The Tangle Box

“Look, Biggar.” He addressed the bird as calmly as he could. “I’m all done arguing with you. You had your chance to say something before this and you didn’t. So you listen up. The plan will work, got it? It will work! You might not think so and maybe I don’t either, but if the Gorse says it will work, it will!”


He bent forward like a reedy tree in a high wind. “Did you see how easily it got rid of Holiday? And Strabo and Nightshade? Like that, Biggar!” He snapped his fingers dramatically. “It has a lot of power, in case you hadn’t noticed. With King, witch, and dragon gone, who’s going to challenge it? That’s why the plan will work. And that’s why I don’t intend to ask any foolish questions!”

The bird faced him down. “You ought to listen to yourself, Horris. You really should. Got rid of Holiday and the witch and the dragon like that, did it?” He clacked his beak to mimic the other’s emphasis. “Did it ever occur to you that it could get rid of us just as easily? I mean, what does it need with us anyway? Have you asked yourself that? We’re errand boys, Horris. That’s all we are. We’re running around doing things it can’t do for itself, but once we’ve done them, what then? If this so-called plan works, what does it need with us afterwards?”

Horris Kew felt a sudden lurch in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Biggar was right. He could still see Holiday and the witch and the dragon being sucked down into the Tangle Box. He could still see them fighting to get free before disappearing into the mists. When he had picked up the box, it seemed as if he could feel them batting around inside like trapped moths. He wondered what the Gorse had done with the Tangle Box after Horris had carried it back to the cave. He wondered if there was room inside for any more prisoners.

Horris swallowed hard. “Don’t worry, the Gorse needs us all right,” he insisted, but he didn’t sound so sure now.

“Why?” Biggar snapped.

“Why?”

“Don’t repeat me, Horris. I’ve warned you about that. Yes, why? Better ask yourself another question while you’re at it. If it plans to give us all of Landover, what does it plan to give itself? And don’t tell me it’s doing this as a philanthropical undertaking. Don’t tell me it doesn’t want anything for itself. This plan is leading up to something, and so far it’s not telling us what!”

“Okay! Okay!” Horris was on the defensive now. “Maybe there is something more than what we’re being told. Sure, why not? Say, I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you ask it, Biggar? If you’re so worried, why don’t you just ask it?”

“For the same reason you don’t, Horris! I don’t fancy getting dispatched like Holiday and the others!”

“But it’s okay for me to chance it, is that it?”

“While it needs you, it is! Think with your brain, Horris! It won’t do anything to you while it needs you! It’s afterwards that you have to start worrying!”

Horris stamped furiously. Dusty streaks of sweat ran down his narrow, pointed face. “That hardly helps us now, out here on the road, almost to the gates of the King’s castle, does it?” he yelled angrily. “Got any other useful suggestions?”

Biggar ruffled his feathers anew, his dark eyes flat and hard. “Matter of fact, I do. This whole plan depends on whether or not the magic it gave us works. If it doesn’t, the wizard and the dog are going to have us thrown into the darkest dungeon they can find. Holiday was our only ally when we were here before, and he’s long gone. No one is going to be in a very good mood with him missing. So what if the magic doesn’t work, Horris?”

Horris Kew glowered menacingly. “I’m getting tired of this, Biggar. In fact, I’m getting tired of you.”

Biggar looked unimpressed. “I say we try one out and see if it works before we walk into the lion’s den.”

The glower deepened. “The Gorse told us not to do that, remember? It warned us explicitly.”

“So what?” the bird pressed. “The Gorse isn’t the one taking all the risks.”

“It said that whatever we did, we were not to use them! It was pretty emphatic, as I recall!” Horris was shouting. “Suppose it isn’t kidding, Biggar? Suppose—just suppose now—that it knows what it’s talking about! After all, whose magic is it, you idiot?”

Biggar spit—not easy for a bird. “You are foolish beyond anything I could have imagined, Horris Kew. You are incredibly stupid. And myopic to boot. And, even for a human, exceedingly gutless!”

Horris charged him then, his temper frayed past its limits, his anger exploding through him. Roaring like an enraged lion, he came at Biggar with every intent of tearing him wing from wing. But Biggar was a bird, and birds can escape humans every time simply by flying off, which is what Biggar did now, a casual, lazy lifting into the air so that he circled just out of reach of the leaping, grasping, would-be conjurer. What Horris did succeed in doing was frightening the pack mule within an inch of its life so that it bolted back into the forest to disappear in a cloud of dust with a mighty, terrified bray.