World's End (39 page)

Bilblox shook his head. "I'll take another refill on the ale," he said.

"Certainly," said Second-Floor Man.

"How old is the lighthouse?" asked Alfonso. "It looks ancient."

"The lighthouse portion was built in the seventeen hundreds by a Kazakh king named Abul Khair Khan," said Second-Floor Man. "Later it was used as a way station for gold miners who were mining one of the nearby islands. And then, in the late eighteen hundreds, it was taken over by the Groh family and converted into a grand fishing lodge. I can't say exactly how old the foundation is, but quite old—several centuries for certain."

"Oh it's a great deal older than that," Josephus weakly interjected. For the first time since they had saved him in the Fault Roads, the old historian was awake and somewhat lucid. He was now sitting up on the couch and looked feverish, but alert. "I am sure this structure was built and rebuilt many times," continued Josephus shakily. "But the original foundation is probably well over four thousand years old."

"Josephus," said Resuza nervously, "are you all right?"

"Far from it, my dear," he said with a rather sad smile.

"Would you like some food?" asked Second-Floor Man.

Josephus shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I have no appetite," he said tiredly. He looked at Second-Floor Man. "The cellar in this lighthouse—is it long and rectangular and on each end are there several deep holes in the stone, like inlaid buckets?"

Second-Floor Man looked astonished. "How did you know that? In thirty years, only myself and First-Floor Man have ever set foot down there."

"Just a hunch," replied Josephus. "That's an old Jasberian cellar, and the holes are used for storing vegetables. I'm sure you find them quite useful; they're perfect for preserving freshness during the long winter months." He looked at the rest of them and shook his head wearily. "I've been studying Jasber my entire life. The lighthouse itself isn't Jasberian, but the foundation is. I remember reading about several outposts built on islands throughout the Sea of Clouds. There were once five guard towers for Jasber."

"Jasberian?" replied Second-Floor Man. "What a strange name. Is it an old slave trading tribe?"

Josephus shook his head. He suddenly looked as if he might pass out at any minute. "There should be an island nearby," whispered Josephus hoarsely. "It has sheer gray cliffs that rise out of the water. On the top of the cliffs are thick razor hedges. Do you know the island?"

"There are thousands that fit the description in the Ferramentum Archipelago," replied Second-Floor Man. "It's within a day's sail of the lighthouse, although once you arrive in the area you could be sailing there for years before you find the right place. Do you have any other information about what the island looks like?"

Josephus shook his head sadly. "That's all I know," he replied in the softest of voices. "I-I thought that..." But the old historian never finished his sentence. He collapsed suddenly into the couch.

"We need to get him into bed," said Hill with great urgency.

"Is he alive?" asked Clink.

Hill raced over to where Josephus was lying and took his pulse.

"Just barely."

J
OSEPHUS WAS QUICKLY TAKEN
to a bedroom on the third floor and he remained there, tossing and turning in his sleep, muttering incomprehensibly. Hill stayed by his side most of the time and cooled his feverish forehead with a wet cloth. By nine o'clock that evening, the others had also made their way up to the third floor. Everyone was in dire need of rest. As much as they wanted to press on for Jasber, they simply couldn't resume their quest until the morning. They were too tired, and besides, it hardly seemed right to leave Josephus in this condition.

Most of the traveling party was euphoric at the thought of sleeping in a bed. After being underground for so long, in such desperate conditions, the idea of a bed and thick blankets was almost too wonderful to imagine. Upstairs, Alfonso and the others met Third-Floor Lady—a squat, round woman, with closely cropped white hair, a wide smile devoid of teeth, and a large white-haired mole in the middle of her forehead.

"I've nize rooms for you, but you havf to share," she said. "Come, come, I vill show you." Third-Floor Lady walked walruslike to each of the rooms as they trailed behind. Bilblox, Clink, and Kõrgu shared the master bedroom; Hill and Josephus were in the large guest room nearby. Alfonso was given a tiny room farther down, while Resuza and Misty's bedroom was Lady Groh's former dressing room on the other end of the hallway.

