Chapter the 11th
“What is going on in here?” Amarilla asked the children in a firm, scolding tone of voice.
Her voice carried much farther than Father Clement had thought possible. The children inside the store, toy guns still in hand, froze and gave Amarilla a guilty look. A half dozen or so children of Milton stood in the doorway, looking as if they had just been delivered from a gang of bandits. In the corner near the door, a man was scribbling away on an endless list, muttering to himself as he wrote.
“These guys don’t belong here,” said one boy, pointing to the children he didn’t recognize.
“And how do you know that?” Amarilla asked. “I see that you don’t know that.”
Several children from both towns giggled at the discomfited boy.
“There’s a crow outside stealing our light,” said a plump boy.
“A crow?” Amarilla asked back. “Do you mean to say that you were shooting at a crow?”
“What’s wrong with that?” asked a girl who was obviously afraid there was something very wrong with that after all.
“First of all,” said Amarilla, “are you sure that the crow was stealing the light? Did you give the crow a fair trial? No, of course you didn’t. Second of all, since when do citizens of Carelin shoot at a crow?”
“Not since—maybe Dennis’ great aunt knows how long it’s been,” said a boy with a gulp.
“Yes,” said Amarilla, “I’m sure it’s been a very long time. For a third thing, you never know when a human being might be turned into a crow and you don’t want to kill a human being just because he turned into a crow, do you?”
“Not really,” said one girl in a small voice.
Several children shook their heads hesitantly. The children from Milton exchanged puzzled looks and some of them slipped out of the store.
“And a fourth thing,” Amarilla continued unrelentingly, “at a time like this, many quests are called for. It is possible that the crow you fired at was sent off on one of these vital quests, in which case, if you had killed the crow or disabled it, you might have plunged several worlds into darkness.”
“Good thing I missed,” said a boy with evident relief.
“Yes,” said Amarilla solemnly, “it is a very good thing you missed. Are we on agreement about the crow?”
Several children nodded their heads. The remaining Milton children melted away.
“Are you ready to go home and behave in a proper way?”
“I guess so,” said a boy without conviction while other children nodded tentatively.
“Amarilla,” said Roger, “what about the Dark Lake?”
“I was getting to that,” Amarilla replied.
“Dark Lake?” several children cried out.
When they looked behind them and saw the blackness cutting off the back half of the store, they all clustered around Amarilla as if she alone could save them.
“Yes, the Dark Lake has invaded this store,” said Amarilla. “That means that we must leave now in an orderly way.”
“Amarilla,” said Samantha, “there’s a problem.”
Amarilla sighed.
“Well, yes, there is a problem.”
“What do you mean?” asked a girl.
“Have any of you taken a good look out the window lately?” asked Roger.
“No, we were too busy throwing toys at those awful choirboys,” said another girl.
“Hey!” cried a boy who took a good look out of the window. “Where are we?”
“Did the store move while we were in here?” asked another boy.
“I’m afraid so,” said Roger.
“I guess it falls to me to welcome all of you to Milton, Pennsylvania,” said Father Clement.
The children all stared at Father Clement.
“Who’s he?” asked a boy.
“Where’s Milton?” asked a girl.
“Milton, Pennsylvania is the town where the queen mother lived until she died just a few days ago,” Amarilla explained.
“Are we lost?” asked a boy.
“Yea,” said Samantha, her voice choking slightly.
“Hey Kids!” yelled a police officer as he stuck his nose into the store. “What are you doing here? This place isn’t safe for you!”
“I agree,” said Amarilla to the officer. “We will leave immediately. I suggest you do the same as this store is not safe for you, either.”
The officer was quite taken aback at being spoken to like that by a girl.
“What do you mean, this place isn’t safe for us?” asked the officer.
“The Dark Lake has taken over half of this store. If you fall in, you may be totally lost.”
Do you mean to say there’s a lake in this store?” another officer asked Amarilla.
“Excuse me, Terry,” Father Clement intervened. “We were just getting these children out of here when you came along. We will leave you to do your job. Come along, Children.”
“Oh, Father Clement!” cried the first officer, his face lighting up. “I didn’t see you here. Thanks for helping out. Did you—uh—did you see what happened just now?”
Not knowing how to tell a convincing lie or wanting to try, Father Clement briefly recounted what he had seen, unbelievable as it was.
“Hmm. Other people saw the same cowboys,” said Terry, “but we haven’t found any trace of them yet. They sure made a wreck of Carl’s, didn’t they?”
“They sure did,” said Father Clement uneasily, relieved that the officer hadn’t noticed that Carl’s was gone altogether and been replaced by a toy shop. Not having any idea of what the police could do about the switch, he preferred to say nothing about it.
