Chapter 4, Part ii

 In the afternoon it started to snow a little, and the wind was bitterly cold, so they decided to build a fire in a small cave which Burr had spotted. Aric got the dead wood burning almost instantly, and the four of them had dropped their packs and were warming themselves by the fire. Soon afterward the drifting flakes became a thick snowstorm, and Lilly had decided that they should wait it out. Aric hadn't complained, at least.

Hector had pulled out his journal, but for some reason didn't have the drive to write anything. Burr was curled up by the fire like a cat and was breathing deeply in his sleep, and Aric was sitting cross-legged, staring absently at the flames, absorbed in his own thoughts. Lilly stood by the cave mouth, facing the snowstorm outside with her arms folded. Her tail gave the occasional twitch. Laying down the journal on his bookbag, Hector pushed himself to his feet and approached her.

(Graphic 4.2: Lilly is staring into the blizzard with an angry look on her face.)

“How are you feeling?” Hector asked, as innocently as he could.

Lilly exhaled deeply from her nose. She didn't blink. “The same,” she said.

Hector stuffed his hands into his pockets and shivered. “Personally, I don't know if it would have been faster to take Aric's way or not. I don't know if that helps.”

She didn't say anything.

“I have a cousin,” Hector said, to break the awkward silence. “Her name is Trisha. She lives in Dunberg, and when I lived with my parents she would always come over for dinner, because her own parents – my aunt and uncle – live in the big city. We practically grew up together. She's a sergeant in the City Watch and is also a budding politician, and goes to New Poliston every now and then for debates and conferences and things. So you can imagine that she was a rather opinionated person. We didn't always get along.”

Lilly still didn't say anything, but her expression seemed to have softened a little (or perhaps that was just optimistic thinking.) The fire popped and cracked behind them.

“We would fight over just about everything: politics, sports, jobs, favorite colors, who could eat the most pudding in one sitting. Anything and everything was fair game. If things ever got physical, she would always wrestle me to the ground and win. But underneath it all we both knew that we loved each other. We defended each other and helped when help was needed. Trisha was always like a sister to me. I don't know what I would do without her.”

Lilly turned slightly in Hector's direction, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “Hector, it is good that you have a friend like Trisha. I have no brothers or sisters. The togom of my tribe was both mother and father to me. Perhaps the ones who gave birth to me had other children, but I did not grow up with them, or laugh, or cry, or eat, or sleep, or live with them. Perhaps we have seen each other on the island of Noosta, but how would we have known our kinship?” She sighed, and wiped at her eye with the heel of her furry hand. “I do not know how you see me, Hector, but I am not a very social person. I do not get along well with others. I prefer to be alone if I can.”

“I think you're a nice person,” Hector told her. “I think you're very kind and helpful. You rescued me from the Jubjub Bird, and you escorted me to Noosta. You didn't have to do those things.”

Lilly's face contorted into a pained expression. “I almost did not,” she croaked, and looked away. She tightened her folded arms as if to defend herself. “I had gone some way into the forest, heading toward home, when I heard the Jubjub Bird, and I only returned to make sure it wasn't following me--”

“But you did return!” Hector grinned. “And for that I thank you. I saved your life, you saved mine, so now we're even.”

Lilly's ear twitched, and she forced a smile. “I suppose so.”

They both watched the falling snow for a while. The swirling whiteness made the most distant mountains invisible.

“So, how are things going with River? He certainly seems affectionate.”

Lilly lolled her head to the side, and a faint smile ghosted across her face. “Yes, he is. He is very kind to me. We grew up together, so I suppose he could be like a brother to me after all. I think he has always loved me, and I have often felt similarly toward him...” She trailed off, and Hector kept respectful silence.

She continued with a note of concern in her voice. “However, as of late, River has been meeting with a human settlement, and he is often gone for long weeks. And he speaks like a human, he acts like a human, and he thinks like a human. He has become somewhat... alien, you could say.”

“Do you still love each other?”

“Oh, yes,” she quickly pointed out, “Of course. But... well... there is a sort of distance between us, at times. I...” Lilly sighed. “I do not feel comfortable around him any more. Not like I used to. Something has changed in him, I can tell.”

Hector nodded. “Oh. Okay. I see.” Then, after a moment, he added, “I'm sorry I brought all this up last time and made you angry--”

“It's all right, I forgive you,” she said lightheartedly. “You were only being curious. It is something you are good at. And you did not know how I felt about those things, and I know you were not trying to hurt my feelings.”

