This explanation seemed to pacify Lord Phineus, and his interest was piqued. But first, he turned to berate all of the men before him who didn’t look as though they’d put up much of a fight.
“You have all failed me!” screamed Lord Phineus. He coughed again and tried to clear his aching throat, craving the bucket of water in his room that awaited him. “But you shall not fail me again! All of my men—inside the gate!”
All fifty of the remaining men started for the gate, and Lord Phineus waved them off. “If you are part of Sir Emerik’s party you will stay outside and keep watch. I shall not have a band of cowards eating my food and drinking my water!”
The men who had ridden with Sir Emerik backed off and glanced uneasily at one another. They were thirsty and tired and Lord Phineus had shut off the water to the Highlands. When would he let them in?
Lord Phineus cleared his throat and spat on the ground, then turned away from the rest of the men and motioned Sir Emerik to come closer.
“You found the page, then,” whispered Lord Phineus.
“I did! There was a man from the inn—I recognized him from my visit before. I pinned him to the ground in the middle of a heated exchange of flying figs and slashing swords. He offered it in exchange of his life, and I felt it was a good trade.”
“And the boy? What of him?”
“The man at the inn didn’t know for sure. He only offered that the boy had probably gone back to the grove. But it doesn’t matter now—I have everything we need!”
“Give it to me,” said Lord Phineus. He held out his hand and waited for Sir Emerik to hand him the page from the book. Sir Emerik hadn’t thought of this dilemma and had to come up with a very fast lie in order to cover the lies he’d already been telling.
“Well, sir, it’s not—not quite that simple,” stammered Sir Emerik. “You see I read the page, but I did not keep it. Trust me, Lord; it was far too sensitive to carry around. What if I’d been killed on the field and someone had taken it?”
Lord Phineus decided to let the story pass until they could find more private quarters to discuss the matter. All of his men had gone through the gate and awaited instruction on the other side. Lord Phineus first addressed Sir Emerik’s men.
“Remember that those people in the grove tried to poison us!” He was quite sure only Mr. Ratikan was aware of his plan to poison them and wanted to keep it that way. “Next time you will show them no mercy.”
He strode past Sir Emerik with the black robe dragging behind him. Four men pushed against the enormous wooden doors, which began to close with a groaning sluggishness. Lord Phineus yelled a parting word of instruction to Sir Emerik. “Stay with your men until Sir Philip arrives, then the both of you come see me. We have important matters to discuss.”
Lord Phineus felt the full weight of his situation when he heard the gates close behind him. He had hoped for better news from Sir Emerik, and could only assume things had gone the same for Sir Philip.
As for Sir Emerik, he was busy with thoughts of his own as his men spread out in front of the gate and talked among themselves. He wondered how long he should keep secret what he had read on the last page of the book. It was a juicy bit of information and he relished the fact that only he was aware of it. The boy Edgar certainly perished trying to fulfill a fool’s errand—Ha!
He dabbed his fingers on his scabbed head gingerly, and another thought crossed his mind. Samuel had said he’d never read the book, but Sir Emerik wasn’t so sure. Samuel might know the same information Sir Emerik did. He must be done away with before Lord Phineus questions him once more.
The field of green parted in the distance, and the bouncing heads of riders came closer. What few remained of Sir Philip’s men approached.
“Ah, it’s Sir Philip!” cried one of the men guarding the gate. “It will be good to have him back.”
“Indeed,” said Sir Emerik, his eyes narrowing as he peered out over the Highlands. “I do hope no harm has come to him.”
Lord Phineus sat alone in the main chamber, looking out the window toward the gate. He was disturbed not to find his snaggle-toothed general among the few returning men. Frowning, Lord Phineus took a long sip of water, then he crossed the room to Mead’s head. He put his hand on the stone hair and talked to the statue as if it were alive.
“Where did you come from, Mr. Mead?” he said, the tenor of a madman entering his voice. “Here you sit, day after day, keeping watch over nothing at all. What will become of you?”
