The Book of Dead Days

by Marcus Sedgwick

  “There is no other way,” Kepler said eventually. “You know that. It is over after all.”

  Valerian fell to his knees and did not move.

  Boy put his hands to his head. What could he possibly say? Willow looked at Boy, then at Valerian.

  “It can’t happen!” she cried. “You can’t give up!”

  Valerian remained motionless as she wrapped her arms around his head.

  “Come on!” she cried. “Boy, tell him.”

  But Boy knew it was hopeless. Tears poured down his face as Kepler watched, motionless.

  Finally Kepler spoke.

  “We should go. Back to the City.”

  No one answered.

  “There is no point staying down here,” he said.

  “Not for you three,” said Valerian. “You go. Leave me here.”

  “We can’t leave you,” cried Boy.

  “It may as well happen here as anywhere,” said Valerian. “There is no escaping it now. If I die here, at least no one will have to bury me.”

  “No!” cried Boy. “Don’t give up!”

  “I am not moving,” Valerian said. “Give me the last of the medicine, Boy. Kepler, do you have any more of these with you? No? Never mind. I shall not be moving far now.”

  He sat against a wall and bowed his head.

  “I can’t believe he’s giving up,” Willow said to Boy, but Boy did not answer.

  Kepler came and crouched by Valerian.

  “Valerian! Listen! You will do what I say. You will come with me.”

  “I will not! The only reason I like you is because you never preach at me, so don’t start now. I am too ill and tired to move. I will stay here.”

  Kepler got to his feet and gave his light another few cranks of the handle.

  “Very well,” he said. “You leave me no alternative. I will not see you die in this way. I am going to mend your arm at least. I will take Boy, for help. The girl can stay with you.”

  “But I don’t want to go!” cried Boy.

  “And I don’t want to leave Boy!” cried Willow.

  “You will both do as I say,” said Kepler, “for Valerian. I need Boy to help me carry things to mend his arm. Someone must stay with him.”

  They argued awhile longer, but Kepler would not be dissuaded and eventually Boy and Willow agreed. Valerian watched it all—it seemed to have no effect on him now.

  Kepler had brought some torches in case his light device stopped working. He handed one to Boy and set it burning with a chemical match.

  Then they left Willow and Valerian with Kepler’s special light.

  “Just turn the handle if it starts to fade,” Kepler told Willow. “We’ll be gone no more than a few hours.”

  Then Boy and Kepler left for the boats.

  As they went, Willow called after them, “Don’t be long!”

  Her voice wavered in the darkness as they disappeared from view.

  “Please.”

  7

  Kepler held the torch over the prow of the boat. He seemed not to need a map. Boy sat in the back of the boat and they generally followed the natural flow of the canal toward one of the river inlets, though they made two difficult turns. Boy was not sure he could find his way back to Willow and Valerian if Kepler was not with him.

  “Doesn’t really take that long,” said Kepler over his shoulder. “You just have to know which way to go, or you could be in here forever.”

  He laughed. It was not a nice laugh.

  Kepler called out more directions and Boy obeyed.

  “Did you know the girl well?” said Kepler.

  What does he mean, “Did”? thought Boy.

  “Willow’s a friend of mine,” he said. There was a note of surprise in his voice, as if he himself were only now realizing this. But it felt right saying it. “A good friend.”

  “And bad about Valerian, too,” Kepler went on. “It can’t be helped though. It has to be like this.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Boy, shipping the pole into the boat. They drifted.

  “That I found the book. Oh yes, I found it days ago, but when I saw—well, I knew I had to hide it again. I was just hiding it when you and Valerian and the girl arrived. That was your good fortune. If he had found it! Well. Shame they’ll have to die. Although I suppose the girl might find her way out. That’s why I left her the lamp, but otherwise . . .”

  Boy felt himself go cold. Then fear and anger rushed through him. He was sitting in a boat with a madman. Kepler seemed to think Valerian was the enemy, and that he had to hide the book from him.

  Kepler rambled on.

  “I have known him a long time, but then he deserves no better after all he’s done. We will have to get along without him!”

  He laughed again, then peered ahead into the gloom.

  “A left coming up, I think. Yes. Boy? A left! A left!”

  But Boy had another use for the pole. He took careful aim and swiped Kepler around the head with it. His aim was true and Kepler fell clean over the side into the water.

  To Boy’s good fortune, the torch dropped inside the boat.

  Boy started to push the boat hard against the current. He had to find his way back to Valerian. His master’s life depended on it, and Boy was not going to let him down.

  “Valerian!” he called into the darkness. “I’m coming. I’m coming!”

  Behind him, Kepler sank under the water for a moment, then, as the cold revived him, came spluttering to the surface.

  “Boy!” He coughed. “Come back! Boy! You don’t understand! Come back!”

  But he could only gasp the words, and Boy was already far away.

  8

  Boy hurried back to his master. Some strange power entered him, and he remembered without hesitation every turn he had made in the dark. The torch guttered on its side in the bottom of the boat, and the wood where it lay started to smolder, but Boy fixed his eyes on the tunnels ahead, until he was back at the quayside of the underground square.

