Aldo's Fantastical Movie Palace (10 page)

C
HLOE STOOD IN A CHAMBER
deep underground. It was well lit, though Chloe could see no lanterns, and was far too beautiful to be a cave. The room's walls were decorated with portraits, top to bottom, of families and parties and holiday get-togethers.

I've fallen into a photo album
.

Chloe's stone glowed, but the brightness around her swallowed up its light. She stepped forward, and only then looked up.

Stairs — at least the bottom eight steps of a staircase — hung down through the ceiling like an icicle from a roof.

“Never seen you the roots of a stairs before? Hmm?”

“Actually, I have. In my dreams. In a room exactly like this.” Chloe slowly turned and smiled.

Yes! I've found the Quints!

Before her stood the oldest, kindest face she'd ever met. Shorter than a full-sized man, bald as a bowling ball, and talk about old — his wrinkles were deep as caverns. The man's shirt and trousers strained to contain his stocky frame. He was a friend. Chloe knew this the moment she saw him.

He laughed, and the sound filled the hall. “I'm pleased to hear your dreams are giving you the education school does not.”

School. Chloe rubbed her face and tried to remember it. It seemed so far away. “In class we learn the latitude of Fiji, the proper way to factor a trinomial, the history of the United States … really important stuff.”

His hand shot out and covered her mouth. “The past is worth your attention. If you can read it, there's a good chance you should.” He peered to his left. Chloe followed his glance and her jaw dropped. Bookshelves lined an entire wall and continued on until the room jogged left far in the distance.

“These books weren't in my dream. Have you read them all?”

“Not yet. But with fortune, there'll be time.”

Chloe walked to the nearest shelf and pulled out a volume. “
The War of the Eristad
. Never heard of it.”

“That is because it wasn't fought in your world. Follow me. We must get you fed, as you have much to do.”

He reached out his hand.

Don't leave here without me
. Scout's warning echoed, and she stared at the stout man's fingers.

“Yes,” her host said, “Scout would approve of this.”

“How did you know …” Chloe smiled. “Nevermind.” She grabbed the Quint's hand, and together they moved through the chamber.

“You're wondering about the pictures. They are taken up above, in the city. We do all we can to capture as many families as we can. We record lives, in book as well as in photo.” He sighed. “At march's end, they'll forget. We'll hold the last record of who is whose.”

“A hall of memories,” she whispered.

“Put well.” He straightened. “And now prepare to meet the other Quints. Qujan, especially, has been eager to greet you. Oh, forgive me — my name! Please call me Quill.”

“Quill the Quint.” She laughed. “Oh, I'm sorry, that just sounded funny to me.”

“Laugh away, young one. Your road gets harder from here.”

Chloe later tried to describe the home of the Quints, but was scarcely able to remember the particulars, which is odd as it was a chamber filled with memories. She had no problem recalling dinner, however. Lamb and salmon and cake — chocolate, to be exact.

Quill sat beside her at one of the tables that filled the dining hall. Surrounding them were fifty, maybe sixty other Quints, each nearly identical in appearance to Quill. Except for hair; Quill was the only bald one among them. Chloe quickly discovered that Quints were messy eaters — much like Q back home. Fully half of their food tumbled and dripped down their shirts.

But the most memorable things in that room were the tables. Simple picnic tables — the kind that filled her own dining room — stretched across the space, and joyful conversation surrounded each one. It was the sound of home. Even with a stressed mom and a crazy dad and wild brothers and Grandpa Salvador, Chloe's house was Italian-loud and cheerful at mealtimes. In those moments, she felt she had family.

The Quints laughed and hooted and ate. Inside, Chloe felt warm. Yes, she decided, if she never returned home, life with the Quints would be an acceptable alternative. So much nicer than the elves' darkness.

“No, Chloe,” Quill whispered. “You can't stay here, not even one night. You're needed above.”

“But ever since Nick and I began working on the — I mean, I've been hoping I'd run into you since I got here.”

“So famous we are in all worlds! This is good news, yet hardly unexpected.” He motioned to a Quint seated at the end of the table. “Her book, please.”

The small man rose and left the room. Minutes later, he returned, bowed, and handed Chloe a thick volume.

She frowned, pushed aside her plate, and opened to page one.

Pictures of me? How did you get these?

“You imagine you are the only one from your family to eat at this table?”

She looked up slowly. Something in her knew.

“Grandpa?”

Quill peeked at the female Quint seated on Chloe's left. She was craning her neck to see the photographs, but quickly blushed and leaned back on the bench. Quill raised his eyebrows and gestured for her to speak.