Alfonso's room was dominated by a large fireplace crackling with a blazing fire, and a bay window overlooking the icy seas. This far up, he could barely see the water below, and it felt as if he was in the middle of the clouds. Every so often, plumes of iced mist would crackle menacingly against the bay window. Despite being in a warm and cozy room, he wasn't able to fall asleep. He tried to shake off a sense of foreboding. Was his father alive? Where was Kiril? Would they find Jasber? The questions tormented him and kept him awake.

Eventually, Alfonso got out of bed, sat down in a small chair near the fire, and took out his dad's book about Alexandrian architecture. The familiar yellowed paper and Leif's handwritten notes calmed him down. Alfonso stared at the fire and relaxed enough to think happier thoughts and to imagine the future: he and Leif returning triumphantly to World's End. They'd work together in the greenhouse, and they'd joke about their sleeping-selves. Maybe they'd work on delving deeper into hypnogogia. As he closed his eyes, Alfonso thought of the thick forests around World's End, the mournful calls of the loons, and the delicious warmth of waking up late on a Sunday. He thought back to when he was eight or nine, and his dad's large hands gently shook him awake after a long, comfortable sleep. It was so luxurious to be in a warm house and to be protected and loved. Alfonso stared out the window as the fire warmed his legs. He sighed deeply and turned to crawl back into bed.

At that moment, a scratch and low whine came from the door. Alfonso yawned, stood up, and opened the door to let Kõrgu inside. The enormous wolf padded softly inside and raised her alert snout toward Alfonso, who began to scratch on the undersides of her furry neck. Kõrgu let out an appreciative whoof and settled down by the fire next to Alfonso's chair. Suddenly hungry again, Alfonso took out a heavy plate of food wrapped up from supper and began to eat. He fed Kõrgu as well, and the two of them sat there happily eating a second dinner.

After a few minutes, there was a light knock on the door.

"Who is it?" asked Alfonso.

The door opened and Resuza entered. She was carrying two steaming mugs. "I thought you'd still be up. I can't sleep—Misty is snoring up a racket. You want some hot chocolate?" she asked.

"Where did you get that?" asked Alfonso.

"Second-Floor Man prepared them," said Resuza. "You know, I could really get used to living in this place."

"Tell me about it," said Alfonso as he took a mug from Resuza. He took a sip and tasted the darkest, richest, and most delicious gulp of hot chocolate that he'd ever had. They both sipped their drinks and, for a few minutes, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the distant crashing of the waves.

"It's pretty cozy in here," said Resuza.

"Yup," said Alfonso. "I know we have to leave but I'm not looking forward to it."

"Me neither," said Resuza. "I have this bad feeling, like something terrible is about to happen to us."

Alfonso stared at her for a moment and remembered his strange dream in Somnos about Resuza and Hill.

"What?" asked Resuza.

"It's weird," said Alfonso finally. "I have the same feeling."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it so..." began Resuza.

"There is one thing," said Alfonso suddenly. He turned around, reached into his backpack, and pulled out his sphere. He looked at it and then handed it to Resuza. "Hold on to it," he said. "Just in case."

"What?"

"I know that you're almost out of bullets," said Alfonso.

"But I don't know how to use your sphere," protested Resuza. "It's your weapon, as a Great Sleeper."

"You'll figure it out."

"What about you?" asked Resuza.

"I can always enter hypnogogia," said Alfonso. "In fact, when I'm in hypnogogia, I seem to be able to..."

"Walk through walls," suggested Resuza.

Alfonso said nothing. He just shrugged his shoulders awkwardly, as if this revelation somehow embarrassed him. Resuza moved closer to him. Alfonso's heart began to thud rapidly.

"You're quite shy and secretive sometimes," she said coyly. "I find that quite endearing." They smiled and stared into each other's eyes. Alfonso suddenly felt out of breath. He became aware of his head moving toward hers. At the same time, her head moved closer until quite abruptly, their faces and lips were only inches apart.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The door vibrated with someone's heavy rapping. Alfonso and Resuza spun apart and sprang to their feet.

"Who is it?" asked Alfonso. His face was flushed.

"It's me," said Hill. "Come quick—Josephus wants to talk to you."

Alfonso and Resuza exchanged glances. That didn't sound good. Alfonso opened the door. Hill stood there with a grave and deadly serious expression on his face. He nodded sadly at both Alfonso and Resuza.

"Are you ready?" he asked Alfonso.

Alfonso nodded.

