“And now the Chief of Council, Thansius, will address you all,” Ezekiel added hastily.
Thansius walked to the lectern while Ezekiel took his seat near Morrigone. The two did not look at each other, and my instinct told me one didn’t really care for the other.
Thansius’s voice, in comparison to Ezekiel’s, was soothing and less ponderous but commanded attention.
“We have items of knowledge to convey to you this light,” he began briskly.
I wrapped my arm tighter around John’s shoulders and listened.
“It is now believed that Quentin Herms has been forcibly taken,” Thansius continued.
There were instant murmurings. Herman Helvet rose and said, “Beggin’ your pardon, Thansius, sir, but couldn’t he-a suffered an Event?”
“No, Mr. Helvet,” said Thansius. “It is well known that with an Event, there is nothing left of one.” His gaze found me in the crowd and it seemed that Thansius was speaking directly to me. “There was something left of Herms. We have found clothing that he wore last, a lock of his hair and this.” He held up something in his hand that I could not see clearly. But the Wugs in the front rows gasped and turned away. A female covered the face of one of her youngs.
I rose to get a better look. It was an eyeball.
I felt sick to my stomach and then I felt something else that erased the queasiness. Suspicion. Quentin had had both his eyes when I saw him running into the Quag. And I doubted very seriously that any Wug would have gone into the Quag to find these remnants. What was going on?
“And it was not a beast either,” added Thansius quickly. He had apparently seen several Wugs start to stand and had deduced they would voice this next logical question.
“He was taken by something else that lurks in the Quag.”
“Oi! What be the somethin’ else, then?” asked a Wug in the second row. He had a large family, at least five little Wugs next to him and his female.
Thansius stared down at him with a sort of ferocious kindness. “I can tell you that it walks on two legs as we do.”
A gasp went up among the crowd.
“How do we know that?” demanded another Wug. He pulled on a long stick bowl clenched between his teeth. The Wug’s face was red and creased with worry. He looked like he wanted to hit someone.
“Evidence,” answered Thansius calmly. “Evidence that we have discovered during our investigation of Herms’s disappearance.”
Another Wug stood with his hat in his hands. He said, “Beggin’ pardon, but why offer a reward if something took him, see? We’d thought he’d broken laws, what we were told. See?” He looked at other Wugs near him and they nodded back. Several called out with hearty “Hars!”
This, I had to admit, was getting interesting. I settled back farther in my seat and stroked Destin under my cloak. It seemed to be made of ice.
Thansius again raised his hands for calm. “Fresh facts, that is the answer,” he said directly to the standing Wug. The weight of Thansius’s gaze seemed heavy enough to buckle the Wug’s knees and he abruptly sat, though still looking rather pleased for having stood in the first place.
Thansius gave us all another long look as though preparing us for what he was about to say. “We believe there are Outliers who live in the Quag,” said Thansius. “We believe that they have taken Quentin Herms.”
Outliers? Outliers? What were Outliers? I looked around and found John’s wide, scared eyes on me. He mouthed the word Outliers?
I shook my head and refocused on Thansius. Outliers? What rubbish was this?
Thansius drew a long breath and said, “These creatures walk on two legs and we believe that they can control the minds of Wugmorts and make them do their bidding.”
Every Wug in Steeples turned and looked at his neighbor. Even I felt a chill along my spine. I suddenly realized that while it was true I had seen Quentin run into the Quag, I didn’t know what had happened to him after that.
Thansius continued. “We believe that these Outliers are planning to invade Wormwood.”
If Thansius had intended to incite a panic, he did not fail.
Wugs jumped to their feet. Youngs and very youngs started yelling and crying. Females clutched the tiniest Wugs to their breasts. Shouts and gesticulations and feet stomping sounded throughout. I had never seen Steeples so chaotic. I glanced up at Ezekiel and saw the deep resentment on his features at these outbursts in his sacred domain.
Thansius’s voice boomed so loud I thought the multicolored windows might break under the strain of holding it in. “Enough!”
