The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [69]
“Is that so?” Burton sneered. “Then how do you explain her?”
He was pointing at Laura Glue, still hiding under the chair. “If your children are missing too, how was she spared?”
“It was Grandfather,” Laura Glue said defensively. “He knew how to keep me from the men.”
“Which men?” Burton asked, still suspicious.
“The men with the clocks in their bellies,” said Laura Glue. “They came to get us, and he sent me away. He put plugs of beeswax in my ears and said they would keep me safe.”
“Beeswax?” Burton snorted. “Of what good is beeswax?”
“I suspect that the children were lured away somehow,” offered Bert. “The beeswax may have been meant to block out the sound.”
“Impossible,” Burton said. “We Croatoans keep sentries, and they are well-trained. None of them heard any Clockwork Men—not a toot, whistle, plunk, or boom. We didn’t see or hear the children being taken,” he continued, “until it was too late—and I heard a single child, my own daughter, Lillith, cry out. When we got to the shore, we saw them running about in the darkness. They were all children, being directed by one they called Stephen.
“We rushed toward them, but it was too late. The children were being taken away in ships—living ships,” he added with a snarl and a dark look at Bert, “and in moments they had vanished completely. And there is only one enemy we have had these many years whose army consists of children.”
“The Lost Boys aren’t an army!” Laura Glue said hotly, forgetting her fear and clambering from under the chair. “We’re just children, and that’s it and that’s all!”
The surprise in Burton’s face was surpassed only by the expressions of the Indian Elders. They were genuinely shocked, appalled, and even fearful at the child’s mention of the Lost Boys.
Burton gestured to Hairy Billy, who moved with a swiftness that belied his bulk and in a flash had Laura Glue locked in his arms, immobile.
Burton stepped closer and sniffed at her like an animal, appraising.
“I thought you smelled familiar,” he murmured. “You have the stink of the Pan, unless I miss my guess.”
“Grandfather doesn’t stink!” cried Laura Glue. “Except after dinner sometimes, but he pretends he’s asleep.”
“Grandfather, eh?” Burton said with a sideways glance at the Elders. “I think we now have something with which to barter our children’s release.”
“But we just explained to you,” said Charles. “We didn’t have anything to do with your missing children.”
“And yet,” said Burton, drawing a finger along the girl’s cheek, “we found you on our shores, in possession of a living ship, accompanied by the progeny of our great adversary.
“I think someone is lying to me. And that is a very dangerous thing to do.”
He barked a few curt words in a language none of them understood, and with that, the council was ended. Ignoring their protests and exclamations of anger, Burton took Laura Glue by the hand and Aven by the shoulder and led them both out of the lodge.
At Murthwaite’s direction, several other burly men joined Hairy Billy in pulling the companions to their feet and marching them briskly out of the building and down a small path that led away from the main settlement.
As they marched, the companions realized that the guards were far enough away that they wouldn’t be overheard, and so they immediately began to formulate a whispered plan of action. The first order of business was rescuing Aven and Laura Glue.
“Not to be a wet blanket,” said Charles, “but we need the Geographica, too. There’s too much in it we may yet need if we’re to rescue all the children.”
“I’m not leaving them to Burton,” whispered Jack. “Especially Laura Glue. You saw how he looked at her when he realized her lineage.”
“Of course,” said John, “we won’t leave her, or Aven, either. And we do need the Geographica. But we’re outmatched, outnumbered, and have no real