In A Glass Grimmly Part 13

"Speaking of whom . . ." said the second. The frog was still trying to fit in the crevice between the rock and the ground. Really, he was not slim enough and just didn't seem to want to admit it.

"What is he doing?" asked the third.

"I imagine he's afraid of us," said the first. "We do eat frogs."

The frog's three legs kicked and scrabbled with renewed energy at the dirt beneath the stone. Jack reached out and scooped him up and put him in his pocket.

"You can't eat him," he said, glaring at the ravens.

"Don't even think about it!" added Jill fiercely. And then, a little less fiercely, she said, "And how did you know he can talk?"

"We know things," said the first raven.

"Yes," said the second, "It's sort of what we do."

Jill, crinkling up her nose, asked, "Like what kinds of things?"

"We know that you are Jack and Jill," said the third raven.

"And that you are hungry and thirsty and lost," said the second.

"And that you seek the Seeing Gla.s.s," finished the first.

The frog poked a single eye out of Jack's pocket. "Do they know where it is?" he hissed.

"Do you know where it is?" Jack relayed to the ravens.

"Yeah, we heard him," said the second raven.

"We know where it is-" began the first.

"Where?"

"But we're not telling," concluded the third.

"What?!" Jack shouted. "Why not?"

"Because the Seeing Gla.s.s," said the second raven, "is not really what you seek."

No one spoke for a moment. The wind howled over the slick rocks and gray hills.

And then Jill said, "Yes it is. If we don't find it, we die."

The wind howled for another moment, and then the second raven said, "Right. I suppose that's true."

"But, dear children, you are con-fused," said the third raven.

"Absolutely," said the second.

"Totally," said the first.

Jill said, "If you'd just met three talking ravens, wouldn't you be?"

"Not really," said the third talking raven.

But the first raven said, "Not confused. You are con-fused."

Jack furrowed his brow. "What's the difference?"

"We're glad you asked," replied the second raven.

And the third added, "Though we knew you would."

"When you're confused," said the second raven, "you're mixed up, right?"

"Right," said Jack.

"Well, con-fuse means fused together, mixed with something-or someone-else." The second raven paused significantly.

After a moment, Jill said, "I still have no idea what you're talking about."

The first raven took over: "You, dear children, are con-fused. What you want, what you think, what you believe, all get mixed up with what other people want for you, or think you should want, or believe about you. Do you see?"

Both Jack and Jill nodded their heads and said, "No."

The third raven took over. "Jill, you are con-fused with your mother. You think she is perfect, and that everything she does is good, and that you should be just like her and do just what she wants you to do. Right?"

Jill's mouth grew tight and small. She shrugged.

"Did you see the silk?"

Shrug.

"Did you really think you'd look beautiful in it? Before your mother said you would?"

Shrug.

The third raven turned to Jack. "Jack, why did you trade your cow for a bean?"

Jack looked up at the raven heavily. He, too, shrugged.

"Did you think it was a good deal before Marie said it was?"

Shrug.

"When is the last time you disagreed with something the boys from the village said or did?"

Shrug.

"Children!" the third raven exclaimed, exasperated now, "You are con-fused. Totally, utterly con-fused. As long as you are, you will never find what you seek. Even though it's right here."

Jack scrunched up his face and looked all around him.

Jill looked down at herself and then back up the ravens.

"When you do what you want, not what you wish . . ." said the first raven.

"When you no longer seek your reflection in others' eyes . . ." said the second.

"When you see yourselves face to face . . ." said the third.

"Then," the ravens intoned in unison, "you will have found what you truly seek."

Jack and Jill glanced at each other.

Jill said, "Do you know what they're talking about?"

"No idea," Jack replied.

They turned to ask for further explanation, but the three black forms were already whirling high into the air. The two children, and the frog, watched as the ravens shrank and shrank against the immense gray sky, until, finally, three black specks disappeared into the clouds.

"That was weird," said Jill.

"Yeah," said Jack.

After a moment, the frog asked, "What should we do now?"

Jill said, "I don't know, but I am thirsting to death."

Jack agreed. "And I'm about to die of starve."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Goblin Market Once upon a time, a boy and a girl and a frog stood at the peak of a mountain, looking out over a great valley. Two broad roads wound from the distance into the bowl of the valley, forming a crossroads right at its center. All around the crossroads, and spreading out over what must have been a hundred acres, was something that hit the two children like a punch to all their senses at once. If you can imagine what a punch to your senses might feel like.

Once they got over the shock of it, they recognized it for what it was. It was a market. The most fantastic market that has ever been. Fragrances rose to their nostrils and beckoned them. Sweet music floated on the air and called to them. Bright flags and fabrics flapped gently in the suddenly warm wind.

Jack and Jill threw themselves down the scree slope, slipping and laughing and sliding on their bottoms, until they reached the foot of the mountain. They began to cross the flat floor of the valley. Soon they came to a stone buried in the earth. Inscribed upon the stone were words. They read: Come in, come in, we'll make you a buyer.

Jack and Jill, not knowing what to make of it, walked on. After a few yards they came to another stone. This one said: We have everything anyone's ever desired.

They looked up at the market. It seemed bigger than it had just a moment ago. It smelled better, too.

Ten feet on, they came to another stone. It read: You'll feel like you're floating higher and higher.

The market looked even bigger now. They walked on and came to another stone.

When you finally get what you've always desired, *

They glanced up again, and the market had burgeoned out to the horizon, its poles and flags piercing the sky. Soon, they came to yet another stone: Your life seems to sink into deepening mire- Jack and Jill were pretty sure they knew what "mire" was going to rhyme with. Sure enough, the next stone said, Why do you let it? Take what you desire!

They weren't far from the edge of the market now. It thrummed before them like the great ocean itself, beckoning them, calling them.

They plunged in.

Jack and Jill found themselves in the midst of the most magnificent market you can possibly imagine.

Go ahead, try to imagine the most magnificent market you possibly can.

Have you?

All right. Not good enough. Not even close.

First of all, was the market you were imagining filled with goblins?

Oh, it was?

Okay.

But did it have stalls selling gemstones and gold ingots the size of your head?

Did it have stacks of coins, bronze and silver and gold, crazily stretching far above the merchant men?

Were there carpets that levitated, tapestries that danced, and silks that appeared and disappeared depending on the angle of the light?

Was there food of every shape and size and smell and taste and color, from b.u.t.tery star-shaped cakes to spits of meat that dripped golden oil?

Was there a mechanical menagerie, where tigers and peac.o.c.ks and crocodiles, all made from gears and pistons but covered in real fur or feathers or skin moved around and growled and squawked and grunted?

Did the market you imagined have all that?

It did?

Oh.