“Anyway,” continued Rafferty, “by accident or instinct, in y‘r panic, wance again y’ managed t’ come t’ here. Here whare they are. On this w’rld. In this wicked city. Trapped. Captured. Locked up.”
Molly gasped, and Dando gritted his teeth but remained silent, neither saying ought as Rafferty went on.
“They are being held somewhare in an opium den, in a dope den, th’ Yellow Poppy. Th’ owner’s name is Khassan, and he’s a slaver on th’ side, and as mean a one as ever there was, if I am t’ believe me ears, and I do. They say he’s got mean guards, too, patrollin’ th’ grounds. And if I’m t’ believe me ears, them what told me say that there’s them what’s patrollin’ under th’ soil below and up in th’ skies above, as well.
“As to Tip and Perry, Khassan’s got ‘em up f’r sale, at an exorbitant price. ‘Special,’ he calls ’em, ’cause o’ their sparkly eyes. And there’s hundreds o’ bounty hunters in this town, beatin’ th’ bushes and searchin’ th’ alleyways and storm drains and anywhare else they figure Wee Folk with eyes what sparkle could be hidin’.
“Y’see, Khassan has put up a big reward f’r more sparkly-eyed folk, no questions asked.
“I learned all this from a couple o’ droonks who were layin’ in an alley and who thought me t’ be a bottle-born figment o’ their sodden minds. T’ keep ’em talking, o’ course, I had t’ take a wee nip from their bottle ev’ry now and again—kept it in a paper bag, they did.
“And then, before y’ could say thimbletythumb, there I was, droonk on cheap wine.
“We sold m’ silver buckles f’r more wine, then m’ clothes. And whin it all ran out—th’ buckles, m’ clothes, th’ money, th’ wine—I took th’ empty out o’ th’ paper sack and came home in the bag.”
A flinty glint came into Dando’s eye. “Where is this Yellow Poppy?”
Rafferty held out his hand, palm out, as if to press the Warrow back into his seat. “Oi, now, and sure y’ wouldn’t be f’r thinkin’ t’ be goin’ after Tip and Perry y’rself, now, would y’? Y’ f’rget, there be a high bounty on all heads loike y’rs, what with y’r sparkly eyes and all.
“Oh, no, me auld friend, y’r not goin’ on no rescue mission, sure, and that’s final.”
Dando ground his teeth in rage, and now I could see just why these folk were considered to be dangerous when riled. “If not me and mine, Rafferty,” he gritted, “then who? Who will rescue them?”
That’s when Rafferty looked at Fiz and Marley and Tynvyr and Rufous … and me.
And now here we were, stumbling along in a dark alley on a dark night, slipping in filth and slime, trapped between high buildings, with bats and rats and perhaps owls prowling the night, and somewhere in the blackness a cat was stalking.
Stalking us.
Great.
Just great.
An animal the size and ferocity of a cat, of a hungry cat, of an alley cat, could rip any and all and each of our tiny little bodies to shreds with but one swipe of its claws.
Mrrawww!
Fiz shrieked. Marley jerked. Rafferty ducked. I jumped.
It sounded as if the cat were practically on top of us.
Then I looked up.
It was practically on top of us. Black on black, dark against dark, I could barely see this vague blot atop the wall, silhouetted ’gainst the ebon sky.
It moved.
It was the cat.
“Look out above!” I shouted, just as it leaped, landing in the alley before us.
Somewhere.
We couldn’t see it now. But I could hear it creeping closer.
Then I heard other paws padding. Oh, Hel, there’s more than one.
MMMRRAWW!
“I can see it!” cried Fiz, her Fairy Vision better than any of ours. “It’s going to spring.”
“Save yourself, honey,” I shouted. “Use your wings! Fly!”
Padding paws broke into a run. The other one was coming apace to join the first.
Turning about in confusion and fear, I didn’t know which way to flee.
Suddenly the alley was full of snarling and mrawwing and the sounds of animals fighting, fighting like cats and do—
Rufous! It had to be Rufous! Then I heard Tynvyr shouting.
Lor! It was Rufous! We’d been saved by the fox!
With a yowl, the cat left the alleyway, leaping back up to the fence and bounding away in the darkness.
Rafferty lit a match and there they were, Tynvyr and Rufous, the fox dancing on his hind legs with his front paws against the fence, there where the cat had fled.
Without thinking, I ran to Rufous and hugged him. He turned and looked at me and began grinning and salivating.
I leapt back, bumping into someone soft, and turned to discover Fiz gazing up at me, adoration in her eyes.
Uh oh.
“You called me ‘honey,’” she said, some kind of smarmy look descending over her. “You told me to save myself and called me ‘honey.’”
Next I knew, she was pressing herself against me, her arms locked about my waist.
Between the upright tips of her wings I saw Rafferty smiling at me, and beyond him was Marley the Gnome, looking by matchlight around at the filth in the alley, shock and dismay on his face, seemingly about to faint but refusing to, for if he did he would fall into the filth itself: foetid garbage and discarded refuse and squishy black mud and other things of slime and excrement better left unmentioned.
Then the match went out and we were plunged back into the blackness of the alleyway, and I could feel Rufous’s hot breath panting down the back of my neck, and saliva dripping onto me.
“Another hundred feet or so”—it was Tynvyr speaking in the darkness—“and you’ll round a corner, and there’s light to see by. It’s coming from the outside lanterns of the Yellow Poppy.
“There is a rusted wrought-iron fence surrounding it, and the inside grounds are patrolled by a guard, accompanied by a big dog of some kind. Another guard stands at the front door, letting people enter. Humans all.
“All of us can easily slip through the bars of the fence, even Rufous, though he’d have to squeeze a bit. But there are additional dogs in a kennel at the rear, and I’m certain that they’d warn the sentry should strangers attempt to enter the back way.
“Fiz could fly, were it not for the bloodsuckers in the sky above—and, no, Bork, before you ask, I didn’t see any owls aloft.
“The Poppy itself is large, two-and-a-half or three Human storeys high, perhaps thirty feet from the ground to the peak of the roof. I judge it to be sixty or seventy feet wide, and maybe as much as. a hundred feet long. How it ever got plunked down here in the middle of back alleyways, I’ll never know. Regardless, there’s a door in front and another in back, but the handles are set at Human height.
“There’s barred windows about, but they look to be boarded up. We could get down the chimneys, except that there’s smoke coming out.
“In my judgement, with the guards, the dogs, the boarded up windows, and the fires in the fireplaces, this will be a tough, if not impossible place to break into. Probably made so to keep anyone from stealing drugs.
“So, Rafferty, it looks as if we’ll have to try one of the fallback plans after all.”
Rafferty lit another match, and Tynvyr pulled Rufous back from my saliva-dripped-on neck, the fox looking guilty, though not necessarily repentant.
Fiz still had an arm about my waist, and once again she smarmed up at me, but I was all business. “Which plan, mine or Marley’s?” I asked. “Mine, where we act as a travelling troupe of entertainers, or Marley’s, where we pass ourselves off to these Humans as unemployed laborers, ditch diggers, to be exact … foot-high ditch diggers.”