The child hid behind Wednesday, eyes as big as the moon, with a frightened squeak. Wednesday rolled his eyes and glared at the great wooden statue guarding the gate. It was a relic left over from the goblin wars, and while the wars had since ended, his clan had never gotten out of the habit of using it as a watchtower.
“If you can’t see who it is through the gogglescope, then you ought to spend more time keeping the Watcher clean and less time harassing honest UnderWherians,” he called.
With a creak that only served to underscore his point, the face of the Watcher swung open on rusty hinges to reveal his cousin Oliph.
“Some of us take our duties seriously, Ness,” Oliph said, his voice much higher and reedier than before when he’d been speaking through the talk tube the Watcher held in its wooden hands that curved all the way down to its wooden boots.