The Elfin Ship by James P. Blaylock Page B

rock by this stake, and he can send for some money in pay.’
    In a trice, Dooly, Professor Wurzle, and Jonathan Bing were swirling downriver in the borrowed canoe, paddles dipping furiously, in pursuit of the disappeared raft.
    A gibbous moon crept out from behind a swirl of cloud and seemed to smile down on them as they sped on their course. Its pale shape reflected on the water in front of the canoe, and they seemed to be racing along in pursuit of it, the only bright spot ahead in the dark night. The shores along either side became forested once again, and vague shadows crept along the fringes. Jonathan looked over his shoulder, but because of the bend of the shore and the thickness of the forest there was no sign of Hightower Village. In truth, it might not have been there at all except for the dim light in the windows of the tower on the ridge in the murky distance. Even from where he sat on the cold river, Jonathan could see what must have been the red glow of embers churning from the great chimney and the gray phantasmal shapes of the swirling smoke. The night seemed to grow colder as he watched, but the certainty that they were leaving such a strange place rapidly behind helped to offset his dread. He dipped his paddle earnestly into the water and turned his face toward the retreating silver moon.

6
Fog Along the Goblin Wood
    Long into the night it was dreadfully still as the three companions canoed wearily in the moonlight. After an hour’s hectic dipping, they wisely decided to work in shifts, one of them resting for a quarter of an hour while the other two paddled on apace.
    Overhead, the heavens hung thick with stars, each a bright jewel in the night sky. Their cold light, however, seemed to make the air even more chill. Frost had already begun to form its tiny crackling patterns on the shore grasses, and most of the wild things in the forests were giving serious thought to whether they ought not to bolt the burrow door, throw an extra quilt or two on the bed, and nod off for a good, four-months’ sleep.
    Jonathan, relatively warm in his heavy coat and fur cap, had similar thoughts. But Twombly Town and the cheese-houses and the chair with the stag’s head carved on the seat might as well have been on the moon; they seemed as distant. Though merely a journey of several days upriver, it was as if they were in some comfortable foreign land away over the seas.
    In his weariness, Jonathan’s head kept slumping, his chin almost bouncing against his chest. But each time just as sleep would overcome him, it would be his turn to take up a paddle. Once he managed to fall solidly asleep and began to dream of the round-faced man of the four coins holding out a wedge of green cheese on a glowing platter while a great wooden clock behind him chimed the hours and paintings of the sun and moon on the clock face spun dizzily, lopping off the days as if they were seconds. But when Jonathan reached for the cheese, a wrinkled face peeked out from behind the swinging pendulum in the clock and a hand leaped forth and snatched the cheese from the plate. The wedge of cheese turned just then to a tiny heap of dust and blew away across a long, pockmarked, empty plain, and Jonathan lurched awake with a shout to find himself once more on the wide river.
    Dooly was, in truth, the only one of the three who didn’t appear to be tired. Jonathan and Professor Wurzle had to force him to give up the paddle now and again for a rest, and it seemed that he grew more energetic as the air grew colder. To the horror of his two companions, he continually stood atop a thwart to get a better view of the river ahead. The canoe rocked crazily each time and caused the Professor to launch into a discussion of gravity and the other six major forces, especially those of toppling and upending.
    ‘It’s nearly midnight,’ the Professor observed, consulting his own pocketwatch.
    ‘It seems like twice that to me,’ said Jonathan, immediately wondering