Читать книгу The Lost Gargoyle Series 3-Book Bundle - Philippa Dowding - Страница 11

Gargoth of Tallus

Over breakfast, they came up with a plan.

They decided that Katherine’s mom probably shouldn’t try to talk to the gargoyle. They felt it was best if Katherine talked to him, with her parents in the background standing guard.

They wanted Katherine to find out three things:

1. Why the gargoyle followed Katherine’s mother

home.

2. Why he wouldn’t go away.

3. Why he was so rude and destructive.

After breakfast, and after several false starts, the three of them plucked up their courage and carefully opened the back door a crack, peering out into the yard. Katherine’s dad had his fishing net over his shoulder, just in case. Milly peered out from between their legs.

There were the other statues, minus the broken dwarf who had been taken to the garden store to get his nose fixed.

But there was no gargoyle.

They stood on the back porch and looked carefully over the whole yard. He wasn’t on his pedestal. He wasn’t lurking among the remaining dwarves. He wasn’t dancing in the flowers. He just wasn’t there.

Then Katherine smelled a familiar odour. “Some-body is smoking a pipe again,” she thought. “I wonder...” She made a “SHHH” sign at her parents.

She stepped gingerly off the back porch and tip-toed quietly across the backyard to the bushes beside the swing. She sniffed. Sure enough, there was the pipe smell again, only stronger this time. Just like the other night, Katherine thought. She looked back at her parents, then pointed to the bushes.

“He’s in there!” she mouthed silently. She hoped they understood her. They both nodded, and looked worried.

“Be careful!” her mother mouthed back.

Katherine took a deep breath then approached the bushes. She was just about to part them, when a whispery voice said, “Gargol snarthen felamont.”

Katherine heard the voice say, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little girl.”

Katherine jumped back. Her mother gasped.

As she and her parents watched, the bushes parted and out stepped the gargoyle.

He had a small pipe stuck between his teeth and looked just like a fine gentleman out for a morning stroll, with a great inheritance and all the time in the world to enjoy it.

“Frahot bello northen gamet.” Katherine and her mother heard, “Hello, to you all. You’ve found me!”

He stood by the bushes, his wings folded tightly behind him, and tapped his pipe out on the bottom of his scaly foot. Then he opened the little pouch at his side and placed his pipe carefully inside.

“Well, that explains the tobacco smell and the pouch,” thought Katherine, pleased with herself for a moment.

The gargoyle took them all in for what seemed a very long time. Then he spoke again in his strange and wavery language: “I suppose you’d like me to introduce myself?”

Katherine and her mother nodded slowly at him. Katherine’s dad just stared.

“Very well,” he continued in gargoyle. “My name is Gargoth of Tallus. You may call me Gargoth. I’m just over four hundred years old, which is rather young for a gargoyle, and I’m afraid I’ve lost my way. I’ve been on a very long and dangerous journey, which, temporarily I hope, has stranded me in your ridiculous backyard.”

At this point, the gargoyle waved his hand to take in the backyard and sighed deeply. He trudged slowly past Katherine and hopped up onto his pedestal beside the swing, every inch of him now looking dejected and sad.

Katherine had said nothing and felt at this point that she should speak back to him. She cast a backward glance at her mom and dad, who hadn’t moved from the porch, then spoke.

She had an odd feeling that it was important to be as polite and grandiose as possible when addressing a gargoyle this close up, so she spoke like this: “Oh Gargoth of Tallus, I am Katherine, and this is my mother Marie and my father Hank. We are the Newberrys. We are sad to hear you are now stranded in our backyard among the other mythical creatures. To speak honestly, we are confused by your presence here as well. Why have you chosen to follow my mother? And why have you not left our backyard?”

She thought she might leave out the question about being so rude for a bit. Now that she was so close to him, knowing he was alive and not just a lump of plaster, she was remembering the sharp, shiny teeth from his smile in the moonlight the night before. She was fighting the rise of the unpleasant memory of being bitten by a small dog when she was a little girl. It was all too easy to imagine Gargoth’s sharp little teeth snapping at her in anger.