Every Wug, even the very youngs, grew quiet.
Thansius’s gaze was deadly stern now. I had never seen him like this. I had forgotten all about Quentin Herms. I was just concerned about being invaded by the Outliers, whoever the Hel they were.
He said, “As you know, long, long ago there took place the Battle of the Beasts here.” We all nodded. Thansius continued. “Our ancestors defeated, at terrible cost, an attack from the beasts that made their home in the Quag. Many Wugmorts were killed valiantly defending their own home. Ever since that time, the beasts have remained, in large measure, within the confines of the Quag.”
Thansius let this sink in and then continued. “It has been an uneasy balance at times, but a balance nonetheless. Now, however, I’m afraid that delicate balance has been upset by the emergence of the Outliers. We must take steps to protect ourselves from them.”
A Wug called out, “But whence did they come, Thansius, these bloody Outliers?”
Thansius said, “We have every reason to believe that they have been spawned by the unspeakable physical intermingling of vile beasts and other hideous creatures in the Quag, resulting in specimens of complete horror and depravity.”
If he thought that would keep us calm, Thansius had seriously overestimated our capacity for terror. More shouts instantly started up. Feet stamped the floor. Young Wugs wailed. Mothers clutched their very youngs and screamed. My heart was beating so hard I thought I could see my shirt moving.
Thansius shouted “Enough!” once more and we calmed, although this time it took nearly a sliver to do so. He said, “We have a plan to protect ourselves. And it will involve each and every one of you.” He pointed at us for emphasis. Then he paused again, apparently to gather his strength. “We are going to build a wall between the Quag and us, covering every foot of our border. This and only this will keep us safe. All workers without exception, from the Mills, the Tillers, Stacks especially” — here he looked at me — “will be employed to build it. We do not know how much time we have. While the Wall is being constructed, we will take precautionary measures, which will include armed patrols.” He paused and then delivered the next giant morta blast right into our heads. “But there is every possibility that Herms is not the only Wugmort who has been forced to work with the Outliers.”
Once more, every Wug turned and looked at every other Wug. Their suspicious glances were clear enough.
“How do we know they ain’t about us already, these Outliers?” yelled one old Wug named Tigris Tellus.
“They are not,” said Thansius firmly. “At least not yet.”
“But how do we know?” barked a white-faced Tellus, holding his chest and sucking in one scared breath after another. He seemed suddenly to realize to whom he had raised his voice. He clutched his hat and wheezed, “Beggin’ your pardon o’course, Thansius, sir.”
However, shouts similar to Tellus’s outburst went up. The crowd threatened to get completely out of control. I believed we were one punch or a single accusatory word from a riot.
Thansius held up his hands. “Please, fellow Wugmorts. Let me explain. Please. Quiet down.” But there was no quieting us down. Not until it happened.
“We do know,” said a firm voice booming above all others.
All Wugs turned their heads to her.
Morrigone was standing now, her gaze not on Thansius but on all of us.
“We do know,” she said ag
ain. She seemed to look us over one by one. “As all of you know I have been given a gift. This gift has allowed me to see the fate of Quentin Herms. He broke the law and ventured into the Quag, and that is where the Outliers took him. They plucked out his eye and made him tell them certain things of Wormwood and of Wugmorts. After that I saw no more of his fate. But from what we found left of him it is clear that Herms is now dead. My gift has also given me the vision of what we must do to protect ourselves from them. And we will do so. We must never let them take Wormwood from us. It’s all we have.”
I was holding my breath. Along with every other Wug.
We all released our collective breaths at the same time and it turned into a cheer.
Morrigone raised her fist to the beautiful Steeples ceiling. “For Wormwood.”
“For Wormwood,” we all cheered back.
And despite all my misgivings, I was among the loudest.
OUTSIDE STEEPLES, I saw Cletus Loon and two of his male Wug chums taunting Delph, making moronic faces and talking in the halting way he does.
“D-D-Delph s-s-smelts,” cried out one of the gits.