“My name is Qujan. Yes, my dear Salvador, and before him —”

“Aldo,” Chloe whispered.

Qujan smiled at his name. “Yes, Salvador's very handsome father, as you see further on.”

Chloe spent the next hour poring over family photographs. Until Dad's face appeared sprinkled among the pictures. “I don't want to see these anymore.”

“That may work with elves, but not here.” Quill tapped her book. “Learn.”

Chloe forced down her gaze. It was the same image she'd seen in the blue mirror — a crying father — but this time she clearly saw his hand, and in it a picture of her before the accident.

“Grandpa wasn't here recently. How do you have photos of me?”

“The photos filled in the moment you arrived,” Qujan said. “You brought memories with you. See, see the way your father weeps?”

“He doesn't look at me.” Chloe pointed at her chin. “He can't after this hideous thing …” She broke into tears.

“Turn the page,” Quill said softly.

“No.”

“I can't turn it for you. Turn the page.”

Chloe wiped the tears with the heel of her hand and obeyed. The page held only one photo. It was of her, and she was beautiful. The scar was there, but
though she tried she couldn't focus on the imperfection. Her face was radiant, triumphant. But there was no background in the photo. Just Chloe.

“I don't look like this. Where was this taken?”

Quill reached over and closed the book. “It's a memory that has not yet been made.”

“Oh, will it happen? I was beautiful … I mean, I looked like I
felt
beautiful.”

Qujan leaned over. “You alone can make that memory. It's not out of reach.”

Chloe stroked her scar and felt a searing inside.
Not possible
.

“Family?” Quill rumbled and every Quint jumped up. “We must see that Chloe reaches the uppermost floor. If one of Pindle's children grabbed Scout, that is where he'll be. I've not called on you since Aldo's day, but now a greater evil wishes to stop Chloe's search before it begins. She'll need Scout if she is to survive the march.”

“No.” Chloe's head thumped down onto the table. “I don't want to hear any more about surviving. You showed me my family, and now I want Nick and a way home.”

“I'm afraid that Nick is home.” Quill stared at Chloe. “His album is black.”

Chloe raised her head. “What does that mean?”

“Listen, Chloe, for now you must forget Nick. If you see him, it will likely not be him in flesh. And Nob has fled, I cannot see where. Above, in the city, you and Scout will be alone. But you will have another companion as well; you have your memories. Be aware you will be watched not only by the Senseri, but also by many things good, and that is a comforting thought. Find Scout, march toward the pool, and finish the quest you were wounded to complete.”

Chloe looked around the table. “Does anyone here understand what he just said?”

“Forget Nick. Find Scout. To the pool.” Qujan slapped Quill with the back of her hand. “Males can be so complicated.”

A train of Quints instantly rose and led Chloe to the Great Hall.

Quill cracked thick knuckles. “Quall, start the chain.”

A
LARGE
Q
UINT
Chloe assumed had to be Quall lay down and raised his hands toward the ceiling. Another Quint lay on the first.

“I don't mean to complain.” Quall glanced at Quill. “But I did start the last chain.”

“And you'll start the next one too.”

Quint after Quint added to the living ladder until twenty-one Quints formed stumpy but shaky rungs stretching from the floor to the root of the stairs.

Quall, arms shaking, turned his head to one side. “I don't mean to rush you, but it is a bit heavy.”

“Rush me?” Chloe slowly shook her head backed away.

“Climb these stairs, Chloe.” Quill eased her toward the pile of Quints. “It will lead you nowhere,
which is exactly where you'll find Scout. According to Quist, who located you in Tent City, dragons circle without ceasing on the eve of the terrible Pilgrimage. But Vaepor has vanished from the skies, leading me to believe It thinks it has found the greater prize: your Nick. But It is wrong.” He removed a volume from his bookshelf. “I believe Scout is still alive. His pictures still shine, although not brightly. Senseri will be roaming the streets waiting for you to rescue him.”

“So, you want me to save Scout from some dragons and a villainous cloud?” Chloe shouted. “I don't know how.” She lowered her voice. “I'm not that brave.”

“Oh, Chloe, you are. Do not lose the mountain stone, as it may yet serve you well, and to it I add my gift.” Quill handed her the picture, the beautiful one. “When you wonder who you truly are, look and see. And may you find this memory.”

“If it's no bother,” Quall grunted, “could we start soon?”

Chloe winced and scampered onto his belly.

“Quill.” Qujan grabbed his arm. “It may be time to surface. While we cower, the land above falls. When has Retinya been in greater need?”

