"Frogs and toads!" Craumpalin exclaimed quietly.
"Indeed, sir. As some sought to destroy men, so others strove to defend us. I have never known the like-I always thought the nicker universally black-hearted-as I know you shall agree, Madam Fulgar."
Rossamund looked to the floor to hide a frown.
The Duchess-in-waiting simply nodded.
"Fighting a path through the hoots and howls and caterwauling harassments," Crispus pressed on, "the calendars seemed well learned in the distinction between friend and foe. The Lady Dolours was a wild thing, dashing here and there and laying all blighted beasts flat before her with equal measure of smokes and striving. Young Threnody too did her part, supporting the hurt, throwing back nickers when she had need-she seemed better at her witting than her poor reputation led me to believe." He gave a quick, sad look to Rossamund. "All about I could feel what I believe some call threwd, a great swaying contest of it. If I did not know any better, I might have said it was as if two wills of clear and contrary intent were contending against each other: malice coming from north and east, benevolence from the south.
"I watched a vasty brute-born of logs and barks and sticks and wider than it was tall-flail against a band of grinning things. On the Forming Square an umbergog with the head of some malformed ram stood in a deadly bout against an absurdly enormous, bloated pillboy, all hunched and heavy in its swollen insect shell; who fought for whom I could not discern. The lighters who could united with us in our exodus, picking up the infirm that dying calendars dropped. Ahh, what unhappiness, Rossamund, to run from calls of pain, not to them. Before us scourge Josclin fell beneath an ettin's stomp even as his chemistry burned the thing to its death. Brave Josclin-he performed marvels that night… Songs should be made of him… We found Swill too… Or, rather, what remained of him."The physician drew a hand across his brow. "Though his head remained whole, his members were torn asunder with such careless savagery that I believe not even the most skilled massacar could put him back together again."
Uncertain of what he felt, Rossamund closed his eyes. The end of a foe-especially such a terrible and pitiless end-was not necessarily the great victory he had supposed it might be. It was instead a melancholy kind of relief; a threat was lifted but its consequences remained.
"The overweaning massacar missteps at last," Europe murmured with evident satisfaction.
"It's a pity the nickers di'n't get to 'im before 'e got to spreadin' 'is conjecturings over 'ere," Fransitart added darkly.
"They tried, Master Frans," said Rossamund quietly, thinking bitterly of the poor doomed Herdebog Trought trying to rend its way into Winstermill, and the destruction of Wormstool. "They tried…"
A dull thump of luggage fumbled by Wenzel the footman out in the vestibule hall gave the physician a cruel start.
"I reckon thee might do well to unbrace thyself with a nice calmer," Craumpalin offered quietly, leg raised on a tandem. "I could test thee bestill liquor if thee likes."
"Indeed, sir; or perhaps Dew of Imnot might do me better, if you know how it goes-kinder upon my stomach," Crispus concurred solemnly. "I'll have out with my recounting, then take a draught after."
Rossamund could stand it no longer. "But what of Numps?"
"Yes, yes, my boy." The physician adjusted his spectacles. "I was just coming to that. He is well, that I will say." He took a breath. "Where was I? Ah! Such a wild hooting and bellowing was pressing at every hand, and the very air assaulted us with dark and dreadful thoughts. As mighty as the Lady Dolours undoubtedly is, she and Threnody and their surviving sister columbines appeared to falter. A dark and awful form stood at the gate, head ducked under the arch, a horned and thorny beast of wicked antiquity. Gathephar, one of the calendars called it in her dread."
Those other monsters that Grammaticus fellow in Pour Clair wrote of must have called it away to join the assault! Doubly glad they had not found this dread monster themselves, Rossamund glanced to Europe, who remained attentive to the doctor's telling.
"Slavering, it reached for us, swatting Dolours aside. Smaller wretchers dashed among us. I was thrown to the ground-which is where I suspect this"-the doctor wagged his bandaged arm, his voice rising in the passion of his recounting-"occurred. We were in danger of being eliminated where we stood! Quite suddenly, all oppressions and griefs were lifted as if by some mighty though kindly hand. Something small burst through us from behind, clad in fine coat, processing greatly distended sparrow's head upon his shoulders. I thought us finally undone."
"Cinnamon!" Rossamund breathed excitedly. How fast and far must the nuglung prince have traveled to be present for the assault? How did he ever know it was going to happen?
"Indeed it was, my friend!" Crispus exclaimed in his very own amazement. "As I later learned. Such a diminutive creature, yet it sprang readily at this Gathephar, leaping so very high to strike at the monstrous thing with a long spittende, driving the Gathephar back after many fierce blows, to send it howling through the gate and away. For a moment the tide of baskets fell away. Delivered, we hurried out from that perishing fortress, this Cinnamon aiding Dolours, who still lived despite her buffeting.To our enduring delight we were joined by an assembly of survivors, women and children and various staff fleeing from the Low Gutter-and who do you think should be at their lead?" He paused as if seeking an answer.
His listeners just blinked at him expectantly.
"Mister Numps! Unhurt, coming willingly through the butchery. Hand in hand with a wee wizened thing by the name of Freckle, our glimner friend was wearing the most rapt expression I have ever known him to show; he could have been on a summerscale picnic for all he cared of the desperate melee about. Defended by many wizened bogles-glamgorns is their designation, I believe-this second party had won through to us, and together we fled down the Approach and on to the Harrowmath. Even with these kindly creatures' aid, it was only a sorry remnant of calendars, clerks and lighters that got free."
"Master Sparrow and his tiny friend are busy fellows," Europe observed.
Doctor Crispus went on. "By the stars I could see that we were being taken southeast across the Harrowmath, reaching the marshes of Old Man's Itch at dawn. Past this Cinnamon took us, even to the wooded foothills of the northern extents of the Sparrowdowns, where only commerce men and fools will go." Crispus wagged his head, clearly still astonished at the journey. "Our way was necessarily slow, four days carrying hurt souls by boggy paths. Threnody, through all her sharp looks and squalls of temper, proved herself an august's daughter, seeking all our welfare, making sure stragglers did not fall too far behind.We fed on bulbs pulled from the ground and washed with trickling marsh water, and the bogles tended all hurts with skill-I say to my shame- beyond my learning. As for Numps, I have never seen him appear in such ecstasy, such transports of delight; while we sagged in our weariness, he capered with glee, hugging and holding hands with Cinnamon and the one called Freckle."
Rossamund grinned broadly, easily conceiving the happy babble that the simple glimner would have chortled: My old old friends! Come to get me at last!
"Some folk were not so easy with such unterly company." Crispus let out a puff of air. "The calendars were perfectly at ease with monsters about them, yet several refugees lagged deliberately or slipped away at night to find their own way, ungrateful souls. Cinnamon did not prevent them, and I suppose I do not blame them-it is an altogether peculiar experience to be at a bogle's mercy. I certainly do not know what became of any of them." He paused a little ominously. "Finally, amid a great joyful flocking of sparrows and other small woodland birds swarming about us, we were met by the Duke of Sparrows-or so Dolours named him with surprising reverence-a lord of monsters, no less, direct from some spurious tome of legendry, as if monsters fighting monsters for the cause of men was not bamboozling enough!"