asking your assistance on another matter.â
Midge was trying to take in Tadgemoleâs words, but at the same time she couldnât help wondering at howhe spoke. Where on earth did he get that accent? He sounded so unlike any of the others she had heard. Even his own daughter didnât speak in that strange formal way. What a mixture they all were â the pompous old Queen, and the Elders, and Maglin, and Little-Marten, and now this one, Tadgemole, the leader of the cave-dwellers. All seemed to have their own peculiar ways of speaking. And as for Pegs . . . well, Pegs was from another planet, no doubt about it.
She tried to focus.
âWell . . . what is it you want?â she said.
To be gone from here, maid. We must find what we have lost, and so return to our own.
Midge turned from Tadgemole, and looked at Pegs. He seemed changed from when she had last seen him, not just older, but with an even deeper wisdom in his dark glistening eyes. And as Midge stared into those eyes she became hypnotized by the little pinpricks of light that were reflected there. Twinkling like far-off stars . . .
A strange feeling slowly came over her. It was as though she were being lifted up and carried away from this place, rising into the darkness. She was floating, tumbling end over end among the milky heavens, a windblown straw in the vastness of the universe.
âWhat do you mean?â she whispered, and her own voice seemed to be coming to her from a long way off. âWhat is it that youâve lost?â
The Orbis, child. We seek the Orbis. Our time has almost come, and we must leave this world and travel to Elysse. Ifwe stay longer we shall perish. Help us to find the Orbis. Do you know what it is that I speak of?
âThe Orbis? Yes . . . the Orbis.â And again Midge could hear her own voice, echoing through the darkness. Then came a picture, a memory. She sat by water â a pool or a fountain â and held some object in her hand, felt the cool weight of it, the smooth curve of metal against her palm. A sun, and a moon and a star. The Orbis.
âI . . . remember it.â
You remember it. And now you must find it and bring it home.
âBut . . . where shall I look?â
The picture-memory began to fade, and Midge was floating back through space, returning from wherever she had been. She blinked, and became aware of the wind rattling the rusty panels of the barn roof.
Tap-tap . . . tap-tap
 . . .
âWhere shall I look?â She said it again, and her voice was back where it belonged. But now her head felt all spinny. âSorry,â she said. âIâm going to have to . . .â She moved shakily over to the grey tractor, and perched herself against the front wheel. With a hand on each knee to steady herself, and her head lowered, she felt better. This was just too weird, though.
Tadgemole, show the child what you have brought.
Midge raised her eyes. What now? Tadgemole was reaching into his rough cloak and bringing something from it. A piece of paper â quite large. He carefully unfolded it, looked it for a few moments, then moved towards her, offering it to her.
Midge automatically leaned forward to take the paper from Tadgemoleâs outstretched hand, but now she felt self-conscious at being so close to him â and so huge and awkward by comparison. His head was only a little higher than her knee. She found herself staring dizzily at the silver-grey stubble on his face. How did he keep it so short? Did he have scissors? And where did he get his clothing from? He wasnât dressed in the rag-bag of oddities that she had seen on others of the Various â the scraps of sacking and cut-down shirts and waistcoats that had so obviously started life beyond the forest. The material of Tadgemoleâs cloak was coarse and loosely woven, but it fitted him properly and might have been
Midge was trying to take in Tadgemoleâs words, but at the same time she couldnât help wondering at howhe spoke. Where on earth did he get that accent? He sounded so unlike any of the others she had heard. Even his own daughter didnât speak in that strange formal way. What a mixture they all were â the pompous old Queen, and the Elders, and Maglin, and Little-Marten, and now this one, Tadgemole, the leader of the cave-dwellers. All seemed to have their own peculiar ways of speaking. And as for Pegs . . . well, Pegs was from another planet, no doubt about it.
She tried to focus.
âWell . . . what is it you want?â she said.
To be gone from here, maid. We must find what we have lost, and so return to our own.
Midge turned from Tadgemole, and looked at Pegs. He seemed changed from when she had last seen him, not just older, but with an even deeper wisdom in his dark glistening eyes. And as Midge stared into those eyes she became hypnotized by the little pinpricks of light that were reflected there. Twinkling like far-off stars . . .
A strange feeling slowly came over her. It was as though she were being lifted up and carried away from this place, rising into the darkness. She was floating, tumbling end over end among the milky heavens, a windblown straw in the vastness of the universe.
âWhat do you mean?â she whispered, and her own voice seemed to be coming to her from a long way off. âWhat is it that youâve lost?â
The Orbis, child. We seek the Orbis. Our time has almost come, and we must leave this world and travel to Elysse. Ifwe stay longer we shall perish. Help us to find the Orbis. Do you know what it is that I speak of?
âThe Orbis? Yes . . . the Orbis.â And again Midge could hear her own voice, echoing through the darkness. Then came a picture, a memory. She sat by water â a pool or a fountain â and held some object in her hand, felt the cool weight of it, the smooth curve of metal against her palm. A sun, and a moon and a star. The Orbis.
âI . . . remember it.â
You remember it. And now you must find it and bring it home.
âBut . . . where shall I look?â
The picture-memory began to fade, and Midge was floating back through space, returning from wherever she had been. She blinked, and became aware of the wind rattling the rusty panels of the barn roof.
Tap-tap . . . tap-tap
 . . .
âWhere shall I look?â She said it again, and her voice was back where it belonged. But now her head felt all spinny. âSorry,â she said. âIâm going to have to . . .â She moved shakily over to the grey tractor, and perched herself against the front wheel. With a hand on each knee to steady herself, and her head lowered, she felt better. This was just too weird, though.
Tadgemole, show the child what you have brought.
Midge raised her eyes. What now? Tadgemole was reaching into his rough cloak and bringing something from it. A piece of paper â quite large. He carefully unfolded it, looked it for a few moments, then moved towards her, offering it to her.
Midge automatically leaned forward to take the paper from Tadgemoleâs outstretched hand, but now she felt self-conscious at being so close to him â and so huge and awkward by comparison. His head was only a little higher than her knee. She found herself staring dizzily at the silver-grey stubble on his face. How did he keep it so short? Did he have scissors? And where did he get his clothing from? He wasnât dressed in the rag-bag of oddities that she had seen on others of the Various â the scraps of sacking and cut-down shirts and waistcoats that had so obviously started life beyond the forest. The material of Tadgemoleâs cloak was coarse and loosely woven, but it fitted him properly and might have been
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