Across the Largo

by Mitchell Atkinson

  ***

  The Tower shone—orange flame in the setting sun. The carriage ride to the center of the City took well over an hour with little traffic. Esmeralda looked and strained to memorize every street corner, every shop, every face she passed. The day fell sweetly into dusk as they approached the enormous monolith that the locals called Shrine and the gate and courtyard that waited below.

  The carriage approached the impressive gate and was halted by two very large guards, one on either side, each wearing long dark-blue tunics with red symbols embroidered on the chest. They smiled with sincerity as they held the carriage for questioning, betraying behind the comfortable greetings great confidence and power.

  “May I please know the nature of your business at Shrine?" The smaller of the two guards asked.

  “First time I’ve ever seen guards posted at the White Tower,” Dorthea said. “Seems awful strange.”

  “It is more than this.” The guard’s smile evaporated. “It is a tragedy in the Free City. But with the attacks and the growing fear of Alavariss…” The guard’s eyes wandered into the carriage. He drew a sharp breath. “The girl. The Doppel.”

  Dorthea looked back into the carriage. Esmeralda smiled and waved.

  The smaller guard began shouting orders to his counterpart. “Run ahead and tell the watch that the Doppel is entering Shrine. Notify Counselor Ran. She’ll rouse Chandrasekhar.”

  The larger guard took off across the courtyard toward the Tower.

  “Mr. Chandrasekhar!” Esmeralda lit up at the sound of the name.

  The guard looked at her, considered saying something and thought better of it. He turned to Dorthea. “Please take your carriage across the courtyard. Disembark and enter through the red door. There is a chamber within. Wait there. You will be contacted.”

  The interior of the courtyard was filled with tall trees of a few different varieties. These were evenly spaced, and between them were several winding paths, adorned here and there by hedges or beds of flowers. Each tree carried leaves colored differently than the others and, though the travelers were too busy to notice, if they had stopped and stared a while, they would have seen that each leaf on each tree was slowly changing color, from bright red to blue, purple to gold, anything to anything. This happened to no other trees in Song. The locals called them Chameleon Trees.

  The carriage flew over the lush courtyard; Darius seemed to sense the unrest and let it filter into his gait. The red door was over ten feet high and shaped in a wide arc, its face engraved in intricate designs. Dorthea leaped down from the carriage and pushed the door open with surprisingly little force.

  Mr. Chandrasekhar was waiting on the other side.

  Esmeralda jumped through the doorway. “Mr. Chandrasekhar!” she screamed and gave him a hug.

  Mr. Chandrasekhar smiled, patting her on the back. “Here you may call me Raahi. You must. I am so glad you found your way.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” she said. “Robert almost got lost.”

  “Hi.” Robert waved, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Esmeralda?” Raahi looked surprised. “You brought your friend across?”

  “I was afraid. A little. I was sort of concerned about what would happen,” she said, trying to sound as tough as possible.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t really think anything would happen.” Robert shrugged his shoulders. “I just figured one of you was nuts.”

  “Um,” Raahi said, “are you comfortable, I mean, dressed like that?”

  Robert looked down at his giant snowboots, pulled the collar of his striped pajamas, grimaced and shrugged. “My feet are hot. But I didn’t, you know, this wasn’t well planned.”

  Raahi smiled. “Many things are unplanned, but we go forward anyway.”

  Dorthea explained her role in bringing Esmeralda and Robert safely to Shrine, and Raahi gave her very warm thanks and congratulations. He led them across the chamber to a set of stairs. They went up one flight, through a sturdy oak door, and into a remarkably vast room. The walls were lined with row after row of bookshelves, and there were two tiers of balconies, each holding a countless number of books. At the room’s center, across a sea of wooden tables, a series of statues—some of human beings, some of Turtles, some of other forms—was elegantly arranged around a fountain carved of white stone; the sound of gently trickling water bounced everywhere. Around the perimeter above the balconies, several stained glass windows let in ample natural light, some of which reflected off of the fountain’s water, sending rippling radiance in all directions. As Raahi and the others entered, a group of kids, fifteen or so, were seated at a set of tables near the statues. In front of them, his head firmly planted in a huge, dusty book, was a silver-haired man of quite advanced age. Taking notice of the minute commotion caused by the newcomers, the old man looked for a moment across the room, sneezed twice, stood, and led the other kids out.

  Raahi sat Esmeralda, Robert and Dorthea down at one of the tables. Boots, having dutifully followed everyone, sat on the floor and closed his eyes.

  “Dorthea,” Raahi said, taking a seat, “have you ever been to Shrine?”

  “Never in the Tower, sir,” Dorthea said.

  “Why? This is a free city.”

  Dorthea smiled. “I run a farm, ‘bout twenty miles out of town. Beautiful place. Sunflowers mostly, some corn and beans too. I have a little garden where I grow tomatoes and such. The Tower is a place where great things have happened, they say. Seems too big a place for me to puddle around in.”

