Nightfall (9 page)

All around them, townspeople were rising to their feet and shouldering their bags. A group of furriers had arrived and were stalking through the crowd. They were fierce-looking men, with sunburned faces, chiseled jaws, and eyes the color of shallow water. Several of them brandished rifles with gleaming bayonets. It was odd to see the furriers so well armed. Nobody in Bliss had guns except for a few of the okrana, and theirs were ancient muskets.

As the furriers walked past, one of them—a small, wiry man with blond hair—stopped to stare at Marin and Kana, then walked toward them. Anton frowned and stepped forward, blocking the furrier. The surrounding area grew quiet and all eyes were drawn to this sudden face-off. Anton said nothing. His face was a mask, showing neither bravado nor weakness.

“Your boy,” said the furrier, pointing to Kana. “He has our eyes.” And it was true. Kana's pale blue eyes were a rare trait among the people of Bliss.

Anton seemed unsure how to respond. The furriers rarely talked with townspeople.

“The boy,” repeated the furrier. “He is yours?”

“Yes, of course,” Anton replied. He stepped forward, took his hands out from under his traveling cloak, and looked the furrier square in the eyes.

The furrier raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that, old man? His eyes mark him as one of us.” He laughed hoarsely. Tarae walked over to Anton and placed a hand on his shoulder.

The furrier leered at Tarae, then winked. Anton's hands balled into fists. Marin studied her father closely, wondering what he would do. But he did nothing. The unanswered insult was too much for Marin. “His eyes are different because he's blind,” she called out. “Does that mean you're blind, too?”

The furrier stared at Marin with open interest. “You have a wild spirit,” he said. “I will watch for you on the boats.”

Marin forced herself to glare back at him—she refused to give him the satisfaction of appearing scared.

Anton turned around and shot her an unmistakable warning with his eyes:
Keep out of this.
Meanwhile, the furrier laughed and walked away.

Tarae yanked Marin to her side.

“What's wrong with you, child?” she hissed. “Don't even
look
at those men.” Everyone in their area was staring at them. Thankfully for Marin, it only lasted a few seconds, and the nervous energy of the departure returned.

Marin continued to watch the furriers as they walked away. She felt her father's presence next to her and, rather suddenly, she felt ashamed of herself. Marin had been so concerned about the loss of her own independence that she'd missed the larger truth. They were
all
at the mercy of the furriers.

In the distance, she could see the furriers speaking with the mayor. The conversation didn't seem friendly. The mayor's face grew red and pinched, and his hands curled into fists. He rocked back and forth and shook his head vehemently while the furriers stood there, impassive. Marin couldn't make out the words, but she registered the mayor's change in tone. It shifted from annoyance to pleading. And then it was over. The furriers walked away toward the cliffs, their guns glinting in the last dregs of sunlight. The mayor and the townspeople watched them go.

Not long after this, the teenaged okrana with the kinky hair pushed his way back into the center of their gathering and, once again, stood ceremoniously by the flagpole.

“Attention, Night Fire!” he yelled. “The furriers collected more furs than they expected. There will not be room for all of your provisions.”

“What about
people
?” one of their neighbors shouted. “Is there room for all of the people?”

“I think so,” replied the boy. He paused for a moment to consult his codex, as if the answer might be hidden away in its pages. Then he looked back up. “Truth is,” he said, “I don't really know.”

Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, asking questions, shouting accusations, and demanding answers. The same thing was happening at the other flagpoles. The wind came up suddenly and added to the general cacophony. In the distance, the man with the speaking trumpet was trying to reestablish order. “EVERYBODY SIT DOWN!” he called. “ONLY THE ELDERLY AND INFIRM ARE BOARDING NOW. THE REST OF
US WON'T BOARD FOR FOUR MORE HOURS. AT LEAST FOUR MORE HOURS!” But his voice only seemed to raise the overall volume of the crowd. It was amid this pandemonium that Marin caught a glimpse of a little boy collapsed on the ground.

Without a doubt, it was Francis. And he was alone.

Marin shook free of her mother's grip and pushed her way through the crowd. Francis lay on the dusty ground, curled up on one side, his eyes half open and brimming with tears.

“Francis!” said Marin, kneeling down and placing a hand on his back. “Where's Line?”

He just whimpered and kept crying.

She forced herself to sound calm. “Francis, just a few hours ago, someone saw Line down at the bog. Where is he?”

Francis shook his head. “It was a mistake. Some other kid—he wasn't even stuck.”

“Who said it was a mistake?” demanded Marin. “Ivo?”

“The mayor,” said Francis. Tears streamed down his dirty face. “I knew it wasn't Line at the bog,” he said, still proud despite everything. “Line never gets stuck.”

“Francis—you have to think hard,” implored Marin. “Was there
anything else
he wanted to do before he left? Something he hadn't done?” Marin was conscious that her voice had begun to sound harsh, but the panic in her stomach was coursing through her body.

Francis shook his head no, but then stopped suddenly. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. “A few days ago, he told me that he wanted to do something for you but probably
wouldn't have time. He had lost something of yours in the woods.”

Marin's heart began to race.
Damn it.

She turned back to Line's little brother. “Francis, listen to me,” she said. “Do you see your neighbors over there?” She pointed to a nearby group of children clutching at a woman's skirt.

He nodded.

