immediately, before she became a serious threat to Toby, and he knew the snake for the job. “Hoggle!” he called, spinning the crystal.
Hoggle’s face appeared in it.
“She’s in the oubliette,” Jareth said. “Get her back to the outer walls.”
Hoggle cocked his head, grimacing. “She’s quite determined, your Majesty. It won’t be an easy —”
“Do it.” Jareth flipped the crystal into the air, where it vanished like a bubble.
He chuckled, imagining Sarah’s face when she found herself beside Hoggle’s pond again. Then he threw back his head and roared.
The goblins watched him uncertainly. Was it all right to laugh now?
“Well, go ahead,” Jareth told them.
With the simple glee that is natural to evil-hearted folk, the goblins launched themselves into their full routine of cackles and snickers. The keen goblin directed them, like a conductor, bringing them up to a crescendo of malign mirth.
———
——
—
Sarah sat on the floor of the black cell wishing she had asked the Helping Hands to take her up the shaft, toward the light. What could she hope for in this place?
Four of her senses sharpened in the darkness; she detected a little scratching sound. “Who’s there? Who’s there with me?” Her body was tense with alarm.
“Me,” a gruff voice replied.
There was another noise of scratching, followed by a glare of light as a match ignited, and in turn set a torch aflame. Hoggle was sitting there, on a rough bench, holding the torch up so that he and Sarah could see each other.
“Oh,” she said, “I am glad to see you, Hoggle.” She was so relieved she could have hugged him.
“Yes, well,” Hoggle said brusquely, as though he were slightly embarrassed by the situation. “Well, nice to see you, too.”
Sarah went to stand beside him, in the torchlight. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
Hoggle shrugged, and half turned away. “I knows you were going to get into trouble soon as I sees you. So I — I’ve come to give you a hand.”
A helping hand, Sarah thought, and shivered. She had had enough of them. “You mean,” she asked, “you’re going to help me unriddle the Labyrinth?”
“Unriddle the Labyrinth?” Hoggle answered scornfully. “Don’t you know where you are?”
She looked about her. In the circle of torchlight she saw stone walls, stone floor, stone ceiling. One rough wooden bench was the only luxury.
“Oh, she’s looking around now, is she?” Hoggle’s scorn had turned to sarcasm. “I suppose the little miss has noticed there ain’t no doors — just the hole up there?”
Sarah peered as hard as she could into the shadows, and realized that he was right.
“This,” Hoggle was saying, “is an oubliette. The Labyrinth’s full of them.”
She was stung by his knowing, mocking tone of voice. “Really?” she replied, matching his sarcasm. “Now, fancy that.”
“Don’t try to sound smart,” he told her. “You don’t know what an oubliette is.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” Hoggle said, with a touch of pride. “It’s a place you put people to forget about them.”
She remembered her verbs in French class, and, pleased with herself, said, “Of course. It comes from the French verb oublier , to forget. But you already know that, naturally.”
Hoggle raised his chin to scratch it, at the same time letting his eyes roll portentously around the cell.
What he had said began to sink in, and Sarah looked at the flickering stone walls and shuddered. To forget about them … Was that what Jareth was doing with her? Just forgetting about her? She began to feel indignant. It wasn’t fair. He had challenged her to his contest. All the odds were stacked against her, but she had made a brave enough start — he couldn’t, now, just dump her in here to rot. Could he?
Hoggle had taken the torch and waddled into one corner of the oubliette. He beckoned her to follow. She did, casting a great shadow across the walls. Lying in
Hoggle’s face appeared in it.
“She’s in the oubliette,” Jareth said. “Get her back to the outer walls.”
Hoggle cocked his head, grimacing. “She’s quite determined, your Majesty. It won’t be an easy —”
“Do it.” Jareth flipped the crystal into the air, where it vanished like a bubble.
He chuckled, imagining Sarah’s face when she found herself beside Hoggle’s pond again. Then he threw back his head and roared.
The goblins watched him uncertainly. Was it all right to laugh now?
“Well, go ahead,” Jareth told them.
With the simple glee that is natural to evil-hearted folk, the goblins launched themselves into their full routine of cackles and snickers. The keen goblin directed them, like a conductor, bringing them up to a crescendo of malign mirth.
———
——
—
Sarah sat on the floor of the black cell wishing she had asked the Helping Hands to take her up the shaft, toward the light. What could she hope for in this place?
Four of her senses sharpened in the darkness; she detected a little scratching sound. “Who’s there? Who’s there with me?” Her body was tense with alarm.
“Me,” a gruff voice replied.
There was another noise of scratching, followed by a glare of light as a match ignited, and in turn set a torch aflame. Hoggle was sitting there, on a rough bench, holding the torch up so that he and Sarah could see each other.
“Oh,” she said, “I am glad to see you, Hoggle.” She was so relieved she could have hugged him.
“Yes, well,” Hoggle said brusquely, as though he were slightly embarrassed by the situation. “Well, nice to see you, too.”
Sarah went to stand beside him, in the torchlight. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”
Hoggle shrugged, and half turned away. “I knows you were going to get into trouble soon as I sees you. So I — I’ve come to give you a hand.”
A helping hand, Sarah thought, and shivered. She had had enough of them. “You mean,” she asked, “you’re going to help me unriddle the Labyrinth?”
“Unriddle the Labyrinth?” Hoggle answered scornfully. “Don’t you know where you are?”
She looked about her. In the circle of torchlight she saw stone walls, stone floor, stone ceiling. One rough wooden bench was the only luxury.
“Oh, she’s looking around now, is she?” Hoggle’s scorn had turned to sarcasm. “I suppose the little miss has noticed there ain’t no doors — just the hole up there?”
Sarah peered as hard as she could into the shadows, and realized that he was right.
“This,” Hoggle was saying, “is an oubliette. The Labyrinth’s full of them.”
She was stung by his knowing, mocking tone of voice. “Really?” she replied, matching his sarcasm. “Now, fancy that.”
“Don’t try to sound smart,” he told her. “You don’t know what an oubliette is.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” Hoggle said, with a touch of pride. “It’s a place you put people to forget about them.”
She remembered her verbs in French class, and, pleased with herself, said, “Of course. It comes from the French verb oublier , to forget. But you already know that, naturally.”
Hoggle raised his chin to scratch it, at the same time letting his eyes roll portentously around the cell.
What he had said began to sink in, and Sarah looked at the flickering stone walls and shuddered. To forget about them … Was that what Jareth was doing with her? Just forgetting about her? She began to feel indignant. It wasn’t fair. He had challenged her to his contest. All the odds were stacked against her, but she had made a brave enough start — he couldn’t, now, just dump her in here to rot. Could he?
Hoggle had taken the torch and waddled into one corner of the oubliette. He beckoned her to follow. She did, casting a great shadow across the walls. Lying in
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