  He leapt from the boat and ran across the square, holding the torch in front of him.

  “Valerian! Willow! Valerian! Valerian!”

  Willow lifted her lamp high and scrambled to her feet as he arrived.

  “Valerian! I know where the book is! I know!”

  Now even Valerian was roused from his stupor.

  Boy ran right to the entrance of the low tunnel where Kepler had emerged and pointed.

  “The book’s in there! Kepler’s crazy! He was trying to hide it from us! I wouldn’t let him do that. I hit him! I can’t let you go, Valerian.”

  Valerian almost leapt to his feet, despite his arm.

  “Kepler . . . ,” he murmured to himself. “Kepler! I was wrong to think the past was the past. I, of all people, should know that!”

  He looked at Boy.

  “You have done well,” he said, his eyes shining with a renewed power. “I am pleased with you.”

  Boy stood, speechless.

  “Now!” said Valerian. “Give me the light, Willow. I’m going inside.”

  Valerian got down on his hands and knees, and shoving the lamp ahead of him, he crawled into the tunnel, moving along like a three-legged dog.

  Boy turned to Willow.

  “I think I’ve killed Kepler,” he said.

  Willow said nothing. Boy did not stop, could not stop. The words tumbled from his mouth.

  “He was just leaving you here to die with Valerian. I didn’t think. I just did it.”

  “What did you do?” Willow asked.

  “I hit him with the pole. He went into the water. I—”

  “Boy . . .” She stopped, then held her hand out to him. “Let’s hope the book gives Valerian the answer he needs. Then it may have been worth it.”

  Boy sat down. They leant against each other in the dank air and watched the flame of the torch flicker and spark. Its smoke twisted away to the low ceiling of the passage from which the many smaller tunnels led.

  �
��It’s going out,” said Boy.

  “No, it isn’t,” Willow said firmly. “It can’t be.”

  But it was. They tried to turn the torch this way and that, to coax the flame back into life, but they only seemed to be making it worse. It went out, and they held each other, trying not to panic.

  “He’ll be back soon,” said Boy. “Soon.”

  Finally they heard a sound, and saw the light flooding the entrance.

  Valerian emerged, triumphant. He backed out of the low tunnel, dragging something behind him. It was a huge book, vastly ancient and tattered beyond belief. There was a strange expression on Valerian’s face as he clutched it. Stronger than joy—it was joy and delight and rapture and hope combined. His eyes burned at Boy and Willow, and then at the thick tome grasped in his strong fingers.

  At last the weight was too much for Valerian to hold in one hand and he put the book on the ground in front of him.

  “Now let us see . . . ,” he said, his voice quiet and strangely high.

  He lifted the book so it balanced on its spine.

  “Wind this infernal contraption for me, will you?” he said to Willow. She bent over the lantern. “Good. Now hold it there.”

  Valerian let the book fall open, as if letting it choose which page it would show to him, what secrets it would impart to him.

  Boy stared as Valerian flicked backward and forward through the pages searching for his answer. None of them moved, save for Valerian occasionally turning a page and Willow winding the light whenever it began to fail.

  Valerian’s face drew closer to the book as he seemed to find what he was looking for. Or was it that the book was showing him what it wanted to show him?

  Willow, holding the lamp, tried to read what she could, but the book was written in many different and strange languages, and she could only understand a few words.

  Suddenly Valerian gripped the edges of the book so tightly Boy thought he might pull it apart. He leant closer, his hands shaking.

  With fumbling fingers he delved deep into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper—a piece of paper that Boy immediately recognized as the one Kepler had written about him, on the back of which Willow had copied the map.

  Now Valerian began to pore over this paper as well as a certain page of the book, and a frown spread across his face and then vanished just as easily.

  He looked up.

  “Boy,” he said quietly, “I have my answer.”

  “What—what is it, Valerian?” Boy asked.

  “You. You are my answer,” Valerian said, grinning.

  Willow, who had been silently trying to read the book over Valerian’s shoulder, suddenly gasped. She was not even trying to decipher the peculiar words anymore, but somehow there was knowledge in her head—a picture that filled her mind with horror.

  “Boy!” she yelled. “He wants to kill you! Boy! Run!” The grin slipped from Valerian’s face as he swung his arm and punched Willow hard in the face. She dropped to the ground, spilling the light. She did not move.

  Valerian turned to Boy.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of,” said Valerian smoothly, his voice calm. “Come here. There’s nothing wrong. Come closer.”

  Boy took a quick, faltering glance at Willow’s still body on the stone flags, and then he turned and ran.

  December 31–New year’s Eve

  The Day of Absolute Promotion

  1

  Boy ran without thinking, without knowing what he was doing. He ran off into the darkness, and only after some time of running blindly did he realize that he had no light to run by. He stopped. Everything was inky around him, and now he found himself paralyzed by the darkness.

  Then he saw a light behind him.

  He had gone perhaps fifty paces into the gloom across the square. He turned, and with alarm saw that Valerian was following, though slowly. He was walking unevenly, almost staggering.

  He doesn’t know where I am, Boy thought.