She gulped and was going to continue, when her father spoke up in a quavery voice.

“Uhhh, what’s that noise he’s making?” he asked. He looked kind of pale and watery-eyed.

“Shhh, he’s talking, Hank. Can’t you hear him?” her mother said.

“Talking? You call that noise talking? It’s more like sandpaper running over the inside of my head. It’s just gibberish.”

“You mean you can’t understand him?” Katherine asked, suddenly a little panicky. “Mom, you can understand him, right?”

“Yes, yes, I can understand him just fine.” Her mother looked confused.

“Allow me to explain,” Gargoth broke in. “Only clever children and very special adults, indeed only one or two that I know of,” at this he shot Katherine’s mother a significant look, “can understand the ancient and sacred tongue of my race. Which is an answer to your first question: why did I follow your mother home? Because she could hear me. Because she could see me. And because she expected nothing from me in return.”

At this, Gargoth cast his dark eyes to the grass and didn’t look up again for a long while.

Katherine shot a glance at her mother, who was clearly very relieved to hear this explanation, such as it was. But Katherine thought she’d better do a little translating for her father, who looked completely lost.

“Uh, Dad, he says you can’t understand him because only a very few adults can.” She looked at her mother for help.

“Yes, Hank, it seems for some peculiar reason I can understand him, and you can’t. He says children can hear gargoyles and understand them, but most adults, well, almost all adults I guess, can’t for some reason. Except for me. I love statues...maybe that’s it?” she finished, looking kind of lost herself. But still very relieved.

“Well, okay then. What’s he doing here?” her father asked, determined to go on.

“He said Mom is the first adult to talk to him in a long time. I guess he’s lonely? And when Mom could hear him and understand him, he followed her home. Is that it, Gargoth?” Katherine asked.

“His name is Gargoth?” her dad whispered.

“Yes, Hank, shush!” her mother said, nudging her husband to be quiet, because Gargoth was speaking again.

“You are right, Katherine,” Gargoth said, his whispery voice even sadder. He pronounced her name KAY-THAR-EEN. “There have been a few who can see me, who have spoken to me, but most often they were my enemies.” As he said these last words, Gargoth’s voice grew bitter.

“Your mother is different. She spoke to me and addressed me without fear. I have been terribly alone. I hoped she could help.”

Thinking of their second question, Katherine started in: “Well, isn’t there someone else who could help you? I mean,” she corrected herself quickly, “oh Gargoth, is there not another who could help you find your way again?”

Gargoth smiled at this. For the first time, a genuine smile. “Don’t worry, human child, I am not offended. I know that you do not wish me here. I know that in your world, I am but a plaything or an object of curiosity, long forgotten and misplaced. Captured on the roofs of buildings or churches for amusement or to spout water into dark alleys. Stuck in backyards among the dwarves.”

He paused a long time and turned to look at Milly, who had joined the family on the back porch, sitting at her owners’ feet. She kept her distance.

“No, sadly Katherine, there is no other who can help me. I have waited. I have watched. Your mother spoke to me without greed or malice in her heart, and so I believe only she can help me find my way again.”

Katherine was thinking hard. “Do you mean, because Mom said “Hi there” to you that day on the street, that you are somehow connected to her? Like a servant, or something?”

At the word “servant”, Gargoth flinched and hunched his little shoulders even more deeply. A dark frown was upon his face. “No, not a servant as you know it. But I am indebted to her in a way you may not ever understand. She saw me. She spoke to me. I am hers until I find my way again.”

With that, Gargoth turned his head away and would speak no further despite Katherine’s attempt to continue their conversation.

Katherine’s mother walked slowly across the yard. She stopped in front of the little gargoyle, who had his back to her, and reached out to him. Gently she stroked Gargoth’s leathery wings with one hand. Gargoth turned his face to her.

Hot gargoyle tears were streaming down his cheeks and splashing with a “hiss” onto the cold stone pedestal beneath his feet.