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Across the Largo

Page 8

by Mitchell Atkinson


  ***

  “Esmeralda.” Robert’s voice pulled her out of a dreamless sleep.

  Esmeralda sat up, wiping her eyes. Robert was sitting across from her in the carriage, Boots curled up at his feet, resting peacefully.

  “I think he likes you,” Esmeralda said.

  Robert looked down and scratched the dog’s snowy head. “Yeah, he’s alright. I’m convinced he won’t eat me. My feet are sweating.” Robert looked down at his oversized, grey snowboots. “You could have told me to bring different shoes.”

  “I didn’t know what the weather was going to be like here!” Esmeralda smiled.

  “Neither did I.”

  “What’s going on?” Esmeralda asked.

  Robert pointed to the window. “We’re almost there. Look.”

  The road ran ahead of the carriage. Over the period Esmeralda had slept, it had gone from a quaint, little dirt path to a wide avenue fashioned of an unfamiliar, reddish stone. There were riders on all sides of the carriage, most on horseback, some on very large and ornate bicycles, often with multiple seats, from which trailed brightly colored flags. Esmeralda looked behind and saw they were followed by an elephant with a shining green harness wrapped around its head. The great creature, having space for many passengers, carried only one; atop rode a little girl holding the reigns in one hand and eating an apple with the other.

  “What is all this?!” Esmeralda exclaimed, wide-eyed.

  “I figured you’d want to be awake for it.” Robert smiled.

  Further in the distance, sun gleaming from its many surfaces, lay the City. Stretching out in all directions, it filled her vision with shimmering light. Most of the buildings were made of polished clay or brick, and sent warm beams off their organic flanks, as if the City shared duties with the sky in illuminating the landscape. There were many large towers, each seeming to be fashioned with an entirely different architectural philosophy. Some evoked feelings of different Earth cultures, and some were entirely alien. There were mammoth spires and little houses and some areas filled with simple tents. Around the borders of the City, teams of people were working on what looked like a defensive wall. It was not nearly finished, but what had been laid seemed dark and unnatural when compared with the City that breathed softly beyond. The road stretched past the wall to Song and the flags and towers of light within.

  “You see it?” Dorthea called from her perch atop the carriage.

  “I see it!” Esmeralda said, smiling.

  The carriage picked up speed, passing a couple of people riding matching ostriches, and came through the half-finished gate. The interior of the City smelled like cinnamon and roses and people and baking bread and nectar and olive trees and all manner of unknown things.

  The place vibrated with interior, bustling life. On either side of the road citizens went happily about their day’s business. Everywhere Esmeralda’s eyes fell there were different kinds of people, different colors of skin, different types of clothes. The air was thick with sound and laughter and the shrewd but good-natured haggling of market-goers.

  Dorthea took the carriage off of the main thoroughfare to a smaller street that was lined with tall brick buildings. Above their heads, lines crisscrossed, holding drying clothes. Ahead on the left lay a large, sandy lot, nearly empty but for a few carriages and a group of stables at the far end.

  Dorthea parked the carriage and stabled Darius in the back. Esmeralda, Robert and Boots climbed out of the carriage and took in the air of the City. It was mid-afternoon, the day still hot and pleasant.

  “Where do we go?” Esmeralda asked.

  “Not quite sure,” Dorthea said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of this Mr. Chandrasekhar, would you?”

  “No,” Esmeralda said.

  “‘Fraid of that. We’ll just have to ask around, I guess.”

  They set out across the yellow sand of the lot and onto the street, made a right turn at the intersection and stopped directly in front of the first shop. It was little more than a great deal of red cloth wrapped around sturdy bamboo poles. They were just about to move through the open entrance when Dorthea spotted something strange nailed to one of the bamboo supports.

  “It’s you!” Dorthea called out.

  Esmeralda followed her gaze and saw a very accurate drawing of herself posted there.

  “It’s me,” she said.

  Under her picture, the poster read: “This girl is lost in the Shining City. Escort her to Shrine at once! REWARD OFFERED!”

  “What does this mean?” Robert asked.

  “Not exactly sure,” Dorthea said. “Means somebody’s expectin’ you. I have seen the Shrine.”

  “What is it?”

  Dorthea smiled. “A bright place. A peaceful place still. The very center of our Land, you might say. It’s a great white tower, near as tall as the sky. You don’t have to worry about going there. It’s the safest place in the world.”

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