Mead’s head had been in the House of Power for as long as Lord Phineus could remember. He knew its name only because it was carved into the side of the stone neck.
While Lord Phineus was having his conversation with Mead’s head, Sir Emerik raced through the courtyard and up the stairs past Horace without a word, casting a pale shadow on the wall. He wasted no time charging up the narrow steps to the room where he expected to find Samuel. Before entering, he drew a sharp wooden stake from his boot, intent on killing the boy and putting the blame on Sir Philip.
He opened the door ever so slowly, catching the scent of dusty air. Looking around the room, he was aghast to find the boy had gone missing.
Wherever Samuel had gone, his mother was sure to know, and it was she whom Sir Emerik decided to visit next. He made his way down the narrow stairs and found Lord Phineus standing at the bottom.
“Horace tells me Samuel tricked him and has escaped,” said Lord Phineus. “Apparently the boy made a lot of noise, and when Horace came to investigate, Samuel acted as if he’d been locked inside by accident.” Lord Phineus became reflective. “We must be more forthcoming with our guards in the future. Horace had no idea we had use of the boy.”
Sir Emerik agreed and made a move to continue on his way, but Lord Phineus blocked the stairs so that Sir Emerik could not pass. “Hoping to get some information from Samuel?” he said abruptly, with an accusing look.
“Not at all,” said Sir Emerik, unruffled by the allegation. “I was only looking in on him.”
Lord Phineus moved out of the stairwell and started for the main chamber. “Even his mother has no idea where he’s gone off to. There is talk from a few of the men that he may have slipped into Tabletop.”
This pleased Sir Emerik immensely, and his worry over what Samuel might know subsided as he changed the subject to more pressing matters.
“My men still guard the gate for you, sir,” said Sir Emerik. “But I’m afraid Sir Philip never even appeared at the Village of Sheep to lead his men. It would seem that he has deserted us, Lord.”
What a delight it was for Sir Emerik to see the look of disbelief on his master’s face. He saw his chance to redeem himself and used it well.
“I did not want to mention it before, in front of all the men,” began Sir Emerik, “but Sir Philip seemed unsure of himself when I saw him last, before he left for his post. I wonder if he might have lost courage in the end.”
They arrived at the main chamber, and Lord Phineus crossed the room and sat at the table. It had not been a good day for him, and the loss of Sir Philip, a trusted ally, seemed to drive him into an even darker mood. Even Sir Emerik became concerned when his master did not express aloud his wrath at the news of Sir Philip’s alleged desertion.
“You must tell me now, Sir Emerik,” Lord Phineus said. “Tell me everything you read on the last page of the book.”
Sir Emerik felt a peculiar sensation rise in his chest. The tangled green web of vines on the ivy-covered wall behind his master seemed to envelop the black figure before him, and never before had Lord Phineus seemed so evil in his intent. It was as though the very vines in the room had wrapped themselves around Sir Emerik’s beating heart and turned it so cold it would never again find warmth in the world.
He looked his master in the eye. “Atherton is not through changing. The Highlands have fallen, as the book said it would. But there is more change to come.”
Sir Emerik let the words hang in the room.
?
??What changes?” said Lord Phineus, losing his patience. “Tell me!”
“Tabletop will collapse into the Flatlands. It’s only a matter of time.”
Lord Phineus was still for a moment, thinking it through. “Did it indicate when this would happen?”
“I believe it’s already begun, but I can’t be certain. Did you get a strange feeling earlier in the day, as though the ground had come out from under your feet?”
Lord Phineus had sensed it, too. It was as though he were floating on air and his stomach had caught in his throat. But he had thought that the poison from the orange dust had dizzied him.
“There’s more,” said Sir Emerik, a dark cloud of malice grow ing in his heart. “There are creatures of a sort in the Flatlands—dangerous creatures, and many of them. And they eat—everything.”
“Everything?” repeated Lord Phineus, astounded.
Sir Emerik nodded.
