The Spindlers Read Online Free PDF

another yelp when Liza said the word spindlers . Then she shook her head. Then she nodded. Then she shook her head again, a motion that transformed slowly into another nod.
    â€œWell, which is it?” Liza cried. Even now, she could feel seconds pooling and running away from them. “Yes or no?”
    The rat started to speak, and then clamped her mouth shut. Then her eyes bulged, and her cheeks filled with air, as though a word was ballooning behind them. Finally she burst out, “Yes! I know, I know!” Instantly, in a flurry of agitation, she whipped out a small compact and began furiously dusting her face with powder. “Stupid rat,” she muttered. “Stupid, stupid. Always muddling and messing.” She shook her head. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” By now a cloud of powder was swirling all around them, like a faint snow.
    â€œPlease,” Liza said desperately. “I’ll do anything!”
    The rat stopped. She looked at Liza warily. For a moment Liza saw something flashing behind her eyes—a look of need, or greed. “Do you mean it?” the rat asked, watching Liza closely. “Anything?”
    Fear made Liza’s throat swell closed, so instead of speaking, she drew an X over her heart, as she and Patrick always did when they were vowing to each other.
    The rat stared at Liza for a second longer. Finally she said, “All right. I will take you there.” Then, in a flash, the rat whirled around and scurried off.

Chapter 5

T HE T ROGLOD M ARKET
    L iza had not yet had time to remark on the strangeness of the world she had fallen into. The stone beneath her feet had, she saw, been deliberately carved into a wide, even path, and painted with various instructional signs.
    THIS WAY TO THE MARKET!!! was written several times, in large, urgent cursive. Liza had the feeling that the words were shouting at her, an impression only furthered by the addition of several enormous arrows pointing the way.
    Other painted messages cluttered the path. BROWSERS ON LEFT; BUYERS ON RIGHT was one, as was NO BITING, KICKING, BARGAINING, OR STINGING . Another one, this time painted in ominous black, read: THIEVES, SHOPLIFTERS, NITPICKERS, AND MISCREANTS MUST APPEAR BEFORE THE JUDGE IN THE COURT OF STONES .
    â€œThis is the way to the spindlers’ nests, isn’t it?” Liza asked anxiously, hurrying to catch up to the rat.
    â€œShhh.” The rat whirled around, nearly whipping Liza in the face with her tail. “What did I tell you about speaking their name?”
    â€œI’m sorry.” Liza took a step backward, alarmed by the intensity of the rat’s expression. “I just want to make certain that—”
    â€œNo way to the nests but through the market,” the rat cut her off, and then turned and once again scampered ahead.
    All around them were clusters of the strangest houses Liza had ever seen. She knew they were houses because they were fitted with doors and chimneys. But not a single home was taller than her shoulder blade, and all the buildings were assembled of a motley collection of random materials: birdcages and soup pots, bread baskets and cookie tins, all twisted and reassembled and patched back together.
    She was touched by the care with which the homes were kept; in front of one house was a well-swept welcome mat; in front of another was a flowerpot half the size of the front door, in which an enormous purple flower was growing. Many of the houses were decorated with curling wisps of colored paper, giving the impression that they were all sprouting multicolored skins.
    â€œWho lives here?” she asked the rat wonderingly.
    â€œWho do you think? The troglods, of course. Ah, here we are now, see? The troglod market. Most of the best finds will have been snatched up by now. Still, there might be a few goodies and goodlies left.”
    They had turned a corner and arrived, suddenly, at a large square. Looking at it, Liza’s first