Cletus said, “Seen better-looking faces on the back of a creta.”
Duf roared, “Get away from here, you heathens. Right outside Steeples no less. Bloody Alvis Alcumus turning in his box, no doubt. Har!”
He grabbed Delph’s arm and pulled him along.
I just happened to walk next to Cletus, and my foot just happened to reach out and trip him. He fell facedown in the dirt. When he rolled over and tried to get up, I put one of my boots squarely on his chest and held him down.
“You try that again, Cletus Loon, my boot will end up in a place the light never sees.” I removed my boot and walked on. He and his mates raced past, calling me names so bad that I finally had to cover John’s ears.
It had been hot in Steeples, but the air outside was cool and damp. I even shivered as we walked along. I took John to Learning and then worked all light at Stacks. It was a curious light for all Stackers. We did our jobs, but no one’s mind, I could tell, was on their tasks. At mid-light meal in the common room, all the discussion was focused of course on the Outliers. I said nothing and listened a great deal. To a Wug, they were all behind Morrigone and the plan to build the Wall. While I had doubts, Morrigone had made a convincing case for protecting ourselves.
When John and I walked to our digs after Learning, the Loons were holding what looked like a war meeting at the table in the main room. Cacus had a knife lying close to hand. Cletus was eyeing it greedily, and then he glanced venomously at me.
As we passed by him, I made a show of taking my cutting knife from my pocket and examining its sharpness. And then I wielded it expertly, making tricky maneuvers with the blade and tossing and catching it in a blur of speed. Then I tossed it ten feet, point first into the wall. As I wrenched it free, I glanced over and caught him watching me, wide-eyed.
While I put my knife away, I noticed something was off. There was no smell of food cooking. And there was no heat coming from the kitchen.
“Aren’t we having a night meal?” I asked.
Loon looked at me like I was gonked. “After what we bloody heard this light at Steeples? Outliers coming to kill us? Eat our young? Who can think of food at a time like this, eh, you prat?”
“I can,” I exclaimed as my belly gave a painful rumble. “We can hardly put up a fight against the Outliers if our bellies are empty.” I looked at Cletus and saw the crumbs of bread on his lip and a smear of what looked to be chicken grease on his chin.
“And it looks like you lot ate,” I said angrily.
Hestia started to rise. I was sure she was going to go to the kitchen to make us a meal. But Loon put a restraining hand on her arm. “You sit, female. Now.”
She sat, not looking at me.
I glared at Loon and Cletus for a half sliver longer and then led John back outside, slamming the door after us. On the cobblestone, other Wugs were standing around talking in small groups. John and I found a private spot and sat down. It was raw and clammy out, and a chill settled in my weary bones as if they were being immersed in cold water.
John said, “Outliers?”
I nodded.
John rested his chin on his bony knees. “I’m scared, Vega.”
I put an arm around his shoulders. “Me too. But being scared and being paralyzed are two different things. If we work together, we’ll be okay. The Outliers will not get to us.”
I pulled my tin box from my cloak and opened it. Inside was some food I had bartered for earlier. It was meant to be for next light meal, but that wouldn’t work now. “Eat what you want, John,” I said.
“What about you?”
“I had my meal at Stacks, so I’m not really hungry. Go on.”
This was a lie but there was hardly enough food for him.
I stiffened when I saw the carriage coming. It stopped right where we sat. Despite the chill, the flanks of the sleps were heavy with sweat. Bogle must have pushed them hard. The door opened and I expected to see Thansius step out. Instead, it was Morrigone.
John and I hastily stood. It seemed disrespectful to sit in her presence. Over her white robe she wore a red cloak that very nearly matched her hair. Blood on blood, I thought. She looked at me and then at John and then down at the insignificant meal in my tin box. When she looked back up, her cheeks were tinged with pink.
“Would you like to come and take supper with me at my home?”
John simply gaped at her. I did likewise.
