Page 40 (1/2)

“But what are you painting?” Hawthorn asked

“Well, I knohat a ruhed “It’s worth a try”

She worked quickly Greenish-gold rustones Finally, she put in a Redcap, or at least what she reainst a ru The only safe Redcap is an unconscious Redcap, she figured Dear Woo straight into the right rum cellar Please don’t just be a mess

“Ready?” Ta to be very proud of myself or very embarrassed in a moment”

Everyone clirassy back, Hawthorn in front, Tamburlaine behind, and Scratch, delicate as he was, sandwiched between them His crank spun excitedly:

Ain’t we got

Ain’t we got

Ain’t we got fun?

With a valiant snarl the likes of which no basement has ever heard, Blunderbuss leapt toward the passionfruit painting They collided wetly and withOn the other side, the sreeted them like a fine hello

The Cellar Steppes had got bored of grasslands and beco underfoot The sky flushed a proper daytiain, but now there were a hundred moons in it, all shaped like stony white rureat and sold and sloshing with red ruain from the stone slats onto the desert Nestled in a circle of particularly robust barrels were several rich red velvet arlasses set for tastings

An incredible din filled the air Hollering, ululating, bleating, laughing, whooping—and a gnash of ainst the other

The Redcaps were co

They poured in a scarlet screech through the Steppes, sos and toads, their spurs and saddles as red as their long, billowing caps, tassels flapping in the air Hawthorn squeezed his own knit cap, still stuffed into his coat pocket Their little gno up clouds of blue and orange dust

Behind theer than any Hawthorn and Tamburlaine had ever seen, a bicycle like an elephant, one of the old-fashioned sorts with the front wheel like a giant’s dinner plate On top of it a wo with the Redcaps She raised her fist in the air and barreled down mercilessly upon them

The Spinster ca down the Steppes with an army before her