And that's it.
The unemployed of all midnight Europe shivered in their stone sleep and came awake.Moundshroud jokes about dumping boiling hot lead down on the creatures below, and the boys remind him that Quasimodo already did that. These boys are sure educated on their Victor Hugo novels. They are no dummies. In fact, Tom catches on quick to what is going on:
Which is to say that all the old beasts, all the old tales, all the old nightmares, all the old unused demons-put-by, and witches left in the lurch, quaked at the call, reared at the whistle, trembled at the summons, and in dustdevils of propulsion skimmed down the roads, flitted the skies, buckshot through shaken trees, forded streams, swam rivers, pierced clouds, and arrived, arrived, arrived.
"Does it make sense, Tom?"And the beasts thanked them. A simple four-page chapter... and I'm not quite sure how this book is going to wrap up in the next three chapters.
"Sure. All the old gods, all the old dreams, all the old nightmares, all the old ideas with nothing to do, out of work, we gave them work. We called them here!"
"And here they will remain for centuries, right?"