Read The Spindlers for Free Online Page A

necessary—when we’re on an urgent mission …”
    â€œ What hardly seems necessary?” the rat asked coldly.
    â€œWhat I mean is …” Liza gestured helplessly at the rat’s outfit.
    â€œIs there something the matter,” the rat asked, her gaze growing fiercer, “with the way that I am dressed?”
    â€œI just … well, it isn’t natural, is it?” Liza sputtered.
    Instantly she knew that the rat had been offended. The animal drew herself up to her full height.
    â€œNatural!” the rat exploded, with such volume that Liza drew back, and several butterflies flitted nervously away from the path. “And what, little miss, do you know about natural? Is it natural to be forced to sneak and slither in the corners, and skulk in the shadows, and dig for your meals in Dumpsters?”
    â€œUm …”
    â€œAnd is it natural for people to hurl shoes at your head, and try to snap you in traps, and stomp on your tail?”
    â€œI—I guess not....”
    â€œAnd is it natural ,” the rat thundered, quivering with rage, “for some to be cuddled and coddled and hugged, while others are hated and hunted and hurt, because of differences in fur, and tail, and whisker length? I ask you—is that natural?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Liza said, desperate for the rat to calm down. They needed to keep moving, and above all, she did not want the rat to abandon her. “I only meant that—you know—I’ve never seen a rat dressed up before.”
    â€œOh, yes? Is that so? And when was the last time you looked ?” Now, alarmingly, the rat’s eyes began to fill with tears. She withdrew her white handkerchief from her lunch box and began blotting her eyes. But it was no use: Globs of mascara began running down her cheeks, matting her fur and making her look even more hideous than ever. “When was the last time you actually spoke to a rat, instead of shrieking and jumping on a chair, or poking it with your horrible broom?” And with a final sob, the rat spun on her heel and started to move off.
    â€œHey,” Liza said. It was now her turn to become offended. “It’s not all my fault. Rats never speak to me , either.”
    â€œAnd why should they?” The rat whirled around to face her again. “Why should they come near you at all, when you are only going to poke them with your broom?”
    â€œThat’s absolutely ridiculous,” Liza snapped, finally losing her temper. “I’ve never poked a rat with a broom in my whole life.”
    â€œBut you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?” the rat pressed.
    â€œNo, I haven’t.”
    â€œNot even once?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œNot for a second? Just a quick bop over the head?”
    â€œNo—never—not once!” Liza dug her nails into the handle of the broom.
    â€œAha!” the rat crowed triumphantly. “You’re thinking about it now!”
    â€œFine!” she burst out. “Fine, yes! I could bop you over the head; I could poke you in the eyes; but only because you’re the worst, most irritating, most impossible rat I have ever met in my entire life!”
    Just then, and all at once, the glowing lanterns went out, plunging them into perfect darkness.
    Instantly Liza’s irritation was transformed to fear. “What happened?” she cried. “What’s going on?”
    The rat clucked her tongue. “Dear, dear. Now you’ve gone and upset the lumpen.”
    â€œThe what ?” Liza’s heart thudded hard in her chest. She was not exactly afraid of the dark—but then, she had never been in dark this dark before. She couldn’t make out her hand in front of her face, or even the shape of the rat, who she knew must be standing only a few feet away from her.
    â€œThe lumer-lumpen. The light-bearers. They’re very sensitive—don’t like a lot of