Grizelda by Margaret Taylor Page B

caves here, it had been
carved out by a little gush of water that had been diverted from
the Sarny somehow and driven deep underground. The stream fell from
somewhere around the ceiling into a swift running channel that
looped around, then darted back into the earth again.
    The ratriders had built their own miniature
city around this little river. The houses crusted the walls like
barnacles, all connected to each other by a spider’s web of rope
bridges so thick there was hardly any place for her to stand up
straight. Over generations, the ratriders had brought down things
from the surface and used them to build up their homes. Little bits
of cardboard and tin siding, tree branches, greeting cards.
Silverware. Every way she looked she was faced with achingly
familiar objects from the world of her home.
    Every house had one of those green ratrider
lights by its front door so that the river sparkled with thousands
of reflections. In general cheeriness the city was the polar
opposite of the goblins’ home.
    Grizelda found herself struggling to remember
what she’d come here for. It was about something bad.
    Meanwhile, news must have gotten around that
she was here. The ratriders came running out of their houses and
crowding onto the rope bridges to get a look at her. They were
jostling each other so badly and leaning so far out to get a better
look that she was afraid somebody was going to fall.
    “It’s the sewer girl!” they cried.
    “The girl who sews! From the promontory!”
    Everybody looked delighted to see her, even
though she didn’t really remember having met any of them before.
Everybody, that was, except for Tunya, whose dandelion-puff of hair
stood out easily from the crowd. Tunya glared up at her defiantly,
arms folded. Geddy and Kricker were also there.
    Grizelda realized there was another ratrider
who did not look all that thrilled to see her. She was a
black-haired woman, sitting cross-legged on a rock ledge in the
back. Neither excited nor filled with hatred, she merely surveyed
Grizelda coolly. She was dressed in what looked like … aviation
gear?
    Grizelda shook herself. She was here for a
purpose, to talk to the ratriders about the goblins’ machines.
Sure, they were cute, but it was all just an act, remember? She
wouldn’t let it distract her a second time. As she stepped forward,
one of the ratriders waved at her, trying to get her attention.
    “Hey, sewer girl!”
    “Listen.” Not sure who she was supposed to
talk to, she directed herself to Geddy. “Did you do something with
the machine that started quacking in the laundry today?”
    But it was impossible to get anything
resembling a private conversation in the town of the ratriders. As
soon as she’d finished, they all started offering their input so
liberally that Geddy couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
    “Did you like it?”
    “It was Kricker’s idea!”
    “We made a fool of the laundry goblin for
you! It was great. He was just standing there, and then wham! ” One of them swung his fist in the air and spun around
gleefully.
    “Did I … like it?” Grizelda said,
nonplussed.
    A couple of them started a pantomime of
Crome’s angry, one-armed stalk around the laundry room.
    “We did it because you’re the sewer
girl.”
    “You fixed Kricker’s jacket for him.”
    “Very nice. Very pretty.”
    One of the pantomimers broke off. “If I make
the electrical system break down tonight, will you sew for us some
more?”
    “Wait! Wait,” she said. They quieted down a
little. “I won’t sew anything for you if you keep doing
that. You’ve got to stop.”
    The mood in the cave dampened a little. They
shifted their weight and looked at each other, as if she had just
spoiled all their fun.
    “You’ve all got to go back inside right now,”
she said. “I need to talk to the ratriders who found me.”
    Reluctantly, they started to go. “Going” was
a relative term, because Grizelda didn’t actually see the
ratriders going