World's End (14 page)

"What's a twelve-year-old girl going to do with these supplies?" asked the old man who ran the trading post. He wore a fur cap and an old Soviet army jacket. His breath reeked of vodka and pickles. "Where's your family?"

"Slavers got my sister," replied Resuza in broken Russian.

"You're a stupid girl if you think you can get your sister back," said the man angrily. "They'll kill you the moment they see you."

Resuza knew that the man was probably right, but she didn't care. The thought of rescuing her sister was the only thing that held back the grief of losing her entire family. It was what kept her going.

"Take this, you blasted fool," said the old Russian man. He reached under the counter and pulled out an old Cossack Cavalry rifle. "Do you know how to use it?"

"Yes."

For the next several weeks, Resuza camped out in the hills above the old coastal sled route and waited until she caught sight of another band of slave traders heading north. It was a large party of at least a hundred people. Resuza trailed them surreptitiously, staying a safe distance behind them, and following the scent of the whale blubber that they burned for heat. The landscape here was filled with thick pine forests and all manner of ice—frozen streams, lakes turned solid and glistening with snowy crystals, and glaciers that glowed a luminous blue.

Ten days into her journey, Resuza encountered an old Yukaghir woman who was living as a hermit near hot springs nestled in the woods. Resuza shared some of her dried fish and the woman invited her into a cramped cave that smelled of smoke, musk, and rank animal hides. The woman spoke some Yakut, a dialect that Resuza knew, and she warned Resuza not to venture any farther north or she would encounter a vast petrified forest, where tree trunks—made of stone and without any branches—rose from the ground like the pillars of ancient temples. In the middle of this forest was a city so well hidden that it was visible for only several minutes each day in the waning glow of twilight.

"Is this where the slavers take their captives?" asked Resuza.

"Yes," said the woman. "But the captives never live for long."

The next day, before sunrise, Resuza was back on her sled, heading due north. To her great regret, the slavers had disappeared. Twice in the coming days she encountered starving packs of wolves and, in her skirmishes with them, she exhausted her supply of bullets.

Late one afternoon, she came upon hundreds of stone tree trunks rising out of the snow. This was the petrified forest. A tremor of fear tingled its way up Resuza's spine, but she cracked her whip, urging her dogs into the forest. They refused to go and instead whimpered feebly. "Stupid dogs!" Resuza cursed. She then trudged forward into the forest on foot. She marched for several hours, until the sun sank low on the horizon and the sky turned a sapphire blue. Then she saw it. For a minute or two it flickered into sight—a vast city made of rocks the color of dry, bleached bones. Dargora. Resuza ran forward, but the façade of the city's walls vanished and in its place she saw only swirling eddies of snow. She never saw the city again.

Starving and at the very edge of life, she turned around. Back at her sled, Resuza was startled to see the old woman hermit. "How did you find me?" asked Resuza.

"Your tracks were easy to follow," said the woman quietly. "And if I can follow them, so can the slavers, which is why we must leave quickly."

***

"So what happened?" asked Alfonso, who had been hanging on Resuza's every word.

"I had no weapon, I was almost out of food, and I was scared," said Resuza. "So I turned around. The old woman led me southward all the way to Barsh-yin-Binder, where I arrived penniless and, of course, without my sister. There, ironically, I was immediately captured by the Dragoonya and forced into slavery. That's where I first met Kiril. I worked for him personally—that is, until I met you and your uncle."

The gondola slipped under a bridge and then turned down a narrow canal, leaving Resuza and Alfonso in near darkness.

"Resuza," said Alfonso quietly, "let's make a deal."

"Go on," said Resuza.

"You'll come with me to find my dad, and then we'll go looking for Naomi together," said Alfonso.

"Maybe there's no point," said Resuza darkly. "Maybe they're both dead."

Alfonso said nothing.

Resuza stared at the opulence around them. They heard laughter and the clink of wine glasses from a nearby mansion. She nodded. "It's a deal."

After touring all of Somnos's canals, the gondola arrived at the southernmost gate to the city. Alfonso and Resuza got out, paid the driver, and then walked through the darkness toward Hill's anteater, Bataar, who was waiting for them. Resuza and Alfonso were just about to climb the rope ladder onto Bataar's back when someone called out from the darkness.