“Cower? We do our part from below, Qujan.
Retinya is not the only world that needs our aid. You should know this most of all. We do not involve ourselves directly in the affairs of men when —”

Qujan glared and raised her hands to her hips. “This is not what you told me when Salvador was in need.”

“That was different.” Quill rubbed his forehead and lowered his voice. “He's family.”

“And what does that make Chloe?”

Chloe paused with her knee pressed against a Quint's hand. “Please, I don't know what you're talking about. But if you can help …”

Quill raised both arms toward the ceiling. “Enough. I will consider your request, Qujan. Were you not my daughter, I would discipline you.”

“Then it's a good thing I am.” Qujan turned to Chloe. “Climb, and do not fear.” She winked. “You have not seen the last of us yet.”

Chloe stepped up. “Don't run,” Quall said, and Chloe climbed higher.

“Don't run.” The next Quint whispered as she stepped. “Don't run.”

“Don't run.”

“Don't run.”

“Don't run.”

Chloe scrambled onto the last Quint and reached
for the stairs' bottom step. “I know, I know.” She chuckled. “Don't run.”

He stared sadly into Chloe's eyes. “From your father.”

Chloe paused, then continued onto the staircase, turning just in time to see the Quints tumble onto the floor. From somewhere within the pile, Quall groaned, “There must be an easier way to do that.”

She laughed and breathed deeply. “Don't run from your father. Give up on Nick. Find Scout in Medahon, where everyone is after me on a set of stairs going nowhere. Sure, why not?”

Chloe climbed through the ceiling, and immediately all light from below disappeared.

“No, no. I can't climb in the dark.” She paused. “Don't run from your father. My father, Crazy Ray.” She giggled as she remembered the airplane he built for squirrels. He had tethered it to the chicken coop to scare away hawks. Oh, the hissing those squirrels made. The invention worked for a week … until Q shot all the rodent pilots.

As she thought, her stone lit up the stairway.

Memory light. Just what I need
.

“Don't run from my father? Okay, but just on these stairs.”

At first, Chloe passed time counting steps. But
as her legs numbed, her mind wandered and she lost track — and balance. It wasn't the number of steps, but their depth. They followed no consistent pattern. A wide, comfortable step followed a narrow, shallow one barely deep enough to support a toe.

The shaft around her was no more forgiving. Broad and angular, its walls were out of Chloe's reach. Occasionally, railing remnants provided handholds, but for the most part she climbed through silent, empty space.

And then, voices. They were muffled at first, but with each step they became louder and clearer until she turned a corner, saw firelight above, and climbed into a night filled with torchlight.

Medahon
.

Chloe quickly pocketed her stone and raised her gaze. The stairway continued its rickety spiral skyward until it disappeared into dense fog. Around her, deep voices filled the square.

Senseri wander the streets. Keep going, Chloe!

She quickly found the journey toward the clouds a much more frightening climb. Similar to the underground section, there were few railings, but unlike the portion below, the stairway creaked and swayed in the stiff breeze.

Chloe peeked down and felt her head lighten.

“Quints are at the bottom of this. I could ease back down and get a good meal and a good night's sleep.”

A gust rocked the stairway and Chloe dropped to her knees. She crawled upward until her body could go no farther.

This was because there were no more steps to take. The stairway simply ended. At this altitude, the fog cleared, and the lights of the city spread out below. Staircases of equally dizzying heights reached into space around her, some ending nowhere, some leading into rooms or disappearing into large nests.

“You've come back.”

That voice — the same thick, throaty rasp that had come from the robed man who attacked Scout. Chloe turned and started back down, until a rush of wind almost sent her tumbling off the stairway. A scarred dragon descended and flapped, snout to Chloe's eyeballs. It circled the swaying staircase.

“What's a girl like you doing way up here? You seem out of place.”

Four more dragons screeched down from the sky. They rushed toward the staircase, biting and clawing each other as they came. One surged ahead and wrapped a talon around Chloe's waist.

“My prize! I'll be giving her to Vaepor when he returns tomorrow.”

Chloe screamed, and up they flew. “No, please!” But her shriek was lost in the flap of wings. Minutes later, the creature set her in its nest, pinning her between its weighty wing and the dead branches beneath.

“Why do you need me?” Chloe struggled. “Why —”

“Shh,” it said. “Your memory truly is short.”

“Flit!”

Feathers engulfed her. The dragon tucked its head beneath its wing and exhaled a long, warm blast of air. “Scout is beneath one of the others. No doubt much less comfortable. We don't have much time before Vaepor arrives. Be ready when I signal.”

Chloe nestled into Flit's soft feathers. They felt like her bed back home, and slowly she drifted to sleep.