World's End (40 page)

Wihelm had sailed it himself through the Mediterranean and the Black Sea; he then hired a caravan of camels to take the boat overland, across the Urals, and up to the Sea of Clouds. It had been a good investment. The catamaran handled beautifully in the fearsome winds. It was a gem of a boat and Clink was reluctant to part with it. "Take good care of her," said Clink as they prepared to set off. "She's my favorite boat."

"You just got her," interjected Bilblox. "And you've never even taken 'er out."

"I know," said Clink. "That's why I'm so nervous about loaning her to ya."

Clink and Misty had decided to stay at the lighthouse until Alfonso and the others returned from looking for Jasber. The lighthouse would serve as a home base for the expedition and the cousins would be there to help Alfonso and the others when they returned from their journey. Clink and Misty's first order of business would be to ensure that Josephus had a proper burial. Clink explained that when this was done, he would "just look around."

"Don't ya worry, we'll stay put, Mr. Foreign Minister," Misty told Hill. "That cuzin a mine s'only interested in food 'n' riches, and he's got both in ample supply if he stays here. Jus' think of it, all these people waitin' on him hand 'n' foot." From the twinkle in Misty's eye, it was clear that she was also looking forward to the hospitality of the lighthouse's servants, especially the saffron-spiced mutton stew that Second-Floor Man was already preparing.

The catamaran cut its way across the icy waters and, by midday, it reached the Ferramentum Archipelago. The skies were still overcast and the air was as frigid as before, but the wind had become less violent, and they sailed calmly among countless islands. Some were tiny and barren, similar to the spit of rock they had surfaced on after climbing through the Fault Roads' air vent. Others stretched on for miles and featured sheer cliffs the color of cement but with tufts of green nestled in every crevice. On many of these larger islands, the land away from the cliffs shone a uniform dark green. These were the razor hedges, impenetrable thickets that prevented any movement farther inland. And somewhere among these islands lay Jasber.

They anchored in the cove of a large island to have a late lunch. Hill woke up, yawned from the strain of sleep-navigating, and joined Alfonso, Resuza, Bilblox, and Kõrgu in the cabin. Second-Floor Man had prepared several thermoses of dark, fragrant tea flavored with wild honey and a few drops of goat's milk. He had also woken up early to bake several loaves of sourdough bread—the starter for the bread had been handed down through twenty generations of the Groh family, he claimed. They had dried pork sausage, as well as dill and tomato salad. It was a feast, and afterward they had to force themselves to continue sailing away from their cozy mooring.

"We'll spend the rest of the daylight looking around these islands, and then we'll hole up in another cove like this one," said Hill. "With our supplies, we have three full days to look around before we have to head back to the lighthouse."

"What exactly are we looking for?" Resuza asked. "The bigger islands all look alike."

"True enough," replied Hill. "We just have to keep our eyes peeled for anything unusual—Dormian ruins, strange rock formations, or, of course, any slight trace of Kiril."

"That's yer plan to find a lost city that doesn't want to be rediscovered?" said Bilblox with a snort. "Count me in. Of course, I can't see."

They all laughed, but Bilblox was right. It wasn't much of a plan and they all knew it.

Alfonso stared at the area around them and listened to the water lapping against the twin hulls of the catamaran. He shivered and tried to shake the sense of foreboding that hovered overhead, just like the never-changing cloud cover.

An hour or two later, they were sailing between two islands on the border of the archipelago and the open water. In the far distance, they could see the warm twinkling of the lighthouse's spotlight. As they rounded a turn back into the archipelago, Resuza let out a shout.

She climbed to the roof of the cabin, where Hill was at the wheel, and pointed due north, directly into the mass of islands.

"It's a boat!" she shouted. "I think it's quite small."

The others followed her gaze but could see nothing.

"Are you sure?" Hill said with a half-snore. "My eyesight is much better while asleep and I still don't see a boat."

"Continue straight," she ordered. "You'll see it soon enough."

"Hmm," said Hill. "What if it's pirates?"

"Too small for that," replied Resuza. "It looks tiny, like a rowboat, and I think there's only one person aboard."

Several minutes later, others saw what Resuza had first glimpsed: a tiny vessel floating aimlessly between a number of rocky islands. Hill navigated the catamaran until they pulled up alongside. Bilblox threw out the anchor and they came to a complete stop.

