Dormia (6 page)

"You did it!" yelled Hill. He leaned over and gave Alfonso a giant bear hug. "That's where we've got to go! And to think that over all these years, the first clue to finding Dormia was ticking away in my pocket."

"What do you think we'll find there?" asked Alfonso.

"I'm not sure," said Hill. "I wish I could say that we'll find Somnos, but I doubt it will be that easy. After all, this place has remained hidden for thousands of years. But by Jove, this is a very good start!"

Alfonso turned and looked at Judy and Pappy. His eyes shined with excitement.

"Hmph," muttered Pappy, but he said nothing further.

***

Several hours later, Hill and Alfonso were walking along an old wooden boardwalk in the seaside town of Fort Krasnik, looking for any sign of Dusty Magrewski and the doctor's office. They had left Pappy in the seaplane—he was in no shape to walk—and Judy had insisted on staying with her father.

At first glance, Fort Krasnik looked like a massive boulder
jutting out of the sea. There were no trees, grass, or vegetation of any kind. All the structures on the island—even the distant rooftops and lampposts—were made of the same dreary-looking gray stone. The only trace of color came from the boardwalk, which was painted a dull blue. The boardwalk was lined with a number of dilapidated shops. One shop advertised "peg legs and wooden teeth," another boasted "the best glass eyes in the North Pacific," and yet another had a display window filled with hundreds of razor-sharp daggers. The boardwalk itself was packed with pedestrians—mainly fishermen with dirty beards and leathery skin. There were also at least a dozen men rolling dice in the gutter and yelling. One of them, who appeared to have just won a sizable jackpot, was brandishing a knife and yelling,"Keep yer distance boys, keep yer distance. 'Dis jackpot is mine and I intend to keep 'er."

"Don't be nervous," Hill shouted to Alfonso above the din of the crowd. "This has always been a rough place, but they usually don't harm kids." He lifted his arm just in time to deflect a bottle that had been thrown out the window of a nearby bar. "Just don't get anyone mad," he added. "And, of course, always watch for flying bottles."

As they continued onward, Hill assumed the role of a tour guide and began spouting bits of history, as if they were a family on vacation. According to Hill, Fort Krasnik was founded by a group of surly Russian sailors who rebelled against their captain during the infamous Long Voyage of 1703. After eating all of the biscuits aboard their ship and throwing their captain into the icy waters of the North Pacific, the sailors landed on a small rocky island that they named Fort Krasnik, after the Krasnik Bakery in St. Petersburg, which made a particularly tough,
jaw-breaking biscuit. These sailors vowed never to return to the high seas. Instead, they built docks and shops along the shore and dubbed themselves "along-the-shore-men" or simply "longshoremen."

The longshoremen of Fort Krasnik, who never had much regard for rules or regulations, soon developed a reputation as masters of the black market. They bought, sold, and traded stolen goods of all kinds. As a result, smuggling boats from all over the world came to do business on this island, which operated as its own little nation-state. Hill knew about the place because he and Leif had passed through on their way to North America.

"So how
exactly
did you and my dad get here from the Urals anyway?" asked Alfonso.

"Now that's a good question," replied Hill calmly as they walked past two old sailors fighting over a scrap of stale bread. "As I've told you, I was just eight years old when I left Dormia, so my memory is rather fuzzy, but I do remember some things. I know that Leif and I got lost outside the city of Somnos. Terrible day that was. We wandered through the city's gates and strayed into the surrounding mountains. Somehow we ended up in this very deep and dark forest. For several days we just huddled there—cold, starving, and alone. And then, well, er..."

"What?" asked Alfonso. "What happened next?"

"That's the thing," confessed Hill sheepishly. "It's kind of a blank. The next thing I can remember is being on this old ship bound for North America. The finer points of how exactly we got onto the ship are still a complete mystery to me."

"The ship's captain was a woman smuggler en route to Fort
Krasnik. When the ship finally laid anchor, the old sea captain—who never had any interest in children—handed Leif and me over to a longshoreman friend of hers named Dusty Magrewski. It all worked out rather well because Dusty had always wanted children of his own, but over the years, he had been too busy with his work. Dusty took us in and he became almost like a father to us—that is, until we ran away."

"Why did you run away?" Alfonso asked.

"Never mind that," said Hill awkwardly. "Oh, would you look at that! We're here!"

