World's End

by Jake Halpern

  Josephus was particularly interested by Alfonso's discoveries in Alexandria. On more than one occasion Josephus slammed an open palm onto his desk and exclaimed excitedly, "Fascinating—just as I suspected!" Moments later, they could all hear the parrot in the courtyard below repeating this phrase, with the exact same enthusiasm.

  "This is interesting and revelatory news," said Josephus, when Alfonso had finished. "My head is spinning with so many notions that I hardly know where to begin."

  "Good," said Hill. "I was hoping you could make sense of this."

  "Well," said Josephus, "for starters, it appears clear that Leif—like Alfonso—is a Great Sleeper." He proudly beamed at Alfonso.

  "Over the course of Dormian history there are several examples of families producing multiple Great Sleepers," explained Josephus. "The most famous of these is the Yablochkov clan from Minsk. Occasionally, in the past, the Founding Trees from several cities died in rapid succession, and during such times entire families of Great Sleepers tend to emerge."

  "But it doesn't add up," said Bilblox. "I thought Somnos was the last of the Dormian cities. So how could Leif be a Great Sleeper, huh? There ain't any other cities left. I mean, where would he be goin'?"

  Josephus smiled and leaned back in his chair. "That's a most excellent point, Master Bilblox. The answer, I believe, lies in Alexandria. I believe that Alfonso and Leif entered the legendary Depot of Alexandria. If my research is correct, it is one of four places where the people of Jasber have always stored the seeds to their Founding Tree."

  "Jasber?" whispered Hill.

  "I'll explain," replied Josephus. His words were deliberate, but his jumpy tone betrayed his true feelings. "If you recall, Jasber is the oldest city of Dormia. Its tree is unlike any of the other Founding Trees and its seeds, which are reputed to be both gold-colored and weightless, are very sensitive to heat and moisture. These seeds would never survive in maracas, or simple carrying cases, like the seeds from the other Dormian cities. That's why they disintegrated not long after you removed them from the depot. The people of Jasber supposedly built four depots around the world so that whenever one of their Great Sleepers emerged, they were never too far from a stash of seeds. No one has heard from Jasber for such a long time that even the idea of depots has disappeared from common knowledge. However, I have studied Jasber for decades—it's been my life's obsession, if truth be told. And early on in my research, I studied the depot system. Four depots were built—in Alexandria, Machu Picchu, Peking, and Kraków."

  Josephus turned to Alfonso. "Your rosewood box came with a container of bluish liquid, is that right?"

  Alfonso nodded.

  "That makes sense," remarked Josephus. "The accounts of the Jasberian depots always mention a vial of dagárgala, which is an ancient Sanskrit word meaning 'water-secret.' According to legend, you cannot enter Jasber without it."

  "I have a question," said Resuza. "If Jasber still exists, why haven't its citizens reached out and made contact with Somnos?"

  Josephus nodded. "Because they are a secretive and deeply paranoid people," he replied. "They always believed that the rest of the world—even their fellow Dormians—wanted to rob them. And they were right to be suspicious."

  "Rob them of what?" asked Alfonso.

  "Now we're getting to the heart of things," said Josephus. "They feared being robbed of the most powerful substance in the world. Even more powerful than the purple ash that Bilblox put into his eyes. Imagine something a hundred times more potent, and you'll get the idea." He sighed. "Let me tell you a story."

  The old scholar walked over to his bookshelf, took down a slender dusty volume, thumbed through its pages, and then began to read the following passage:

  Once, many millennia ago, a severe winter storm passed through the Urals. During the height of the storm, a bolt of lightning struck the roots of the Founding Tree of Jasber. The lightning passed through the root system and discharged in the branches of the Jasber Tree. Several branches burned and turned instantly into ash. It was green and not purple because the Founding Tree of Jasber was different in several ways from those that grew in the other ten Dormian cities. It grew at an extremely high altitude, and it was believed that the lack of oxygen in the atmosphere stunted the tree, making it smaller, but also hardier.

