Delivery to the Lost City

by P. G. Bell

  “Excuse me,” said Suzy’s mom. “I’m trying my best to make sense of this, I really am, but there’s just too much to process. What’s this ‘void’ you’re talking about? Has Suzy told us about it before?” She nudged Suzy’s dad, who shook his head.

  Frederick gave an exasperated groan. “Honestly, doesn’t anyone on your world learn anything useful?” He ignored the arch looks that Suzy’s parents directed at him. “The void is negative space. A big empty nothing, separating one Impossible Place from the next.”

  “It’s the reason we trolls built the rail network,” said Wilmot. “The tunnels bypass the void by linking the Impossible Places directly. In the olden days, the only way to get from one to another was to sail across the void in a ship. It took ages.”

  Suzy’s mind began to itch. She knew the feeling well—it meant she was wrestling with a problem but hadn’t quite reached a solution yet. In this case, the mention of a ship had lodged in her imagination, and she set about building an idea around it.

  While she thought, her father said, “This might be a silly question, but why not try asking the book?”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” said Frederick. He leaned toward Wilmot’s satchel and said, “Can you tell us where Hydroborea used to be?”

  The book gave a sigh like wind through tree branches. “Not until the magic binding me is lifted,” it said. “Until then, I can only absorb information. I may not dispense it.”

  “You mean you know, but you won’t tell us,” said Frederick. “Well that’s just perfect.”

  They soon arrived at the Belle, and Stonker waved to them from the gangway.

  “Hello!” he called as they climbed up to him. “We’re ready to make way. Are you joining us again, Frederick?”

  They had barely reached him before the letters on the nameplate mounted to the Belle’s boiler began to melt. Stonker watched in horror as the locomotive’s name was sucked into Wilmot’s satchel.

  “What the blazes…?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stonker,” said Wilmot. “I’ll explain everything, but we have to get underway immediately. We’ve got a Gold Stamp Special and it’s time sensitive. We’ve only got twenty-four hours to make the delivery.”

  “Actually, it’s more like ten,” said Frederick. “The loan period expired about fourteen hours ago. We didn’t realize for eight of them.”

  “A Gold Stamp Special!” cried Stonker. The ends of his mustache went rigid with shock. “A little warning would have been nice. Where are we taking it?” He looked around the collection of blank faces. “Well?”

  And that’s when the solution, or part of it, at least, slotted into place in Suzy’s mind. “We have to go into the void,” she announced.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Stonker.

  “We have to sail into the void,” she said, “and find the place where Hydroborea and the Gilded Tower used to be.”

  “I don’t know,” said Wilmot. “There’s an awful lot of void out there.”

  “I know it’s not a great plan, but it’s our only shot,” said Suzy. “If we can find out where the city was, maybe we can find a clue as to where it’s gone.”

  Frederick rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “I suppose we don’t have any other options,” he said. “But how are we going to get there? There aren’t exactly train tracks in the void.”

  “We can always use the H.E.C.,” said Wilmot. “It can go anywhere, and I’ve been looking forward to giving it a proper test run.”

  “Now hold on a moment,” said Stonker. “You can’t just go blasting off into the middle of nothingness. Crossing the void is like crossing a desert. It’s littered with the remains of people who went in and never came out again.”

  Suzy’s mom’s face sharpened. “I don’t think I like the sound of this, Suzy.”

  “It’ll be fine, Mom,” Suzy replied. “We just need someone who knows what they’re doing.”

  “Like who?” said Frederick. “The last of the void sailors died centuries ago.”

  “Yes, they did,” said Suzy. “And I know just the ones to talk to.”

  6

  A TRAIN WITH AN OCEAN VIEW

  An hour after leaving the Ivory Tower, the Express blasted out of the tunnel network and into the dazzling sunlight of the Topaz Narrows. Turquoise waters stretched to the horizon in every direction, broken here and there by the tips of coral reefs and small islets of gleaming white sand.

  “Calum! Look at this!” Suzy’s mom was on tiptoe at the cab window.

