The Finisher

by David Baldacci

  As I squatted down for a closer look, my jaw eased lower. Two holes had been added at the bottom of the strap, and then these additional holes had been widened considerably. By about four inches was my rough judgment. The tear had come right in the middle of one of the extra holes. It was crystal clear to me that by adding holes and making them bigger, someone had considerably weakened the strap.

  “You can see right there where it done give way,” said Kitchen, who had followed me over and was pointing at the tear in the strap.

  “Who added the holes and made them bigger?” I asked, gazing up at him.

  He drew closer and gathered his focus. “Blimey, them pair are bigger, ain’t they?”

  “They were not done like that at Stacks. How did they get that way?” I demanded.

  Another Wug joined us. He was a bit taller than me, with a bristly beard, gangly limbs and a self-important look. I had seen him before in Wormwood proper but didn’t know his name.

  “Design change,” he said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Holes lower like that, they can load more timber with each one that way. Simple, see. We made the fresh cuts right here on-site.”

  I said, “But by doing that, you also made it weak. It was never meant to hold that many timbers,” I said, pointing at the splintery mess on the ground. I rose and eyed him severely. “The specifics of the straps were not to be changed.”

  He puffed out his chest and hooked his thumbs behind the length of braided cord riding over his shoulders and keeping his britches up. “What do you know about it, eh, female?”

  “I punched the holes in the straps at Stacks,” I shot out. “I’m the Finisher.” I looked up at the Wall. “How many more of the straps did they do this to?” He didn’t answer. I grabbed him by the collar and shook him violently. “How many more?!”

  “Blimey, you the female in the Duelum, ain’t ya?”

  “She beat Non this light,” added Kitchen, looking nervously at me.

  “How many more?!” I screamed.

  “A great many more,” said the voice.

  I turned and she stood there before me, in her resplendent cloak, a sheet of white in a sea of dung. Morrigone said, “Please let poor Henry go, Vega. I don’t think he deserves to be throttled for simply doing his job.”

  I let “poor” Henry go and advanced on her. “Do you know what happened to Duf?” I asked. My head felt like it was fracturing right down the middle.

  “I was fully apprised of the unfortunate incident. I will go to see him in hospital.”

  “If he’s still alive,” I shot back.

  Another Wug came up to her with a scroll and an ink stick. She looked at the scroll and then took the ink stick from him, wrote some notes on the scroll, and I watched as she signed her name in an elongated motion that took up nearly half the page. She motioned for me to join her as she moved away from the two Wugs.

  “So what exactly is your grievance?” she asked.

  “Whoever changed the strap design is responsible for what happened to Duf.” My pointed finger hovered near her perfect chin. “The pillocks should be in Valhall.”

  She glanced to her left and said, “I am surprised that you of all Wugs would advocate for him to be sent there.”

  I followed her gaze, and my eyes alighted on my brother standing on a raised platform and working away on a tilt-top desk, massive plans on scrolls laid in front of him. For the second time in a very few slivers, my jaw dropped.

  “John changed the design on the straps?” I managed to say, my confidence and, with it, my voice having nearly vanished.

  “He worked out the numbers on it and pronounced it sound,” she said smoothly, as though she were merely recounting a recipe for cookies.

  Her smug attitude brought my anger roaring back. I pointed to the mess of timbers. “Well, there’s your proof of how sound it is. John may be brilliant, but he has never built anything before in all his sessions.” My voice rose. “You can’t expect to just thrust him into something like this and have no mistakes made. It’s unfair to ask it.”

  “On the contrary, I do not ask it. In an undertaking like this, mistakes are certain to be made. We must learn from them and move on.”

  “And what of Duf?”

  “All that can be done will be done to ease Mr. Delphia’s situation.”

  My anger swelled. “He’s a beast trainer. How can he do that with no legs!”

  “He will be supported by Council. Injury wages shall be paid.”

  “And what of his self-respect? What of his love for his job? You give him a few coins and tell him to be happy with what he no longer has?”

  Tears were welling up in my eyes because all I could think of was Delph staring at me. The disappointment in his face. As though I had let him and his father down. As though I had taken his father’s limbs and maybe his life along with them.