Under Amarilla’s watchful eye, the children filed out of the wrecked store in a much more orderly fashion than Father Clement expected. The police made only a cursory glance at the store and left as readily as they would a haunted house. They did not even seem to notice the man who was still scribbling out his list in the corner of the store. Not seeing any harm in the man, Father Clement was not about to say anything about him. Once out to the sidewalk of Main Street, the eyes of the children bugged out at the sight of the automobiles.
“STOP!” Amarilla cried out when some of the children started to wander into the street in front of an oncoming car.
The driver honked and Father Clement pulled the girl furthest out back to safety.
“Children!” Amarilla announced to her charges, “it is most important that you realize that these moving monsters are dangerous if you get in the way. They will only hurt you if you get into the street when they are coming. If you stay on this sidewalk, they will not hurt you. Do you understand?”
Several children nodded nervously.
“What do we do now?” asked one boy.
“We could look for our house,” Roger suggested.
“I want to stay in our house,” said Samantha in her most pitiable voice.
“I’m not so sure we can find our house here,” said Amarilla.
“But it was here for a minute, wasn’t it?” asked Roger.
“If was it was for a minute, we can make it be here for as long as we want, can’t we?” added Samantha.
“I don’t know about finding your house,” said Father Clement, “but if you can’t, I will find accommodations for you. If nothing else, I can put all of you up in the church parish hall.”
“Well,” said Amarilla, “If my sense of direction is not too hopeless, we want to go back up that hill for either objective. Father Clement, I thank you very much for your assistance.”
Father Clement started spinning the wheels in his head as he and led the children up the hill from Main Street towards the church and the rectory. He knew Mary would do everything she could to help, but she couldn’t do it all. If Evelyn Lear were still alive, she would do much behind the scenes. There were a few others he knew he could call. There was also the question of what the child welfare agency would think if they found out the church suddenly had all these children with no documentation on its hands.
At the top of the hill, just across the street from the church, Amarilla suddenly halted the group. Everybody became very still and very quiet. Father Clement followed Amarilla’s eyes and saw a patch of pure blackness, just like the blackness in the back half of the toy store. The priest shivered. The children drew themselves close together for comfort.
“That’s the Dark Lake again, isn’t it?” said Roger.
Amarilla nodded.
“Do you think our house is lost in the Lake?” asked Samantha
“It could be,” Amarilla replied.
“I think our house is there and we can call it,” said Roger. “I can hear my violin vibrating.”
“Father Clement?” asked Amarilla.
“Yes.”
“Is it not true that Mrs. Lear’s house was right where this Black Lake now is?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m sure we can call our house and make it come here,” said Samantha.
Amarilla stood still as a stone for some time in thought. The other children remained amazingly
“Okay,” said Amarilla quietly. “We will try it. I think we can enter our house from this point if we keep our wits about us. Everybody must hold the hand of at least one other person.” Several boys made faces. Amarilla frowned at them. “Contrary to popular belief, you won’t catch the jimblies from anybody by touching one another. When we are this close to the Dark Lake, it is very possible that they will speak to us and try to stop us. You must not listen to a word of what they say to you. Just because you should feel bad about trying to shoot the crow does not mean that you should feel bad about entering our house at my invitation and Roger’s and Samantha’s.”
“I think somebody is already there waiting for us,” said Roger.
“Aunt Edith?” asked a girl.
“No, somebody else,” said Roger. “Our parents went out and I have a feeling they’re still out and will be for some time.”
Amarilla concentrated for a moment.
“I believe you are right,” said Amarilla. “I think somebody is there, somebody is playing the piano, and somebody is strongly wishing that we should come into our house.
“That should be a big help,” said Samantha.
“Yes, it should,” said Amarilla. “Now, is everybody ready?”
“No,” said several children.
“Good. If you thought you were, they would have a better chance of tripping you up. Everybody take somebody’s hand. One-two-three-four-Go.”
Two children held Father Clement by the hand. Everything became dark. Father Clement could feel the concrete of the sidewalk under his feet, but he could not see it.
“You know the house isn't really here,” said one voice.
“It violates the laws of nature for a house to appear out of nothing.”
“It even violates the laws of magic.”
The sound of a piano filtered in over the voices Father Clement was hearing. It sounded like something by Robert Schumann.
“What good is your theology?” a man asked Father Clement.
“Your theology is crumbling, you know,” said a woman.
“These children are just taking over your life, you know.”
“No they aren't,” Father Clement retorted with little conviction, for he had found himself believing that thought until they expressed it.