  It had been a tense and largely silent journey from the tower, thanks to the presence of the book, which had already sucked the labels and numbers from the Belle’s controls. Luckily, Stonker was so familiar with them that it made little difference, but he and Ursel were both on edge as a consequence. Far more serious was its absorption of every last letter in the Sorting Carriage—the tendrils of ink had crept into the cab under the door, and no amount of pleading or arm waving from Wilmot could stop it. Now the mail on the shelves was as blank as the books in the Ivory Tower, and in roughly nine hours it, too, would be lost forever.

  The book apparently had nothing to add to its earlier instructions and remained mercifully silent in Wilmot’s delivery satchel, which he had hung on a coat hook by the front door while he paced around the cab impatiently.

  So it was a relief to finally see daylight lancing in through the windows, and taste salt on the air.

  “It’s like the Bahamas!” said Suzy’s dad, joining his wife at the window.

  “Or Mauritius!” she replied. “Suzy, is this really where your friends live?”

  “Yes,” said Suzy. “Although ‘live’ is probably the wrong word.” She opened the front door and stuck her head out, savoring the rush of warm air against her skin. The train tracks floated, apparently unsupported, on the surface of the water, and the Belle’s wheels threw up great curtains of spray in which rainbows glittered. It was good to be back.

  “We’ll be there soon,” she heard Stonker call. “Time to get ready.”

  Leaving the satchel on the coat hook, Suzy, Wilmot, and Frederick stepped into the sorting carriage. Suzy’s parents drifted after them, chattering animatedly about the possibility of a beach holiday, and Suzy felt a flicker of hope that the change of scenery might finally have put them at ease. At the rear of the carriage was another door that, when Wilmot opened it, led directly into the Hazardous Environment Carriage at the rear of the train.

  “Why does it look like a caravan?” asked Calum as they all squeezed into the confined space.

  “I’m not sure,” Suzy said. “It’s very different from the old one. This is my first time inside it.”

  She had expected the trolls to have worked their magic and made it larger than the exterior, so she was surprised to find that it was every bit as small and cramped as it appeared from the outside. It looked a lot like a normal caravan, albeit one designed by a mad scientist. The tiny kitchen worktop had been converted into a control console, covered in blinking lights and buttons. Pipes and wiring covered the walls, the windows and sunroof were riveted into their frames, and the small cubicle that Suzy guessed had once been a toilet now had the words WARNING! AIR LOCK stenciled in big red letters on its folding plastic door.

  “Can you shut the door behind you, please?” asked Wilmot. “I’m afraid we can’t dive while it’s open.”

  There was a lot of shuffling and apologizing as everyone rearranged themselves, until Suzy’s dad finally had room to close the door. Outside the windows, the curtain of spray had dropped to a choppy wake. Then, with a distant sigh of steam, the Express rolled to a stop.

  “Going down,” said Wilmot. He flicked a few switches on the control panel, and the H.E.C. jolted slightly. “Excuse me,” he said, squeezing past Frederick and Suzy to the toilet door. He pulled it open.

  Suzy looked over his shoulder and was a little alarmed to see the toilet still in place. Above it, from a peg on the wall, hung a diving suit. Suzy re
cognized it immediately: It was the same one she had worn the last time she had visited the Topaz Narrows. It was old and worn, its fabric repaired with patches and tape. It sported a spherical brass helmet with a long concertina-like canvas sleeve on the front, designed to accommodate a troll nose.

  “Hey, Frederick,” she said, nudging him in the ribs. “Do you remember when you were a snow globe and I put you in here?” She gave the nose sleeve a playful tweak.

  “Don’t remind me,” he said, cringing. “No matter what happens to me in life, at least I’ll never have to suffer through that again.”

  Suzy’s dad leaned in past her and examined the toilet cubicle. “There’s only one suit,” he said. He tapped Wilmot on the shoulder. “Suzy’s not going out there on her own, is she?”

  “Um, yes,” said Wilmot. “According to regulations, there has to be at least one fully qualified operator on board the H.E.C. in case of emergencies. And I’m the only qualified operator on the crew, you see, so—”

  “In case of what emergencies?” said Suzy’s mom. “You can’t send Suzy out there on her own. She doesn’t even have her bronze swimming certificate yet!”