  After the lightning struck, the elders of Jasber faced a dilemma: what should they do with this green ash? Ultimately, the leaders of Jasber decided to allow one chosen citizen—whom they called "the seer"—to sample the powder. The seer rubbed a lone granule into his eye and then instantly entered a coma that lasted for roughly a year. When the seer finally awoke he could see the future in great detail.

  "I'm guessin' that this seer fella saw more of the future than I did when I used the purple powder?" asked Bilblox tentatively.

  "Much more," said Josephus, as he put down the book. "Using just a single dose of the green ash, the seer saw not just one, but perhaps as many as fifty or even one hundred events in the future—disasters, locations of treasures, secret agreements, deaths, births, betrayals, all different twists of fate. Rightly so, the elders of Jasber realized the value of such a prophecy, and they agreed that once every two hundred years a seer would be allowed to sample a lone granule of the ash and offer a new prophecy in order to help protect the city."

  "So that's why the folks in Jasber were so untrustin'?" asked Bilblox. "They thought people would steal their green powder and use it for their own good?"

  "Exactly," nodded Josephus. "And, at one point, centuries after the lightning struck, a Jasberian monk named Imad built a contraption—a kind of magical device called the Foreseeing Pen—that helped the seers record every detail of the future. He was never fully trusted, on account of his having only one eye"—Josephus looked around before continuing—"in the middle of his forehead."

  Alfonso's eyes widened at the mention of Imad's name.

  "A one-eyed monk?" interjected Hill.

  "Yes, you are familiar with this Imad fellow," said Josephus. "It was his statue that Alfonso found in Straszydlo Forest."

  "You mean the statue where Alfonso got his blue sphere?" asked Bilblox.

  "Yes," replied Josephus. "It's too bad you didn't find the Foreseeing Pen as well! With the power of the pen, the seers could take the green ash and document not just fifty or a hundred, but tens of thousands of events that were to come.

  "Before long, word spread that the city of Jasber possessed a powerful ability to foresee every twist and turn of the future. The Wanderers of Jasber are probably to blame for this. As they ventured out into the world, a few of them broke the cardinal rule of Wanderers. They spoke of Dormia and, worse yet, they spoke of Jasber's special powers. Before long, armies of thieves and fortune seekers began combing the Urals for Jasber. And, not surprisingly, some of the other cities of Dormia even sent spies to Jasber to find out more about the green ash. The backlash was swift. The elders of Jasber decided to destroy the pen prophecies and, rather mysteriously, the Foreseeing Pen was lost or stolen—no one knows which. Then came the final act: The elders decided to cut Jasber off from the rest of the world.

  "The people of Jasber surrounded their city with a vast maze, or labyrinth, of razor hedges, with walls fifty feet tall, and thorns so numerous and so sharp that they would cut you to pieces if you tried to climb them. Some say the maze covered an area as big as fifty square miles. Next, they stopped sending Wanderers out into the world and decided to rely exclusively on the depots. And, finally, they built something called the Jasber Gate..."

  "Ah yes," said Hill. He had been following this eagerly and was happy to come to something he knew. "The locked door, built deep underground, in the old Fault Roads, right?"

  "That's the one," replied Josephus. "The cities of Dormia were all once connected by a series of underground passageways known as the Fault Roads. Beneath the Ural Mountains sits a web of underground faults that reach all the way to the planet's fiery core. At some point, the ancient Dormians decided to
use them as an underground highway system. Basically, each Dormian city dug its own tunnel leading into the Fault Roads and then they were all linked together at a place called the Hub. The Jasber Gate is located at the Hub."

  Hill looked curiously at Josephus.

  "You aren't really surprised by any of this, are you?" asked Hill. "I remember now—you've always believed that Jasber still exists."

  "My dear Foreign Minister," replied Josephus. "You know that I am a unifier."

  "What do ya mean, 'unifier'?" asked Bilblox.

  "It's a name used by Dormians," explained Hill. "You see, Josephus is among a handful of Dormians who believe, quite fervently, that there are other hidden Dormian cities somewhere in the Urals. More and more people have begun thinking like this, especially after the Dragoonya attack. They refuse to believe that Somnos is the only place left for Dormians. Their most strongly held belief is that Jasber still exists. So, you can see why Josephus is so excited."