“But they have one flaw, which plays to our advantage.”
“What is this flaw?” asked Lord Phineus.
“They cannot climb cliffs,” said Emerik. “Nor walls.”
Lord Phineus pondered this ghastly new revelation. It was chilling to think of beasts invading the Highlands and devouring everything in their path. There was a part of him that felt a sudden desire to save all of Atherton from an unknown enemy. But there was a greater treachery in his heart that saw the benefit of the world being cleansed of his enemies. In the House of Power, he had water and gardens, and a great deal of food hoarded away. He could make the creatures die of thirst. There’s no reason why everyone should perish—at least, certainly not me.
“If you have made up this story, it will be the end of you,” said Lord Phineus. His eyes, rimmed in red, searched Sir Emerik’s face for the truth. “Of that you can be sure.”
“I swear it, Lord,” said Sir Emerik. “And it will be quick this time, according to what I read.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tabletop crashing into the Flatlands. It will be quick. The page said it would be faster than when the Highlands descended.”
The two men regarded one another in the silence of the gloomy room. This was a catastrophic piece of information Lord Phineus was desperate to keep to himself as long as he could. It crossed his mind to put a sword through Sir Emerik then and there, to contain the secret so that it could not escape. But in the end he calmed his mind and realized the importance of a man such as Sir Emerik. He was deceitful to the core, but Lord Phineus had few remaining allies, and he needed Sir Emerik to do his bidding for a while longer.
“How many of the men in the House of Power have wives and children in the Highlands?” asked Lord Phineus.
Sir Emerik hadn’t the slightest idea. It wasn’t the sort of information that interested him.
“I couldn’t be sure,” he said. “Why do you want to know?”
“Find out the answer as quickly as you can. Those who are here in the House of Power who have families should be sent home. Tell them I offer leave for a day and then get rid of them. If they have wives and children, their loyalties are compromised, and I must take only the men with complete allegiance to me.”
“I don’t understand,” said Sir Emerik. “What do you mean to do?”
“It is time we made our stand alone, inside these walls,” continued Lord Phineus. “The Highlands and Tabletop are one, and they shall all bow to me in the end. Or they shall have no water to speak of.”
Sir Emerik let an ugly smile come over his face as he understood his master’s intent. The source of water was inside the House of Power, hidden where only Lord Phineus knew. When the gate was closed, they could have all the water they wanted. It would give them power to ask for anything they wanted and needed. No longer would they be friends with the world outside. There was only Tabletop now—the Highlands were no more—and those in Tabletop did as the House of Power commanded.
There was one other essential detail that pleased Sir Emerik the most. He had his sights set on ruling Atherton alone, and he began to plot in his mind how he might discover the source of water and do away with Lord Phineus when the time was right.
CHAPTER
28
THE FORCE OF GRAVITY
Edgar was already hoping to put his skills to the test, to see if he could climb with a sore shoulder and missing finger, but getting down from the cave perch was not a great challenge. Instead he found a disappointing path at a gentle grade that wound through the towering oval rocks. Along the way, Edgar was pleased to come across a thick pile of stones blocking the pathway. There was no way around them, only over them, and the wall was at least three times taller than Edgar.
“It keeps the Cleaners out,” said Dr. Kincaid. “I’ve done this many times, and there is an easy way if you know it. I must find Vincent!”
“Can I come with you?”
“I’m sorry, Edgar. But with that shoulder and missing finger, you can’t make it over, and I can’t carry you as Vincent can. He’s much stronger than the two of us.”
Edgar scowled. There was a wall before him—a small one, but a wall nonetheless—and being told not to climb it was unbearable.
“Wait here and I’ll find our companion,” said Dr. Kincaid. “I don’t think he’ll be far away.”
The old man took hold of the wall of rocks and began climbing up the side. It was slow going, and Edgar could see that he was taking the safe path, though not the fastest. When Dr. Kincaid reached the top, he grunted and kicked his way over the edge, then stood and looked down at Edgar.