  “Mom, please,” said Suzy. “I’ve done this before, remember? There’s nothing dangerous out there.”

  “You said that about the library,” her mom replied.

  “What about sharks?” her dad said. “Or sea monsters? Are sea monsters real?”

  “Of course they are,” said Frederick. “But you’d have to be really unlucky to bump into one out here. They almost never come into the reefs.”

  Suzy’s dad’s face dropped. “Almost never?”

  Suzy nudged Frederick in the ribs and he finally shut up.

  “I’ll be ten minutes,” she said, addressing her parents. “Nothing’s going to happen, and you can even keep an eye on me. Look.” She pointed to the window behind them, and they turned to see that the waves and sky had gone, replaced by towers of neon coral and shoals of brightly colored fish. While they had been talking, the H.E.C. had started its descent to the seafloor, and it settled on the sand with the lightest of bumps.

  “We’ve sunk!” said her dad.

  “Actually, we’ve dived,” said Suzy. “It’s like sinking, but on purpose.” She shared a knowing smile with Wilmot.

  Suzy’s mom still looked troubled, so Suzy gave her arm a squeeze.

  “Please, Mom. We’re running out of time. I have to do this.”

  Suzy’s mom nodded. “I just don’t like the thought of you out there by yourself, that’s all.”

  “I won’t be,” said Suzy. “I’m visiting friends, remember?”

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Suzy was secured in the diving suit and sitting on the toilet.

  “Are you sure this is right?” she asked, feeling rather self-conscious as her parents and Frederick stood outside the cubicle, staring at her. “It’s not at all like the old air lock.”

  “Perfectly sure,” came Wilmot’s voice from just out of sight. “Just close the door and pull the flush.”

  Suzy wondered if she had heard him correctly. “If you say so.” She waved to the others and pulled the folding door across. Her parents looked more worried than ever.

  The door clicked shut, and she heard a faint hiss as a hidden air seal locked tight around it. She reached behind her and gripped the flush handle.

  This feels ridiculous, she thought, and pulled it.

  The toilet flushed, and the cubicle suddenly began filling with water. It sloshed in around her feet, climbing higher and higher. Within a few seconds, it had closed over her, and she heard its muted rush trembling against the outside of the helmet. A few seconds later, the cubicle was full.

  Now what? she wondered, a second before the toilet lifted off beneath her, propelling her up and out through an opening where the ceiling had been just a moment before.

  For a dizzying moment, she was looking down on the roof of the H.E.C. She could see the tops of her parents’ heads through the plastic sunroof. Then she drifted down to land gently in the sand. She caught her breath, and had enough presence of mind to offer a thumbs-up to the nearest porthole. Her parents, on the other side of the glass, waved back enthusiastically.

  The trolls had made at least one welcome modification to the diving suit, she discovered. She no longer had to worry about connecting a cumbersome air hose to the H.E.C. Instead, she had a small oxygen tank on her back.

  She could already see her destination up ahead—the dark hulk of a sunken galleon, partially embedded in the coral reef. The answers she needed were inside it. At least, she hoped they were.

  With a last wave to the others, she turned and started toward it.

  7

  S.U.N.K.

  Suzy arrived at the ragged hole torn in the side of the shipwreck and peered into the darkened interior. A barnacle-encrusted nameplate on the prow was still barely legible: LA ROUQUINE.

  “Hello?” she called into the darkness. “Is anyone there? It’s Suzy, from the Express. Can I come in?”

  A pale, shifting light flickered into being deep inside the wreck. It was weak and shapeless, but grew steadily brighter and more defined as it drifted toward the opening. Other lights joined it, until Suzy was faced with a row of five spectral human forms. They were all men, grizzled and bearded, and dressed in old-fashioned frock coats and tricorn hats. From the waist down, they were nothing but wisps of light, trailing back into the wreck. They bobbed like glowing balloons, and they all smiled with genuine pleasure.