  “Esmeralda,” Raahi said, turning from Dorthea, “this is a place where many things are possible. Nearly anything. The reasons for that are not known to us. When the grandfathers of my grandfathers of my grandfathers came to this land, the Tower was already here. This Shrine is older than our histories and commemorates something we do not understand. Many people, even those who live near here in the City, feel like Dorthea. They don’t come to Shrine. Or if they do, they stay in the courtyard.”

  “Why?” Robert jumped in.

  “I have lived here all my life. One of the few, I was born here, raised in the ways of the Tower,” Mr. Chandrasekhar said. “Watch this.”

  He grabbed a book from the nearest shelf. It had a dark black-leather binding. He set the book in the middle of the table and said, “red.” The book turned a deep red, almost purple.

  “How’d you do that?” Esmeralda said, eyes wide.

  “Well, it’s not that impressive,” Robert said folding his arms. “I mean, ever heard of a mood ring?”

  “Locket,” Raahi whispered.

  The book folded itself up many times and became a tiny, gold locket. Esmeralda picked it up, opened it and found inside a small picture of the City standing before sunrise.

  “That’s a little more impressive,” Robert admitted.

  Raahi inclined his head. “Thank you.”

  “It’s magic,” Esmeralda said. “The whole place is magic.”

  “No,” Raahi corrected her rather sternly. “Or at least it’s best not to call it that. I don’t exactly understand what it means when people where you are from say the word magic. We do not have such a thing as ‘magic’ here. We have Music and Art and things that work or not. But no, not magic. In this room the books are very flexible. That’s all.”

  “Okay,” Esmeralda said, not really understanding.

  “Now, let’s move on to see the Counsel. They’re waiting for you.”

  Raahi led them on across the expansive floor of the library and to a set of black doors. He pushed them apart, sliding them into the wall on either side. Beyond, there was an open shaft fashioned of smooth, bleached stone.

  “The Counsel meets on the top of the Tower in the observatory. From there you can see a long, long way. It’s half a mile of winding stairs to the top and we haven’t nearly got the time to walk.”

  On the wall next to the door, a small clay disk about the size of a fist hung by a leather cord. Raahi grabbed this and pu
t it to his lips. He blew a simple three-note song and waited. In a few moments, a large, wooden basket came humming up the shaft and into view, supported by nothing apparent save the air. Large enough for ten or so, the four travelers and the dog would fit comfortably inside.

  “Um,” Robert said, the last to climb in, “how exactly is this working?”

  “I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Raahi said. “But it does work.”

  “That’s very comforting,” Robert said, closed his eyes and climbed into the obediently floating elevator.

  They slowly ascended, the basket rising noiselessly past floor after floor of the enigmatic Shrine. The vertical journey ended with them rising through the final floor, onto a large circular platform with a domed ceiling about twelve feet overhead. This was supported by pillars spaced six feet apart, set around the outer edge of the floor. Between the pillars there was either very clear glass or nothing at all, giving the inhabitants of the observatory the distinct feeling that they were atop a gigantic tower with nothing to stop them from flying off into the growing night.

  Boots barked nervously and stepped off the basket

  “Heavens.” Robert held his palm to his chest.

  In the center of the observatory floor were seated thirteen people in a circle, each facing outwards and with their backs to one another, so that they faced in all directions to the City and the Land beyond. None of the Counselors made any indication that they noticed the newcomers.

  “The Doppel.” Raahi bowed low. “As I promised.”

  One of the Thirteen stood and came forward. She was dressed in a flowing, white gown with the most delicate lace around the neck and at the cuffs of the sleeves. Her hair was black with streaks of silver that fell over deep, dark, almond-shaped eyes. She was the most beautiful woman in Esmeralda’s experience, save perhaps the memory of her mother.

  “I am Speaker Han,” The woman said. “I understand you have come a long way to see us.”

  “Yes,” Esmeralda said timidly.

  “Good. Journeys build strength.” Speaker Han smiled elegance. “You are a very special little girl, and, though we did not know of him, your friend is a very special boy, and we are happy that he is here with you.”

  “Glad to be here,” Robert awkwardly interrupted.

  Speaker Han continued. “Do you know what a Doppel is?”

  “No,” Esmeralda said. “Everyone seems to think that is what I am.”

  “A Doppel is like another instance of a person. All the Worlds are linked, Esmeralda. They are linked by a membranous network that is beyond the wisdom of humanity to understand. We here, from this high platform, see but dimly the interwoven nature of the Worlds. Your Doppel is a princess in a place very different from Song. She lives in a Land called Alavariss. Have you heard that name before?”

  “I have, yes,” Esmeralda said. “Since coming here.”

