Chapter 6
Gregor scrubbed himself down using a sponge and Ml some gloopy stuff he found in a bowl by the pool. He lathered his hair and even cleaned inside his ears wanting to get every bit of Overlander smell off him. If he was going to try to escape, he needed to be as indistinguishable from his hosts as possible.
On hooks by the pool hung a row of white towels. Gregor couldn't identify the thick woven fabric. "Sure not cotton," he muttered, but the towel was soft and absorbed water much better than the thin, worn ones they used at home.
He walked back into the changing room drying his hair and found his clothes had disappeared. In their place was a neat pile of smoky blue garments. A shirt, pants, and what seemed to be underwear. They were much finer than the towels -- the cloth ran silkily through his fingers. "What is this stuff?" he wondered, slipping into the shirt.
He slid his feet into a pair of braided straw sandals and padded out of the changing room. Mareth and Perdita were waiting.
"So, what happened to my clothes?" asked Gregor.
"They have been burned," said Mareth apprehensively. Gregor sensed Mareth was afraid he'd be mad.
"It is most dangerous to keep them," said Perdita, by way of explanation. "The ash carries no scent."
Gregor shrugged to show he didn't care. "That's cool," he said. "These fit me fine."
Mareth and Perdita looked grateful. "After a few days of our food, you will be without much odor, too," said Perdita encouragingly.
"That'll be nice," said Gregor dryly. These Underlanders were sure obsessed with his smell.
Dulcet emerged from the left side of the bathroom carrying a squeaky clean Boots. She had on a soft, rose-colored shirt, and a clean diaper made from the same material as Gregor's bath towel. She extended her leg and pointed proudly to the new sandal on her foot. "San-da," she said to Gregor.
He stuck out his foot to show her his shoes. "Me, too," he said. He assumed they'd burned Boots's clothes, as well. He tried to remember what she'd been wearing in case he had to explain the missing stuff to his mom. One dirty diaper, no loss. One pair of scuffed pink sandals her feet were growing out of, anyway. One stained T-shirt. It would probably be okay.
Gregor didn't know exactly what he would tell his mom about the Underland. The truth would scare her to death. He'd work out something when they got back to the laundry room, but the sooner that happened, the simpler the story could be.
Boots reached out her arms and Gregor took her, pressing his nose into her damp curls. She smelled fresh and a bit like the ocean.
"She is well grown," said Dulcet. "Your arms must be tired." She went back into the changing room and came out with some kind of pack. It fitted on his back with straps, and Boots could ride in it looking over his shoulder. He had seen people carrying kids in specially designed backpacks, but his family didn't have money for that sort of stuff.
"Thanks," he said casually, but he was secretly elated. It would be a lot easier to escape with Boots in a backpack than in his arms.
Dulcet led them up several staircases and through a maze of halls. They eventually wound up in a long room that opened out on to a balcony.
"We call this the High Hall," said Dulcet.
"I think you guys forgot the roof," said Gregor. While the walls were decorated with the greatest care, there was nothing but the black cavern above their heads.
Dulcet laughed. "Oh, no, it is meant to be so. We entertain here often, and many bats can arrive at once." Gregor imagined the bottleneck a hundred bats would cause trying to get in the door downstairs. He could see the advantage of a bigger landing strip.
Vikus was waiting for them by the balcony with an older woman. Gregor guessed she might be around his grandma's age, but his grandma was stooped and moved painfully from arthritis. This woman stood very straight and looked strong.
"Gregor and Boots the Overlanders, my wife, Solovet," said Vikus.
"Hey," said Gregor, "nice to meet you."
But the woman stepped forward and offered both her hands to him. The gesture surprised him. No one else had made any effort to touch him since he'd landed.
"Welcome, Gregor. Welcome, Boots," she said in a low, warm voice. "It is an honor to have you among us."
"Thanks," Gregor mumbled, confused because she was throwing his prisoner status off balance. She really made him feel like someone special.
"Hi, you!" said Boots, and Solovet reached up to pat her cheek.
"Vikus tells me you are very anxious to return home. It pains me that we cannot aid you immediately, but to seek the surface tonight would be impossible," she said. "The Underland buzzes with news of your arrival."
"I guess everyone wants to look at us, like we're freaks or something. Well, they'd better look fast," thought Gregor. But he said, "Then I'll get to see some stuff down here."
