the one very slightly taller than his twin, his voice flat and emotionless. “We have not.” He opened up what looked like an oversized silver pocket watch, and then stared again at Harold still standing there.
“Not just any girl, I mean,” said Harold. “She’s got braids almost right down to her feet. Not the sort of thing you see every day –”
“What do you have there?” asked the shorter gentleman, indicating the colander wedged in between the bicycle’s handlebars. The fireball was making nervous fizzling noises, pressing itself down in the bottom of the colander and turning orange.
“I dunno,” said Harold, honestly. He looked down at the simmering orange fire. He couldn’t articulate why, but he didn’t think it looked very happy. “I reckon it made itself sick, spinning around like that. What says you?” If it belonged to Amelia, he should do his best to look after it.
“Regretfully, we have more important matters to attend to, and we’re in quite a hurry.” said the very slightly taller of the two.
“Have you seen the snails?” asked his twin, completely ignoring Harold’s question.
The other gentleman hissed and pulled him aside by the elbow. “Don’t.”
A faint resentful scowl crossed his twin’s blank face, very briefly. “Have you seen the snails, please ?”
The taller one pulled his twin away from Harold again, this time more forcefully. “He can’t have seen the snails, can he? He wasn’t here. What’s more, snails should not be our only line of inquiry.” The two stared at each other in silence for an uncomfortably long time, before turning from Harold and heading towards the tea house. “We’re terribly sorry to have bothered you,” said the taller one to Harold, over his shoulder as the two of them walked away. “Please, continue to go about your business.”
Snails… Could that be what the fireball had been trying to communicate with its dizzying spirals? Harold hadn’t forgotten the strange snail-drawn contraption that had come to Springhaven, and already suspected it might have something to do with Amelia’s disappearance. He leaned down as close to the fireball as he dared, and whispered, “You saw the snails, din’t you? The giant ones, I mean.” The fireball bounced, but mutedly, still deep orange. “The knight with the snails… is he the one who took Amelia?” The fireball bounced higher. That was enough. Harold got back on his bike. Although five roads led out of Lannersmeet, Harold knew the surrounding countryside well enough to know that three of the five led back to the coast, and a handful of other fishing villages. A fourth would take him to the nearest big city, no place for giant snails to avoid attention. The last road out led into the woods, a thick leafy canopy shading the track would surely be welcome shelter from the heat of the summer sun.
The two strange gentlemen had disappeared, so Harold pushed off, heading into the woods.
6: RULEBOOKS AND FAIRY TALES
From the porthole of the snailcastletank, Amelia watched uneasily as the road unravelled behind them. Slow as it might be, the snailcastletank rarely stood still, and certainly not for long. The apparently indefatigable snails could take their meals on the move, munching their way across meadows and moors, and Percival rarely left the driver’s seat. Whether he slept up there or not, Amelia couldn’t be sure, although if not he was certainly prone to long periods of silent reflection. The lack of speed in their progress had fooled her at first, but not anymore. Despite Meg’s protests to the contrary, Amelia could tell that they were running away from something: they’d already put some considerable distance between themselves and the tea house at Lannersmeet, and Meg had spent the first couple of miles walking after the snailcastletank with a broom to cover their silvery tracks. When she’d tired of that, she’d begun a game of chess, quite clearly to take Amelia’s
“Not just any girl, I mean,” said Harold. “She’s got braids almost right down to her feet. Not the sort of thing you see every day –”
“What do you have there?” asked the shorter gentleman, indicating the colander wedged in between the bicycle’s handlebars. The fireball was making nervous fizzling noises, pressing itself down in the bottom of the colander and turning orange.
“I dunno,” said Harold, honestly. He looked down at the simmering orange fire. He couldn’t articulate why, but he didn’t think it looked very happy. “I reckon it made itself sick, spinning around like that. What says you?” If it belonged to Amelia, he should do his best to look after it.
“Regretfully, we have more important matters to attend to, and we’re in quite a hurry.” said the very slightly taller of the two.
“Have you seen the snails?” asked his twin, completely ignoring Harold’s question.
The other gentleman hissed and pulled him aside by the elbow. “Don’t.”
A faint resentful scowl crossed his twin’s blank face, very briefly. “Have you seen the snails, please ?”
The taller one pulled his twin away from Harold again, this time more forcefully. “He can’t have seen the snails, can he? He wasn’t here. What’s more, snails should not be our only line of inquiry.” The two stared at each other in silence for an uncomfortably long time, before turning from Harold and heading towards the tea house. “We’re terribly sorry to have bothered you,” said the taller one to Harold, over his shoulder as the two of them walked away. “Please, continue to go about your business.”
Snails… Could that be what the fireball had been trying to communicate with its dizzying spirals? Harold hadn’t forgotten the strange snail-drawn contraption that had come to Springhaven, and already suspected it might have something to do with Amelia’s disappearance. He leaned down as close to the fireball as he dared, and whispered, “You saw the snails, din’t you? The giant ones, I mean.” The fireball bounced, but mutedly, still deep orange. “The knight with the snails… is he the one who took Amelia?” The fireball bounced higher. That was enough. Harold got back on his bike. Although five roads led out of Lannersmeet, Harold knew the surrounding countryside well enough to know that three of the five led back to the coast, and a handful of other fishing villages. A fourth would take him to the nearest big city, no place for giant snails to avoid attention. The last road out led into the woods, a thick leafy canopy shading the track would surely be welcome shelter from the heat of the summer sun.
The two strange gentlemen had disappeared, so Harold pushed off, heading into the woods.
6: RULEBOOKS AND FAIRY TALES
From the porthole of the snailcastletank, Amelia watched uneasily as the road unravelled behind them. Slow as it might be, the snailcastletank rarely stood still, and certainly not for long. The apparently indefatigable snails could take their meals on the move, munching their way across meadows and moors, and Percival rarely left the driver’s seat. Whether he slept up there or not, Amelia couldn’t be sure, although if not he was certainly prone to long periods of silent reflection. The lack of speed in their progress had fooled her at first, but not anymore. Despite Meg’s protests to the contrary, Amelia could tell that they were running away from something: they’d already put some considerable distance between themselves and the tea house at Lannersmeet, and Meg had spent the first couple of miles walking after the snailcastletank with a broom to cover their silvery tracks. When she’d tired of that, she’d begun a game of chess, quite clearly to take Amelia’s
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