  “Good. The princess is the focus of a very old prophetic song. It is about the girl and a flute, a very important flute. The name it wears to us is Ko. That is what we are calling this flute, though giving such a thing a name is almost silly. When the girl plays the flute correctly and in the correct mind, she will reveal the whereabouts of the new Engine of Worlds.”

  “What is that?” Esmeralda asked.

  “A turtle.” Speaker Han smiled. “We have been expecting the birth of a new Great Turtle for more than half a thousand years now. It is time very soon. We need you to be the princess at Alavariss, take back the flute, and play it. We believe only you can play it correctly.”

  Esmeralda stared, confused.

  “My friend, Counselor Judah, will help you to understand with a song. Please sit.” Speaker Han pointed to four chairs that no one noticed when first stepping off the elevator.

  Counselor Judah left his position in the circle and sat in front of the four travelers, crossing his legs on the floor. In his hands he held a small lute with strings that caught the silver moon and flashed its light into Esmeralda’s eyes. He held the instrument delicately, as if it might turn to dust at any moment, positioned his fingers just so, and started to play.

  “Listen,” Speaker Han whispered.

  Esmeralda closed her eyes and whisked off into the air, out of the observatory, and over the City. She opened her eyes, frightened, and found herself in her seat. Speaker Han smiled. Esmeralda closed her eyes again and the vision of flying through the air returned. She went off the observatory, over the courtyard and the rows of trees and gardens within. She flew over half of the City, dodging the jutting spires of its many carefully erected buildings and soaring over avenues filled with those returning home for quiet evenings or rambunctious parties. She swept over the incomplete far wall; underneath her snaked a road, and upon it, not a full-blown exodus, but a thick stream of people traveled in the same direction: away from Song. She moved past them, flying at incredible speed and feeling no wind, nor any body of her own. She soared over fields and hills full of growing food and forests with silvered leaves glimmering in the moonlight.

  Soon the land became less green and filled up with rocky hills and short, scraggly trees that grew sideways instead of toward the stars. The surroundings became ever more dark and shadowy, the moonlight choked out of the air by some inexplicable haze. In the distance a new city grew. It was full of irregular, black shapes, and around these huge, silent teeth a darkling, green glow spread. Esmeralda looked out at it, at the noisome smoke rolling around the city’s knees and the angry monoliths that rejected the silver moon, and knew she did not want to go there. Against her wishes, she flew on.

  She shot over the gigantic iron border of the city, a series of fences with horribly serrated fangs that would break anyone attempting to cross. She flew over grimy streets full of strange, angular vehicles with many crawling legs, like spiders. Within them, people with strangely aged eyes stared out after unknown objectives. She flew up and across the city until she zipped through the window of a high balcony in a sprawling, black palace. Within, seated in front of a mirror, pulling a comb through long, exactingly-styled hair, was Esmeralda. Or, if it was not her, it was a twin sister she had never known. The girl wore a long satin gown, with high shoulder pads and frills throughout the skirt. Her hair was held in place by a jewel-encrusted tiara, and each of her fingers supported a ring. The girl smiled at herself in the mirror. Esmeralda flew across the room and through the door into the palace, went down a hallway, down a flight of stairs, through several spacious foyers, until she reached a huge entrance. She then turned and followed exactly the same path, ending at the princess’s bedchamber.

  Esmeralda flew out the balcony window and went over top of the palace roof. Beyond lay a series of gigantic cages. There were thirteen in all, though only ten were occupied, their bars fashioned of pitted, black iron that glowed sickly green. The occupants of these cages were turtles, each the size of a small mountain. They looked like sea turtles, their flippers bound with thick black cords that ran over the backs of their shells and to the iron bars of the cage. Each turtle was fitted with a dark mask with two round fixtures placed over their eyes. From these ran several tubes, each of which flowed into a long black pillar raised in front of the row of bars. The tubes twitched at intervals, and a high whining noise filled the air. The noise grew in intensity until it became too great to bear.

  Esmeralda opened her eyes.

  “What was that?” she said.

  Robert put his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him. He had seen the same thing.

  Raahi stood from his chair. He knelt in front of Esmeralda and Robert. “The Turtles are bound up with the Largo and the substance of all of the Worlds. The rulers of Alavariss, for centuries upon centuries now, have been capturing the Great Turtles and using their nature for their own purposes. They have taken, we believe, all but two of the Great Turtles now living. And they mean to find the next to be born.”

  Dorthea’s face was flushed with anger. “Alavariss,” she said coldly.

  “Why
are their eyes covered?” Robert asked.

  “They collect the tears,” Speaker Han said simply. “The liquor holds great power. There is very little that cannot be made or improved with the tears of a Great Turtle. The Alavarisians have hoarded rivers of them.”

  “How can we get there?” Esmeralda said, a sudden anger in her voice. “How can we stop them? I want to stop them.”