  Josephus nodded enthusiastically. "Alfonso, you have given this old man a shot in the arm!" he exclaimed. "Your discovery in Alexandria is the proof I need. This is an opportunity! After all, Somnos must be reunited with Jasber for the exact same reason that you must be reunited with your father: We are all kin who have been cruelly separated."

  Alfonso said nothing at first. Everyone looked at him. "I don't know about unifiers or Jasber," Alfonso slowly began. "All I know is that I want to find my dad. Do you know where he is?"

  "Yeah," said Bilblox. "And you got any idea why Alfonso was called here? I mean, ain't he already done his job?"

  "I don't know where your father is, but I have a hunch as to why you were called here," said Josephus. "There are only two instances when a Great Sleeper is summoned. The first occurs when he or she must deliver a Dormian bloom and, obviously, Alfonso has already done that. The second occurs in cases where there are multiple Great Sleepers in a family—and one of them is in mortal danger."

  "Mortal danger?" inquired Alfonso uneasily.

  "Yes," said Josephus. "Remember the Yablochkov clan, the family of Great Sleepers from Minsk? Well, at one point during her journey, one of the daughters, Zofia Yablochkov, fell into serious peril. She was captured by Tartar slave traders. On the very day of Zofia's capture, her father, Boris, fell into a deep sleep-trance. For the next three months, he walked across the steppes of central Asia until one day he awoke and found himself in the middle of a Tartar camp. He heard shrieks coming from a nearby tent. It was his daughter being beaten for stealing a morsel of food. Boris took out a short-sword, which he used with great skill, and freed his daughter. He was summoned, in effect, to save his daughter."

  "And you think that's why Alfonso was summoned?" asked Resuza. "Because his father is in danger?"

  Alfonso felt short of breath. "Where is he?" he whispered.

  "Hard to say," Josephus replied solemnly. "My best bet is that he is stranded somewhere near Jasber, most likely in the maze of razor hedges that surrounds the city. This is where the Great Sleepers bound for Jasber have run into trouble."

  As Josephus explained this, Alfonso instantly recalled the dream that he'd had in Alexandria. In the dream, his father lay dead in the snow, amid a vast maze of hedges.

  "So we need to go to Jasber," said Bilblox. "Fine. When do we leave? Are we goin' by the Fault Roads or over land?"

  "I know someone who may be able to help you," said Josephus cautiously, as if he was uncertain of what he would say next. "Why don't we meet tomorrow morning at the Tree Palace?"

  "The Tree Palace?" asked Alfonso. "Isn't that where Kiril is being tried?"

  "Indeed," said Josephus. "I've been interviewing Kiril for several weeks now. The Grand Vizier has given me special access to him." He paused and stared at Alfonso. "Kiril is precisely the man I want you to see."

  CHAPTER 15

  THE DEAL

  LATER THAT EVENING, Resuza and Alfonso found themselves on a gondola, riding through the canals of Somnos. This trip was Resuza's idea. "I just get so stir-crazy sitting around in Hill's mansion every night," she had told Alfonso. "Let's go for a gondola ride in the city." Alfonso had quickly agreed, both because he was curious to see more of Somnos and because he was eager to spend more time talking and joking with Resuza.

  Currently, their gondola was passing through the Dreamer's Quarter. The canals here were lined with art galleries, music halls, and sculpture gardens where artists both created and displayed their work. Despite that it was almost nine in the evening, many of these artists were busy working, scurrying about in the euphoric grip of their own dreams. The most striking feature of the Dreamer's Quarter was all the so-called hanging artist studios, which dangled on thick ropes from the branches of the Founding Tree, like giant ornaments on a Christmas tree. The studios were all perfectly round, made of glass, and illuminated with soft blue light. Inside the studios, artists worked feverishly on their canvases.

  Cold gusts of wind were blowing in off the mountains and, when combined with the warm air of the valley, they created a heavy fog. A team of ten turtles pulled the gondola through the crystal clear waters of the Dreamer's Quarter as a lanky driver snoozed contentedly in the bow of the boat.

