Nightfall (2 page)

Even though much of the island was covered in shadow, there were still places that caught the light. The trail that led back to town was such a place. It was perfectly situated along a hill, facing the nearly disappeared sun. As a result, everything—from the garnet pebbles on the ground to the swaying remnants of wheat and grass—shimmered.

After their cold, dark climb, even this small amount of sun warmed Marin. It made her think of the Desert Lands and of her mother, who was born in that distant place. The ice had appeared so suddenly—and the cold coming from it still seemed to grip her. All of a sudden, following the sun to the Desert Lands didn't seem like an entirely bad idea.

“It'll be chaos in town,” said Line as they walked up a hill dotted with clumps of fragrant, blue-tinged bushes. He shook his head and shrugged, as if this would be more an annoyance than anything else. “Pure chaos.”

Marin frowned, trying to imagine their orderly town in a state of chaos. “They send the envelopes out after the tide turns—right?” Of course, she knew this to be true.
How many times has
my father said as much?
But still, now that the moment had arrived, she felt a compulsion to repeat it—just to be sure.

Line nodded. “I bet they're doing it right now,” he replied. “And after that, everything will shut down—the markets, school, even the fall wheat harvest.”

Marin thought about this. “I figured we'd have at least two more weeks.” She paused for a moment and then added, “I guess that means we've just had our last climb together.”

Line sighed, hoping that wasn't true.

“I knew this was going to happen,” he said, glancing at the sea. “Anyone who sails could see the tide was going to turn sooner rather than later. I don't know why the mayor uses that stupid lunar calendar.”

They continued on, walking single file along the narrow path. Marin picked up her pace, both to match Line's longer strides and to warm herself up. Was she cold from the climb, or was the wind turning sharper? Probably both. The path widened again, and Line drew up next to Marin. Although she didn't look over, she could sense that he was close to her. “What are you going to do now?” she asked softly.

Line massaged his palms to release the tension from climbing. “Well, classes for the children will have ended now that the tide's turned—so I have Francis to look after. I'd like to forage for some mushrooms, too—maybe even a bit of lekar.”

“You think you'll be able to find lekar so close to Nightfall?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he replied. “Francis and I could really use the extra money.”

Line lived with his younger brother. Their father died just
after Francis's birth, and two years ago, their mother had suddenly taken ill and died, too. The doctor said it was pneumonia, an illness that often came with Dusk. After that, the two boys lived with their uncle for a while, but it hadn't worked out—he was foul-tempered and spent most of his time drunk. For over a year now, fourteen-year-old Line and seven-year-old Francis had been on their own. It was unusual, to say the least, but Line managed.

Line grabbed at a clump of dead wheat stalks and started shredding them. He glanced at Marin. “With the tide turning, I have a lot to do. I haven't really packed up the house yet.”

Marin's eyes widened. Her family had been doing this for weeks. Line's house was much smaller, but still. “I'll help,” she said quickly.

It was Line's turn to look surprised. “Really? What if your parents find out?”

“Don't be stupid,” she retorted. “I'll help a bit—that's all.” Marin was suddenly embarrassed, and she wondered if Line could tell. Luckily, they'd crested a hill and were heading down the other side, into shadow. Of course, Line was right. It would be risky going to his house. Marin's mother, Tarae, didn't like the idea of her spending time alone with a boy—especially Line, who lived without parents.

They continued along the footpath, crested a small bluff, and took in the view, surveying their town's collection of evergreen gardens, neatly manicured walls, timber-framed houses, and slate rooftops. It was a bucolic place. Theirs was a town of five hundred people, but from this vantage point it looked small. And compared to the massive forest that covered the
island's interior, it
was
small—just over a hundred buildings, nestled together.

Delicate trilling noises suddenly filled the air. Moments later, a mule appeared pulling a cart. It was decorated with dozens of silver bells, which jingled rhythmically as the cart rolled down the dirt road that led toward Bliss.

In the driver's seat was a figure clad in a black robe; he was the town's vicar, a stony-faced man whose eyes stared purposefully ahead. In the backseat sat a fragile-looking elderly woman who held an infant in her arms. The woman was the matriarch of a band of widows who scaled fish to earn their keep, and she claimed to be 107 years old. No one had the temerity to dispute this. She looked so frail, it was surprising that she was able to sit up straight
and
hold the baby.

Marin and Line came to an abrupt halt. This custom—the so-called Pageant of Life and Death—occurred as soon as the tide turned; because this was their first Sunset, it was also the first time they'd witnessed the ritual. They stood in place, watching the cart pass, until the sound of its bells grew faint. The noise, however, was soon replaced by a number of distant, high-pitched screams. The sounds were not human, but they were bloodcurdling all the same.

“What
is
that?” asked Marin. She put her hands to her ears. “It makes my skin crawl.”

“They've started slaughtering pigs for the journey,” said Line. “Things are moving faster than I thought. We'd better hurry.”

They took a winding goat path that led through the abandoned fields surrounding Bliss. With the sun so low and the weather turning cold, their previously fertile farmlands had gone barren. Only a few fields still produced food, but it was nutritionally poor fall wheat and stunted potatoes. In recent weeks, even these were hard to find—the fields suddenly teemed with bugs, mites, and strange biting worms. And so the people of Bliss lived mainly off their supplies while waiting for the ships that would take them south.

