Free Jasper Dash and the Flame-Pits of Delaware by M.T. Anderson Page A

into another bedroom.
    They looked around for a minute. There were three beds, four walls, and six coat hangers. Katie and Lily checked out the bathroom. Jasper went to the window and squinted out, calculating the sight lines for snipers.
    â€œNew bathroom, all modern amenities,” said the proprietor.
    â€œWe’ll take it,” declared Jasper.
    â€œThere’s a goat in the shower,” said Katie.
    â€œVery new goat,” the man said. “Very good, nice goat.”
    â€œYeah,” said Katie, “but I don’t think—”
    Jasper asked gravely, “Do we have to feed it? Because if yes, I think you should take some off the nightly rate.”
    â€œOkay okay,” said the proprietor. “I feed goat. If you stay long, you shave goat three times a year.”
    â€œIt’s a bargain, sir,” said Jasper, holding out his hand.
    They shook on it.
    â€œVery good,” said the proprietor.
    Lily had walked over to one of the beds and pulled back the covers. “Um,” she said, “this isn’t a bed. It’s four spies curled up with pillows on them.”
    â€œI am the foot of the bed,” announced one of the spies.
    â€œLook here,” said Jasper. “That’s just not right. We demand a real third bed.”
    â€œOkay okay,” said the proprietor. “No spies. Cot instead by tonight. We will put up cot here.” He spoke in rapid Doverian to the four spies. He jerked his thumb. Three of them got up and shamefacedly filed toward the door.
    â€œAnd you,” said Jasper to the last one.
    â€œI cannot move,” said the spy. He stayed hunkered on the floor.
    One of the men by the door said, “Mrglik, his leg is fall asleep.”
    â€œWe will have Mrglik remove,” said the proprietor. “No problem, children. No worry.”
    â€œGone by tonight?” said Jasper.
    â€œGone by tonight. Okay?”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œOkay.” The proprietor smiled and nodded. “Good. You need anything—tea, coffee, sheet, room service, police—you just say so near the painting of friendly clown here.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œSpeak slow, though, please. Sometimes it not work so good.”
    So they had a room for the night. Now it was time to go out and find a guide—and explore the ancient and exotic streets of Dover!

20
    Lily’s first real view of the city was overwhelming. So many things were happening at once that she couldn’t take it all in: Goats wandered in the mud and broken blacktop of the street, and chickens, too, strutting in the dirty bushes, and three-wheeled cars swerved around stray dogs and honked, and there were schoolkids dressed in tunics and smiley-faced masks, and men with baskets of roots, and bicycle carts painted red and green and yellow, in the backseats of which women in tiaras and lipstick reclined and yelled into cell phones. Blond barbarians, mercenary warriors from Hazzard Landing, from Broadkill and Slaughter Beaches, shoved their way through the crowds, swords strapped to their oiled backs,while priests of mystery religions peered out from behind their veils and crept into alleys. There were girls in their
blrga-
shirts and
pochbtvms
, traditional dress of Dover (
see illus.
), buying snacks from an old man with snakes around his shoulders. Old women almost bent double stumbled along with broken televisions tied to their backs with twine. Cattle lowed. Sheep bleated. Cologne salesmen walked to and fro with huge atomizers, puffing scent on men who staggered under burdens of bricks, and ladder peddlers carried their wares on their head, nearly knocking down tall men every time they looked both ways to cross the road.

    Lily was thrilled by all of it. She couldn’t take it all in. It was like breathing with her eyes. She didn’t always like what she saw, but she was glad she was seeing it.
    â€œWhat language are they speaking?” asked