  Boy could see Valerian clearly enough. He had grabbed Kepler’s light device from beside Willow’s body and was heading in the direction he thought Boy had gone. But blinded somewhat by his light, he could not see far enough into the gloom to see Boy.

  All this passed through Boy’s head in a flash.

  He could see Valerian because of the light, and it was enough to dimly pick up a little of the shapes of old buildings around him. If he was careful, very careful, Boy guessed he might be able to use Valerian’s light to see his own way, and provided he kept as far from Valerian as the faint light would allow, Valerian would have no idea where he was.

  If he judged it wrong, Valerian would see him.

  Boy began to edge backward and tripped over a low stone kerb. He fell with a groan. Valerian froze. Boy watched in horror as Valerian held the lamp higher, away from his face, and looked right at where Boy sat on his backside.

  “Boy!” he called. “Come here, Boy.”

  Boy scrambled to his feet and scuttled further into the darkness.

  “There you are!” cried Valerian, and started to follow, more quickly this time.

  Boy hurried on and as silently as he could began to circle around sideways from his last position. Crouching low to the pavement, he watched as Valerian moved straight on ahead, unaware of where he was. Valerian looked demonic as he passed within a few yards of Boy, his face illuminated from underneath by the lamp, which picked out its shadows and crevices.

  “Boy!” he called. “I know you’re there.”

  Boy waited until Valerian had passed him and gone a fair way ahead, and then began to follow him.

  Perhaps, eventually, Valerian would lead him to the outside. Or maybe they would pass within sight of a channel of daylight, if indeed it was day outside, and then Boy could find his own way out.

  He had no idea what time it was or what day it was. Maybe only Valerian knew, deep inside, that his last day had arrived.

  Indeed, a few stone feet above their heads midnight had come and gone, and the early hours of New Year’s Eve were starting to unwind across the length and breadth of the City. Most people were shut up fast in their beds, trying to sleep as deeply as possible to prepare for the manic celebrations that would entwine the City that night to welcome in the New Year.

  Boy crept along behind Valerian, who called ahead of him into the darkness.

  “Boy. Boy! Are you there? Come here, Boy. I won’t hurt you.”

  2

  Willow woke and began to panic. Her head throbbed. There was not the slightest suspicion of light anywhere, and the more she strained to see something—anything at all—and failed, the worse she felt. She couldn’t believe there could be no difference between having her eyes open and shut, and realized what it must be to be blind. She felt like screaming, but remembered that Valerian was out there in the blackness somewhere, his mind set on murder.

  Murder? Was that really what she’d seen in his eyes when he’d read the book and found his answer? She had been looking over Valerian’s shoulder, trying to understand the strange writing and symbols. She had seen the piece of paper about Boy too, but it was not these things that had told her.

  No. That knowledge had simply appeared in her head as she looked at the pages of the book. She had seen what Valerian intended for Boy. The book had shown it to her.

  If that was not evidence enough, the blow he had struck her was. Why else would he silence her so brutally? She felt her face in the darkness. Her eye hurt. She could feel the stickiness of blood on her fingers.

  She tensed at a low, grating noise. She tried to place it, to identify its source and direction, but everything was disorienting without sight. She fought the urge to scream, and to be sick from the fear.

  She tried to breathe more deeply and slowly, and listened again. Had she imagined it? But there it was again, coming closer and getting louder.

  She struggled to think clearly. She could try to crawl away from the noise, but that would be difficult, and where could sh
e go? Maybe it was better to stay where she was—she couldn’t see whatever it was that was making the noise so maybe it couldn’t see her either. Maybe. If, on the other hand, it was some thing from the canal, it would be used to moving in darkness. Perhaps it could even see in the dark and was coming right for her.

  She heard a small scraping sound, and saw—or maybe she only imagined it—the briefest spark of light. The light, had it been there at all, was gone.

  Was that a voice?

  She sprang to her feet. Her head throbbed from Valerian’s fist and she felt dizzy. Stumbling against some unseen pavement in the blackness, she fell.

  She let out a groan as she hit the ground, her wrists taking the fall.

  “Boy?” came a voice. “Willow?”

  Willow lay still, her head pounding, her breath coming short and fast. Her face was inches from the flags and she could feel their dampness seep into her.

  The sound had stopped.

  “Willow?” came the voice from the darkness. “It’s me. It’s Kepler.”

  Willow was too surprised to say anything. Kepler, who had left her to die with Valerian, was not who she would have chosen to find her.

  There was nothing else to do.

  “Kepler!” she called out. “It’s Willow!”

  “Where are you, child? Is Boy with you? I fear for his safety.”

  “What about my safety?” asked Willow bitterly.

  There was no reply.

  “Well?” said Willow again in the dark.

  “You are safe,” Kepler said. “You are safe from Valerian. It is only Boy who can save him. Only Boy’s life is in danger. We would have come back for you—”

  Willow cut him short. “Oh! I don’t believe you!”

  “I swear,” said Kepler, “I swear you were safe. The danger is only to Valerian and to Boy. Once Valerian had . . . gone, I would have returned for you.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Willow. “I don’t understand any of it. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where Boy is. . . .”