have to cut our way out of this thing anyway, the main entrance, as I remember, is over the river… unless you’ve got any ideas about wings? And we’d best choose a store place on the outside or we’ll still be over water.”
“Wings? Hmm,” Calistrope shut his mouth and nodded. They backed up a dozen paces or so and found a store stacked with oval plates of some shiny material. They pushed some of the stacks over and went to the wall. They set to work, the soggy, waterlogged paper was quite difficult to cut but at length, they had an opening large enough to see the river bank through and perhaps, the height of a man below them.
“You know what this stuff is?” asked Roli, examining one of the pale yellow plates. “It’s wax. Make a nice fire with this.”
“Fine. The only fault with that idea is that it’s just a little late.”
Roli went first, jumping to the river bank and steadying Ponderos as Calistrope lowered him to the ground.
Down at the side of the river, Roli drew a great breath of fresh air. “Let’s go before we draw any more unwelcome attention.”
They hurried off until two minutes later, Calistrope stopped them. “We’re going the wrong way.”
“Don’t be… how can we be?” Roli frowned.
“Look up. No worm—if it’s still there—but no tunnel entrance either, no hole in the nest. We’ve cut our way out on the other side of the river. It’s this way.”
They about turned, walked under the nest again and out the other side. A few minutes after emerging from the nest’s shadow, they could see part way around the curving wall—there was the worm fighting off the aerial attacks of sentinel wasps; further on still and they could see where Calistrope’s fire had taken hold and was burning out of control. A huge plume of greasy black smoke rose in billows into the dark sky.
“Ponderos, you mentioned wings back there,” Calistrope’s voice was ruminative.
“I did?”
“Suppose we could catch some wasps and train them to carry us…”
Both Roli and Ponderos stopped and looked at their friend with consternation.
“Perhaps not wasps,” Calistrope continued. “Perhaps something less dangerous but big enough to carry us while they…” he noticed their expressions. “… You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“I need to rest awhile, Calistrope,” Ponderos was firm. “I still hurt all over. Now you’re making my brain hurt as well.”
“Me, too,” added Roli. “I’m tired.”
Calistrope sighed. “I suppose there’s no reason why we shouldn’t stop for a while,” he looked around. “Not a lot of choice though,” they stood aside as a swarm of small hoppers skittered along the hard beaten trail, the swarm was followed by a pair of beetles intent on picking up and munching the slower individuals. “The bank is very narrow here.”
The river ran hard up against the valley wall at this point and the game trail they followed had become narrow and constricted. They rested awhile, fending off the attentions of a number of hungry creatures before Ponderos decided the aches and pains of walking were easier to take than constant hostilities.
They continued on slowly until they came to a place where the river became wide and shallow enough to cross without getting wet above the knees. On the southern and kindlier side of the water they began to look for a suitable place to make camp. They threaded their way through an area of large boulders and rounded a final spur of rock.
“What’s that?” asked Ponderos. A tall spire was visible in the distance.
“How should I know what it is?” Calistrope grumbled. “Why don’t you look at your map for a while and tell me what everything is?”
“Because you prefer to tell us.”
“Well. That’s a good enough reason, I suppose,” Calistrope searched his pockets for his copy of the map, checked his cuffs. “Do you have my map Roli?”
“Try your little bag.”
Calistrope rooted around in his bag. “I
“Wings? Hmm,” Calistrope shut his mouth and nodded. They backed up a dozen paces or so and found a store stacked with oval plates of some shiny material. They pushed some of the stacks over and went to the wall. They set to work, the soggy, waterlogged paper was quite difficult to cut but at length, they had an opening large enough to see the river bank through and perhaps, the height of a man below them.
“You know what this stuff is?” asked Roli, examining one of the pale yellow plates. “It’s wax. Make a nice fire with this.”
“Fine. The only fault with that idea is that it’s just a little late.”
Roli went first, jumping to the river bank and steadying Ponderos as Calistrope lowered him to the ground.
Down at the side of the river, Roli drew a great breath of fresh air. “Let’s go before we draw any more unwelcome attention.”
They hurried off until two minutes later, Calistrope stopped them. “We’re going the wrong way.”
“Don’t be… how can we be?” Roli frowned.
“Look up. No worm—if it’s still there—but no tunnel entrance either, no hole in the nest. We’ve cut our way out on the other side of the river. It’s this way.”
They about turned, walked under the nest again and out the other side. A few minutes after emerging from the nest’s shadow, they could see part way around the curving wall—there was the worm fighting off the aerial attacks of sentinel wasps; further on still and they could see where Calistrope’s fire had taken hold and was burning out of control. A huge plume of greasy black smoke rose in billows into the dark sky.
“Ponderos, you mentioned wings back there,” Calistrope’s voice was ruminative.
“I did?”
“Suppose we could catch some wasps and train them to carry us…”
Both Roli and Ponderos stopped and looked at their friend with consternation.
“Perhaps not wasps,” Calistrope continued. “Perhaps something less dangerous but big enough to carry us while they…” he noticed their expressions. “… You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“I need to rest awhile, Calistrope,” Ponderos was firm. “I still hurt all over. Now you’re making my brain hurt as well.”
“Me, too,” added Roli. “I’m tired.”
Calistrope sighed. “I suppose there’s no reason why we shouldn’t stop for a while,” he looked around. “Not a lot of choice though,” they stood aside as a swarm of small hoppers skittered along the hard beaten trail, the swarm was followed by a pair of beetles intent on picking up and munching the slower individuals. “The bank is very narrow here.”
The river ran hard up against the valley wall at this point and the game trail they followed had become narrow and constricted. They rested awhile, fending off the attentions of a number of hungry creatures before Ponderos decided the aches and pains of walking were easier to take than constant hostilities.
They continued on slowly until they came to a place where the river became wide and shallow enough to cross without getting wet above the knees. On the southern and kindlier side of the water they began to look for a suitable place to make camp. They threaded their way through an area of large boulders and rounded a final spur of rock.
“What’s that?” asked Ponderos. A tall spire was visible in the distance.
“How should I know what it is?” Calistrope grumbled. “Why don’t you look at your map for a while and tell me what everything is?”
“Because you prefer to tell us.”
“Well. That’s a good enough reason, I suppose,” Calistrope searched his pockets for his copy of the map, checked his cuffs. “Do you have my map Roli?”
“Try your little bag.”
Calistrope rooted around in his bag. “I
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