“That’s not the fastest way,” said Edgar.
“What do you mean it’s not the fastest way? Of course it is.”
“No, it’s not,” said Edgar.
“I’ve done it a thousand times and I tell you it is the fastest way.”
Edgar removed the sling from his arm, took hold of the stone wall before him, and climbed to the top in just a few seconds, using a different path. Dr. Kincaid was speechless. The boy had not only done it faster, he’d also done it beautifully, with only nine fingers and a swollen shoulder.
“One day I’ll teach you to climb properly,” said Edgar, completely unfazed by the effort. The sleep, the plate of Black and Green, and all the water he’d enjoyed had given him energy he’d only dreamed of in the past.
“You are the most amazing boy I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Dr. Kincaid said at last, and Edgar beamed.
Dr. Kincaid had quite a lot of trouble getting down the other side. It took him twice as long to get down as it had taken him to get up. “Be careful,” he called up to Edgar. “You’ll find it’s a bit more treacherous on this side.”
Edgar descended so fast it was almost as if he were free-falling to the ground.
“Now you’re just showing off,” said Dr. Kincaid, chuckling, and the two of them trampled down the pathway.
At the bottom of the path the immense boulders that had surrounded him dispersed. The feeling reminded Edgar of leaving the shelter of the trees in the grove for the open land beyond. He made the final turn, and the last of the rocks fell away from his sight.
Edgar stood speechless before a view no child of Atherton had ever seen before, and it was not what Edgar had expected.
Dr. Kincaid continued calling for Vincent until he noticed the look of awe on Edgar’s face. He remembered the first time he’d seen what the boy was seeing, and so he let Edgar enjoy the view a minute longer before breaking the magic of the moment.
“Stay here,” he said. “There are no Cleaners about the place right now, but if they do come, run to the stone ladder and cross back over. I’m quite sure you can manage it.”
Edgar nodded slowly, without really hearing what Dr. Kincaid had said, and the man hurried out of sight in search of Vincent.
There were two things that stunned Edgar into silence at the bottom of the path, each in a different direction. The first of these things was his initial broad view of the Flatlands itself—vast and open, scattered with t
owering groups of gigantic stones. Running between clusters of smooth, grey boulders—like the ones surrounding Dr. Kincaid’s home—were jagged, dangerous-looking rocks of red and orange. Wild, curving lines of green fuzz darted this way and that between the sharp stones. And it was all decorating a desert ground of deep brown and black. It seemed as though the Flatlands were at once entirely dead and threatening to explode with life.
The second thing within Edgar’s sight was even more breathtaking. He faced the very edge of Atherton, which was closer than he’d imagined it would be. It would seem that Vincent had carried Edgar all the way across the Flatlands in the night and that Dr. Kincaid’s home sat very close to the edge of the world. He could hardly believe that this really was the end of everything. He began to walk toward the edge and felt his feet carrying him almost without effort.
“Stay back,” said Dr. Kincaid. He had returned without Vincent and was watching Edgar carefully. “You won’t want to be near the edge if a Cleaner comes near.”
Edgar listened carefully for the sound of bones clanging together and heard nothing. He felt so drawn to the very edge it was hard to stop. “I won’t get that close, really I won’t.”
The boy had come this far, and he needed to see the rest.
“All right, Edgar.” Dr. Kincaid came and took Edgar’s hand in his, and the two of them began walking. “We must go quickly and be done with it. Be careful—it has an unbelievable pull when you get nearer to it.”
When they came within twenty feet, Edgar began to feel as though the edge were pulling him closer, like there were strings tied to his toes and they were drawing him forward.
“This feels very strange,” Edgar commented. “Why does it feel this way?”
“The bottom of Atherton is shaped like a half circle, and it’s extraordinarily heavy. As you get closer to the edge of the Flatlands, you are actually closer to the bottom of Atherton. It pulls you toward it. That’s what keeps you on the ground instead of floating in the air. It’s a thing we call gravity, Edgar.”