CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Evan
Thursday
8:45 pm
26 hours, 4 minutes until the falling
Blood covered me. My fingers stuck together, tacky and wet. My cheek clung to the floor. Lifting my head, I rolled over. An unlit dome stretched above.
I looked closer at my hands. Not blood, just dirt and sweat. The burnt orange stool that Mazol made Henri stand on all night lay toppled on its side. I must have been out for hours, a restless sleep that took more than it gave. And of course, the dreams. I dreamed about falling, landing on the beach by my cottage. I dreamed about being someone great, like Cevo or Terillium. Of people bowing to me as I passed. Of being the hunter instead of the prey.
And then:
An old rickety cart drove through the castle gates into the jungles. In the cart's bed lay a splintered wooden crate with clumps of mud and dirt clinging to its side. A gravebox, freshly dug from the ground. It rattled. Someone was inside, someone who wasn't dead.
Who? Who was it inside the gravebox?
Pearl.
She's alive?
You tell me.
I gazed down the murky halls that lead away from the entrance hall. The Warts could come any moment, to give me another shot. I think they tried to kill me. I thought about what my father's letter said.
You will have to be much more aggressive now. The Spider alone may not be enough. If you have the ember, as I expect you do, that should save you.
They were following through with the plan, just like Terillium instructed. But I was getting stronger. They'd try to poison me again. They'd try harder next time, if the falling didn't happen first. I had a day to find Pearl, use the skull to find out who's causing the affliktion, lure the Warts into the jungle, leave Henri in charge, then, the falling.
My eyes fell on the lock on my wrist, and I found myself grinning. After what I did to Pearl, after I lifted a 500lb barrel of oil over my head, the Warts actually thought this little shackle could stop me?
Flexing my hand into a fist to break the shackle, I stopped. I might want them to think they can keep me locked up. I could let them keep me shackled if I need to get close to Mazol, breaking my chains when the time was right.
If you don't want to break the shackle, unlock it.
How?
Sapience.
I can't control it.
I've been practicing. Keeping busy while you sleep.
That's what worries me.
I stared at the lock, closed my eyes, and imagined its insides. The gears. The springs. The pins. The rivets. In my imagination, unlocking the shackle was easy. I flicked my finger. With a click, the cuff sprang free; metal slid across my skin.
I opened my eyes to find the shackle dangling free from the banister. Rubbing my wrist, I edged back, like it might reach out and bite me.
Am I still asleep, or is this real?
My mind turned to the last time those shackles were used. How many times had they held a Rosling captive under a lashing belt? As I watched, the shackles lifted into the air, pulling against the banister rail. Wood creaked, splintering as the handrail ripped apart. The shackles exploded into a thousand pieces. Metal shards fell all around the room, like rain on a tin roof.
So much for locking myself up later. And so much for not using sapience. I rose, tried to take a step, but my leg buckled. My brace was missing. Pain ripped through my bones. I needed Henri's help. But will she help me if I tell her where I think Mazol hid Pearl? What if I'm wrong and we find a corpse?
I ripped a spindle from the staircase to use as a cane. Limping through the castle's dingy passages, I found my way to the Caldroen's iron doors on the main level. I squinted through flooding firelight as my eyes adjusted to the glow. Moving from shadow to shadow, I edged closer to humming and whirring clankers.
"No breaks," Mazol said. "We're working through the night."
Several Roslings groaned.
"You don't need sleep," Mazol said.
Yesler flashed a toothy smile. "Yeah, it's all in your head."
Peeking around the door, I darted behind the Warts into a pipe-fitting room. I crawled through a duct that vented hot air away from the clankers into a room that I'd hidden in before. Peering through a rusted nickel grate, I spotted Henri.
Leaning close to Mazol, she spoke into his ear. A vision played through my mind:
Henri and Mazol and Little Saye laughed while I lay on the floor, a needle jabbed into my neck.
I squeezed the grate; the metal groaned. Henri turned away from Mazol and stared at the floor. He pulled her back to whisper in her ear. She tried to turn. He grabbed her face. Jerking away, she began lubing the aft-gears of a smoking and rattling clanker ten feet from where I hid.
"Pssst, Henri."
She jumped.
"Over here."
Squinting, she peered in my direction. I moved into the light.
"What are you doing here?" She glanced over her shoulder.
"Looking for you."
"You shouldn't have come."
"What were you talking to Mazol about?"
"Nothing," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut through iron. "What happened to you?"
"Yesler gave me something nasty."
"You should hide."
