Abarat: Absolute Midnight Read Online Free PDF Page A

yes, I think that’s what we’re supposed to think.”
    She’s a very powerful woman, Boa said. And she’s been known to use her powers to help people, if she’s in the mood. Candy reported this to Malingo. Then Boa added, Of course, she is crazy.
    “Why is there always a catch?” Candy said out loud.
    “What?” Malingo said.
    “Boa says Laguna Munn’s crazy.”
    “And what—you’re Candy, the sane lady? I don’t think so.”
    “Good point.”
    “Let the mad find wisdom in their madness for the sane, and let the sane be grateful.”
    “Is that a famous saying?”
    “Maybe if I say it often enough.”
    The geshrat talks a lot of sense . . . for a geshrat.
    “What did she say?” Malingo asked Candy.
    “How did you know she said anything?”
    “I’m starting to see it on your face.”
    “She said you were very clever.”
    Malingo didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, I bet she did,” he said.
    Their route took them back to the harbor via a selection of much smaller streets than those by which they had ascended to the Council Chamber. There was an air of unease in these narrow alleys and tiny yards. People were going about anxious, furtive business. It was, Candy thought, as though everyone was making plans for what to do if things didn’t turn out right. Through partly opened doors that gave access into shadowy interiors she even caught a glimpse of people packing up in preparation for a hurried departure. Malingo clearly interpreted what they saw the same way because he said to Candy:
    “Did the Council talk about evacuating The Great Head?”
    “No.”
    “Then why are people getting ready to leave?”
    “It makes no sense. If anywhere’s safe, it’s the Yebba Dim Day. Lordy Lou! This is one of the oldest structures in existence.”
    “Apparently old age isn’t what it used to be.”
    They walked on in silence then, down to the harbor. There were a dozen fishing boats or more trying to find docking places so that the cargo of detritus could be unloaded.
    “Bits of Chickentown . . .” Candy said grimly.
    “Don’t let it bother you. The people here have heard so many things about your people over the years. Now they’ve got something to actually hold in their hands.”
    “It looks like trash, most of it.”
    “Yeah.”
    “What are they going to think of Chickentown?” Candy said sadly.
    Malingo said nothing. He hung back to let Candy go on ahead to examine the stuff the fishermen had scooped from the waters of the Izabella. Did the people of the Abarat think any of this was of value? Two pink plastic flamingos, washed away from somebody’s garden, a lot of old magazines and bottles of pills, some bits of bashed-up furniture, a big sign with a stupid bug-eyed chicken painted on it, and another that announced the subject of the Sunday sermon at the Lutheran Church on Whittmer Street: The Many Doors of God’s Mansion.
    Somebody among the crowd, a golden-eyed, green-bearded individual lubricated by several bottles of the Kid’s Best Ale, had decided to take this opportunity to pontificate on the subject of how dangerous humankind and its wicked technologies could be. He had plenty of supporters and friends among the crowd, who quickly provided him with a couple of fish crates to stand on, from which perch he let loose a venomous tirade. “If the tide carried their treasures here,” he said, “then it’s going to bring some of their owners too. We need to be ready. We all know what the people of the Hereafter will do if they come back. They’ll be after the Abarataraba again.”
    He had only got that far when Candy heard somebody nearby murmur her name.
    She looked around, and quickly found a friendly face, that of Izarith, who’d taken the trouble to look after Candy when she’d first ventured into the chaotic interior of The Great Head. She’d fed Candy, and given her a warm fire by which to dry herself, even given Candy her first Abaratian garments to wear. Izarith was a