Bookweirdest by Paul Glennon Read Free Book Online Page B

it.
    “What?” Norman asked, not sure he’d heard right.
    “Rabbits,” Raritan repeated in his grumbling horse-whisper. “Not stoats but rabbits. Singing in the woods.”
    Norman couldn’t contain his surprise. “You heard rabbits singing? Where?”
    Raritan backed up, drawing him away from the kitchen door, and continued in his reluctant tone. “You won’t harm them?” It was half a question, half an order.
    “Harm them?” Norman replied, offended. “Why would I hurt them?”
    Raritan turned his head and pointed his horn towards the window of Kit’s bedroom.
    Norman scowled. “I’m not like him.”
    Raritan exhaled a dismissive whinny. “Yes, you are.” He stomped a foot emphatically. Norman felt the vibrations through the ground. “Very like him. Meddlesome and dangerous.”
    Norman wasn’t going to stand there and take this. “I’m not anything like him! Kit messes up things for fun. He doesn’t care. I’m trying to help.” His voice squeaked in protest, but he didn’t like to be lumped in with his uncle. Calming himself, he asked, “What were they singing?” He’d heard singing himself yesterday by the footbridge. He’d told himself he was imagining it, but he had recognized the tune.
    He hummed the tune to himself again now, trying to remember where he’d heard it before. “Mmm … mm, mmm … the streets of Cuaderno.” It was there, on the tip of his mind. “Sound the trumpets from the towers of Logarno … mmm … mmm, mm … the tall ships in port.” He got louder as the words came back to him, realization coming as fast as the tune. “The Great Cities!” he almost shouted.
    Raritan actually shushed him.
    “It’s a song from The Great Cities of Undergrowth,” Norman insisted in a whisper. “I heard it the other day by the bridge. You have to take me to those rabbits.”
    Raritan gave him another of those long, evaluating unicorn looks, then nodded and tossed his head towards the back gate. Norman followed him back down the path. He suddenly wasn’t quite as tired anymore. Even his hunger could wait. The Great Cities were from the Undergrowth books—Malcolm’s world. Norman had assumed that he and Malcolm had been separated—that the stoat king had been sent back to Undergrowth and Norman to the Shrubberies—but if there were talking rabbits here, rabbits who sang songs about the Great Cities, didn’t that mean
this
was Undergrowth? Was it possible that Uncle Kit had managed to bring the Shrubberies to Undergrowth? It would explain the completeabsence of people. It would mean that his friend was closer than he realized. But it would also mean that Kit was far more powerful than he thought, and that he was messing with Norman’s favourite book again.
    Outside the gate, Raritan stopped, halting Norman in his tracks. Had the fickle unicorn changed his mind again? But Raritan hadn’t changed his mind. In a one strange, majestic movement he lowered his head and bent his front legs so he was kneeling. Norman watched dumbfounded, unsure what to do.
    Raritan made up his mind for him. “Get on before I change my mind,” he commanded.
    Norman shook himself out of his reverie and climbed onto the kneeling unicorn’s back. He had never actually ridden a horse before. That was Dora’s thing, and he had a whole new appreciation for it as he wobbled on Raritan’s giant neck, feeling around for something to hold on to. But he had little time to think about where to put his hands—Raritan was already rising and springing away. It was so sudden and so fast, it was almost like flying. Norman lurched backwards and grasped at Raritan’s mane, his fingers clutching strands of hair. It was the only thing stopping him from hurtling to the ground. They turned and moved in a blur of motion away from the house, and as they did, Norman just caught sight of his sister at the back door. He might have imagined it, but he was sure that her mouth was open and her jaw dropped, as if