“Thank you, Father Clement,” said Amarilla.
Father Clement’s mind cleared and he heard the click of a door being unlatched. He opened his eyes and saw the house he had seen briefly before when the three children rescued him from them. A moment later, the priest found himself in a strange, cluttered, living room. Sheila Armstrong was playing a grand piano that overshadowed the room and Kevin Rosskill was sitting in a nearby chair. Two toy train cars rolled about the floor, apparently self-powered in some way.
“I hoped you would come!” Kevin greeted them.
“So did we,” said Samantha.
“Did they give you a hard time?” Amarilla asked Kevin.
“Yes.”
“That's the way they are,” said Roger. “You just have to learn not to listen to them.”
“Which you didn't, did you?” said Samantha.
“Well,” said Roger, a bit sheepishly, “I didn't know I was so mad at mom and dad for going to the Byrd & Tallis without us, even though it was for a reason.”
“Hey!” Kevin cried when he saw the other children filing in behind his friends. “Those are the kids who shot at the crow and started a fight with the choirboys!”
“We didn’t start the fight,” a boy protested.
“They started it!” cried a girl.
Amarilla clapped her hands in her peremptory way.
“Kevin, these children have all been chastened concerning the crow and have been further chastened for throwing toys all over the store. Anybody who wants to fight will have to find another house to fight in.”
Several children looked about apprehensively, obviously unwilling to take their chances with trying to go anywhere else. Samantha took Father Clement by the hand and led him over to the biggest chair, just across from the piano.
“You need a drink, Father Clement,” said Samantha.
“I most certainly do,” said Father Clement as he sank into the chair.
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Mark slowly turned around, afraid of whom he would see behind him and Scott. To his relief, he saw the harpist Dornal and two other people he thought he recognized. When Scott’s face lit up, Mark knew they were safe.
“I suggest you come with us,” said the sloppily-dressed man next to Dornal.
“Are you sure Karen is all right going on that pirate ship?” asked Mark.
“Probably,” said Dornal. “They’re pretty nice for pirates.”
“I think the boys from the choir can help Karen keep them in line,” said the woman, looking as fretful as she was confident.
“Where do you want to take us?” asked Scott.
“That is one of the things we are trying to find out,” said Dornal.
“First, we need to show you the newest store in town,” said Uncle Martin, “and see what you think of it.”
“It said ‘hardware store’ on the sign—whatever hardware is,” said Aunt Edith.
“Maybe they sell clothes that are hard to wear,” suggested Dornal.
Mark and Scott started to laugh but they quickly saw that Dornal was not joking and he simply did not know what the word meant.
“We’ve already seen it,” said Scott. “I think we can explain it to you.”
The small group walked back up to the street to Carl’s Hardware Store. All the lights were out and the people stranded in the store seemed to have realized they were suddenly in a strange place. Carl and his few customers were huddled together, ready to defend themselves. Mark recognized Denny Merrell, a long-time faithful patron of the store, Edna Speiser, who was probably shopping for her husband, and an eight-grader, Gary Haggler. Carl Van Wyck himself brandished a monkey wrench when Mark and Scott and their companions walked into the store.
“Stay where you are!” Carl yelled.
“You wouldn’t want to bash in the head of the preacher’s son, would you?” asked Mark.
“Oh, thank God! A familiar face!” cried a deeply relieved Carl.
“What in the name of Heaven has happened?” asked Edna, who was famous in Milton for wanting everything tailored to her specifications.
“We can’t tell you that,” said Mark. “We’re puzzled, too.”
“You’ve landed in a good place,” said Scott. “You should have a pretty interesting time of it until we can get you back to Milton.”
“Mark, what is he doing here?” asked Edna, as she turned her face towards Scott.
Edna’s question and tone of voice, along with the stony looks Scott was getting from the other three stranded fellow citizens reminded Mark that most everybody in Milton was in the habit of distrusting Scott and he wasn’t likely to suddenly gain their trust now in a strange new world.
“Scott is guiding me around an unfamiliar place and getting me in touch with his friends here,” said Mark.
“This is—uh—“ Scott began in an attempt to introduce Aunt Edith and Uncle Martin.
“Call me Aunt Edith.”
“Call me Uncle Martin.”
“And this is Dornal, the royal harpist,” said Scott.
“Royal harpist?” Edna questioned.
“Yes,” said Scott.
“Can you tell me where in blazes we are?” asked Carl.
“You are in Carelin,” answered Aunt Edith.
“And where on the map is that?” asked Edna.
“You won’t find it on a map from back home,” Scott replied.
“Sounds like this town really is in the middle of nowhere,” said Gary in his deadpan adolescent voice.