Hill came to an abrupt halt in front of a large stone warehouse with two enormous sliding doors in front. Directly above the doors hung a sign that read:

In the distance a whistle blew and longshoremen began streaming out of the front doors. Apparently, this was their lunch break. Hill and Alfonso stood to the side to avoid the mad rush. The longshoremen were of all shapes and sizes but most had the same thick upper body that comes from the daily
lifting and moving of heavy objects. They all wore strudy jeans and hooded canvas jackets but there was something else about them that made them all look alike: they all had muttonchops, long sideburns that ended just below their mouths.

"That was the fashion a long ways back," Hill explained. "And once Fort Krasnik longshoremen have hit upon a way of doing things, they don't like to change. You'll see—they're a stubborn bunch and quick to suspicion. But it's for survival purposes. If they were nice to everyone, they'd probably get more visitors, and that's exactly what they don't want."

"And these guys are all longshoremen?" asked Alfonso.

"They're Magrewskis," replied Hill. "They're all members of the Magrewski Brotherhood, which is one of the two ancient brotherhoods of longshoremen in this city." Hill went on to explain that the Magrewskis were established in 1737 by a sailor named Ivan Magrewski. Ivan had a half-brother named Boris Popov and the two men couldn't stand each other. According to legend, both men had taken turns burning down each other's houses for over thirty years. Eventually, Boris founded his own brotherhood—known as the Popov Longshoremen—and the two groups had been competing, fighting, and cursing one another ever since.

"So is your friend Dusty Magrewski related to Ivan Magrewski?" asked Alfonso.

"Yup," said Hill. "I believe he is Ivan's great-great-great-great-great-grandson. Or something like that."

When all the longshoremen had filed out, Hill and Alfonso stepped toward the entrance and came face to face with an ancient-looking longshoreman with a bald head and a sawed-off shotgun. His scraggly muttonchops gleamed with grease.

"Hey snoopers, whur do ya think yer a-goin'?" he shouted, exposing a mouth empty except for two lonely teeth, both of which were crooked.

"We're old friends of Dusty's," replied Hill. "Dusty Magrewski that is."

"Ya know Dusty?" he asked suspiciously, pointing the gun at them. "Doesn't seem right. Ya look like yer from someplace else."

"That's true," said Hill. "I am from somewhere else, but I lived here for a while. They called me Little Hilly back then."

The old man peered at Hill closely. "Yer a lot taller than the Little Hilly I remember. And what's more, I remember him bein' a nice lad, at least at first..." He straightened up. "If ya are Little Hilly, ya've got a lot of 'splainin' to do. And if Dusty don't like it, I'll take care of ya myself." He motioned the two inside with his shotgun. "Don't think about runnin'. I may be ninety-four years old but I'm a good shot. Eyes haven't clouded up yet. Oh I'll shoot ya all right. Shoot ya right in the buttocks. How'd ya like that, boys? Heh, heh, heh. I'd like it just fine."

Hill and Alfonso avoided eye contact with the old longshoreman and walked into the massive warehouse. It was hard to tell what was being stored there because nearly everything was piled in boxes and wooden crates. The sound of their footsteps on the stone floor echoed sharply throughout the building.

When they arrived at a wooden spiral staircase and looked up, they saw someone glaring suspiciously at them. "Is that Dusty up there?" Hill shouted.

"An' who's askin'?" came the response.

"It's me!" shouted Hill. "Uh, Little Hilly. I've come for a visit with my nephew here, Alfonso. He's Leif's son."

A flashlight shone uncomfortably in their faces. "Little Hilly?" came the response. "Ya look more like a tall scarecrow than Lil' Hilly!"

The longshoreman behind them cocked his shotgun. "Ya want me to throw 'em out?" he asked. "Or should I shoot 'em in the buttocks first?"

"Wait just a minute," said Dusty. He was scowling fiercely. Dusty turned to shine his flashlight on Alfonso's face. "Who are ya, small fry?"

"My name is Alfonso," replied Alfonso timidly.

"Sakes alive!" said Dusty. "Yer the spittin' image of yer father—are ya as talented a sleeper as Leif was?"

"Probably more so," said Hill quickly. "You should hear about the things this boy can do in his sleep."

"Mr. Magrewski, you knew my father?" Alfonso called up.

"'Course I did," replied Dusty. "I knew both yer father and yer uncle! And I loved both of 'em like sons until they stole from me."

"Yes, I'm very glad you brought that up," said Hill nervously. "As it turns out, I have a very good explanation for that whole unfortunate episode."