Vikus waved him over to the low wall that ringed the balcony. "Come, come, there is much to view," he said.
Gregor joined Vikus at the wall and felt his stomach lurch. He involuntarily took a few steps backward.
The balcony, it seemed, hung out over the side of the palace. Only the floor separated him from the dizzying drop.
"Do not fear, it is well built," said Vikus.
Gregor nodded but didn't move forward again. If the thing started collapsing he wanted to be able to make it back to the High Hall. "I can see fine from here," he said. And he could.
Regalia was even more impressive from above. On the ground, he couldn't see that the streets, which were paved in various shades of stone, were laid out in a complex geometric pattern so that the city looked like a giant mosaic. He also hadn't realized how big the place was. It extended out several miles each direction. "How many people live down here?" asked Gregor.
"We number three thousand or so," said Vikus. "More, if the harvest reaps well."
Three thousand. Gregor tried to get a mental picture of how many people that would be. His school had about six hundred kids in it, so five times that.
"So, what are you guys doing down here, anyway?" asked Gregor.
Vikus laughed. "We are amazed it has taken you so long to ask. Well, it is a marvelous tale," said Vikus, taking a deep breath to begin it. "Once many years ago there lived -- "
"Vikus," interrupted Solovet. "Perhaps the tale would go well with supper."
Gregor silently thanked her. He was starving, and he had a feeling Vikus wasn't the kind of guy to leave out any details.
The dining room was off the High Hall. A table had been set for eight. Gregor hoped Dulcet would be joining them, but after tucking Boots in a sort of high chair, she backed up several feet from the table and stood. Gregor didn't feel comfortable eating with her standing there, but he thought he might get her in trouble if he said something.
Neither Vikus nor Solovet took a chair, so Gregor decided to wait, too. Soon Luxa swept into the room in a dress that was a lot fancier than the clothes she'd worn in the stadium. Her hair was loose and fell like a shiny silver sheet to her waist. She was with a guy who Gregor guessed was about sixteen. He was laughing at something she'd just said. Gregor recognized him from the stadium. It was the rider who'd felt cocky enough to lie down on his bat as they'd swirled around his head.
"Another show-off," thought Gregor. But the guy gave him such a friendly look that Gregor decided not to jump to conclusions. Luxa was annoying, but most of the other Underlanders were okay.
"My cousin, Henry," said Luxa shortly, and Gregor wanted to laugh. Here among all these strange names was a Henry.
Henry gave Gregor a low bow and came up grinning. "Welcome, Overlander," he said. Then he grabbed Gregor's arm and spoke in his ear in a dramatically hushed voice. "Beware the fish, for Luxa plans to poison you directly!"
Vikus and Solovet laughed, and even Dulcet smiled. It was a joke. These people actually had a sense of humor.
"Beware your fish, Henry," returned Luxa. "I gave orders to poison scoundrels, forgetting you would be dining as well."
Henry winked at Gregor. "Switch plates with the bats," he whispered, and at that moment two bats swooped into the room from the High Hall. "Ah, the bats!"
Gregor recognized the golden bat Luxa had been riding earlier. A large gray bat fluttered into a chair near Vikus, and everyone else took a seat.
"Gregor the Overlander, meet you Aurora and Euripedes. They are bonded to Luxa and myself," said Vikus, extending a flexed hand to the gray bat on his right. Euripedes brushed the hand with his wing. Luxa and her golden bat Aurora performed the same exchange.
Gregor had thought the bats were like horses, but now he could see they were equals. Did they talk?
"Greetings, Overlander," said Euripedes in a soft purring voice.
Yeah, they talked. Gregor began to wonder if his fish dinner would want to chat as he sliced into it.
"Nice to meet you," said Gregor politely. "What does that mean, that you're bonded to each other?"
"Soon after we arrived in the Underland we humans formed a special alliance with the bats," said Solovet. "Both sides saw the obvious advantages to joining together. But beyond our alliance, individual bats and humans may form their own union. That is called bonding."
"And what do you do if you're bonded to a bat?" asked Gregor. "I mean, besides play ball games together."
There was a pause in which glances were exchanged around the table. He'd said something wrong again.
"You keep each other alive," said Luxa coldly.
It had seemed like he was making fun of something serious. "Oh, I didn't know," said Gregor.
"Of course, you did not," said Solovet, shooting a look at Luxa. "You have no parallel in your own land."
