Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) (29 page)

Piper pushed his way to the front and stood nose to nose with Copper. There was anger in his eyes. But before he could speak or move, there was a commotion at the back of the crowd. Those nearest the river started to retreat again, towards the factories.

‘Look!’ someone cried. ‘More of them!’

Another herd of animals was sweeping along the riverbank towards the angry Myrmidots. The retreat spread through the entire crowd like a wave receding from the shore. Even Piper stepped back, leaving Copper and Dot standing with Achillia and her companions on the domed roof of the furnace room.

The new arrivals came on until they had cleared a space between the townspeople and those stranded on the mound. Grunge took one look at the new herd – and laughed.

At the front of the herd walked Eugene, Calamity and Miniver.

Not a sound came from the Muddle animals. To the Myrmidots, holding their hammers and brooms, the silence of the Muddles was louder than the wailing of the animals pounding the ground. Showing commendable common sense, they waited, not quite sure what to do. After all, it was one thing to deal with household pets, farm animals and smaller forest creatures, but quite another to deal with animals led by a lion and a very large bear – not to mention a fire-station puppy. And Calamity decided enough was enough.

‘Hiya, Grunge!’ she barked. ‘We’re here!’

Grunge laughed again. He knelt in front of the puppy and patted her. ‘I can see that, Calamity,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

Calamity sat and scratched her ear. ‘No one looks too happy,’ she barked. She peered past Grunge at the stag. ‘Has anyone talked to him?’

‘It’s all happened too fast,’ said Grunge.

‘Well, it’s time someone did,’ replied the pup. She turned to Miniver and Eugene. ‘We’re on,’ she yelped. ‘Coming?’

Miniver rolled her eyes, then she and Eugene followed Calamity. The puppy had already bounded past the group on the mound, saying hi to Reach and Patch as she passed. Then she sat on the churned grass and looked up at the stag.

‘I know you can’t understand me,’ she barked, ‘but we’re going to have to try to work this out. First thing, you and your friends have to stop making all that noise.’

The stag reared and pounded the ground with his hooves. Calamity cocked her head and looked at him. ‘Work with me here,’ she yelped.

Miniver and Eugene ambled up and stood by their friend. Calamity looked at them, shook her doubtfully, then tried again.

‘Now, I know you’re frightened,’ continued Calamity, keeping her bark as gentle as she could. ‘I’m frightened. The folk back there, they’re frightened. And all that noise you and your friends are making frightens them even more. So first, you have to settle down. And then we can get the Myrmidots to undo what they’ve done. Understand? But you have to help me. We came here to help you, now give some back. OK?’

The stag snorted and stared at Calamity. The muscles in his shoulders quivered. Then the stag reared and pounded the grass again.

Calamity hung her head. After a second, she looked up at her friends and barked, ‘Your turn.’

Miniver reared on her hind legs. The stag was tall, but Miniver towered over him. Eugene braced himself on all four paws. They didn’t say anything; they just roared. And the roar rose above all the noise on the field.

The animals went quiet. They stopped pawing and thumping the ground. They just stood and stared.

Satisfied that she had their complete attention, Miniver dropped to all fours and began talking to the animals of Myrmidia.

Now, everyone knows that Muddle animals can’t talk to ordinary animals. Everyone knows that ordinary animals don’t talk. And everyone is pretty sure that they don’t really think. After all, as Professor Weevil said, the ability to think is one of the things that separate animals from Beadles, Myrmidots and Muddles. (Some less tolerant Beadles think it is also what separates Beadles from Muddles, but we won’t muddy the waters with that right now.)

Despite the prevailing wisdom, Miniver went ahead and talked. She told them that they were right about what was wrong with the Land. She told them that all the Muddles were there to help and she told them that they would make right what was wrong. But, she said to them, they had to be calm, to return to their homes – to their farms, their burrows, their dens and their nests.

When she had finished, the animals remained silent. The stag looked at Miniver, then turned and melted back into the herd. Whether it was what Miniver had said or the way she had said it, the animals understood she was there to help. And so they waited, hushed and expectant.

