Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 9: All the Underworld's a Stage

Beyond the last step of the final stairway to the lowest level of the Saintless Tower, waited a wide corridor. Chill drafts ran up and down, muttering of mysteries. Sconced candles flickered, setting shadows dancing to the mad music of flame and wind. The passage stank of the dust of ancient stones, the mold of forgotten cells where lay forsaken bones. At times a sulfur-taint wafted by, reminding of the Cursed Child's desolate chamber.

This atmosphere weighed heavy upon heart and spirit, as though all the levels of the tower above pressed down upon the company. Fixing each where they stood, stone figures gazing down the corridor, seeking an end hidden in the curving distance. No one seemed able to move, nor willing to take the next step.

Till Shadow Night-Creep leapt from Barnaby's shoulder.

"Look for me, by and by," he informed all; and darted ahead. With this farewell, the strange paralysis of the company ceased.

"Annoying pet, that," observed Matilda. "Impersonally, I find Miss Witch's spider more utilitarian, not to mention egalitarian."

"Thank you," whispered Jewel.

Val stood with eyes closed. Her face no longer alight; no longer gazing upon a vision for her alone.

Barnaby put a hand to her shoulder.

"Cup vanished again?"

She nodded. Took breath, wiped eyes, blinking puzzled at cold stone world and worried friends. When she spoke, it came in surprised whisper.

"Are we still in the tower?"

"Yes."

"Seems ages ago." She put a hand to Barnaby's face, studying it. "You haven't changed a bit."

"No, no. I'm older and wiser," Barnaby affirmed. "By full five minutes."

"Did he just make a joke?" wondered Jewel. "I never heard him make a joke."

"It's the second I've heard out him," affirmed Val. Her eyes still upon Barnaby's face. "The first was that night in the barn in Edgestead."

"Oi, I am very much desiring to hear that particular jest," declared Matilda.

"Val Kurgus, do you need rest?" That, from Cedric.

Val shook her head, then her whole self. Dream visions cast away, her face returned to present worries. She studied the hall before them.

"Let's go on."

And so they went; warily, weapons ready, hearing only the echoes of their own footsteps, the rasp of their own breaths. At times to left or right, a side passage offered choices they pondered, then declined.

Some fifty such wary steps brought into sight a desk high as a judge's bench. Behind it sat a figure beside a lamp, paging through a book. The company halted to consider.

"Do I take him down?" asked Matilda, fingering an arrow.

"No," said Cedric and Barnaby.

"Not yet," said Bodkin.

They looked to Val. She studied the distant figure.

"Seems peaceable. Let's seem peaceable too."

They approached the desk, wary for sudden attack. The personage ignored them till they stood within the light of the desk lantern. At which point, he put down the book, gazing upon the newcomers with large and watery eyes.

"Gobelin," whispered Matilda to the Benefactors.

Barnaby stared delighted; studying the man's rough complexion, indeed tinged green. Scant locks of hair sprouted across the round head like unprosperous weeds. Sharp teeth gleamed, frog-like eyes meeting his in equal curiosity.