  “Suzy Smith!” said the tallest of them. “What a delight to see you again, my girl! What brings you to the final resting place of the Society of Adventure and Discovery? Has our message in a bottle washed ashore again so soon?”

  “Hello, Chief,” said Suzy. “No, I’m actually here because I need your help.”

  This set the ghosts chattering excitedly to one another.

  “Then we are at your disposal, my dear,” said the Chief, removing his hat with a flourish. “Don’t tarry out there a moment longer. Pray, enter and enjoy our hospitality. Gavin! A chantey!”

  Suzy held up a hand. “That’s very kind, but I’m in a real hurry. Can the chantey wait for next time?”

  Gavin, who had produced a ghostly accordion from somewhere, looked dejected. “And I was going to do the one about the cross-eyed lobster,” he said. “It’s my favorite.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Suzy. “But Wilmot and I are in the middle of an urgent delivery, and we need your expertise.”

  The Chief looked taken aback. “What expertise would that be?” he said. “We’re a few centuries out of date, you know.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m here,” said Suzy. “You used to sail across the void between worlds on your explorations, didn’t you?”

  “Ah, yes, indeed,” said the Chief. “LA ROUQUINE was the finest void ship ever to put out of the Western Fenlands. We took her all over the Union, and beyond.” He patted a fallen spar. Or rather, he tried to pat it, but his hand passed straight through.

  “That’s the expertise I need,” said Suzy. “We’ve got a delivery that has to go through the void.”

  The ghosts all glowed a little brighter at these words.

  “She’s on a voyage of discovery!” said one of them. “Just like in days of yore!”

  “Who’s yore?” said another.

  “Yore mom!”

  The group cackled with laughter.

  “Lads, please,” said the Chief. “There are young ears present, and we’re meant to be professionals.” He cleared his throat and turned back to Suzy. “Forgive them, Suzy. After all these long centuries together, it’s easy to forget the social niceties. So which empty stretch of beyond are you setting sail for?”

  Suzy gathered herself. “Hydroborea.”

  There was a collective gasp from the ghosts.

  “The lost city!” said Gavin. “Arrr, there’s many an explorer has set out in search of its store of lost knowledge.”
<
br />   “They say mastery of all magic is the reward for any that finds it,” said another.

  “Eternal life and minty fresh breath is what I heard,” said a third.

  “I’m not looking for any of those things,” said Suzy. “I just need to deliver a book there. And I hope that if I can find the place where Hydroborea’s world used to be, I might be able to track down where it’s gone.”

  The Chief stroked his beard in thought. “’Tis a bold and ambitious quest, to be certain,” he said. “But in all my years as an explorer, I never heard of anyone who achieved it.”

  Suzy felt the hope she had been gathering start to fade. “No one at all?” she said.

  “Alas, no,” he replied. “Those that returned did so empty-handed.”

  “Can you at least tell me where to start looking?”

  The Chief considered for a moment. “I think I might, at that. Because, in addition to Adventure and Discovery, we are also the Society of Useless Navigational Knowledge.” He winked at her. “We’ve got dozens more where that came from. Neville? Fetch the map.”

  “Aye, Chief!” Neville, a hunched old man with an eye patch, drifted across to a chest that was half-buried in the sand. Suzy watched, intrigued, as he reached down and made to open the lid. Except the lid he opened was as ghostly as he was. The chest itself remained closed, but she saw a spectral blue outline overlay it. Neville reached into this ghostly double of the chest and drew out an equally ghostly roll of parchment. He drifted back to the group and handed it almost reverently to the Chief.

  “How did you do that?” asked Suzy.

  “We’re not the only ghosts in here, y’know,” said the Chief. “LA ROUQUINE might have sailed her last journey, but she still remembers her glory days, don’t you?” He addressed the barnacle-encrusted timbers as though they could hear him. “She’s what sustains us,” he said, unfurling the map. “Everything that went down with her that fateful night is still here, in spectral form. Including this.” He presented her with the parchment. “An old adventurer’s map that we liberated from a skeleton in the lightning mines of Thunder Mesa. It helped us steer through many a strange course in the void. Feast your eyes.”