“I guess it’s in something like a parallel universe,” Mark suggested. “I don’t know the physics of it.”
“It looks like a pretty nice little town to me,” said Denny.
“Do you know how to get this store back to where it belongs?” asked Carl. “I’m afraid the missus is going to start worrying about me if I don’t get home in time for supper.”
“And Phil is expecting me to bring home a fresh supply of batteries,” said Edna, “not to speak of the trousers he just had altered.”
“It’s all right with me if I don’t get home for a few days,” said Gary, slouched against the counter. “Gives me a good excuse to miss school.”
“I like my missus just fine,” said Denny, “but I can use a bit of a vacation from her, heh! heh!”
“I am afraid I haven’t the slightest idea of how to get this store back to where it belongs,” said Uncle Martin, “and so there doesn’t seem to be any choice about your returning just now.”
“You’re all welcome to come along and stay at our house if we can find it,” said Aunt Edith.
“If you can find your house?” asked Carl.
“Edith and I went out to the Byrd & Tallis for dinner and the kids seem to have taken the house somewhere else while we were gone,” said Uncle Martin, “unless the house took them somewhere else.”
“And there is no guarantee that the children have found the house, either,” Aunt Edith fretted. “They could be walking through a strange town, not knowing where they are.”
“They're a pretty resourceful bunch,” Uncle Martin reminded his wife.
“I know that,” Aunt Edith replied, “but it is my vocation in life to worry about them.”
“And it’s my vocation in life not to worry about them at all,” said Uncle Martin.
“Which means I have to do all your worrying for you,” said Aunt Edith.
“Which means I have to do all your not worrying for you,” Uncle Martin retorted.
“Is it usual for buildings to get up all by themselves and walk away in this world?” asked Edna.
“In the normal run of things here,” Dornal explained, “locations reorganize themselves from time to time. But this business of our toy store disappearing and your store taking its place is a new one on us, too.”
“It’s the Dark Lake,” said Aunt Edith.
“The what?” asked Denny.
“The Dark Lake has been raised up by them,” Aunt Edith explained. “Several threads of Mellaney’s Web have been broken because of them.”
“Who are they?” asked Edna. “Who’s Mellany?”
“You don’t want to know who they are,” said Dornal. “Mellany is the Web Spinner.”
The sound of the door chime interrupted the conversation. When a small group of soldiers armed with muskets marched into the store, Carl lifted up his monkey wrench.
“I’ll handle this,” said Dornal as he laid a restraining hand on Carl and stepped in front of the soldiers.
“In the name of His Majesty King Perezvon XXVI,” said the captain, “I demand that you state your line of business and your reasons for opening a shop here in Carelin without a royal charter.”
“Please tell His Majesty King Perezvon XXVI that this shop is visiting here due to the displacements in Mellany’s Web caused by the Dark Lake,” said Dornal. “I further request that you please tell His Majesty King Perezvon XXVI that the four visitors within this shop of the Hard Ware are under the protection of the royal harpist and of every other decent citizen of this kingdom.”
“What right does this shop have to be displaced in Mellany’s Web?” asked the captain.
“If the king should study the matter,” Aunt Edith interjected replied, “he might discover that Mellany is having difficulties holding her Web together at this time, thanks to them, but she is doing the best she can.”
“Do you realize that His Majesty King Perezvon XXVI might take that message as a criticism of his royal perspicacity?” asked the captain.
“Yes,” said Dornal, “I realize that is possible, but I trust that His Majesty King Perezvon XXVI has learned his lesson about criticizing the poetic vision of his royal harpist.”
“Messages will be relayed as soon as we find the royal palace,” said the captain. “Company about face! Forward March!”
“How dare he speak to us like that?” asked Edna as soon as the soldiers had marched out of the store.
“The soldiers are worried because the king is worried that the world is falling apart,” said Uncle Martin as if world were always falling apart and life still went on without a hitch.
“If this world falls apart before we can get out of it,” said Edna, “where will we be?”
“On Sylvester’s back if we’re lucky,” said Aunt Edith with a shudder. “Or, in the middle of nowhere if we’re not so lucky.”
“Don’t let her worry you,” said Uncle Martin. “If my wife didn’t always expecting the worst, we wouldn’t know how lucky we are when things work out. Come on along to our house if you want a place to stay while you’re here.”
“If we can find our house,” added Aunt Edith.
“You know, I think I’d rather stay here and mind the store,” said Carl. “I can sleep among the cables and garden hoses better than in a strange house anyway.”
“I’ll stay with Carl,” said Denny.
Edna was obviously in quite a quandary about what to do.
