World's End (15 page)

It was Nartam, king of the Dragoonya, who had saved him.

Of course, at the time, Kiril did not recognize Nartam. He was dressed as a shepherd. He had long blond hair, a bushy beard, and two entirely vacant white eyes. He introduced himself simply as Däros. In the Dragoonya tongue, the word for "father" and "master" were one and the same: däros. He had come across Kiril in a narrow ravine, nestled in the High Peaks of the Urals. Snow glistened in the air, while the temperature kept falling. Kiril was frostbit, starving, and on the brink of death. He had not eaten in weeks. A normal person would have been dead by that point, but Kiril was no longer a normal person. He had been exposed to the purple ash of the Founding Tree and therefore he was not as weak and vulnerable as other Dormians.

When they first met, Kiril's white eyes gave him away immediately, and Nartam asked him tenderly, "My poor child, are you one of the Gahnos from Noctos?" Kiril nodded, but said nothing. He could not muster the energy to speak. "Come then," said Nartam. "I have taken in other orphans as well and I offer you shelter for as long as you like."

Kiril followed Nartam to a narrow cave. "Come, don't be frightened," said Nartam. "There is food and warmth inside." The cave burrowed deep into the earth and then opened up dramatically into a spacious cavern with dozens of hot springs. This was a small village of sorts. Several dozen people were milling about, bathing in hot springs, tending to fires, cooking meat, sewing clothes, and even playing a game with a ball. They were all children, and their eyes were entirely white. "These children are all Gahnos like you," explained Nartam. "I have taken them under my wing."

"Are you a Dragoonya?" asked Kiril timidly.

"I am," replied Nartam with a reassuring smile. "But you shouldn't be frightened! Virtually everything that you've been told about the Dragoonya is a lie. Dormians are quite adept at lying. I know. Like you, I was once one of them. Dormians profess to be noble and good, but I don't need to tell you that is a lie. You have seen the truth for yourself."

In the coming days, Kiril ate, rested, bathed, and even began to talk and play with the other children. They were all from Noctos. As it turns out, one of the places in Noctos that was hardest hit by the falling purple ash was a school, and all of the children from the school had been cast out of the city and into the snow. This partially explained why there were no adults present. But there were several children, like Kiril, who had been expelled from Noctos with their parents. They all told a similar story. Just as their families were on the brink of death, Nartam appeared and offered to take the children, but only the children. Nartam explained that he had found a warm cave stocked with food, but that there wasn't room for adults. He was saving the children first. In desperation, many of the parents agreed. Those families who refused almost certainly perished.

In the evenings, when the children gathered for dinner, Nartam talked to them and told them stories. He said that they were all family now. "Our white eyes have marked us," explained Nartam. "We have been expelled from Dormia and we will never belong there. You will be reviled as villains and freaks. My dear children, know this: we only have one another."

One day, Nartam learned that Kiril was originally from Jasber, and that his parents had been in the upper echelons of Jasberian society. From that moment forward, Nartam took an especially keen interest in the boy. As it turned out, Nartam had a special connection to Jasber.

He was born Milos Brutinov Nartam in the Dormian city of Dragoo. As a boy, he had devoted himself to scorial sciences, which explored the properties and chemistry of the purple ash. As a teenager, he traveled via the Fault Roads to Jasber, the only Dormian city that was allowed to store and experiment with the ash. Jasber's riches and advanced work on the ash made an enormous impression on Nartam. After several years of study in Jasber, Nartam returned to Dragoo and wrote a famous book called
Scorial Science and the Future of Dormia.
It argued that Dormians should occasionally burn portions of their Founding Trees and use the powers of the ash to their advantage.

"The book that I wrote was banned," explained Nartam one evening, as the Gahno children gathered around him. "You see, the Dormians are a very fearful people. They fear change, they fear the outside world, and—as you most painfully know, my dear children—they fear one another. I tried to explain to them that the Founding Tree's greatest gift was its purple ash, which bestowed both immortality and the power to see into the future. But they wouldn't listen. There is no talking sense into Dormians. They won't listen. You know this. Did any of them listen to your cry for help as you were cast into the snow to die? No. They understand just two things: power and fear."