  “You’re emotional, Vega. It is not sound to try and think clearly under those circumstances.”

  As I watched her queenly, condescending chin slowly descend, followed by a pair of eyes that seemed to define haughtiness as something far more than a word or a look, I did calm. Remarkably, my reason did return amid all the chaos festering in my mind.

  “I saw you emotional, Morrigone,” I said in speech as smooth as her own. “With your lovely hair all awry, and your pretty cloak stained, and your eyes full of not simply tears but fear. Real fear. I saw all that and more, much more.”

  Just the barest of tremors clutched at her right cheek.

  I continued primarily because I couldn’t stop. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I repaired the window at my digs. After you left on your trail of blue mist of course. I just waved my hand, thought it, and it happened. Was that how it was for you, Morrigone? Because Thansius really didn’t elaborate on your powers when we spoke.”

  I thought she was going to raise her hand to strike. But instead, she spun on her heels and walked away. If I had had my Elemental, I very much felt that this light would have been Morrigone’s last. And I very much regretted not having my Elemental.

  I looked over at John as he used his ink stick to jot notes and redesign plans and come up with the most wonderful Wall of all. His enthusiasm was as beautiful as it was terrible to behold. I walked back over to Kitchen and Henry.

  “If he tells you to make more holes, you will not obey. Do you understand?”

  “And who are you to be giving orders, female?” said Henry indignantly.

  He looked at my grimy clothing and still bloody and bruised face. Kitchen took a few steps back. He no doubt saw the murderous look in my eyes. My rage was such that I felt tremendous energy coursing down to what seemed my very soul. It was all I could do to contain it: I drew closer, made a fist and presented it an inch from Henry’s chin. When I spoke, my voice was low and even but radiated more power than a thousand gospels from Ezekiel.

  “Non is in hospital this light because I smashed his head so hard I heard his skull crack.” Henry swallowed so slowly, it appeared he thought it would be his last gulp as my gaze threatened to split him in half. “So if I find another section of Wall has bellied up because of extra holes in my straps” — I pushed my fist firmly into the side of his bony, whiskered face — “I will come to your home and do four times to you what I did to Non. Do I make myself understandable to you, male?”

  Henry tried to speak even as Kitchen let out a low whistle and seemed poised to run for it. Finally, Henry just nodded his head. I removed my fist, turned and headed to hospital as fast as my shaky legs could carry me.

  HOSPITAL WAS A quarter mile from the Care, the theory being that unfortunate Wugs often went from one to the other. It was a stark, flat-faced building, gray and foreboding and set at the end of a dirt road. Even if one had hopes of survival, it was doubtful they would remain after seeing this awful place.

  That was why Wugs tended to their own families for the most part. Cuts, bruises, broken bones, sick and other ailments were larg
ely handled at home and hearth. Thus, the most severe injuries were the only ones dealt with here. If a Wug had to come to hospital, it was very possible his or her next stop would be the Hallowed Ground.

  As I passed through the large double doors that were carved with a serpent and a feather symbolizing who the Hel knew what, a Nurse dressed in a gray cloak and domed white cap came forward. I explained who I was and why I was here. She nodded, her look sympathetic, which I did not think boded well for Duf’s prospects.

  As I followed her through the narrow, dark corridors, I heard moans and the occasional scream. As we passed one room with the door open, I saw Non lying in a cot, groaning and holding his bandaged head. Roman Picus and Cacus and Cletus Loon were gathered around. I heard the white-cloaked Menden at his cot side say, “No permanent damage, Non. A few lights’ rest and you’ll be good as new.”

  I clenched my jaw and kept going, although I was sorely tempted to go in there and finish the bloke off.

  Duf’s room was at the end of the hall. I heard quiet sobs coming from inside. My heart shuddered and I felt a bit queasy. I thanked the Nurse and she left me. I stood just outside the door and tried to steel myself for what I was about to encounter. I told myself that whatever it was, Delph and I would face it together.

  I gently pushed open the door and went in. Delph was leaning over the cot, his face littered with fresh tears. Duf lay in the cot, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling unevenly. I crept forward until I was next to Delph.

  “How is he?” I asked in a bare whisper.

  “Me-Me-Mendens just in. Say they got to co-co-come off.”