"And do you bond with the crawlers, too?" Gregor asked.
Henry snorted with laughter. "I would as soon bond with a stone. At least it could be counted on not to run away in battle."
Luxa broke into a grin. "And perhaps you could throw it. I suppose you could throw a crawler...."
"But then I would have to touch it!" said Henry, and the two cracked up.
"The crawlers are not known for their fighting ability," said Vikus, by way of explanation to Gregor. Neither he nor Solovet were laughing. He turned to Luxa and Henry. "Yet they live on. Perhaps when you can comprehend the reason for their longevity you will have more respect for them."
Henry and Luxa attempted to look serious, although their eyes were still laughing.
"It is of little consequence to the crawlers whether I respect them or not," said Henry lightly.
"Perhaps not, but it is of great consequence whether Luxa does. Or so it will be in some five years when she comes of age to rule," said Vikus. "At that time, foolish jokes at the crawlers' expense may make the difference between our existence and our annihilation. They do not need to be warriors to shift the balance of power in the Underland."
This sobered Luxa up for real, but it killed the conversation. An awkward pause stretched into an embarrassing silence. Gregor thought he understood what Vikus had meant. The crawlers would make better friends than enemies, and humans shouldn't go around insulting them.
To Gregor's relief, the food arrived, and an Underlander servant placed a half circle of small bowls around him. At least three contained what looked like various types of mushrooms. One had a ricelike grain, and the smallest contained a handful of fresh greens. He could tell by the skimpy portion that the leafy stuff was supposed to be a big treat.
A platter with a whole grilled fish was set in front of him. The fish resembled the ones Gregor was used to except it had no eyes. He and his dad had once watched a show on TV about fish that lived way down deep in some cave and didn't have eyes, either. The weird thing was that when the scientists brought some up to study in a lab, the fish had sensed the light and had grown eyes. Not right away, but in a few generations.
His dad had gotten very excited over the show and had taken Gregor to the American Museum of Natural History to look for eyeless fish. They had ended up at the museum a lot, just the two of them. His dad was crazy about science, and it seemed as if he wanted to pour everything in his brain right into Gregor's head. It was a little dangerous, because even a simple question could bring on a half-hour explanation. His grandma had always said, "Ask your daddy the time, and he tells you how to make a clock." But he was so happy explaining, and Gregor was just happy being with him. Besides, Gregor had loved the rain forest exhibit, and the cafeteria with french fries shaped like dinosaurs. They had never really figured out how the fish had known to grow eyes. His dad had had some theories, of course, but he couldn't explain how the fish had been able to change so fast.
Gregor wondered how long it took people to become transparent with purple eyes. He turned to Vikus. "So, you were going to tell me how you got down here?"
While Gregor tried not to wolf his food, which turned out to be delicious, Vikus filled him in on the history of Regalia.
Not all of it was clear, but it seemed the people had come from England in the 1600s. "Yes, they were led here by a stonemason, one Bartholomew of Sandwich," said Vikus, and Gregor had to work to keep a straight face. "He had visions of the future. He saw the Underland in a dream, and he set out to find it."
Sandwich and a group of followers had sailed to New York, where he got on famously with the local tribe. The Underland was no secret to the Native Americans, who had made periodic trips below the earth for ritual purposes for hundreds of years. They had little interest in living there and didn't care if Sandwich was mad enough to want to.
"Of course, he was quite sane," said Vikus. "He knew that one day the earth would be empty of life except what was sustained beneath the ground."
Gregor thought it might be rude to tell Vikus that billions of people lived up there now. Instead, he asked, "So, everybody just packed up and moved down here?"
"Heavens, no! It was fifty years before the eight hundred were down and the gates to the Overland sealed. We had to know we could feed ourselves and have walls to keep us safe. Rome was not built in a day." Vikus laughed. "This was how Fred Clark the Overlander said it."
"What happened to him?" asked Gregor, spearing a mushroom.The table got quiet.
"He died," said Solovet softly. "He died without your sun."
Gregor lowered the mushroom to his plate. He looked over at Boots, who was covered from head to toe in some kind of mushy baby stew. She sleepily finger-painted on the stone tabletop with the gravy.
"Our sun," thought Gregor. Had it set? Was it bed time? Had the police gone, or were they still there questioning his mom? If they'd gone, he knew where she'd be. Sitting at the kitchen table. Alone in the dark. Crying.