"Can you sneak away?"
She didn't respond.
"It's important." The nickel grate between us twisted, groaning. A bolt snapped with a ping of flying metal. I ducked as the bolt flew past my head, ricocheting down a vent pipe. Mazol's eyes darted in our direction. I ducked back into the shadows. Mazol stared right at me, but I was shrouded in darkness. After a moment, he turned away.
"I have to keep working," Henri said.
"Wait, please. I don't think Pearl's really dead."
"What are you talking about?"
"She's alive."
"You know she's alive? Or you think she's alive?"
"I can prove it; I just need to get to the Elusian."
Henri glanced at Mazol again. "Pearl got sick," she said. "That's all there is to it."
After you gave her the skull.
"So we should just give up on her?"
"It's called accepting reality."
"Is that what you and Mazol were talking about?"
She folded her arms.
"Mazol's a liar," I said. "He'll say anything to get us to do what he wants."
"You think I don't know that?"
"Just meet me in the hall in five minutes."
"But—"
I disappeared before she could argue anymore. As I made my way back to the hall, I wondered if Henri would help me if she knew we'd have to dig up Pearl's grave to find her. I pictured the faces of the erased Roslings. Little Saye. Anabelle. Lucy.
Ten minutes went by. I glanced at the clock in the hall again. Tick. Tock. Twelve minutes. Henri could have gone to Mazol about me. Maybe she put it all together then decided I was the killer. Maybe she was huddled with the Warts one room over, preparing another syringe.
Suddenly, out of the twilight, Henri appeared. I threw my arms around her, then stepped back, cheeks flushed.
"What's that for?" she said.
"I was starting to worry you wouldn't come."
"Thought about it." She laughed then stared at the floor. "Better get going."
She fell in beside me; lamp in hand, a stub-of-a-candle flickered inside like a clanker with a busted driveshaft. We headed toward the north wing of the castle, climbing stairs, rounding corners, passing rows and rows of veiled statues and stacks of furniture.
"So where did Mazol hide Pearl?" Henri said.
I didn't answer. We arrived at the base of the narrow stairs that lead to the Elusian. We stared up the cheerless stairwell. It seemed to grow longer and narrower.
I stepped to the first stair. "I... just need to get my little clanker. I'll be right back." I saw the Elusian, as if in a dream:
Flames and smoke swirled around me, shelves and chairs
and broken beams lifted into the air, rock and iron shattered—
"Promise to wait outside when we get to the top?" I said.
"Why?"
"Don't ask that. Please."
She pursed her lips. Putting her arm around me, she took some weight off my bad leg. A minute later we stood on the landing. I opened the trap door inside the closet just large enough to slip through.
"What are you hiding from me?" she asked.
"Nothing." What was I hiding? The vision of the Elusian, it was just a dream. Those things I saw, they aren't possible, not even with sapience. I... I just... "I'm just tired of you snooping around all the time."
But I didn't mean that. I tried to smile. "I'll show you Saturday. I promise."
You're so cruel. You'll be gone by then.
I ducked through the closet and limped in the direction of the desk. My feet slipped along, like the floor was covered in a thick layer of dust. I could see no more than a few feet in any direction. Something sharp jabbed the bottom of my left foot. Wincing, I stepped sideways and stubbed my other toe.
I could feel eyes on me. The monster was waiting for me to fall asleep so he could take control of my body. Something shifted in the shadows. The creak of wood on stone. I ignored it, bumped into something large in the middle of the room, then finally found the hutch with my knee. Cursing, I found the key and slid the drawer open.
This is where we met. Do you remember?
Feeling around inside, I searched for the leather bag. The drawer was empty. Panic rose in my chest. I searched again. Nothing. My hands moved to the desk. Ink bottle. A book. A stack of papers. I knocked a glass jar over; it cracked at my feet. Papers flew. I slammed the drawer shut, pinching my finger.
"What did you do with it!" I yelled into the darkness.
My hand found the edge of a leather cord under a few cuts of cloth. I traced the cord to a small leather sack. The rubrics. I exhaled.
I started to shut the drawer, but my hand found the old book. I held it close and found the time code. Twenty-six hours. I shoved my finger in the bottle of ink and wiped over the time. Now it was just a sooty splotch. Turning to leave, I saw a flash of light at the door. Henri stood inside the room, staring at the floor, the little candle lamp shaking in her hand. My eyes darted around the Elusian, stopping on the spot where Henri stared. Something on the floor; I couldn't quite make it out.
I squinted.
A list of names