Free Goblins Vs Dwarves by Philip Reeve Page B

grew brighter, forming dim and shifting pictures. A greenish landscape, misty and uncertain; ruined buildings; towers. . .
    â€œThat’s Clovenstone!” said Henwyn.
    â€œFar to the north must you go, Zeewa of the Tall Grass Country!” said Madam Maura. Her voice was deeper and clearer than before. In the light from the glowing water they saw that her face was slack, like a sleepwalker’s, and her eyes had rolled upwards so that only the whites showed. She spoke again. “There, among the Houses of the Dead, shall you find the freedom that you seek. But great dangers loom! ‘Loom! Loom!’ they go. You must depart soon, or all will be in vain!”
    The images in the water trembled and changed. Henwyn saw fire; the fall of great buildings; the vague shapes of battling warriors. For a moment he thought the enchanted bathtub was showing him visions out of Clovenstone’s past; the last, dreadful clash of men and goblins when King Kennack’s armies defeated the Lych Lord’s hordes. Then he saw that it was not against men but dwarves these goblins battled: massed ranks of dwarven warriors, masked and armoured. Great diremoles moved among them, with more dwarves riding on their backs, shooting crossbows and raining down fire from dreadful weapons.
    Then the image changed again. For a moment all was drifting smoke. Then the smoke cleared, and Henwyn saw Princess Ned. She was lying on a lawn of soft green grass, and he knew at once that she was dead.
    â€œNo!” he cried, and reached forward to touch her. But as his hand brushed the surface the image broke apart, and there was only the water lapping at the bath’s sides, and a yellow toy duck which his lunge had dislodged from the soap rack, bobbing out into the middle.
    â€œWell, dearies,” said Madam Maura, her face and voice returning to normal. “Was that any help at all?”
    â€œWhat did it mean?” asked Zeewa. “What are the Houses of the Dead?”
    â€œWas that the future?” demanded Henwyn. “Was it the real future? Or was it just a vision of the future as it might be?”
    â€œSearch me, love,” the sorceress said. “That one didn’t stick in my mind for some reason. They don’t always. It’s just a blur to me. Did you see anything you thought you recognized?”
    â€œYes!” said Henwyn. He was so upset that all the ghostly insects caught his mood and swirled in a buzzing whirlwind of wings under the tent’s roof. “Yes! I saw Clovenstone burning, and Princess Ned. . . Oh, I must go back to Clovenstone at once!”
    â€œAnd I must come with you, I think,” said Zeewa. “At least, that is what I think the vision said. I must go far to the north, and seek the Houses of the Dead.”
    They said their goodbyes to Madam Maura. Henwyn’s hands were trembling as he crossed her palm with silver. All he could think of was getting home to Clovenstone. He had waited too long in Coriander. For all he knew, the dreadful things that he had seen might be happening already! In silence he made his way back to the Street of Antiquaries, while Zeewa and her pale ghosts followed. I shall start for Clovenstone this very day, he thought. It is useless, waiting here. The High King will not even see me, let alone lend me his warriors to fight against the dwarves!
    But when they reached the Street of Antiquaries, Carnglaze met them on the steps of his house. He was wearing his best embroidered robes, and looking harried. “Henwyn!” he cried. “Where have you been! We’ve been looking everywhere! The High King has agreed to meet with you and hear your plea, this afternoon!”

One of the treasures which Carnglaze had brought back from Clovenstone was the Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow, a strange carriage which the Lych Lord had fetched by magic from another world. It was supposed to run without horses, but Carnglaze had never mastered the sorcery