The Hundred: Fall of the Wents by Jennifer Prescott

to freshen up. Most times it’s private, eh?”
    “Next time perhaps you won’t leave your, er, outergarments lying around,” grumped Aarvord. “You scared our friend to death. And I was having a nice dream.”
    “Sorry,” hissed Copernicus, taking the skin in his jaws and dragging it out of sight beneath the bed. “All cleaned up, yes?”
    “Nasty! Nasty!” said Fangor. “Snakes have bad habits.”
    Copernicus looked at Fangor with somewhat hungry eyes.
    “So do Sand Lice,” said Tully, defending Copernicus. “They sleep on people’s heads, for example.”
    Aarvord narrowed his eyes and scratched at the top of his wrinkled scalp. “Better not have…” he muttered.
    Tully was grateful for the distraction, which had served to wash away the dark dreams he had had through the night.
    The group went to wash their faces in the stone sinks that lined the windows. Fangor sat on one of the sink edges and preened himself with a moist leg, while Copernicus wrenched open the tap by contorting his whole body. He then dropped into the sink as it filled. He swam about in quick circles, flicking his tail to splash the running water droplets over his head. Aarvord merely gazed at himself in a mirror that hung above his sink. He looked pleased with what he saw.
    Tully splashed cold water across his cheeks and stared down at the Crossing below; it was abandoned. One would usually see Wents going about their business, often with small Efts and Ells following behind. Tully wondered how many Efts like him felt lonely and lost today. Most Efts, however, had other parents to care for them. He did not.
    “Let’s go see what this Council has to say,” said Aarvord, finally tearing himself away from his own reflection. “If they’re any use.”
    “Council?” piped up Fangor. “What Council?”
    “I don’t think you’re invited,” said Copernicus.
    “What do we do with him, then?” asked Tully.
    “Do wiff me? Talking about me like I wasn’t here at all!” said Fangor.
    “We can’t leave the little mite. He might be snapped up by a Boring Bee,” said Aarvord.
    Boring Bees loved to eat Lice; unlike the Dull Bees, they were known to be carnivorous.
    “Bees!” shrieked Fangor. “I don’t like bees.”
    Tully sighed. “Come on then.” He reluctantly held out an arm and Fangor hopped aboard and scrambled up to his shoulder, where he was annoyingly close to Tully’s right ear.
    “Don’t like bees,” Fangor said, as they all headed for the door. “Boring Bees are bad, bad things. Boring Bees aren’t nice. Not at all.”
    Tully had a sinking feeling that Fangor was going to talk all day long.
     
    *
     
    By the time Hen-Hen had gathered them all, served them breakfast (brought by the same surly UnderGrouts), and briefed them on the morning’s plan, Tully was relieved to have been proven wrong about Fangor’s incessant talking. The Louse had gone remarkably silent at the sight of the bees clustered on Hen-Hen’s enormous face, and had tucked himself into Tully’s ear and stayed completely still. It made hearing out of that ear rather difficult, but at least he didn’t have to put up with Fangor’s constant chatter.
    They were outside in the courtyard now. Hen-Hen seemed even bigger and more fearsome in the cold morning light; his two great, goggle eyes fixed on Tully as if trying to assess the Eft’s abilities. Tully and Aarvord been given thick robes of woven Kepper-Root that reached down to the ground and were belted with ties, and Tully’s worn brown slippers had been exchanged for thick boots. The long sleeves of his robe had warm mitts sewn in at the ends, and there were soft straps within the folds of the garment that could be lashed around one’s legs for a snug fit. Although the morning was unseasonably chilly Tully found the robes excessive; Kepper-Root trapped heat so efficiently that it made him feel like he was once again a guest in Aarvord’s steamy grotto of a home. Aarvord looked pleased