Line's home was a small farmhouse at the edge of Bliss, notable for its round stained glass windows. Just beyond his farmhouse, the houses were built closer together, and the cobblestone roads of the town appeared.

As they neared Line's home, they could see that foot traffic in town had picked up dramatically, and the usually quiet streets were filled with people chattering and pushing past one another. Bells began tinkling, and people stopped what they were doing to stare at the main street, which cut Bliss neatly in two. The Pageant of Life and Death had arrived in town.
Parents drew their children close, while others muttered devotions and averted their eyes.

Line slowed down and frowned. “Why is Kana in that tree?”

At the mention of her brother's name, Marin looked around eagerly. “Where?”

Line pointed to a bare apple tree that stood near his house, overlooking Bliss's main street. Like most apple trees, this one had stopped bearing fruit almost a year ago. Now a slender, fine-boned boy watched the pageant from its topmost fork.

“Kana!” Marin yelled.

The boy flinched but did not acknowledge her, not even with the slightest turn of his head.

“Kana!”

Again he ignored her.

Kana was Marin's twin. He was about Marin's size, but where Marin was dark-skinned, with black wavy hair, Kana's hair and skin were pale—“snow-kissed,” as they called it. The only physical feature they shared was their long pitch-black eyelashes. They made Marin's eyes unusually expressive; for Kana they served as a spotlight, drawing attention to his pale blue eyes.

Until recently, though, his eyes hadn't seemed to work. Kana had been born blind. Or at least that's what the family had believed. At around ten years old, as the sun started dipping lower in the sky, Kana began perceiving shapes and shadows. When he squinted he could see better, so the town's glass blower made him a bizarre pair of spectacles, which were essentially wire frames with eye patches on them. Each patch had a tiny hole in the center, allowing in only a pinprick of
light. Within the last year, however, as it grew darker, Kana no longer needed the spectacles at all.

“Kana!” shouted Marin again, betraying more than a touch of irritation. Nearby townspeople turned toward her voice. Kana looked at her, revealing the other side of his face, which was marked by a jagged scar that began at the top of his right cheekbone and continued down to his jaw. Kana eyed Line and his sister coldly for a moment, then turned away.

Line put a hand on Marin's arm. “Don't force it,” he said. “He'll come around.”

Marin just furrowed her brow.

“Come on,” said Line.

A short while later, they found Francis waiting at the farmhouse where he and Line lived. He was wearing green overalls, a buckskin vest, and a gray flannel hunting cap. This was his favorite outfit, and Line let him wear it every day—until the smell became too ripe. As soon as he saw Line, Francis jumped to his feet and raced toward them. Line ruffled Francis's thick brown hair, which probably should have been cut months ago.

“Were you waiting long?” asked Line.

Francis shrugged. “Some okrana came for you a few minutes ago.”

“Now what?” said Line. The okrana were the town's volunteer police. They patrolled the coastline, looking out for the raiders and thieves who occasionally preyed on towns. Most were farmers with a desire for something more exciting, but Bliss—up to now—had provided little opportunity for action. Lately, they had been checking in on Line often—urging him to pack up and get his house in order. This drove Line crazy.
Marin wasn't so sure he didn't need the reminders, but she never admitted as much.

“They gave me something,” said Francis. He dug into his pants and extracted a crumpled envelope. “They said it's for the master of the house. What does that mean? Are you the master?”

Line ignored his brother and eyed the envelope. “I guess the letters are here,” he said to Marin. “I wanted to get to the bakery before this. We need bread.”

“Don't worry—there's plenty at our house,” said Marin. “My mother's been hoarding it. Let's open the envelope. May I?”

“Might as well,” said Line.

Francis began fidgeting, unable to contain his excitement. “I'll do it!” he exclaimed. He tore awkwardly at the seal, ripping the paper in several places. Impatient now, Francis thrust it at Line, who promptly gave it to Marin.

She felt the envelope's weight in her palm. It was heavier than she expected. Carefully, she pulled out two sheets of thin paper. The first page contained a detailed floor plan of the house. The second was filled with notes describing where each carpet, piece of furniture, and picture was to be stored.

“What's this?” she asked, pointing to a diagram of a wall in the front room. It was marked with an arrow and the words
RAT, SNOUT, AND TEETH.

Line peered at the pages. Marin looked inside the envelope again, and saw a skeleton key encrusted with verdigris.

Francis's eyes grew wide. He snatched the key but fumbled it, and it fell to the ground with a metallic clang. In an instant, he'd crouched down and picked it up.

“Can I keep it?” he said, face beaming with excitement.

Line took the key from Francis and turned it over several times. “Later,” he said as he pocketed it. “I don't want to lose this before I know what it opens.”

Francis frowned and gave his brother a shove. “I'm old enough! I won't lose it.”

Line glanced at Marin and smiled. At least several times a day, and in a variety of situations, Francis claimed to be
old enough
. It was his favorite thing to say.

Line grabbed Francis and lifted him up. “Let's get inside,” said Line. “I'm starving.”

He opened the door, walked inside, and unloaded Francis, who rushed away. Marin paused on the doorstep to look behind her. The Pageant of Life and Death was still occupying everyone's attention, and Kana was no longer in the tree.

Line reappeared at the doorway. He held the door open for her and smiled. “Coming inside?”

Marin nodded and quickly followed him, shutting the door behind her.