Maskerade

corner.

“Snow, ice, frost… that sort of thing,” said Salzella. “Yes, indeed! Coldness of all descriptions, in fact.”

“Yes! Yes!” said Bucket gratefully. “And at a time like this I think it is very important to try to remember the names of, say, any number of boring and hopefully chilly things!”

“Wind, glaciers, icicles—”

“Not icicles!”

“Oh,” said the interpreter, and slumped forward into his plate. His head hit a spoon, which cartwheeled into the air and bounced off Enrico's head.

Salzella started to whistle under his breath and pound the arm of his chair.

Bucket blinked. In front of him was the water jug. The cold water jug. He reached out…

“Oh, oh, oh, dear me, what can I say, I seem to have spilled it all over myself,” he said, through the rising clouds of steam. “What a butterfingers I am, to be sure. I shall ring for Mrs Ogg to bring us another one.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Salzella. “And perhaps you would care to do it soon? I am also feeling very… accident?prone.”

Basilica, still chewing, lifted his interpreter's head off the table and carefully tipped the man's unfinished pudding into his own plate.

“In fact, in fact, in fact,” said Salzella, “I think I shall just… have a brisk… have a nice cold…if you would excuse me a minute…”

He pushed back his chair and fled the room in a kind of crouching gait.

Mr Bucket glistened. “I'll just, I'll just, I'll just… be back quite shortly,” he said, and scurried away.

There was silence, broken only by the scrape of Senor Basilica's spoon and a sizzling noise from the interpreter.

Then the tenor belched baritone. “Whoops, pardon my Klatchian,” he said. “Oh… damn.”

He appeared to notice the depleted table for the first time. He shrugged, and smiled hopefully at Granny. “Is there a cheeseboard, do you think?” he said.

The door flew open and Nanny Ogg burst in, holding a bucket of water in both hands.

“All right, all right, that's—” she began, and then stopped.

Granny dabbed primly at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I'm sorry, Mrs Ogg?” she said.

Nanny looked at the empty dish in front of Basilica.

“Or perhaps some fruit?” said the tenor. “A few nuts?”

“How much has he had?” she whispered.

“Best part of half,” said Granny. “But I don't reckon it's having any effect on account of not touching the sides.”

Nanny turned her attention to Granny's plate. “How about you?” she said.

“Two helpings,” said Granny. “With extra sauce, Gytha Ogg, may you be forgiven.”

Nanny looked at her with something like admiration in her eyes. “You ain't even sweating!” she said.

Granny picked up her water glass and held it at arm's length.

After a few seconds, the water began to boil.

“All right, you're getting really good, I've got to admit it,” said Nanny. “I reckon I should have to get up real early to put one over on you.”

“I reckon you should never go to sleep,” said Granny.

“Sorry, Esme.”

Senor Basilica, at a loss to follow the conversation, realized with reluctance that the meal was probably over.

“Absolutely superb,” he said. “I just loved that pudding, Mrs Ogg.”

“I should just jolly well expect you did, Henry Slugg,” said Nanny.

Henry carefully removed a clean handkerchief from his pocket, put it over his face, and leaned back in his chair. The first snore occurred a few seconds later.

“He's easy to have around, isn't he?” said Nanny. “Eat, sleep and sing. You certainly know where you are with him. I've found Greebo, by the way. He's still following Walter Plinge around.” Her expression became a little defiant. “Say what you like, young Walter's all right by me if Greebo likes him.”

Granny sighed. “Gytha, Greebo would like Norris the Eyeball?Eating Maniac of Quirm if he knew how to put food in a bowl.”

And now she was lost. She'd done her best not to be. As Agnes had walked through each dank room she'd thoughtfully taken note of details. She'd carefully remembered right and left turns. And yet she was lost.

Here and there were steps down to lower cellars, but the water?level was so high that it was lapping at the first step. And it stank. The candle burned with a greenish?blue edge to the flame.

Somewhere, said Perdita, there was the secret room. If there wasn't a huge and glittering secret cavern, what on earth was life for? There had to be a secret room. A room, full of… giant candles, and enormous stalagmites…

But it certainly isn't here, said Agnes.

She felt a complete idiot. She'd gone through the mirror looking for… well, she wasn't quite prepared to admit what she might have been looking for, but whatever it was it certainly wasn't this.

She'd have to shout for help.

Of course, someone might hear, but that was always a risk when you shouted for help.

She coughed.

“Er… hello?”

The water gurgled.

“Er… help? Is there anyone there?”

A rat ran over her foot.

Oh, yes, she thought bitterly with Perdita's part of her brain, if Christine had come down here there probably would have been some great glistening cave and delicious danger. The world saved up rats and smelly cellars for Agnes, because she had such a wonderful personality.

“Um…anyone?”

More rats scuttled across the floor. There was a faint squeaking from the side?passages.

“Hello?”

She was lost in some cellars with a candle getting shorter by the second. The air was foul, the flagstones were slippery, no one knew where she was, she could die down here, she could be–

Eyes glowed in the darkness.

One was green?yellow, the other pearly white.

A light appeared behind them.

Something was coming along the passageway, casting long shadows.

Rats tumbled over themselves in their panic to get away…

Agnes tried to press herself into the stone.

“Hello Miss Perdita X Nitt!”

A familiar shape juddered out of the darkness, just behind Greebo. It was all knees and elbows; it carried a sack over one shoulder and held a lantern in its other hand. Something fled from the darkness. The terror leached out of it…

“You don't want to be down here Miss Nitt with all the rats!”

“Walter!”

“Got to do Mister Pounder's job now the poor man is passed away! I am a person of all jobs! No peas for the wicked! But Mister Greebo just hits them with his paws and they're off to rat heaven in a jiff!”