Alfonso and Resuza peered over the rail of the catamaran to get a better look at the rowboat. Slouched motionless across the belly of the boat lay an elderly woman wrapped in a brown cloak. She was ancient. Her face was so wrinkled that it appeared shriveled like a prune. Her stringy white hair was matted and knotted, and her pointy chin sprouted quite a few whiskers.

"It's an old woman," yelled Alfonso. "I think she's unconscious."

"Oh dear, just what we need," muttered Hill. "She's alive?"

Alfonso nodded. He lowered himself onto the hull nearest the rowboat. From there, he hopped lightly into the small craft and made his way to the old woman. Very gently, he grasped her shoulders.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" he asked. "Is everything all right? What happened?"

After a few seconds, the old woman began to stir and whispered something inaudible. Alfonso drew closer, so close that his ear was just a few inches from her mouth. She whispered again. Alfonso looked up at the others.

"She's speaking Dormian," he announced. "She's got a strange accent, but it's definitely Dormian."

"What is she saying?" Hill asked. "Does she know the way to Jasber?"

"She said she has to find her mom and dad."

Hill looked confused. "She's way too old to have living parents," he declared.

Alfonso asked her if she knew the way to Jasber.

The old woman ignored this question and instead pointed toward the clouds and asked a question of her own. "What's that?"

She was obviously delirious.

"That's the sky," said Alfonso. "The sky is covered with clouds."

"Amazing," replied the old woman. "I've only seen it in picture books."

Alfonso shivered and realized that the sun was beginning to set. It was time to make for shelter.

"I'm afraid we have to get going," said Alfonso. "Can I help you into our boat?"

The old woman stared at Alfonso, as if she were only now seeing him for the first time. Her eyes were a cloudy gray, only slightly darker than white.

"I know you," she said softly. "You're the boy who floats above the flames."

"What?" said Alfonso.

"Come on!" yelled Hill from up above. "The wind is picking up—let's get her aboard! Maybe she'll make more sense after some food and water."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we're in a bit of a rush," said Alfonso.

"Yes, I know," said the old woman, as she rose to her feet with surprising vigor. "So am I."

After boarding the catamaran, they quickly gave her some water and a little food, but this did not help. She refused to speak and instead just stared at her hands, as if she didn't recognize them.

"I'm sure she's just exhausted," said Hill. "Let's find somewhere secluded to lay anchor. We'll try again later."

Bilblox drew up the anchor and they set off. The instant they began to move, the old woman did something quite strange. Before they could stop her, she had climbed the main mast and huddled in the crow's nest. She began to point insistently northeast, but would not respond to any of their questions or commands. She looked increasingly frantic, as if she were suddenly in a great hurry.

"I don't know about this," said Resuza. "It could be a trap."

"Nope," said Bilblox confidently. "That ol' bird ain't gonna double-cross us. I got a good feelin' about 'er."

"She speaks Dormian," said Alfonso. "Besides, what other choice do we have?"

Hill gripped the tiller and nodded back to sleep, and the catamaran shot forward in the direction the old woman was pointing. The sun continued its quick descent into the horizon. Soon, they were in near darkness. It was time to lay anchor, but the old woman continued to point northeast. The sun set and, an hour or so later, a full moon rose. So they kept going deeper into the maze of islands, losing all sense of time and place, until the woman lowered her hand and uttered a small cry.

"Now what?" asked Bilblox.

"There," said Resuza. "Look in that cove."

They were passing by another series of high cliffs. Nearby was a small cove bordered on three sides by the cliffs. It looked like the perfect place to lay anchor for the night. It was fully illuminated by the moon, which glowed brightly overhead.

Alfonso peered closer. Something in the cove didn't belong there. It was shiny and lying on the beach. Hill maneuvered the catamaran closer. Within minutes, they came quite near to what Resuza had spied. It was a rowboat with a translucent hull. In fact, it looked exactly like the boat they had used to row from the rocky island to the lighthouse.

"Kiril," whispered Resuza.

They immediately looked around and scanned the high cliffs. There was no sound or movement.

"At long last," whispered Hill. "The island of Jasber."

At that moment, the stillness of the night was broken by a loud splash.

"G
ET YOUR WEAPONS!
" yelled Hill.

After a moment of furious panic, they stood on the deck of the catamaran, weapons ready.

"Where's the old woman?" asked Resuza.

