Grizelda by Margaret Taylor Page A

that none of the goblins around were
watching her, she crossed the street and walked up to the foot of
the building. She craned her head back so she could see the second
story, where most of them were.
    “Excuse me, ratriders!” she shouted up to
them.
    Maybe they’d heard her, and maybe they
hadn’t. There seemed to be a slowing in the blur of color, as if
collectively she’d disturbed them and they were pausing to listen.
Still, it wasn’t quite what she wanted.
    “Hold still so I can talk to you!”
    Finally one of the ratriders stopped. He sat
astride his rat like a warrior, its bridle richly decorated with
red beads and hawk feathers. He wore a crest of red hedgehog
bristles. He looked down at her imperiously.
    “What is it?”
    She hadn’t planned ahead of time what she was
going to say. The ratrider’s crest twitched slightly while he
waited.
    “Ratrider, do you know where I can find
someone called Geddy?” she said. “Or Tunya or Kricker? I need to
talk to them.”
    “Follow me!” His rat leapt away across the
rooftop.
    Grizelda had to run after the two of them
immediately to keep up. They were a fluid, red and fast thing;
ratrider and rat were one. They leapt across gaps between
buildings, dodged obstacles, making skittering sounds on the stone
as the rat’s claws found purchase. Grizelda was afraid to run too
fast for fear of drawing the goblins’ attention. Several times the
ratrider had to stop and wait for her, radiating impatience.
    He took her out towards the city edge, the
run-down part of abandoned buildings where Lenk had invited her to
tea the day before. She had no idea where he was going; she only
hoped this wasn’t going to end like the last time ratriders had
offered to give her directions. Abruptly the ratrider changed
direction; he drew her down a road she had never seen before. The
caves here were different. They weren’t organized into boulevards
like the goblin city or even hewn smooth like the abandoned mine
tunnels. Instead they had been left almost the same way as when
goblins first settled here hundreds of years ago: the caves
wandered as if cut out by water, narrowing and widening without any
regard to order. The floor was bumpy, so Grizelda found she had to
watch her feet carefully as she went. Here and there great
stalagmites rose out of the floor, reaching so high they touched
the ceiling and made columns.
    Maybe this had been a bad idea. But she
couldn’t afford to turn back now; she wasn’t sure she could find
her way back out of the caves without her guide.
    The rooms that they left behind them did not
go dark when the light from the ratrider’s lantern was gone.
Instead they still shone dimly in that same greenish color.
Curious, Grizelda looked at the cave walls a little closer. There
was fungus growing on them. Its glow was hardly visible when the
room was lit up. But when she cupped her hands over it, there it
was, faint but definite.
    They came to a place so narrow that Grizelda
could only pass through it sideways. Even then, it was a struggle.
She inched along, getting her elbows and knees scraped up in the
process. Then her guide ran on ahead and disappeared around a
corner. She had a moment of panic as she was plunged into darkness.
Her mind filled with images of being trapped here forever and
starving to death.
    But she could still see.
    As her eyes adjusted she realized she was not
in total darkness but a twilight. There was the faint glow of the
cave fungus, yes, but most of the light was coming from the bodice
pocket of her dress. Confused, she reached in her hand.
    Tunya’s lantern stick. She must have
forgotten to give it back to her after she’d escaped from the cell.
She pulled it out and held it up. All at once the tunnel was
illuminated again. Now she could see that she was not really stuck,
it was just a tight fit. If she sucked in her breath and pushed
harder…
    She came free and stumbled out into the
ratriders’ cavern. Like the rest of the