"Resuza, is that you?" asked the voice. "Resuza?"

A short elderly woman with large ears, a prominent nose, and bushy eyebrows stepped out of the shadows and into a shaft of moonlight. Perhaps because she was fast asleep, she moved in an awkward bowlegged way, as if she had been hunched over working on something for many years. At the sight of Resuza, her eyes popped open and her weathered face cracked into a wide smile.

"Well, if it ain't the daughter I always wanted t'have," she said. "How are ya, sweet'eart?"

"Misty!" Resuza exclaimed, and enveloped her in a hug. "Misty, this is Alfonso, the Great Sleeper. I told you all about him."

Misty stuck out a muscular hand that felt like coarse sandpaper. "Mistepha Blazenska at yer service," she said. "'Course you can just call me Misty, everyone 'round here does."

"Misty used to work in the mines below the city, before they closed," Resuza explained. "Now she works as an ant hunter and a healer. She's one of the old hill dwellers I was telling you about."

"An yer not bad yerself," said Misty admiringly. "Why, we found the anthill o'er near the north woods—musta been fifty feet high, that anthill—and Resuza plucked off six arrows and took down six ants, just like that." Misty chortled. "I ain't seen ya around lately. You all look just purfect, like two doves in the hand." She winked at Alfonso.

Alfonso blushed.

"What are you doing in Somnos?" asked Resuza. "I thought you hated city life."

"Aye," said Misty. "I got no love fer this place, but I got a sick aunt that I 'ad to visit in the Drowsy Quarter, and I'm just now headed back out to the hills. What about you two? Whatchya doin' in the city at this hour?"

"We spent the day with Josephus," explained Resuza. "And, later on, we went for a long gondola ride through the Dreamer's Quarter."

Misty took a step closer.

"What business did you have wit' Josephus?" asked Misty quietly.

"Just chatting," replied Alfonso. He saw no point in going into any detail.

"Come now," said Misty. "You can trust me. I ain't one to gossip or even talk much at all."

Alfonso nodded reluctantly and Resuza explained, very briefly, that they had discussed the lost city of Jasber and the old Fault Roads. She said nothing about Leif or Marcus Firment, but Misty stiffened visibly at the mention of the Fault Roads.

"He tol' ya 'bout the Fault Roads, did'e?" asked Misty.

Resuza nodded.

"Well, he's got no business talkin' about them roads," growled Misty. "Hima all people. No business at all."

"What are you talking about?" asked Resuza.

"That old bugger oughta know better 'an that—the fool!" spat Misty. "All that book learnin' and not an ounce-a integrity. Don't a promise mean anythin'?"

Without another word, Misty stalked off into the darkness.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING,
Alfonso sat in the amphitheater of the Tree Palace. The stage backed up directly against the enormous trunk of the Founding Tree. The cover of leaves and branches was so thick here that very little direct sunlight made its way into the space. The air was damp and cool, and the only substantial light came from hundreds of lanterns filled with fireflies. The seats were divided into two sections: awake and asleep. The sleeping side was occupied mainly by policemen, reporters, stenographers, courtroom artists, and other professionals who needed to maintain perfect concentration. The awake side was occupied by spectators—including Alfonso, Hill, Nance, Resuza, Bilblox, and Josephus, who all sat in the front row.

The stage had just three people on it. There was Sofia Perzepol, the Grand Vizier, who stood behind a large wooden lectern. Because of the importance of this case, she was the presiding judge. To her left stood a tall, barrel-chested man dressed in a dark green robe. His name was Lukos Treeben and he was Somnos's preeminent legal scholar, who had been appointed as prosecutor. To her right was a large steel cage. Inside the cage stood a tall, muscular man, with entirely white eyes and a hideous scar on his face that twisted and coiled like a snake.

The man was Kiril.

Alfonso knew that Kiril was over six hundred years old—a feat he had achieved by rubbing the purple ash of the Founding Trees into his eyes. The purple ash did strange things to people. It gave non-Dormians a burst of good health, several minutes of telescopic vision, and a momentary glimpse into the future, but ultimately it left them white-eyed and blind. This is what had happened to Bilblox. It was different for Dormians. They too enjoyed telescopic vision and a glimpse into the future, although they enjoyed it for longer. However, the real benefit for Dormians was that the ash could prolong life. By rubbing a pinch of the ash into his or her eyes every few years, a Dormian could live indefinitely. This is what Kiril had done. If you were Dormian, the purple ash turned your eyes white, but it did not make you blind. Kiril could see perfectly well, and currently he was surveying the crowd.