“Do you promise that I’ll be safe with you?” she asked in a tone of voice that suggested she had better be.
“About as safe as you can be, I should think,” said Mark. “I’m sticking with them.”
“I’m coming,” said Gary, without showing any expression.
With that, Uncle Martin and Aunt Edith led the others out of the store to the street and down the street past the fountain.
“Well! That is some fountain you have here!” Edna commented.
“It’s one of our connections with the cosmos,” Aunt Edith answered casually.
Gary stood still, hands in his jacket pockets until Edna finished admiring the fountain and the group was ready to move. They turned a corner and then another corner, walked past a park and then down another street. About half-way down a block, Aunt Edith sniffed, as if she thought she was on the track of her house.
“Is this where our house was as far as you can remember?” she asked.
“You know I'm always forgetting,” said Uncle Martin. “For all I know, it could have been on the other side of town when we left for the Byrd & Tallis.”
“Big help you are. I really do think it was around here, but I don't see it.”
Mark suddenly did a double take when he recognized a house sandwiched in between two houses they had never seen before. The stone lions on the front porch were a dead give away as to whose house this was. He looked at Scott. Scott sucked in his breath and nodded.
“Uh—I have a feeling this house hasn’t been here long,” said Scott.
“I haven’t seen it before,” said Uncle Martin, “but there are a lot of houses I’ve never seen.”
“Do you recognize it?” asked Dornal.
“Yes,” said Scott.
“This house was next door to the rectory in Milton,” said Mark, his voice shaking. “It's Mrs. Lear's house, or a copy of it. How it got here I’ll never know.”
“I doubt if any of us will ever know that,” said Uncle Martin.
“In that case, “ said Aunt Edith, “it appears that we may have to borrow it for the time being.”
Before Aunt Edith could approach the house, the front door opened and a boy stuck out his head.
“Are you coming in or aren't you?” he called out.
“Pickleface!” cried Scott.
“The library vandal!” added Mark.
Prince Moroch the Pickled opened wide the door, revealing himself in all the princely glory of a military uniform studded with medals and a sword at his side.
“Hurry up!” called the prince. “I can't leave this door open all day!”
“I'll give you cheese and crackers and fresh chocolate-covered marshmallows,” Mona called out from the upstairs window.
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Harvey Armstrong's briefcase felt heavy as he walked along Main Street on his way home, but his talk with Father Clement earlier in the day had helped. Although he still did not know how he was going to survive working for his new law firm, he felt a new confidence that something would work out. He didn't quite know why Father Clement was as helpful as he was. The priest had nothing of the air of a professional counselor about him. He just listened and said a few words as if embarrassed with how little he knew. Somehow that was enough.
As Harvey passed Carl’s hardware store, he stopped to look at their display. One of his little dreams was to find enough time to do some fun and useful carpentry projects. To his shock, the shop window was broken.
“Who’s been vandalizing the store?” Harvey asked himself.
Then something else intruded on his consciousness. The display was not filled with broken tools; it was filled with broken and scattered toys. Harvey looked up and saw an old-fashioned wooden sign hanging over the door that read: Morley's Toy Shop.
“Well, this is new in town,” said Harvey to himself. “It seems that everybody is going in and out of business all the time. Maybe I can find something nice for Sheila. She needs a lift.”
Harvey walked into the store, jangling a set of bells as he did so. To his amazement, the whole store, as far as he could see of it, looked as if a cyclone had hit it, or a group of children had taken to throwing all the toys at each other. A pink toy piano tottered at the top of a pile of toys, fell over and slid along the floor to Harvey’s feet. It looked to Harvey as just the thing for Sheila.
“Name?” asked a man.
For the first time, Harvey saw a man sitting with a large book on his lap that served as a desk. He was working away on a list that was endless to judge by the roll of paper curled on the floor. The man wore a shirt of rough material that was something like the underside of a carpet.
“I’m Harvey Armstrong. I work for—“
“Filionymic?”
“What?”
“Names of your children.”
“Sheila, Sheila Armstrong.”
“Harvey, Father of Sheila—yes, I have Sheila, Daughter of Harvey on my list—one toy pink piano for her. You’d better take it before it gets lost.”
Harvey picked up the toy.
“How much is it?” asked Harvey.
“About two feet long, I should think,” said the man, not once looking up from his writing.
“I mean, how much does it cost?” asked Harvey.
“One quest, which will be in process before long if it has not begun already,” said the man. “Toy pink piano is needed for the quest. Please take it.”
“Well, all right,” Harvey grumbled as he picked up the piano, “but you’ll go out of business pretty soon at this rate.”