Hector smiled. “It's good to know I'm forgiven! You know, you might try forgiving Aric as well. You never know: you might end up being friends in the end.”

“Perhaps,” Lilly said. A genuine smile finally lit up her face, and her arms relaxed and fell to her sides. “Thank you for speaking with me, Hector Blithe. You have a gift for being friendly. I never would have opened up like this to a stranger, or to... to Aric or to Burr,” she added in a whisper.

Hector shrugged humbly. “Is it okay if I write our conversation down?”

Lilly looked at him strangely, but she laughed. “You humans have such strange customs! All right, you may, as long as nobody will see it.”

“I can't guarantee that,” Hector warned, “but until I get this thing published, it'll stay private.”

Lilly laughed again, then waved him toward the fire. “Go stoke the fire, it's dying down. And get some rest. We might leave again if the storm stops soon.”

Hector nodded and turned toward the campfire, but hesitated. He pivoted back toward the Tove. “Hey, Lilly. I just had one more question, then I'm done, I promise.”

“Yes?”

He licked his lips and rubbed his hands together nervously. “Em. I know it's a personal subject, but I just have to know. How did you find your Gyre?”

She sighed and pondered for a moment before answering. Without speaking, she held up her hand, a white light sparked in the air above it, and a dozen snowflakes drifted in from the storm outside. They fluttered and hovered above her hand, trapped in a little ball of air, as she looked at it with the same awe and wonder as one might feel looking at a live butterfly in a jar.

“It is a long process, to find one's Gyre. You must search yourself, find out what you are like, what you enjoy doing, and how you fit into the world. It is something that cannot be explained. But I found mine by wandering alone through the Wabe, exploring, feeling the essence of the air as it moved about the land and through the trees...” She waved the trapped snowflakes gently toward the cave mouth, and they vanished into the storm.

Hector nodded pensively.

“Hector? What are you thinking about?”

“Oh... I was just wondering what my Gyre would be.”

Lilly smiled warmly. “I have an idea of what it might be. Ask me to tell you after we finish our task.”

Hector yawned and nodded. “Okay, I will. I look forward to it. See you in the morning, I have to go to sleep or I'll collapse.”

“Good night, Hector Blithe.”

*

(Graphic 4.3: We see the cave mouth, white with falling snow. The cave is black, with the silhouettes of the sleeping travelers, and the ashes of the fire drifting in the air. A shadow appears in the cave entrance: a large, mysterious crawling creature peering in from the top of the entrance.)

                                                                                 *

 After but a couple days, the pathetic city of Dunberg was completely under Professor Trellis's control.

The City Council had been replaced by other, more responsible members, who had come in directly from New Poliston. All the farms, textiles, and businesses had likewise had their ownership readjusted. The native Dunberg population no longer had any desire to leave the city, thanks to the de-slithed sentries that stood guard day and night around the city limits.

Trellis sat in his new office in City Hall, hands folded, as he listened to the reports that his fellow Mome Raths gave him. As Doctor Virchuk described the current agricultural status of the surrounding area, Trellis took a moment to appreciate the re-decoration of the Hall. The green banners with the Dunberg Seal on them had been torn down and replaced with the luxurious black and red of the Honorable and Venerable Guild of the Mome Rath, with its insignia. He had always had a certain penchant for red and black.

The good Doctor finally shut up, and Trellis nodded to the next black-clad City Council member. Chairlady Semmerfish was an austere woman, whose night-black hair was pulled back into a bun on her head so tightly that her eyebrows were permanently raised in a haughty, condescending expression. Her gray eyes glinted as he acknowledged her. “Respectable Chairlady, finally we come to you. Do tell, what is the current state of affairs concerning the library? I have been waiting all day to hear this.”

“Very well, Professor,” she sneered, her lips pursed like a miser's wallet. “The Dunberg Public Library has been thrice-scoured, with no evidence of the Manxor Slithe. You were correct: it is not there. We could find no evidence that the man Blithe knew of its existence, either. However, we did find something...”

Everyone leaned forward ever so slightly. The Chairlady, reveling in the attention, continued. “We found a receipt in Blithe's desk, concerning a certain request that had been made by the Central Library in New Poliston, for a certain number of books on ancient Tovish culture and documentation. Most of them were named, with their authors given, but the last one was listed as 'Untitled. A Documentary of Customary Rituals and Superstitions of Tovish Society, written in Tovetongue. A large book, about 500 pages, well-aged. Author unknown.' Sound familiar to anyone?”