Alfonso wanted to stare at Kiril, but instead he looked away, feeling oddly guilty. Despite all of the many terrible things that Kiril had done—including killing General Loxoc—Alfonso couldn't help feeling somewhat sorry for Kiril as he stood onstage under the malevolent gaze of several hundred Dormians. Alfonso eventually forced himself to look up and confront Kiril. Alfonso was surprised to see that Kiril's eyes betrayed no sign of malice or rage; to the contrary, Kiril seemed almost eerily calm. The two of them locked eyes. And then, ever so slightly, the corners of Kiril's mouth bent upward to form the faintest of smiles.

"I hereby call today's proceedings to order," the Grand Vizier called out as she banged her gavel on the wooden lectern. "Today we will continue with the trial, and the prosecution will question the defendant directly," she explained. "The defendant has refused the aid of a barrister, which is his legal right, and so he shall answer all questions directly. The questions will be posed by myself and by the prosecutor, Mr. Treeben. My first question is a formal matter for the record and quite a simple one: Who are you, sir?"

Kiril turned and nodded at the Grand Vizier, acknowledging her for the first time, and then looked at the crowd.

"I am a Dormian by birth," he began. "I was born Kiril Spratic roughly six hundred years ago in the city of Jasber. I come from a distinguished family. My father, Kemal Spratic, was a nobleman. Our family genealogy traces all the way back to the founding of Jasber and the very birth of Dormia. All of this is a matter of public record, and your historians can verify it easily enough in the Somnos library. Everything that I tell you today is true."

"Can you tell us what happened to your eyes?" asked the Grand Vizier. Alfonso couldn't help glancing at Bilblox, who shifted his weight uncomfortably but showed no emotion.

"It would be my pleasure." Kiril explained that, when he was twelve years old, he went on a journey with his mother, brother, and sister to the city of Noctos. They traveled via the old Fault Roads to visit "Outer Dormia" as the Jasberians called it. They passed through the gate and then entered the Hub, the giant intersection where the Fault Roads from each of the various Dormian cities converged. "From there," concluded Kiril, "it was a short journey to Noctos."

"How did you get permission to pass through the gate?" inquired the Grand Vizier.

"It was easy to get," explained Kiril. "My father was the gatekeeper, as was his father, and his father before them."

"Your family maintained the Jasber Gate?" asked the Grand Vizier. "You mean you belong to one of the ancient families of gatekeepers?"

"That's correct," said Kiril. The audience rustled with excited whispers. Alfonso now knew exactly why Josephus had wanted him to be here today. If it was true that Kiril's family operated the Jasber Gate, then Kiril might know the secret code that opened the gate. And if he did ... well, it might be possible to reach Jasber.

"Tell me," said the Grand Vizier, "what happened after you passed through the Jasber Gate?"

"We continued on to Noctos and visited a distant cousin of my mother's," explained Kiril. "She ran a large apothecary. We were meant to stay for three weeks, but on the fourth day of our visit, the city came under attack by the Dragoonya. During the battle that ensued, part of the Founding Tree burned and a cloud of purple ash rained down upon the city, blinding several hundred people, including my entire family. After the battle, those of us who were exposed to the ash were rounded up like criminals. They called us Gahnos, which, as you know, means 'untrustworthy' in the ancient tongue. They said we would burn the rest of the Founding Tree. They said we had been corrupted. They herded us through the streets and then cast us out into the maw of an angry winter. I recall, in particular, a huge man with a pug nose and a shaved head shoving people out of the gate. My mother begged him to spare her children. He hit her savagely. I remember it as if it were yesterday. He hit her and she fell backwards through the gate and into the snow. My mother, brother, and sister died there, as did a number of Dormian knights who had also been exposed to the ash. I alone was saved."

"And who saved you?" asked the Grand Vizier.

Kiril did not answer immediately. He appeared to be lost in thought. The Grand Vizier's questions had triggered a strong memory of that fateful day, although it was a memory he kept to himself: