hey sleeping? Right, Gre-go?" asked Boots, frowning slightly.

"That's right, Boots," said Gregor, trying to keep his voice steady. "They're sleeping." This was what he always told her when something died. Even if they found a dead bird on the playground, he'd tell her it was asleep and then pick it up with an old newspaper or something and hide it in the trash when she wasn't looking. Later she'd see it was missing and be happy it had flown away to its home. And Gregor would act happy with her. If he couldn't tell her that a pigeon had died, there was no way he could tell her about the mice.

"I know. They take a nap. Like in the song," she said, reassured.

"That's right. Like in the song," said Gregor.

"Ripred. Is there anything we can do?" said Luxa hoarsely. "Please."

"No, Luxa," said Ripred. Gregor thought this was the first time he had ever heard Ripred call her by name. "Nothing can be done for them."

"May I see your glasses, Gregor?" she asked.

Gregor was reluctant to give her the binoculars. It was bad enough from a distance. Magnified, the scene was even more horrific. "They're not really working," he mumbled. But she took the binoculars from his hand and pointed them at the mice.

"So this is it," she said. "This is how they plan to kill them all."

"Without the nibblers resisting," said Ares.

"You may let me go," said Cartesian quietly, and Ares released him. The mouse curled into a ball and buried his face.

"I thought they would starve the nibblers, attempt to drown them perhaps. But this... this has no precedent," said Nike.

"This has too much precedent," said Ripred grimly. He began lapping away the blood from his shoulder.

"Let me," said Howard. He gave Hazard to Luxa and got out his medical kit. "It is not too deep," he said, examining Ripred's shoulder.

"It's deep enough," said Ripred, shooting a look at Luxa. "I consider my debt paid. My life for your life."

"Yes. Paid in full," said Luxa.

Everyone sat there stunned, watching Howard bandage Ripred's wound. They avoided looking out where the murdered mice lay in the pit.

Gregor could not make sense of what had just happened. He had seen death before, plenty of it. But nothing like this. It was not just the number of dead. When they had fought the ants in the jungle, the ground had been covered in corpses. But that had been a battle, with two armed forces facing each other. It had been horrible, but at least everyone had had a fighting chance to survive. What had happened to the mice... trapped in the pit... unable to even defend themselves against the gas... not just soldiers but everyone, even the pups... it was murder on a grand scale. It was a massacre. And probably only one of many.

Only Boots seemed unaffected by what had just occurred. "Hazard dances with me?" she said, tugging on her friend's hand.

"No, Boots, I cannot," said Hazard.

"I dance myself," said Boots. She began singing as she spun in a circle.

"Dancing in the firelight

See the queen who conquers night.

Gold flows from her, hot and bright.

Father, mother, sister, brother,

Off they go. I do not know

If we will see another. "

Gregor vaguely wondered if he should stop her. It seemed disrespectful to the nibblers. But he could not seem to speak.

Boots turned into a mouse now, pawing the air and spinning here and there.

"Catch the nibblers in a trap. Watch the nibblers spin and snap. "

It was too awful, watching her dancing around like a mouse after what they had just witnessed. With Cartesian lying beside him. "Stop it, Boots," Gregor said, but she was caught up in the song. She curled right up on the ground and pretended to sleep.

"Quiet while they take a nap. "

"Stop it!" repeated Gregor, more harshly than he had intended. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Her lips pressed together and he could see tears filling her eyes. Gregor hugged her close to him. "Sorry, I'm sorry. It's just not a good time for dancing," he told her.

"Mouses do dance," she said. "I just do dance like mouses."

"I know," said Gregor. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I want to dance like the mouses do dance," said Boots, sniffling.

"It's okay. Don't cry," said Gregor, stroking her curls. He guessed the writhing of the mice had looked like a dance from the distance. In fact, the words from the song:

Catch the nibblers in a trap. Watch the nibblers spin and snap.

They very accurately described what he had just seen....

Quiet while they take a nap.

Gregor turned and took in the lifeless bodies in the distance. If you didn't know they were dead, like Boots you'd think they were taking a nap. The words of the song began to drum in his brain.

Catch the nibblers in a trap.

Watch the nibblers spin and snap.

Quiet while they take a nap.

"She's right," he said aloud. "How so?" asked Ares.

"That song. That part about the nibblers," said Gregor. "We just watched it happen."

Father, mother, sister, brother.

Whole families had died out there.

Off they go. I do not know If we will see another. They wouldn't see another, if the Bane had his way. He was determined to kill them all and —

"That's not a song," said Gregor suddenly. "That's a prophecy! Don't you see?"

He could tell by the expressions on their faces that they didn't. It had been a song so long, for hundreds of years. It was like someone telling him that "Hey Diddle Diddle" would explain a train wreck in Nevada. But Gregor had not grown up singing the song and doing the happy little dance that accompanied it. To him, the words were still new, and now they were sinister.

"Sandwich wrote it, right?" said Gregor. "He carved it in the nursery."

"Yes, he carved it in the nursery, not the room of prophecies. And we do not know who wrote it, it is so old," said Luxa.

"It didn't come from the Overland. We don't have nibblers. It's from down here and Sandwich made it up and it's happening now!" said Gregor, totally convinced. "We just watched the nibblers get caught in a trap and dance all around and take a nap, only it isn't a nap, not the kind you wake up from! 'Father, mother, sister, brother, off they go'! To die! Don't you see?"

The others didn't look convinced, but Ripred pushed aside Howard's hands and began to pace. "What is it? That nonsense in the first verse. How does it go? Someone sing it!"

Hazard's high voice piped up.

"Dancing in the firelight

See the queen who conquers night.

Gold flows from her, hot and bright. "

"That's enough. 'Dancing in the firelight...'" The rat stared out at the glowing volcano. "We've got firelight, anyway."

"'See the queen who conquers night,'" said Nike. "Luxa, you could be the queen."

"I am not dancing," said Luxa. "Nor have I been."

"Maybe it's not the queen who dances," said Howard. "Things may be said to dance in the light. When it flickers. Someone's eyes, water, anything really...."

"The nibblers danced in the firelight," said Aurora.

"We still need a queen," said Ripred.

"'Gold flows from her, hot and bright,'" said Ares. "Luxa has no gold."

"I have nothing but rags," said Luxa, looking down at her tattered clothes. "I cannot be the queen."

There was a low but unmistakable rumble. Everyone's head turned to the volcano. A thin stream of lava bubbled out of the top and ran down the side toward the pit. As gold as gold can be.

"'Gold flows from her, hot and bright...'" said Nike. "You do not think —"

"I think the Overlander's right," said Ripred. He nodded at the volcano. "There's your gold."

"And there's your queen," said Gregor.