They all looked around. She was nowhere to be seen. Then, all at once, they saw a figure sprinting across the rocky beach toward the cliffs. It was a redheaded young woman, perhaps twenty years old, dressed in a brown cloak. When she reached the cliff, she began climbing up a series of narrow steps and toeholds that had been carved into the rock face. They watched her dumbfounded as she nimbly scaled the cliff.

"Where did she come from?" asked Hill.

No one answered.

"That's bizarre," said Resuza. "The old woman. She's gone."

The group was frozen with confusion. The red-haired woman was quickly making her way up the cliff, while somehow, the old woman had disappeared.

"I-I—" Hill paused, utterly befuddled.

"I suppose we should follow that woman," said Resuza.

They nodded and sprang into action. It took just a few minutes to drag the catamaran onto the shore and secure it. They ran to the cliff base where the mysterious, redheaded young woman had started. Up close, the hand- and footholds were more apparent, although it still took nearly a half-hour of steady climbing to reach the top. Bilblox went first, despite his blindness. It was an incredible thing to see. Kõrgu lay placidly on his broad shoulders as the longshoreman-turned-smuggler moved up the sheer cliff face.

Standing on the cliff, he yelled for them to hurry; he had smelled the onset of a winter storm. "Trust me," he shouted. "Longshoremen have a sixth sense for weather." Sure enough, it began to snow when they were three-fourths of the way up, and their clear visibility from the moonlight was replaced with a ghostly mist.

At the top of the cliff, they had their first glimpse of the razor hedges. It was a massive barricade, around one hundred feet high, made up of thick interlocked branches. There were a few scattered green leaves, but mostly it was branches and thorns colored a dull brown. Some of the thorns were small like those on rosebushes but others were as long as three feet and curved like the swords of Cossacks. Many of the branches were cracked and broken from exposure to the elements, but the thorns were all in perfect condition, as if nothing could affect their sharpness. The ground nearby was covered with heaping drifts of snow.

"There," pointed Resuza. Her voice was strangely quiet and frightened.

Alfonso followed her gaze and saw the reason for her fear.

It was Kiril.

In the distance he was standing on a large boulder mostly hidden by the twists and turns of the hedges. He appeared to be using his khopesh to cut an entrance through the hedges.

"What should we do?" whispered Resuza, as she dropped to a crouch. The others did the same. "He hasn't seen us."

"He hasn't seen
her
either," whispered Alfonso. Alfonso pointed toward a snowbank just fifteen feet or so from Kiril. There, crawling slowly toward Kiril, was the young, redheaded woman they had followed up the cliff. "What on earth is she doing?"

Slowly, the young woman rose to her feet. She held a long, swordlike thorn in her hand. She paused for a moment, as if to calm her nerves, and then she ran directly at Kiril.

"There goes our surprise," whispered Resuza.

"Come on," said Hill as he rose to his feet and started running forward. "She's going to get herself killed!"

The young woman managed to get within arm's length of Kiril before he finally noticed her and, in one swift motion, spun around and kicked her powerfully in the chest. The woman flew backwards into the snow. Kiril turned around, saw Hill and the others running toward him, and immediately returned his attention to the narrow hole that he had carved into the side of the razor hedges. It was almost three feet deep and just wide enough for an arm. At the end of the hole gleamed a brass funnel on the surface of the wall. Kiril had spent the better part of a day cutting holes into this section of the razor hedges with the sole intent of finding this funnel. And at last, it was within reach. Now he had to act quickly.

Kiril reached into his pocket and took out the small glass vial of the bluish liquid known as dagárgala. It was the vial from the rosewood box found in the Alexandria depot. Kiril uncorked the vial and carefully thrust his hand into the hole through the razor hedges. He moved his arm with the utmost steadiness. There were thorns everywhere and, above all, he could not afford to cut himself. If he started bleeding, in his weakened condition, it might kill him. When his arm was fully inserted into the hole, he poured the dagárgala into the funnel. Not a drop spilled. He had done it. Then, ever so tenderly, he began to remove his arm from the hole. A moment later, a powerful blow knocked him sideways. He fell to the snow and saw that the young woman had recovered astonishingly quickly from his kick and had thrown her body against his. Clearly, he was not as strong as he had been even a day before. A sharp pain radiated from his hand. He looked and saw a six-inch thorn sticking through it.