Page 21 - Fables volume 1

How the Snail Risked his Life in the Interest of

Science

When the grassland ended and nothing but hard flat rock faced
them, Doctor Vondon turned his eyestalks toward Thordal and said,
“Are you sure we’re on the right track?”
The leader of the caravan put his nose to the edge of the unyielding
surface and slid it fluidly over the crisscrossing paths of disintegrating
encrusted slime.
“Yes,” he replied, apparently unaffronted. “In fact, at least one of
them is my own track. I have made this journey often. Are you ready
to proceed?”
Vondon glanced back at the stragglers, most of whom were local
gastropods he had hired to carry his equipment and provide security.
“Shouldn’t we wait for the others?” he asked.
“No. It is suicide to bunch up: if a Squasher came crashing down,
none of us would have a chance of escaping. You must trust my
judgement now, Doctor,” chided Thordal gently. “Conditions out
here are not what they are back in the groves of academe.”
As they spoke, dawn broke. Vondon’s entire face recoiled against
the solar glare bouncing off the plateau before them. “Agh!” he
exclaimed. “How can you see anything out there? Not that there’s
anything within snailsight: no landmarks, nothing. Do you seriously
think you can navigate in this environment?”
“It’s my business to get across and return, with minimal losses,”
replied Thordal equably. “Now, do you want to go or not, Doctor?
We cannot delay: soon it will get hot, mirages will appear, and the
dangers of dehydration and surprise attack will increase dramatically.”
Vondon hitched up his shell. “Okay,” he said gamely. “I’m right
behind you, don’t forget. You agreed to trek nonstop until we reach
the Inscriptions; then you will keep going with your slimetrain. My
group will follow our own tracks back here after we’ve finished our
work.”
“That’s the deal,” the leader nodded, oozing up onto the featureless
slab of grainy gray stone. “My allegiance is to the leaf merchants who

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