“Come, it would be both my desire and privilege.” She held open the carriage door and motioned for us to step inside. As we did, I caught the gaze of the many Wugs who were watching us, openmouthed. That included all the Loons, who had come outside. Cletus Loon, in particular, shot a look of pure malice at me.
We already had been inside this carriage once before with Thansius, but our wonderment was still freshly obvious as we gazed at the rich trappings.
Morrigone smiled and said, “It is quite beautiful, isn’t it?”
Bogle whipped up the sleps and off we went. We had never actually traveled in the carriage: We had merely sat in it. I was surprised at how fast and smooth the ride was. I looked out at the lantern-lit windows of Wormwood rushing by as the sleps moved in perfect synchronicity with one another.
Morrigone was very private, and no Wug knew very much about her, but I knew her home was set off the road north of Wormwood proper.
The carriage rounded one last bend, where the road became crushed gravel, and a sliver later there appeared the set of massive metal gates. These parted on their own somehow, and the carriage swept through. All I could see on the wrought iron gates was the letter M.
When I turned back, Morrigone was watching me closely.
“I’ve seen where you live,” I said haltingly. “But just through the gates as I was passing by. It’s very beautiful.”
She continued to watch me closely. “When you were a very young?” she asked.
I nodded. “I was with my father.”
She looked relieved for some reason and nodded. “Thank you. It is a wonderful place to live.” She glanced over at John, who was scrunched so far down in the corner of the carriage as to have almost become part of the cushioned seat. “The time grows late,” she said. “We will have our meal and then we can talk through matters.”
I gaped. What matters needed talking through with Wugs like us?
The carriage stopped and she reached across and opened the door. She stepped out first and we followed, with me last. I actually had to pull John up and push him out.
The house itself was large and magnificent. Compared to what else was in Wormwood, it was like a crystal vase set among rubbish. It was made of stone and brick and timber but it didn’t look jumbled; it looked as though there could be no more perfect way to meld these disparate elements together. The front door was large and made of wood as thick as the width of my hand. As we neared it, the door opened
. I was startled by this occurrence, although the heavy gates had done the same.
And then I saw a Wug revealed behind the door. I had glimpsed him once before on the cobblestones of Wormwood, although I didn’t know his name. He bowed to Morrigone and then led us down a long hallway illuminated by torches set in bronzed holders. There were large paintings on the wall. And a looking glass hung there as well. The wooden frame was of creatures twisted into different shapes.
Then I noticed a pair of silver candleholders on the wall.
“I worked on those at Stacks,” I exclaimed.
She nodded. “I know you did. They are extraordinarily lovely. One of my prized possessions.”
I beamed at this praise as we continued down the hall.
My feet sank into thick rugs awash in lovely colors. We passed several rooms, including one that I could see through the open doorway. This was obviously the library since it had books from the floor to the ceiling; a fire burned in a massive stone fireplace. It had a large chimneypiece fashioned from what I knew to be marble. A suit of dark armor taller than I was stood next to the door to this room. Morrigone, I realized, was minted indeed.
As I looked at the armor, I said, “Will we need to start making these in preparation for being invaded by the Outliers?”
She gazed at me with far more scrutiny than the query probably deserved. For my part, I kept my features unreadable.
“I think our plans for the Wall will be sufficient, Vega, but I rule nothing out.”
As we reached the end of the hall, Morrigone, her gaze sweeping briefly over our less-than-clean appearances, said, “William will show you where you can, um, tidy up a bit before we take our meal?”
William was obviously the Wug escorting us. Short and amply fed, and wearing overly clean clothes, with skin that was as smooth and pristine as his garments, he motioned for us to follow him as Morrigone set off down another passageway.
William showed us to a door. I stared blankly at it, not knowing what to do. He opened it and said, “Hot water tap on the left, cold water tap on the right. Matters of a personal nature right where it looks to be,” he added, pointing at the device set against one wall. “Meal is awaiting, so no loitering about.” Then he gave us each a shove into the room and closed the door behind us.
The Finisher Page 9