  “Entering the city is easy,” Raahi said. “Do you remember seeing all of those people leaving Song?”

  “Yes,” Robert answered. “Where were they all going?”

  “There are always people leaving the Shining City these days,” Raahi said quietly. “They are going to Alavariss.”

  “But why?” Esmeralda was distraught. “Why would they leave here to go there? It’s a terrible place. It’s terrible.”

  Raahi shook his head. “Some say it is the call of the Great Turtles, that some of us cannot bear to be separated from such a concentration of their wondrousness, even when housed in such tragedy. Some, of course, simply choose that path to take; Alavariss makes sense to them. Whatever their reasons, Alavariss takes them, takes everyone, being greedy for cogs in its machines. Getting into Alavariss will be easy. The gates will swing wide for us. The problem will be with you.”

  “What do you mean?” Esmeralda asked.

  Raahi smiled. “Have you ever worn a tiara?”

 

  6. The Princess Switch.

  Princess Yaris yawned. She had brushed her hair three hundred and thirteen times, which seemed appropriate considering her recent birthday. Soon her house-slave Mr. Penrose would come in and tell her that it was time to try the flute again. Every night since she could remember she had put that awful thing to her lips and failed to make it sing. What was the point anyway? The thought of Mr. Penrose and his slimy, little eyes coming in her room tonight filled her with contempt. Earlier that morning, he brought her tea with only two sugars. She knew it was only two sugars. It was horrible. She thought she would come up with an excuse to have him fired tomorrow, maybe thrown in one of the dungeons. Princess Yaris smiled.

  She went back to brushing her hair, thinking another three hundred and thirteen strokes might be in order, when she heard the strangest sound, unlike anything she had heard before. It was high and smooth and somehow found its way deep into her chest. Yaris stood up and went to the window. She couldn’t see what made the noise, but could tell the direction. She began to itch all over. She tried to scratch the itch, but couldn’t cover enough area to soothe it at all. The sound had something to do with all this. She felt an incredible burning desire to find whatever was making that sound. She had to have it.

  She went to her third closet and pulled out the rope ladder she used for sneaking out the window. Yaris snuck out of the palace all the time, usually to set little fires in the courtyard. On dry nights they would grow and grow, and the princess could climb back into her room and watch the palace slaves running around tossing water on the flames. Tonight, she slung the ladder and climbed down much more quickly than usual.

  Princess Yaris crossed the courtyard, not noticing or caring that the hem of her skirt picked up a few stains. She found the section of the out-fence with the loose bars and slid her way through. She knew the sentries’ schedule by heart; they wouldn’t be passing this way for another ten minutes. Outside the palace grounds, she closed her eyes and, finding the sound tantalizingly close, broke into a run.

  She ran across the stony ground—the area around the palace was always deserted—and in the distance spied a ramshackle carriage with an ugly, brown tent pitched next to it. The sound seemed to be coming from the tent.

  She walked up, grabbed the thick brown material and shook it vigorously. “Come out now!” she yelled.

  The music stopped, and out from the tent came a tall man wearing a hooded black cloak. In his hand he held a wooden flute with silver buttons.

  Princess Yaris felt very strange when the music died out. “What is this?” she said. “I demand to know.”

  “I’m sorry,” Raahi said, placing his flute in his robe, “but you are about to be horribly inconvenienced.”

  Esmeralda and Robert stepped down out of the carriage. Princess Yaris’s eyes went wide. The girl before her wore exactly the same clothing, same jewelry…didn’t have the hair quite right. They were near mirror images of each other.

  “Hi,” Robert said, trying to break the ice.

  Princess Yaris screamed with her whole body. The wake of wailing washed over Esmeralda and Robert. Dorthea came from somewhere beyond the tent and slapped Princess Yaris across the face. The girl stopped screaming momentarily, staring up with the most shocked expression. Dorthea smiled. Princess Yaris opened her mouth and screamed louder than ought to have been humanly possible.

  Raahi put his flute to his lips; Esmeralda and Dorthea put their fingers to their ears. He played a short, forceful song, and on the last note of it, Princess Yaris fell backward, eyes closed.

  “I may be deaf.” Robert shook his head.

  “Quite a scream on her,” Dorthea said, binding the sleeping girl’s hands.

  “Alright,” Raahi said, serious, “there are sentries posted nearby. We need to be quick.”

  “I’m ready,” Esmeralda said.

  Raahi smiled. “I know you are. Remember everything we told you about behaving like the princess. Concentrate on the palace maps we showed you and your vision of the path to the bedchamber. The way is simple. Do not smile overmuch, and do not be kind to anyone you meet. Not even, Song forbid it, should you meet the Emperor.”

  “I know. I’ll remember everything,” Esmeralda promised. She gave everyone a quick hug, turned and ran off through the dark toward the palace, alone.