Jack Staples and the City of Shadows (17 page)

But he couldn't stay on the street forever. Night was coming and the last thing he wanted was to be alone in the City of Shadows past dark.

Mrs. Dumphry had been leading them toward a palace in the center of the city, and Arthur decided it was as good a place as any. It must have hundreds of rooms—thousands maybe. With the Atherial Cloak to hide him, maybe he could find an empty room where he could spend the night.

Chapter 21

A DECISION MADE

 

Alexia was on her way back to the coliseum. When she had told Belial she would accept her role as High Princess of Thaltorose, he had been so happy that he'd demanded that all citizens make their way to the arena so they could hear the announcement.

Each step darkened her mood. As the choking coldness grew, Alexia came to terms with her decision. She'd accepted Belial's offer and together they would rule the world. She just needed to make herself hard enough so her heart wouldn't be hurt again. She needed to grow up and stop dreaming. Her father might not be a good man, but he was still her father.

She glanced up at him as he walked beside her.
I will make you proud
, she thought,
no matter what I have to do!

Belial walked with them.
It's strange
, she thought;
he doesn't smell bad anymore.
The aroma wafting from the wound in his belly had a sweet smell to it; the sweat that dripped from his face and hands made his diamond skin shine all the brighter. Belial was more powerful than anyone.
And I will rule alongside him.

More than one hundred thousand of Belial's servants had gathered in the coliseum. Every citizen of Thaltorose was there. And as Belial, Korah, and Alexia entered, the multitude stood and cheered wildly. Alexia gasped at the enormity of the arena and the vast numbers of creatures and humans in the stands. The crowd thundered as she waved to them.
These are my people
, she thought.
This is my army!

Alexia followed Belial and her father to the far side of the arena, where two monstrous thrones of gold had been placed on a dais. A few paces in front of the thrones a fire burned brightly. Belial sat on the larger of the two thrones and motioned for Alexia to sit beside him. Her throne was smaller and a few paces back, but it was still impressive.

Alexia turned to her father, who nodded his approval. She nodded back, and as she sat, the crowd shrieked in delight. Korah stepped onto the dais and stood stiffly at Alexia's right hand.

After a moment, a strange creature Alexia hadn't noticed stepped onto the dais. Its body was sleek and silvery, and it had mirrors for eyes. As the creature raised its arms, the multitude quieted.

“It is with great pleasure,” it said, “that I present the Child of Prophecy, the noble lady who will lead our army, the High Princess of Thaltorose!” The arena vibrated with the screams of the feverish crowd.

Five thousand, eleven years, and two days earlier

 

Jack and Time had been walking for more than an hour, but he was still thinking about his encounter with King Edward's young ancestor. “What I can't figure out is why I had to give the pen away. Why couldn't I have kept it? I had it in my hands. It seems silly to give it away so I can get it back again in thousands of years.”

“You would never have known it was important if you hadn't got it from the king first!” Time said.

“Yes, but … that really doesn't make sense,” Jack said. He tried not to think about it.

“Why must everything always make sense?” Time asked. “It's the mysterious things that are most fun!”

Jack just shook his head and smiled. “Where do we go from here?” he asked.

“There is someone you need to meet,” Time said. “You're going to like him very much. Time stopped in front of a small cottage and grabbed Jack's hands. “I need to leave now, Jack Staples. I've shown you everything you need to see.”

“What? You can't leave. I don't even know when or where I am. How am I supposed to get back? And what am I meant to do? And what about Alexia? Don't we need to help her?”

“You ask a lot of questions!” Time giggled. “But I think most questions aren't really about answers. I think most questions are about confidence. And you should always be confident—because you know your note! Remember, you can plan things, but in the end it's always better to let your note direct you.”

“But—”

Time wrapped him in a fierce hug. “I believe in you, Jack Staples.”

And then, just like that, she flew backward out of his arms and high into the sky, giggling the whole way.

Jack let out a long breath. He was alone in a strange land, in another time without a clue of what to do or how to get back.

“Hello, Jack.”  

Jack jumped, and found himself standing before a man in a patchwork cloak.

 

Arthur Greaves sprinted up fifty flights of stairs without stopping for a breather.

When he had first entered the palace, he'd been excited to find it completely empty. Except for those shadows at the corners of his vision, he hadn't seen or heard a single creature. Wherever the inhabitants of this city had gone, it seemed all of them had gone together. But before he'd gone more than a few steps, a dark, slithering fog appeared behind him.

