Free The Slippery Map by N. E. Bode Page B

the center, as if stitched together. Most of all, he was tan, and his teeth—well, his teeth would have made Dr. Fromler jealous. “Welcome to the Vince Vance Show with the Home Sweet Home Players. I’m your host, Vince Vance!” Balloons fell from the ceiling. A band kicked up.
    Something about it all was creepy.
    The leaping claws of the Goggles had passed.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Oyster said. “Wrong house.”
    The father of the house stood up. “You sure are in the wrong house, I’d say. And you’re not even a Perth, are you?”
    The three children circled around him. They seemed like they could be about Oyster’s age, but they weresmall and Perthlike. They stared at him. “What is he?” one asked.
    â€œWell,” his father said, “look at his markings, kids. The grossly disproportionately long arms and legs. Someone’s drawn on the bearded cheeks. He’s got no moles of any kind, and his ears lack any celebration. He’s, well, I think, he’s a Person—the boy kind.”
    The mother of the house now stood and looked at him closely. She had a baby Perth on her hip. It was ruddy and gave out a hacking cough that seemed to rattle its ribs. “You’re right, I think it is a boy Person,” she said.
    â€œWho do you know around here?” asked the father, still looking him over.
    â€œI know two Perths,” Oyster said. But since that didn’t seem like enough, he added, “and I have parents.” It sounded strange to his own ears. “But they’re in jail, and I’d like to get them out.”
    â€œIn jail, are they?” the father asked. He turned to his wife and put his finger to his nose. She did the same. It was the same gesture that Hopps had shared with Oli and Marge in The Figgy Shop. Oyster took this as a good sign. “Did you come here through wind and darkness?” the father asked.
    â€œWell, yes, I guess so,” Oyster said. “I rode in a silver bucket. I came through the Slippery Map.”
    â€œThe Slippery Map!” the father Perth whispered, astounded. “Brigid!” he said to his wife. “Brigid! It’s the boy! Through the Map, he’s come!”
    â€œWell, you’ve come to the right house, then,” the mother Perth said.
    The father charged over to a closet, pulled out an overcoat. “And imagine, I wasn’t going to go to the emergency meeting tonight. Bullus told me about it in the hardware shop, but I said I was fed up. So many false alarms! I’m Birchard and, my wife, Brigid.”
    â€œOyster. Oyster R. Motel.” He remembered that Hopps had mentioned calling an emergency meeting. He suppposed that’s where he’d catch up with Ringet and Hopps again.
    â€œGood, Mr. Motel, come with me,” he said to Oyster. “I can take you where you need to be.”
    And with that, he hustled Oyster out of his living room and back onto the streets. The Goggles were gone. Oyster followed Birchard down the twisting streets. The white powder on the streets looked blue in the television light pouring from the Perths’ windows. The smokestacks were still coughing up dusty clouds, and, on the other side of the dark valley, Dark Mouth’s torch was still lit.

C HAPTER 8
M EETING OF THE H IGH C OUNCIL OF P ERTHS
    â€œT his place used to be called Arthur and Sons Antiques, but when Dark Mouth took over, everyone lost ownership. So stores are called by simple names,” Birchard told Oyster. “This is The Antique Shop, you see. We’ll find the High Council of Perths hidden away in here.”
    â€œLike The Figgy Shop,” Oyster said as they walked in the back door of an unlit store.
    â€œOh, used to be called Oli and Marge’s Fine Figs, but now they just work there. Only Orwise Suspar and Sons Refinery gets to keep its name. Oh, I remember the good old days when Dark Mouth’s father was just a wealthy old