Some of the pets decided it was time to go home, and they left the others and searched for the Myrmidots who cared for and loved them. Tiny Puff ran straight towards the Myrmidots hanging back near the factories. Bess spotted her and dashed from the crowd, running as fast as her legs could carry her. She met Puff in the middle and the little dog leapt into her arms. Sprocket, head down with age and tiredness from his long journey, found Old Wilhelm. Other animals broke from the herd and were reunited with their owners. Many, though, stayed, perhaps waiting for their owners to come to them, or wanting to make sure that what Miniver had promised would come to pass.

Miniver, Eugene and Calamity went back to the others on the domed grass roof of the furnace, the vast herd of animals in front of them, behind them the Muddle animals and, further back, the townsfolk of Forge. It was quite a group on the mound now: Achillia, Beatrice, Leonardo, Copper and Dot; Bligh, Brian and Megan; Grunge, Reach, Patch, Miniver, Eugene and Calamity. These Muddles, Beadles and Myrmidots carried the expectations of everyone round them.

‘Look at them up there,’ said a Myrmidot to his neighbour. ‘This feels like quite a historic moment. Imagine if we had something which could capture this scene so that we could look at it in the future. Something that could recreate it precisely as we see it.’

‘You mean, like . . . like . . . capturing a memory?’ said his neighbour.

‘Exactly,’ said the first Myrmidot.

‘That’d be cool,’ his neighbour agreed. ‘Your memory or mine?’

Achillia turned to Minever. ‘I don’t know what you said to them, Miniver, but thank you’ she said.

Grunge stroked the bear’s back. ‘Thank you, Miniver. But I don’t think they’re going to go home until we have fixed the real problem.’

‘Problem?’ asked Leonardo. ‘What problem?’

‘The blue fire, Leonardo,’ Bligh said.

‘Nonsense,’ the engineer snorted. ‘We’ve been through this.’

‘Leonardo, excuse me for saying so,’ said Brian, as politely as he could, ‘but don’t you think you should reconsider? Look at the facts –’

‘The only fact is, young man, that you are interfering with things that don’t concern you. This is Myrmidot business and I’ll thank you to keep out of it!’ Leonardo snapped.

Brian was taken aback by his tone. It was harsh and angry and not at all polite. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Brian had spent his life believing that important people know best and it wasn’t the done thing to argue with them.

Reach politely tapped Achillia on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘But we have company.’

‘More?’ exclaimed Achillia. ‘I’m surprised that there’s anybody in the Land who isn’t here already! Who? Where are they?’

‘I don’t know’ she replied, pointing to the back of the herd of animals.

There rode Hazlitt and Edith. Chaos and Strike walked before them, clearing a path through the herd with snarls and snaps of their jaws. The animals stepped back warily. Even those who were joining the Myrmidots drew back, and the Myrmidots coming to meet them stopped in their tracks.

Hazlitt and Edith reined in their horses in front of grass-domed furnace. The hounds took position on either side of them. Their dark eyes locked on to Eugene and Miniver, sizing them up. If the hounds felt cowed by the lion and the bear, they didn’t show it.

Hazlitt’s gaze swept across the group assembled on the mound, standing silent and expectant. Then he turned his gaze to Achillia and smiled.

‘Are we interrupting?’ he asked. ‘Trouble with the animals?’

‘Where’s Kevin?’ demanded Bligh. ‘I’ll ask you to return our Factotum. Our other Factotum.’

Hazlitt didn’t even glance at Bligh. He continued to talk to Achillia as if the High Councillor of Beadleburg had never spoken.

‘We’ve come to help. We heard you were having a problem and thought we might be of some small service to you,’ he explained.

‘Where’s Crimson?’ asked Grunge very softly.

Hazlitt smiled at him.

‘Taking two of my hounds for a walk, I think. We’ll ask the hounds if they’ve seen her when they get here.’ He leaned down from the saddle so that his face was close to the musician’s, but he kept his voice loud enough for the others to hear. ‘You can ask them yourself. You can do that, being a Muddle.’

Abruptly, he sat upright in the saddle.

‘Listen to me, folk of Forge!’ he called in a voice that carried even to the Myrmidots at the back of the crowd. ‘Your animals fled. They returned in anger. They returned to hurt those who have cared for them, nurtured them and even loved them! Why do you think that is? What made these animals turn on you? What made them be what they are not?’

Edith took up Hazlitt’s part like a well-rehearsed actor.