They all muttered excitedly amongst themselves, but only Trellis kept his face hard, despite his inner elation. Inspector Bulno, a plump, florid brother, screwed up his face in concentration as he spoke. “But, dear Chairlady, who made the request? I know of no such request made by ourselves. It must have been a rival faction in the Guild; I suspect the Revered Consul of The Blackened Splinter.”

Another brother expressed his disagreement. “No, I believe it was the Order of Fervent Secret-Keeping...”

“No, no! It must have been the Aged Neophytes of Gleaned Learning! They're always poking their crooked noses where they don't belong--”

“You're all wrong! It was the Magnanimous Society of the Fist of Wisdom!”

Trellis let them argue among themselves for a few moments. A little dissension always provided a fertile ground for a strong, uniting voice like his own. The Chairlady noticed that she was losing their attention, and her confidence started fraying.

“Enough!” Trellis commanded, and pounded the table once with his fist. There was immediate silence. “It matters not who requested the Manxor Slithe. All that matters now is that we recover it. Now, noble Chairlady, who did Blithe give the book to for delivery?”

The Chairlady hesitated. “Professor, we could find no evidence thereof... We have already checked with the New Hume Postal Service, and the Pony Expeditors, and with every other delivery service we could find. Nobody knew of such a delivery.” Trellis frowned as the rest started arguing again. Io had not returned, so the whelp Aric must have caught up in time. Blast that vorpal sword! Blithe might still have the book, but they couldn't be sure. His blood started pumping as his anger swelled.

He suddenly stood up, toppling his leather chair to the floor, and planted his thick hands loudly on the table. “We must have that book! I have no time for excuses and groveling! If the Jabberwock awakes fully before we have that book, it will be forever out of our control! We have only a few days!”

Doctor Virchuk had the cheek to speak up. “I understand, milord, but--”

“Not one of your understands!” Trellis bellowed. The Doctor sank fearfully into his chair. “Aric, that insolent boy, has the vorpal sword, and he is after the Jabberwock! He is going to slay it unless we stop him! And if we can't control the Jabberwock directly with the instructions from the Manxor Slithe, we must stop him from slaying it, so that we can at least direct the beast where it will do the most harm!”

“Good Professor, if I may humbly submit a question?” Trellis swung his great, angry head toward the speaker. He was a middle-sized, average-looking man, whom the Professor recognized as Senior Archivist Reming. “We have a large number of de-slithed Tovish thralls at our command. Cannot we send them directly after the librarian and after the boy Aric? Surely we can keep things under control in this small town without our servants' help.”

Professor Trellis thought for a moment, doing the math in his head. He nodded. “That is the best suggestion that I have heard all day, no thanks to the rest of you. I am hesitant to send them all, Reming, because we must defend ourselves from our rival Mome Raths. But we will send ten of them. We must do so at once, for we have little time as it is.”

Reming nodded with a confident crook in his eyebrow. “May I take the great responsibility of sending them off?”

“You may. But there is one more thing on my mind.”

“Yes, good Professor?”

Trellis clasped his hands together behind his back. “If Aric and Blithe are together, and the Tove that came here two days ago looking for the Manxor Slithe is with them as well, then they will have returned to Noosta. They will have spoken with Ashes, the togom of that Borogrove, and she will have told them to slay the Jabberwock with the vorpal sword. They will have left immediately, I am certain. And, in the little time that they have, they will have chosen to cross the mountains to reach the Tulgey Wood, where the Jabberwock sleeps.”

“Go on,” said the flushed Inspector.

“My point is this: they are venturing into the territory of the Bandersnatch.”

There was excited whispering among them.

“Yes, my friends,” Trellis continued in a quiet but triumphant voice, “They might not make it out of those mountains at all. But just in case, send three thralls after them, Reming, and we will reserve the rest for other purposes.”

“Yes, milord, it will be my burden to do so.” Reming stood, bowed, and made for the door of the Hall. Trellis snapped at a nearby Tove, standing inert in the shadows, to pick up his chair. It rushed to his side and gently lifted the leather throne, upon which the Professor sat again. Finally, things were getting done. But wait...

“Oh, Reming,” Trellis called, and the man Reming stopped.

“Yes, my dear Professor?”

“Prepare for me a contingent of thralls. I am going to make a small business trip.”

“Yes, milord. May I have the cheek to ask where?”

Trellis held his head high. “I am going to see if I can't beat our little friends at their own game.”