If it were possible for somewhere to go even quieter after it was already TOTALLY quiet – well, that’s what happened that day in the hall of the Extrapolation Extraordinary in Phargon.
Everyone just froze – like when you press pause on your video recorder. There were Zildiths with their mouths open, Zildiths with their hands raised in the air in anger, even one Zildith standing on one of the little desks in front of the seats.
You could have heard a leaf fall to the ground, it was so quiet.
They were all in a state of shock.
But Cruncher was loving it. His little black beady eyes looked from side to side, glinting in the light of the clouds over the meeting. Then he took out a long, dirty spike from his belt and started picking between his yellow teeth. Ugh!
Then “Braaaarrp!” he belched. “Knew I shouldn’t have had that old pasty with the green bits on it!” he said, sniggering.
Finally, Zamelqa spoke. Her voice was level and steady, but you could tell she was filled with anger at what Cruncher had said.
“The Children of the Casement are in our trust” she said. “We will never let them go! And they are our shield too – as you well know, they make sure that all the data we receive here in Phargon is good and true and faithful.”
Cruncher swung round. “Doesn’t work though, does it, Regent lady?” he sneered. “What about all that stuff that gets on the Net, eh? Lovely violent things, like Big Steal Motor, or Slashfest, eh? We love ‘em!”
“You would!” said Zamelqa, a red spot of anger glowing on her high cheekbones. “Of course we cannot stop all the bad things. But we make sure that the core memory here in Phargon is not spoiled by such trash and filth! And it’s thanks to the Children of the Casement that we can do so!”
Cruncher walked right up to the Regent, his tail slithering slimily along the floor of the platform. He stuck his long ratty nose right in her face, making her move back as his stinky breath puffed out at her.
“Well that’s just what’s going to change!” he shouted, bits of spit flying out of his mean and twisted mouth straight into poor Zamelqa’s face. “Once we’ve got your sissy kids, you’re just going to have to put up with it, aren’t you? So HAND ‘EM OVER!”
It was too much. The Zildiths found their voices.
“Never! NEVER!!”
“Never in a million years!”
“You insolent creep!”
“We’d rather die!”
Those last words came from Poolbear, whose face was nearly purple with rage.
Cruncher swung round again from Zamelqa (who wiped her face with a beautiful cream handkerchief – who could blame her) and looked straight at Poolbear and Dot and her friends.
“You might have to!” he barked. “You and Phargon with you. You - ” Then he peered forward. “Well well WELL” he went. “Just looky here! If it isn’t old four eyes with the carrot top! What are you doing here, spotty Dot?”
Mr Mouse hopped up on Dot’s shoulder. “You mind your mouth!” he shouted. “You crook! Anyway - how do we REALLY know you’ve got Drindel? You could have made that video up!”
It was a good point. Dot wished she’d thought of it.
It stopped Cruncher dead. But only for a moment. Then a smile spread over his horrible ratty face.
“Yeah we could have, couldn’t we? So – how about I take someone to where he’s at, just to prove it?” He paused, then shot out a long quivering arm with four filthy claws on the end of it, pointing straight at Dot.
“Like YOU, Miss Goody Two-Shoes!”