"But wasn't the city of Dragoo burned almost two thousand years ago?" asked one of the children. "How is it that you are still alive?"

"My dear child," replied Nartam in a kindly manner, "we here, we family of orphans, we have something very special. We have the purple ash from a secret supply that I have found. And, do you know what? I am going to share it with you. Together we shall live forever. How does that sound?"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Kiril jumped and looked around. His mind returned to the courtroom, where the Grand Vizier was banging her gavel.

"You cannot ignore the question," said the Grand Vizier. "I will ask you again. Who saved you outside Noctos?"

"You know perfectly well who saved me," replied Kiril curtly.

"Was it Nartam?" asked the prosecutor, Mr. Treeben.

"Yes," replied Kiril. "It was he who showed me kindness after my own people left me to die."

"Kindness?" said the prosecutor pointedly. "Isn't that a bit misleading, not to mention naive, to categorize his actions as 'kindness'? It is a known fact that Nartam used the Gahnos to further his own evil purposes."

"'Evil,'" said Kiril slowly, as if he were savoring the word like a sip of good wine. "Now
that
is a most interesting choice of words, Mr. Treeben. Forgive me, but the only true act of evil that I see here is casting out your own kind—Dormians who risked their own lives for you—and tossing them into the snow to die."

"That is a most shameful and regrettable chapter in our history..." began the prosecutor.

"Regrettable?" snarled Kiril. "That is how you describe the murder of innocent men, women, and children? You may be an officer of the court but it's quite clear to me, sir, that you haven't the foggiest sense of what justice is or isn't."

"And what about you?" asked the prosecutor. "You who have murdered so many men, including Gilliad Loxoc and his brother, Johno Loxoc. Does your pain give you free license to punish and murder as you please?"

"I have suffered," replied Kiril calmly. "But I ask for no special treatment or exemption from punishment because of this. I have slain many Dormians, including your precious General Loxoc and his brother, Johno the Wanderer, and I would gladly do it again. I have been at war with Dormia for almost six centuries. And long after you are dead, sir, I will still be at war with your people—if they should be so lucky to still exist."

A
T LUNCHTIME,
the proceedings were gaveled to a close, and the orderly crowd of Dormians headed for the exits. Josephus approached Alfonso and whispered into his ear, "I believe that Kiril wants a word with you." Alfonso glanced around to look for Hill. He couldn't imagine that his uncle would want him to get very close to Kiril. Hill, however, was making his way out of the amphitheater and was well out of earshot. Even most of the courthouse guards seemed to have temporarily disappeared. The only one who remained was Bilblox, who was blind and unable to see what was going on. Alfonso wondered whether Josephus had planned it this way. It was all very odd.

"Well?" asked Josephus.

Alfonso stood up and walked toward the stage. But before he could reach it, several Dormian knights approached him and stood in his way.

"I'm sorry, Master Great Sleeper," said one of the knights. "But we are under strict orders not to let anyone near the prisoner."

Alfonso paused, gathered himself, and then asked with all the confidence he could muster, "Who is the head of your order?"

"You are, sir," replied one of the knights.

"Then step aside," said Alfonso calmly.

The knights did as they were told and Alfonso continued on his way to the stage. Kiril watched Alfonso approach but said nothing. His face betrayed no expression. Alfonso drew within five feet of the cage and stopped.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

"How's your father?" asked Kiril calmly. "Still presumed dead?"

Alfonso's gut tightened, but he said nothing.

"He seemed like an able sort of fellow," said Kiril. "Tremendous stamina he had." Kiril smiled to himself. "We have some unfinished business, he and I."

"You met him?" asked Alfonso.

"In a manner of speaking," replied Kiril.

"Is he alive?" blurted out Alfonso. As soon as he spoke, he regretted sounding so young and eager.

"Possibly," replied Kiril. "One thing is for certain, though—he made it all the way to Jasber."

"How would you know?" asked Alfonso.