Arthur was certain it was the Shadowfog Jack had told him about. The slithering darkness didn't seem to be able to see him, but Arthur thought it might be able to smell him, because it followed slowly, as if uncertain he was there. When Arthur found himself in the stairwell, he began to climb. But the fog followed him up.

After fifty flights, he could barely breathe. If the fog was still following, it was somewhere far below. He stumbled down a wide hall and pushed through two golden doors. And gasped.

I must be in the throne room!
The chamber was so large he couldn't see where it ended. In its center was a mammoth throne made of gold and gemstones; off to the side was an enormous statue. Fires burned throughout the chamber and torches lined the walls, but the shadows surrounding the flames were darker than they should have been. Each pool of light fought hard to shine in this place.

Arthur walked toward the throne, shivering. This chamber felt even more wrong than the city, as if it were the source of the stench that permeated everything. Yet he couldn't leave. Something was drawing him forward, pulling him toward the throne.

The throne was solid gold and as large as the blacksmith shop back in Ballylesson. Golden stairs climbed to a gigantic seat, and Arthur took the first step. He didn't want to, but he felt like he needed to. Whatever was drawing him forward was at the top. And as he arrived, he spotted it.

A small, carved wooden box floated before the seat. It spun slowly, surrounded by a pulsating darkness. As he looked at it, Arthur had the distinct impression the box was trying to escape the darkness. When he moved, it shifted toward him, vibrating and pressing against the shadows.

As if by magic, words appeared on the side of the box. Arthur had to squint to read them through the shadows. “ARTHUR GREAVES: LOYAL. COURAGEOUS. WARRIOR.”

Feeling as if he were in a dream, Arthur reached for the box, but the moment his fingers touched the darkness, they burned like fire. He whipped his hand back and watched throbbing blisters form on his fingers. He looked again at the box and knew he couldn't give up. He didn't think he was courageous or a warrior of any kind, though he did try his best to be loyal. He had no idea what the box was, but he would not leave without it. He hated the idea of anything being trapped in this place.

 

Jack gaped at the poet.

“Won't you come in and join me for tea?” The poet's smile was warm and inviting. He stood on the stoop of a very ordinary-looking cottage.

“Yes. Yes, sir, I mean. Your Majesty or …” Jack could feel his face turn red. “I would love to.”

“I've been looking forward to seeing you again!” The poet smiled and stepped inside. A teapot and two cups were laid out on the table. “Please sit down.”

“Thank you,” Jack said numbly. “But I … I think you may be mistaken. We've never met.”

“Oh, sure we have, lots of times!” The poet winked as he poured the tea. The smell of fresh mint made Jack smile. It was the same kind of tea his mother used to make.

“When did we meet? I'm not saying you're wrong, only that I'm sure I would have remembered.”

“Not only have you met me”—the poet's eyes sparkled like his smile—“but you have been me.”

Jack stopped the cup before it touched his lips.
Is it possible that with all that's happened the poet has somehow … lost his marbles?

The poet burst out laughing. “I assure you, all of my marbles are intact!” He wiped a tear from his eye. “But you are very funny. It's one of the many things I love about you.”

Jack's jaw dropped. The poet had just read his thoughts. He should be embarrassed, but somehow he didn't mind.

“What do you mean, I've been you?” Jack asked.

“You were me the day you tried to rescue Arthur from the bully in the schoolyard.” The poet sipped his tea. “You've been me more times than I could possibly mention over a single cup of tea. Whenever you choose to love others, you are my hands and my breath.” As the poet leaned forward, Jack leaned in as well. He wanted to be as close to him as possible.

“You see, Jack, when you were born, a part of my spirit was woven into yours, and my blood flows in your veins. It is the same with all humans. And if you were to fully embrace who you are, nothing in this universe could stand against you.”

Jack wasn't sure he understood a word the poet was saying, but he wanted to hear more.

“Your life does not end when you die; this world is just the beginning of the most fantastical adventure you could imagine.”

The bells were ringing. Jack's note sounded in his chest. The poet heard them too.

“I'm afraid the tea is finished,” he said. “Your sister needs your help, Jack. She's about to face an impossible choice, and she will need you soon.”

Jack didn't want to leave. He stood, then hesitated. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course,” the poet said.

“Are we going to win? Are we going to defeat the Assassin?”

“Ah, now that is the question. But what fun is a story if you already know the ending? I will tell you this: the Assassin has only the power you give him. He can win this war. If you give him the power, he will take it. But I believe in you, and I am always with you.”