  They sat quietly and listened to the gurgling of the water. Alfonso was somewhat distracted by everything that Josephus had said earlier that day, especially the news that his father—assuming he was alive—was likely in grave danger. Alfonso kept picturing the vials of medicine that his sleeping-self had stolen in France.

  Abruptly, Resuza let out a big sigh. "Nance wanted me to take you to one of the sleeping dancehalls tonight," said Resuza. "She must be out of her mind! We'd be the only two people awake! No way—no more of that for me."

  "Come on," said Alfonso, rolling his eyes. "It can't be that bad here in Somnos. It's better than Barsh-yin-Binder. I mean, you're not living on the streets."

  "Look," said Resuza, "don't misunderstand me. Life here is good, but..." She sighed heavily. "I have other considerations."

  "Like what?" asked Alfonso.

  "Like my sister, Naomi."

  Alfonso recalled Resuza telling him about her younger sister, Naomi, who had been captured by the Dragoonya, forced into slavery, and sent to their capital, Dargora. That had been many years ago, and Alfonso doubted Naomi was still alive. But, of course, he kept this thought to himself.

  "Did you look for her?" asked Alfonso.

  "Of course," replied Resuza. "After she was captured I set out to find her."

  "What happened?"

  "You really want to know?" asked Rsuza.

  Alfonso nodded.

  And so Resuza recounted the story. She began by explaining that she came from a family of reindeer herders who lived in a mountain town named Tulov in the northernmost reaches of the Urals, near the icy waters of the Kara Sea. This was a lawless area governed by feuding warlords and Dragoonya slave traders. When the slave traders attacked the village where Resuza lived, she managed to escape by hiding along the banks of a nearby river. The slavers killed her parents, captured Naomi, burned Tulov to the ground, and then headed farther north, deep into Siberia.

  After the raid, Resuza followed the slave traders for a few days, but she quickly realized that, without proper supplies, her pursuit was futile. So she returned to the smoldering ruins of Tulov and picked through the debris, scrounging for copper coins and undamaged workmen's tools. She found these things and, in addition, discovered a gold cup that belonged to the village's chief herdsman. Resuza took what she found and traded it for a sled, dogs, and a supply of dried fish at an old Russian trading post.

  "What's a twelve-year-old girl going to do with these supplies?" asked the old man who ran the trading post. He wore a fur cap and an old Soviet army jacket. His breath reeked of vodka and pickles. "Where's your family?"

  "Slavers got my sister," replied Resuza in broken Russian.

  "You're a stupid girl if you think you can get your sister back," said the man angrily. "They'll kill you the mo
ment they see you."

  Resuza knew that the man was probably right, but she didn't care. The thought of rescuing her sister was the only thing that held back the grief of losing her entire family. It was what kept her going.

  "Take this, you blasted fool," said the old Russian man. He reached under the counter and pulled out an old Cossack Cavalry rifle. "Do you know how to use it?"

  "Yes."

  For the next several weeks, Resuza camped out in the hills above the old coastal sled route and waited until she caught sight of another band of slave traders heading north. It was a large party of at least a hundred people. Resuza trailed them surreptitiously, staying a safe distance behind them, and following the scent of the whale blubber that they burned for heat. The landscape here was filled with thick pine forests and all manner of ice—frozen streams, lakes turned solid and glistening with snowy crystals, and glaciers that glowed a luminous blue.

  Ten days into her journey, Resuza encountered an old Yukaghir woman who was living as a hermit near hot springs nestled in the woods. Resuza shared some of her dried fish and the woman invited her into a cramped cave that smelled of smoke, musk, and rank animal hides. The woman spoke some Yakut, a dialect that Resuza knew, and she warned Resuza not to venture any farther north or she would encounter a vast petrified forest, where tree trunks—made of stone and without any branches—rose from the ground like the pillars of ancient temples. In the middle of this forest was a city so well hidden that it was visible for only several minutes each day in the waning glow of twilight.

  "Is this where the slavers take their captives?" asked Resuza.

  "Yes," said the woman. "But the captives never live for long."

  The next day, before sunrise, Resuza was back on her sled, heading due north. To her great regret, the slavers had disappeared. Twice in the coming days she encountered starving packs of wolves and, in her skirmishes with them, she exhausted her supply of bullets.