“Stay with them,” she said, rising to her feet. All around them, people were still shouting heatedly. “I'm going to find Line, but you need to help me. When my parents ask about Kana and me, you tell them you saw us helping the old people board the boats. It's just a little lie, and it will help us find Line. We won't be gone long. Understand?”

Francis nodded.

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied, his eyes round and scared.

“We'll find him,” said Marin. She patted his forehead, stood up, and weaved her way through the crowd until she found Kana. He was standing a few feet away from their parents, who didn't notice that she'd come back.

“You were right about Line,” she said in a low voice.

Kana turned, his mouth opening in disbelief. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“We have four hours to find him,” she said. “Francis is going to tell Mom and Dad that we're helping board the boats. We'll be quick. There and back shouldn't take us more than two hours.”

Kana stared at her. “It'll be dark,” he said. “Much darker than before.”

“I know,” replied Marin. She leaned even closer, until she could feel his breath. “That's why you have to come with me.”

They stared at each other. Finally, Kana nodded. “Let's go.”

Kana and Marin sprinted through the empty town, hugging buildings and avoiding open spaces where they might be spotted by the okrana. The only living creature they saw was a mangy old dog that someone had tied to the front post of a one-room house. The dog was barking mournfully, as if he understood that he had been left for dead.

“I can't leave him like this,” Kana said, stopping for a moment to undo the knot on the dog's leash. As soon as he was free, the dog scurried through the front door and back inside the one-room house where he lived.

They ran through Bliss, past their old home, Shadow House—now silent and empty—and followed a faint path only Kana could see. In this direction, there was just one dwelling closer to the woods than Shadow House, and it was often forgotten. It was a ramshackle cottage whose flimsy walls and roof were supported by the gnarled, twisting limbs of several willow trees.

“You think the hermit is still there?” asked Marin.

“Why would he be?” asked Kana, shaking his head. “I doubt anyone else is as stupid as we are.”

Stupid or not, Kana felt better running along the path than sitting with the rest of the town by the cliffs. If anything, he appreciated these last, stolen few moments on the island—the cold air, the scent of evergreens, the glimmer of dew trapped in pinecones.
This is almost worth the risk,
thought Kana.
Almost.
He didn't even mind his sister being here with him because, for once, she seemed contrite and agreeable.
She needs me now.
That was the crux of it—so she was simply following his lead, silently. This was something to be savored.

The path faded even more as they passed the hermit's cottage, and at the edge of the forest the path simply disappeared. Kana picked a stick off the ground and used it to poke around the thick underbrush until he found the opening he was looking for. It was hidden by a tangle of dead branches and covered with a thick, gauzy curtain of spiderwebs, which he tore through with his stick. It was strange how spiders were now everywhere, in these months before departure. Some of the largest ones, with legs that were colored a bizarre motley of green and gray, turned up in pillows and blankets. In the school yard, many kids claimed that during Night, every square inch of the island was crawling with spiders. But Kana knew this was just speculation.
Everyone is an expert on the Night,
thought Kana.
Even though no one's seen it.

He pushed through the torn webs and carefully climbed through a tangle of low-hanging branches. After a few seconds, they emerged onto a narrow trail that cut through a jumble of
young trees. While Kana waited for Marin to struggle through, his mind echoed with the warning from his dream.

Stay away from the woods, child—don't let them see you.

Kana looked around at the unfolding of the heavy forest—the thick tapestry of leaves, needles, damp earth, and moss. A chill ran up his spine.
Don't let them see you.
Who were they? And
why
shouldn't they see him? He ran his hand across his forehead. He was being childish. It was just a dream. And yet it tugged at him—as if he had tied a string around his wrist to help him remember something, but now he could not recall what it was he was supposed to remember.

Kana led the way deeper into the forest. He walked along the trail at a brisk speed. On their last trip into the woods, they had marked their path with white paint. Though faded, it was still there, and absorbed enough ambient light to help them find their way.
Would these markings be bright enough for Line to see? Maybe. If he had the sense to bring torches.
The ground underfoot was shrouded in darkness, and Marin tripped repeatedly over roots that crossed the trail.

“Here,” said Kana, offering up his hand. Marin clasped it in hers and they continued down the path. After a hundred yards or so, it opened into a small clearing. Old-growth trees bordered the area, their leaves and branches filling the open space overhead. The space looked like a grand vaulted room with tree trunks for walls and branches for a ceiling hundreds of feet above them. Kana remembered the giddiness he felt at discovering this space months before.

Together they ducked through an opening between two
trees and headed down a very narrow path, following the dabs of white paint. The trees and branches were so tightly pressed here that they resembled walls of woven wicker. It had been this way when they found it. In places, the forest walls hemmed in so tightly that they had to step sideways along the path to keep going.

Kana maintained a fast pace, pausing only once, when he felt a pinprick on his arm. It was a drop of ice-cold water. Another landed on his neck, then again on his arm. He looked up. It was impossible to get a decent view of the sky, but the air smelled moist, and he guessed it was raining far above.

“Are we taking too long?” asked Marin, breathing heavily. “I can't tell.”

Kana studied his sister's face for a moment. She was deeply distraught. He was scared, too. His pulse was racing. Neither of them should be in the woods. They—and Line—should be waiting patiently to board the furrier boats.
And we're taking this risk for what? A necklace? Line, how could you be so stupid?
He had completely lost his head for Marin.

“Will we make it?” asked Marin.

“Yes,” replied Kana. “But we have to move faster—just in case.” He took her hand again and they began to run.