Several dark shapes emerged from the tangle of brush below them.

From their perch on the tree bridge, the Igibys watched silently as a pack of horned hounds passed through the trees below like a gray fog. When the hounds had gone, the leaves on the forest floor directly beneath the bridge rustled, then the ground bulged like a pot of boiling cheesy chowder. Out from its burrow popped a warty, brown digtoad as big as a goat.
²
At the same time, to Leeli's horror and her brothers' fascination, an oblivious fazzle dove lighted on the ground not far away, pecking at worms in the dirt. Without warning, the digtoad's tongue shot out and
sklotched
the bird into its mouth, leaving a cloud of gray feathers floating in the air where the bird had been.

Leeli squeaked and covered her mouth. The digtoad turned up its black, bulbous eyes and regarded the children for a long, terrible moment. Finally it let out a blatting croak and half-walked, half-hopped away. Just as the sound of the digtoad's departure faded, a smaller creature with black, matted hair skittered into the area.

“A ratbadger,” Janner whispered to Tink and Leeli.

The ratbadger twitched its large, pointy ears and sniffed around the forest floor until it found the digtoad's hidden burrow, where it slunk inside without a sound. A moment later, the large rodent appeared with a yellowish egg held carefully in its mouth.
³
With what Janner could only assume was an angry croak, the digtoad returned, its tongue darting out as it pursued the fleeing ratbadger.

In seconds, the forest was quiet again. Janner marveled at the way the forest could hide things. It could seem so innocent and harmless, even beautiful, while beneath its surface prowled such ruthless, deadly creatures. Why was so much in Janner's world not what it seemed? He thought about his mother, about Oskar, then about Peet the Sock Man. They all had secrets.

“It was a journal,” Janner said, breaking the silence.

“And?” Tink said.

Janner looked at Tink and Leeli. “On the front was a picture.” Janner looked intently at Tink. “A picture that we've seen before.”

“What was it?”

“A dragon, with wings.”

Tink's eyes widened. “The same as the Annieran journal? The one we found at Oskar's?”

Janner nodded. “And there were lots of them in the tree house. At least twenty! How would Peet have gotten his hands on Annieran journals?”

“Maybe they're his,” Leeli said.

“I don't think so. The first page said, ‘This is the journal of Artham P. Wingfeather, Throne Warden of Anniera.'”

Tink frowned. “What's a Throne Warden?”

“I don't really know.” Janner shrugged. “I haven't read much about Anniera or its history. Oskar doesn't have many books on the subject.”

“Sounds important,” Tink said, looking east through the dark foliage of the forest.

“Anniera.” Janner repeated the name to himself. The word felt good on his lips, like laughter or a pretty song. Standing in the middle of the swaying bridge, he suddenly was lost in thoughts of faraway green lands, of dragons with wings, and of their mysterious sock-handed new friend. Neither Tink or Leeli said anything, but Janner knew they were thinking of Anniera too.

Their thoughts were interrupted by the clicking chatter of a cave blat lumbering across the forest floor below them.

Without another word the Igibys made their way back to the edge of the forest.

Janner paused to be sure no toothy cow, cave blat, quill diggle, horned hound, or other manner of beast was prowling, then scooped up Nugget to carry him down the rope ladder. At the bottom, he set the grateful dog on the forest floor and waited for Leeli. Tink came last, with Leeli's crutch under his arm. With one last look at the swaying bridge high above them, they made for town as fast as they could.