"I'm listenin'," said Dusty gruffly.

"Well, er, you see, we were tricked," explained Hill. "Leif and I were young, homesick, and stupid. Very stupid. We met this swindler who said he could take us back to the Urals. So we stole that money from you and paid the swindler who then ran off on us. Afterward, we were too ashamed to return. So we snuck onto a boat headed for the mainland and eventually we
ended up in these Canadian orphanages. I still feel rotten about the whole thing. Darn rotten. And it hardly feels right to return after all these years to ask for a favor—"

"Ya don't say!" boomed Dusty. "Yer barely done apologizin' and yer already askin' for a favor. Ya got nerve, Lil' Hilly!"

"All right, that's it!" yelled the ninety-four-year-old longshoreman. "Yer both gettin' a buttocks full a lead!" He prodded Hill in the shoulder blades with the loaded shotgun.

"C'mon Dusty," pleaded Hill. "I'm sorry. Leif and I only stole the money because we were homesick!"

Dusty shone his flashlight on Alfonso again. "If this is Leif's boy, where's Leif?" he asked.

After a moment's pause, Hill explained that Leif had died in an accident while Alfonso was still very young. Alfonso felt his cheeks go red. Moments later, Dusty's flashlight clicked off.

"Well, that's sad news," said Dusty. "Mighty sad news indeed." He stood silently for a moment and his angry scowl softened into a rather sad frown. "Well, yer here now ... Come on up here and lemme have a decent look at the both of ya."

Hill and Alfonso walked up the spiral staircase and emerged into a small nook with a desk, a chair, and dozens of stacks of yellowing papers. Apparently, this was Dusty's office. Dusty himself was built like a bulldog. Though Hill later said Dusty was at least seventy years old, he still looked tough, with meaty fists, iron biceps, and shoulders rippling with muscles. In contrast, his face was filled with oversize pudgy cheeks, a slightly askew nose, and ears that stuck out like a rabbit's.

"I can't believe Lil' Hilly has come back to visit," said Dusty with a shake of his head. "Now tell me, while ya got me in a tolerably good mood, what's this favor ya need?"

"Two things," said Hill. "First off, Alfonso's grandfather is with us and he's got a busted leg. He needs to see the doctor."

"Easy enough," said Dusty. "An' the second favor?"

"Well, um, you see, we need to book passage on a ship to the northern Urals," said Hill.

"Oh boy!" said Dusty with a dry chortle. "That'll be much, much, much trickier. The only one who makes that run is Vice Admiral Purcheezie."

"Vice Admiral who?" inquired Alfonso.

"That's the sea captain I was telling you about," explained Hill excitedly. "She's the one who brought us here from the Urals all those years ago."

"The thing is," continued Dusty, "there's absolutely no chance that she'll take ya with 'er. None at all! She never takes passengers—not anymore. But she does owe me a favor—a very big favor. And I might be willin' to call that favor in for ya, and get ya onboard that ship, but ya got to do somethin' for me. Understand?"

"I'll do whatever you need me to do," said Hill eagerly.

"Not interested," said Dusty. "It's gotta be young Alfonso."

L
ATE THAT
evening, Alfonso, Hill, Judy, and Pappy found themselves in a cramped windowless bunkroom in the Magrewski warehouse. The Dormian bloom lay hidden under an old-fashioned top hat that someone had left behind and long since forgotten. A small potbelly stove burned in the corner, giving off heat and casting a warm, cozy glow across the room. For the time being, everyone seemed content—even Pappy. The doctor's office had been quick and efficient, and the on-duty nurse had set Pappy's leg, wrapped it in a sturdy cast, and tested him to make sure there was no infection. Pappy would be on strict bed rest for a few days, but then he'd be able to move around with crutches.

All evening long, various older longshoremen had been stopping by the room to say hello to Hill and to pay their respects to Leif's wife and son. These were welcome visits, especially since they seemed to confirm that Hill and Leif were brothers. The longshoremen were happy to see Hill, but they were even happier to see Alfonso. One at a time, at least a dozen big, gruff longshoremen came into the bunkroom, smiled shyly, and then asked to shake Alfonso's hand. One longshoreman even asked for Alfonso's autograph. At first, Alfonso found this very perplexing, but eventually Hill explained what was going on. "Your father was an extremely talented mole rat," said Hill. "He was really a superstar around here."