“What are we looking for?”
Claudia didn’t reply because she didn’t see me speak. She was looking toward the city, where the towers and three tall spires rose, black against the brightening day. I didn’t like the look of those glassy spires, even at a distance. Their configuration made them seem almost like faces that were looking at us. I told myself that was an illusion, no different than seeing a gasping mouth in the knothole of an old tree or a cloud that looked like a dragon, but it didn’t work. Didn’t come close to working. The idea—surely ridiculous—crept into my mind that the city itself was Gogmagog: sentient, watching, and evil. The idea of going any closer was frightening; the idea of using Leah’s name to pass through its gate was terrifying.
Mr. Bowditch did it and came back, I told myself. You can, too.
But I wondered.
Then the bell rang out its one long sonorous iron note: DONG.
Radar got to her feet and took a step toward the sound.
“FIRST BELL, SHARLIE?”
I raised one finger and nodded.
While the sound still lingered, something began to happen that was far more amazing than an oversized cockroach or a big red cricket: the sky over the crammed-together hovels and cottages outside the city began to darken, as if a shade were being rolled not down but up. I grabbed Claudia’s arm, for a moment afraid I was seeing some strange eclipse not of the sun or moon but of the earth itself. Then, as the sound of the bell faded to nothing, the darkness broke apart in ten thousand cracks of daylight that pulsated and changed. I saw the colors—black and gold, white and orange, deepest royal purple.
They were monarch butterflies, each one the size of a sparrow, but so delicate and ephemeral that the morning light shone through them as well as around them.
“HAIL EMPIS!” Claudia cried, and raised both hands to the rising flood of life above us. That flood blocked the city skyline, blocked out the faces I thought I’d seen. “HAIL THE GALLIEN! MAY THEY RULE AGAIN AND FOREVER!”
Loud as she was, I hardly heard. I was transfixed. Never in my life had I seen something so weirdly surreal and so beautiful. The butterflies darkened the sky as they flew above us, traveling to God knew where, and as I felt the wind of their wings, I finally accepted—wholly and completely—the reality of this other world. Of Empis. I had come from a make-believe world.
This was reality.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Leaving Claudia. Remembering Jenny. A Night in the Storage Shed. The Gate. The Haunted City.
1
Radar settled into the fleece-lined basket willingly enough, although she had a coughing fit I didn’t like. Claudia and I waited until it eased and finally stopped. Claudia used the hem of her dress to wipe the rheum from Radar’s eyes and the sides of her snout, then looked at me gravely.
“WASTE NO TIME IF YOU’D SAVE HER, SHARLIE!”
I nodded. She pulled me into an embrace, then let go and held me by my shoulders.
“HAVE A CARE! I’D BE SAD TO SEE YOU BACK WITHOUT HER BUT SADDER STILL NOT TO SEE YOU AT ALL! HAVE YOU GOT THE INSTRUCTIONS I GAVE YOU?”
I gave her two thumbs up and patted my back pocket.
“DON’T USE THAT GUN IN THE CITY OR EVEN APPROACHING IT!”
I nodded and put a finger to my lips: Shhh.
She reached up, tousled my hair, and smiled. “FARE YOU WELL, YOUNG PRINCE SHARLIE!”
I mounted the trike and settled onto the seat. After my bike it felt like sitting on a tower. I had to put some muscle into the pedals to get going, but once the three-wheeler was rolling, it was easy. I looked around once and waved. Claudia waved back. And blew me a kiss.
I stopped briefly when I came to the abandoned trolley. One of the wheels had come off and it sat aslant. There were old claw marks on the wooden side nearest me, and a dried splash of ancient blood. Wolfies, I thought.
I didn’t look inside.
2
The going was flat, and I moved along at a good pace. I thought I’d be at the storage shed she’d told me about well before dark. The sky had closed up again; the land was deserted and shadowless beneath low-hanging clouds. The monarchs had gone to wherever they went in the daytime. I wondered if I’d see them fly back to their roosting places outside the city. The wolves might steer clear of the houses and buildings outside the city wall after dark, but I wouldn’t want to bet my life on that. Or Radar’s.
At mid-morning I began to pass the first houses and cottages. A little further on, where the first byway intersected Kingdom Road, the hardpacked dirt gave way to a pavement of crushed stone. I would have preferred the hardpack, all in all, because that was for the most part smooth. There were potholes in the pavement I had to skirt. The tall trike’s stability was fine as long as I could ride a straight course, but weaving was tricky. On several swerves I could feel one of the rear wheels leave the ground. I was able to compensate by leaning into the lift, as I did when turning corners on my bike, but I was pretty sure that even a moderately sharp turn would dump the thing on its side no matter how much I leaned. I could take a spill; I wasn’t sure Radar could.