They walked to the guest room, where Josephus was lying on a bed facing the fire. At Alfonso's entrance, Josephus nodded and began to struggle to sit up.

Alfonso rushed to his side. "Josephus, don't get up. You should rest."

Josephus nodded and lay back down. His forehead glistened with sweat and he was breathing shallowly. There was a sadness to him that rose like steam off his body.

"Sit close, Alfonso," whispered Josephus. "We must talk."

Alfonso sat in a wooden chair next to the bed. Josephus extended a long bony hand and reached for Alfonso. Alfonso took the old man's hand. It was deathly cold, despite his face being streaked with sweat.

"We must talk before my mind becomes any cloudier," said Josephus. "Y-You see, my entire life, I fought against fear. We Dormians have been under threat from the outside world for so long that we think being afraid and suspicious is normal—" He coughed violently, and a thin line of saliva appeared between his lips. "I-I tried to change that. When I learned that Jasber might still exist, I argued to take a risk! To reach out to them, using any p-possible means. And if Kiril was the only way, well then..."

"You should relax—" began Alfonso.

"No!" hissed Josephus. "Don't you see—we are out of time!"

Alfonso said nothing.

"I failed to see it," Josephus continued. "I failed to see it..."

"Failed to see what?" asked Alfonso.

"The Founding Tree tried to warn us," hissed Josephus. "Somehow it knew ... It led you to the hole in the ground ... the hexagonal hole beneath the streets ... beneath the streets of Paris." Josephus struggled to catch his breath. "Do you know what those holes are?"

"I didn't at first, but now I think I do," said Alfonso. "They're holes formed by roots, aren't they? Roots from the Coe-Nyetz Tree."

"Yes, yes, yes," whispered Josephus. "I didn't see it at the time, when you first mentioned it, but that's precisely what they must be. And now the Dragoonya want to grow a new tree. That's why Kiril is going to Jasber—to get the ether. And I opened the door for him." Josephus wheezed and then sputtered, "Somnos and Jasber may be spared, our Founding Trees may offer protection, but throughout Europe and Asia all will die. It will be another cataclysm. You know what that means?"

Alfonso nodded.

"You need to stop him.
Please
—" The old historian gasped and then his breathing stopped, like a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Josephus!" exclaimed Alfonso. "HILL!"

Hill ran to their side. Concerned voices cried out in the hall. Alfonso gripped Josephus's hands and tried to make them warm. He was frantic. He knew what was happening, but he refused to believe it.

"Josephus! NO!" Alfonso shouted. He stared at the historian's closed eyes and begged Josephus to breathe again. But he did not.

A sob erupted from Resuza, who was standing nearby. Alfonso looked up and saw Hill, Resuza, Bilblox, Misty, and Clink standing in a semicircle around his chair. Alfonso's eyes filled with tears. A warm hand touched his shoulder. It was Hill.

"May he rest in peace," said Hill.

"Did you hear what he said?" whispered Alfonso.

"Yes," said Hill. His voice was hard, like granite. "We leave at first light."

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING,
a large catamaran cut its way across the Sea of Clouds away from the lighthouse toward the Ferramentum Archipelago. The vessel, which was both light and highly maneuverable, skimmed over the water and when it encountered slabs of ice it simply skated directly over them. The catamaran's two copper-plated hulls were sturdy enough to withstand this battering from sea and ice, while the boat's three enormous bright red sails harnessed the howling winds and powered the vessel forward at a tremendous speed. At times, the catamaran shot off the tops of curling waves and literally leapt into the air. Hill, who was fast asleep, manned the tiller with utter certitude. The others—Alfonso, Resuza, Bilblox, and Kõrgu—hunkered down in the small cabin suspended by thick rope between the two hulls.

The catamaran, like the lighthouse, now belonged to Clink. The boat had an interesting history. Wilhelm Groh XII had originally purchased it from a Polynesian boat maker who had settled in Copenhagen. This boat maker had been trying unsuccessfully to convince Baltic sailors that the twin-hulled structure of the catamaran (a Polynesian invention) could withstand severe winter conditions much better than the single hull design of European boat makers. Wilhelm took a chance with the boat maker and commissioned a polar catamaran, which ended up being a superb craft, very well suited to wintry conditions.