The Spindlers Read Online Free PDF Page B

feeling was a dizzying sense of free fall.
    The vaulted stone ceiling soared upward, like the massive arched top of a cathedral; distantly, lanterns winked among the covering of glossy purple ivy like faraway stars, filling the square with soft white light.
    In the center of the plaza was a fountain carved from stone. Liza was not sure what the statue was supposed to represent: It looked like a series of animals grappling with one another, although it was hard to tell, because over the years the stone had begun to wear and chip away in places. But she definitely made out the head of a beaver; and underneath it, she thought she saw the head of a rat. At the very top of the fountain, a carved creature that looked like a cross between a bird and a butterfly was posed, mouth open, expelling a light spray of water that fell in a graceful arch into the fountain’s large stone basin.
    All around the market square, different booths had been assembled, again from a hodgepodge of materials, like the houses Liza had just seen, and these, too, were covered with various strips of colored paper.
    But that was not what made Liza dizzy.
    The vast market square was full of rocks, and all the rocks were moving .
    Liza blinked. No—not rocks. They were small, round, rock-shaped creatures, with cracked brown-and-gray hides, nubby arms and legs, large, winking black eyes, and drooped noses that looked like very wrinkled baked potatoes. There were hundreds of them, many carrying wire baskets, or burlap sacks, or lunch boxes nearly half their size, which they were using as makeshift grocery carts.
    They pushed and jostled and called to one another. The square was filled with a swell of different voices: some as low as a growl, some like the sound of a fluted high note. The din was tremendous; it made Liza’s head pound.
    â€œTroglods,” she said.
    The rat adjusted her crushed paper hat and nodded. “Very smart, the troglods,” she said sagely. “You know what they say: Never try to cheat a troglod! It’s like trying to outsniff a sningle. Now follow me, follow me. This way, please, this way.”
    As Liza and the rat began pushing their way into the market square, Liza saw that the cloth rags papering the booths were actually signs. SOCKS FOR FIVE PURPLES! said one. NEW PEN CAPS, THREE FOR A YELLOW! said another. Liza could hear, too, snatches of individual conversations.
    â€œOutrageous! Last week it was one green for a key, and now they’re trying to charge me a blue!”
    â€œTin cans for a bargain! Two reds gets you two cans!”
    â€œDon’t you try to tell me this sock doesn’t have a hole in the heel! Do you take me for a dingle-bat?”
    â€œWhat’s all the colored paper for?” Liza said. Despite her anxiety, she couldn’t help but be curious. Everywhere, troglods were exchanging small slips of colored paper: reds, blues, greens, and purples. Some of them looked to have been cut away from cardboard cereal boxes or greeting cards; others looked like scraps of wrapping paper.
    The rat stared at her in amazement. “You didn’t think the market was free , did you?” The rat shook her head. “Personally,” she continued, “I’ve never understood why the world Above is so crazy for green. Absolutely mad for it!” The rat dropped her voice again. “I’ve always been a fan of pink. Very rare, of course … very hard to come by … extremely valuable … the troglods would give up their houses for a half-dozen pinks....”
    â€œBut—” Liza was going to point out that in her world people used real money, not just worthless slips of paper, but it occurred to her that she wasn’t actually certain of the difference, and so she said nothing.
    â€œGet your bottle caps! Get your bottle caps! Two reds and a bargain at that!”
    â€œBatteries! Used batteries, right here! Best in the market!”
    As they moved