"Because I am meticulous when it comes to gathering information about Dormia, and Jasber in particular," Kiril replied evenly. "You see, for the last several centuries, I have dispatched spies to monitor the four ancient Seed Depots. These spies waited for a Great Sleeper to arrive, in the hopes that when one did, we would simply follow him or her back to Jasber. But none ever showed up. I began to suspect that Jasber had perished. I stopped looking for my old hometown. Then, about a decade ago, the first Great Sleeper arrived at a depot. Several came, and we followed each of them, but none succeeded in making it all the way to Jasber. Then, finally, your father arrived. We picked him up in Alexandria and then, well ... we lost him. But no other Great Sleepers came after him. Typically a Founding Tree of Jasber summons Great Sleepers one after another until one of them succeeds in delivering a new tree. No more passed through the Seed Depot in Alexandria after your father. Therefore, he must have succeeded."

"But his life is in danger?" asked Alfonso.

"You wouldn't be here otherwise," replied Kiril calmly. "I assume that Josephus told you about the Yablochkov clan from Minsk?"

Alfonso nodded.

"Then you understand your purpose," said Kiril. "I don't know what kind of dire situation your father has fallen into, but it's quite apparent to both me and Josephus that you've been summoned to save him."

"Where is he?" demanded Alfonso. "Still in Jasber?"

"Yes," replied Kiril. "I believe he's in a very, how shall I put it,
remote
part of the city."

"What do you mean?" demanded Alfonso.

"Patience, my young friend, you must have patience," said Kiril. "Right now there is another matter—it involves the Jasber Gate. Once we pass through it, I know the way through the Fault Roads to Jasber. I can lead you to your father."

"Why would you do that?" asked Alfonso. "What do you want in return?"

"You'll have my offer soon enough," replied Kiril. "Naturally, no one will trust me when it comes time to make a deal—no one ever trusts a Gahno—but I thought you might have a slightly more
enlightened
perspective."

Alfonso said nothing. His mind was reeling, and, above all, he felt a terrible anxiousness about his father.

"Perhaps you see through all of this lofty rhetoric about what's right or wrong," said Kiril calmly, almost with the air of a schoolteacher. "In any conflict, both sides always believe that they are the righteous ones, and they come up with elaborate moral justifications to kill other human beings. That's why my family was driven into the snow to die. At the time, that was the 'right' thing to do. This is how leaders manipulate men into fighting wars and doing all manner of horrible things. All of these distinctions we make, these words and titles—Dormian, Dragoonya, Gahno, good, evil—these are just the tools of manipulation. In the end, there is only power. That's all that matters at the end of the day. And the powerful always protect their interests and justify their tactics. You may bristle at this, but deep down, you know I tell the truth."

"What does any of this have to do with rescuing my father?" asked Alfonso with a sigh of frustration.

"It has everything to do with it," snapped Kiril. He stepped closer so that he was almost touching the bars on the cage. "Don't you see? They're going to tell you that searching for your father is too great a risk. They'll tell you it puts Dormia in danger, that your father is just one man, that it's not worth it, even if he is a Great Sleeper. But take it from someone who has suffered greatly for the greater good of Dormia. Take it from someone whose family perished unjustly so that Dormia could be safe. In the end, they don't care about you or your father. They only care about their pathetic city of Somnos."

***

Outside of the Tree Palace, Hill, Resuza, and Bilblox stood on the steps amid a vast crowd of Dormians. None of them had yet realized that Alfonso was missing. The crowd was so thick that it was easy to lose sight of someone, even if that person was standing nearby. Nervous energy pulsed through the crowd. Everyone was talking about what Kiril had just said at the trial.

Despite the steady din of noise, Bilblox was still able to hear the flapping sound that the leaves of the Founding Tree made as they undulated in the breeze. He couldn't see the leaves, of course, but he could picture them in his mind's eye. He could also picture how these leaves might look if they were being consumed in flames. He could picture the purple ash that would waft down from the sky as the leaves burned. And he could imagine what it might feel like if some of this purple ash fluttered down onto his face and dissolved in the moist film of his eyes. These were awful thoughts, and Bilblox hated himself for even conjuring this scenario, but he suspected that the purple ash was the key to making his headaches go away.