Free The Diamond of Darkhold - 4 by Jeanne DuPrau Page B

kiosks where old posters still hung, on the wide steps of the Gathering Hall—and on three figures who scurried around the fire’s edges: one big one and two smaller ones.
    As Lina watched, the tallest of the fire-tenders bent over, picked something up in one hand, and threw it toward the fire. Lina saw its black silhouette as it fell, flapping and fluttering, toward the flames. Sheets of paper, she thought. In fact, she was sure—it was a book.

CHAPTER 8
_________
    Prisoner
    Later on, Doon would be grateful for two things about that awful moment when the men appeared. One was that Lina had lagged behind, so only he was captured. And the other was that the straps of his pack had been pressing painfully on his shoulders just before it happened, so he’d taken the pack off to readjust it. When he saw the two men, he was so startled that he let it fall.
    He had just passed the corner of Roving Street, and there they suddenly were ahead of him, first one, then the other, two dark shapes emerging from a doorway, each with a light, and each one carrying some sort of bag or bundle.
    His immediate impulse was to greet them. He stepped forward and called out, and they whirled around at the sound of his voice. Doon saw that somehow they wore their lights on their heads. He saw that one was short and stocky and the other slightly taller and thin, but aside from that, he couldn’t see them well enough to tell if they were people he knew.
    “Hello!” he said, moving toward them. “Who are you?”
    They stood silent. Doon stared, trying to get a look at their faces. Why weren’t they answering? Then one of them muttered something to the other, and they dropped their bags and sprang at him. Doon backed away, stumbling, trying to turn, but he didn’t move quickly enough. His right arm was grabbed, then his left, and though he twisted and pulled, he found himself caught fast. He shouted, “No! No!” His candle fell to the pavement and went out.
    He still could see nothing of the people who’d grabbed him—they were just shaggy dark hulks with a bad smell and lights that seemed to be growing out of their foreheads. Their hands circled his upper arms like bands of steel. The person on his left spoke. “The question is,” he said, “not who are we, but who are you ? You’re the trespasser.”
    Doon tried again to pull away. “Let go of me!” he cried. But the two men were strong, though they were hardly taller than he was.
    “Don’t struggle,” said the one on his right, “or we’ll twist your arms off.”
    “Yorick, you muttonhead, shut your mouth,” said the one on the left. “We’re not twisting off any arms. Just march him this way and be quiet.”
    Doon knew at once that these were not people of Ember. Though he hadn’t known every single citizen of his old city, he knew there was no one who sounded like these two. Or had lights like theirs, either. Now that they were right next to him, he saw that each of them wore a kind of lantern—a cap with a tube attached at the front, and in the tube a candle, like a glowing horn. The candles cast weird, downward-pointing shadows on their faces, but Doon could tell that the shorter man was older and hairier than the taller one, and the taller one had either a small mustache or a shadow beneath his nose.
    Doon’s mind went in crazy zigzags as they dragged him along. He opened his mouth to call for help from Lina, and then snapped it closed again. No, he couldn’t let them know she was here. She could help him only if she wasn’t a prisoner, too.
    “This is our place, boy,” said the man on his left, the older one. “We run it. No intruders allowed, and no sightseers. You’re going to have to explain yourself.”
    “Somebody musta come with him, Pa,” said the one on his right, who had a high, whiny voice. “A kid wouldn’t come down in such a place alone.” He gave Doon’s arm a vicious squeeze.
    Doon yelped.
    “Don’t hurt him, Yorick, you brainless