‘The Muddles caused this to happen,’ she cried. ‘The Muddles, who you thought were your friends, your neighbours, to whom you have given so much, they caused this to happen to you! Who else could have spoken to the animals? Who else could have the power to make them run away in terror? Who else could have made them return? Could you have done that? Could you? Or you?’ she asked, pointing to Myrmidot after Myrmidot. She jabbed her slender, elegant finger at Bligh. ‘Could even the Beadles have done that? No. Only the Muddles. Only they could do that – and did!’

A murmur rose among the Myrmidots as they weighed Edith’s words. The Muddles were their neighbours, their friends. It was hard to believe . . .

‘This is ridiculous!’ yelled one. ‘The Muddles would never do such a thing!’

‘It was the Muddles that came and calmed the animals. They made our pets come back to us!’ cried a Myrmidot holding a cat with a tattered green ribbon round its neck.

‘Yes, they did,’ said Hazlitt. His voice was confident, soothing, reassuring. ‘And you’re grateful for that. Who wouldn’t be? Our pets are precious to us. We love them. They can be just like one of the family.’ Hazlitt smiled good-naturedly to the Myrmidots, but when he spoke his next words his voice was full of scorn. ‘Especially if you’re a Muddle!’

A few of the Myrmidots laughed, an unkind, sneering noise of glee. Seeing a small chink in their resistance, Hazlitt pressed on. ‘And yes, you’re right. The Muddles would never have done you harm.’ He paused. ‘Not until you threatened them.’

‘This is silly beyond words!’ shouted Achillia. ‘We would never threaten the Muddles! The Myrmidots would never hurt their neighbours!’

‘My dear Achillia,’ said Edith. ‘We know you never meant to hurt anyone. You didn’t mean to threaten the Muddles. You only wanted what is best for all. That is why we helped you.’

‘Are you going to tell us how we threatened them?’ Copper asked. ‘Or are you just going to talk for the rest of the afternoon?’

Edith smiled at the engineer, but her eyes were filled with anger.

‘You’re Copper, aren’t you? It’s understandable that you do not want to believe the Muddles could do you ill. They are your friends. And you are famous among the Myrmidots because you went with them to the High Mountains and supposedly saved the Land. But maybe you won’t be much of a hero if the Muddles are shown to be treacherous.’

Edith nudged her horse. It brought her right next to Copper and she leaned in the saddle and said quietly to him, ‘Maybe, for you and your little friend, there will be a reckoning.’

She sat upright in the saddle and spoke so all could hear. ‘You did what Myrmidots do! Myrmidots use what the Land offers to make life better for everyone! You saw that the blue fire could be used to do that. So you brought it to Forge.

‘This frightened the Muddles. They fear the blue fire without knowing why and wanted a way to make you get rid of it. So they whispered to your animals. They plotted to make you question your wisdom. They told terrible tales to the Beadles of what would happen and made up stories of us attacking them. Has any Muddle or Beadle seen this with their own eyes? No. The Muddles turned your neighbours against you because they are just scared little children who cannot be trusted.

‘And then they came here today to make it seem like they saved you so that you would give up the blue fire!’

The crowd of Myrmidots hummed with chatter. There was sense in the words of these strangers, said some. Nonsense, said others; anyone who knew the least bit about Muddles knew they wouldn’t do what they were accused of. The arguments grew louder and more heated, as all the irritation they had felt with one another over the past few days boiled over. Resentment about an unkind word, a snub in the street or a surly look came to the surface. Before long, the arguments were no longer over the Muddles. Myrmidots shook their fists at their best friends and called their neighbours names. The shouting grew louder; threats and abuse echoed across Forge. And Hazlitt and Edith watched them argue, with smiles of smug satisfaction on their faces.

‘Enough! Stop this!’ Achillia commanded in a voice that every Myrmidot knew. It was the voice she used when she was very, very annoyed. And that was seldom good news for anyone.

The Myrmidots stopped their squabbles and arguments. Achillia glowered at them, her cheeks red with anger.

‘This will not do!’ she shouted.

The Myrmidots glared back at her. Whatever resentment they felt ran deep and now they unleashed it on their Lord Mayor.

‘Who are you telling to be quiet?’

‘Mind your own business, bunhead!’

‘Yeah, who do you think you are, telling us what to do all the time? Maybe we should elect ourselves another Lord Mayor!’

Forgetting their quarrels with each other, they turned on Achillia, jeering and booing. Each time Achillia tried to speak, her voice was drowned in a sea of catcalls and insults.