  “What? His legs?”

  Delph nodded, his features an oblivion of misery. “Say ’tis th-th-that or he’s next for the Ha-Ha-Hallowed Ground. Don’t underst-st-stand it all, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane. But that wh-wh-what they say.”

  I could well understand his stammering returning, what with all he was feeling. I closed my hand around his arm and squeezed lightly.

  “When will they do it?” I asked.

  “So-so-soon,” he replied.

  I gripped his arm harder. “Delph, I’m going to get the Stone.” He looked at me quizzically. “The Adder Stone,” I said in a low voice. “I can heal him in no time with it.”

  He looked alarmed. “No, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane. N-no.”

  “I’m going to make this right, Delph.”

  “I’ll c-come t-too.”

  “You have to stay here with Duf.” As I looked down at the poor Wug, my mind raced ahead. “If the Mendens come for him before I get back, just try and stall for a bit.”

  “But they say he could di-die.”

  “I know, Delph,” I snapped. “I know,” I added in a calmer voice. “Just try and give me a few extra slivers. I’ll do my best.”

  I ran from the room, principally because I felt unworthy to be around the pair of them.

  I KNEW I HAD not many slivers to get this done. The Mendens might come at any time to take Duf and lop off his legs. And I doubted whether Delph would have the wherewithal to stand up to the medical Wugs. I sprinted back to my digs on the Low Road, retrieved Destin and the Elemental and ran back out, leaving Harry Two behind. I was not going to risk another Wug’s or beast’s life through my actions. As soon as I was clear of the village, I ran flat out and soared into the sky. I knew it was a risk, but saving Duf’s legs and maybe his life was more important than my being seen flying.

  Stacks was closed this light because of the Duelum. I alighted within twenty yards of the rear of the place, hurried to the same side door and used my tools to open it. It was light outside, but that was no comfort. It had been light outside last time, and the cobble had still come to try and smash us to nothing.

  I retraced my steps on the main floor but found nothing. I took a sliver to check out Domitar’s office in case he had found the Stone. I hurried up the stairs, ran to the end of the hall and saw, not surprisingly, that the wall I had pierced with my Elemental was now all repaired.

  I put on my glove, pulled the Elemental from my pocket, thought it to full size, took aim and the wall once more blasted open. I willed the Elemental to shrink and put it back in my pocket, but I kept my glove on. I took my time going up the steps, thinking that I might have dropped the Adder Stone heading up or coming down them. Only there was nothing there. And the white rock would have stood out starkly against the dark marble.

  At the top of the stairs, I stopped and took a long look at the words carved into the wall above the entrance to the room: HALL OF TRUTH. I didn’t care about the truth right now. All I wanted was the Adder Stone.

  I hurried into the room, stood in the middle, and looked goggle-eyed around the vast space. There wasn’t a single book because there wasn’t a single bookcase on which to put them. In their place was a series of floor-to-ceiling looking glasses hung on the walls. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I looked at the frames on the looking glasses, all ornately carved with twisty, slithering creatures. They seemed familiar to me.

  With a start I refocused. I scoured every crevice of the room for the Stone. I rose from the last corner, mired in defeat. It was then that I glanced at the first looking glass. Nothing could have prepared me for the image I saw there.

  “Quentin!” I screamed.

  Quentin Herms was in the looking glass seemingly running for his life. As I observed his surroundings, I knew at once that he must be deep in the Quag. There were no trees, vegetation or terrain like that in Wormwood. I glanced to the left and saw what was after him. My heart skipped a beat.

  It was not one but a pack of freks, huge wolflike beasts with long snouts and longer fangs. They were fierce creatures. I had seen one slain by a morta after it had attacked a male Wug near the boundary of the Quag. Not only were the fangs sharp, apparently their bite drove one mad. The bitten Wug had thrown himself out a window at hospital four nights later and died.

  I yelled at Quentin to run faster, faster, but no Wug could outrun a frek. Then he turned and looked toward me.

  He had both his eyes!

  If this image was real then what Thansius had told us at Steeples had been a lie. Although I already knew that to be the case, it was nice to have confirmation. Even Thansius had seemingly admitted it when he had told me on the pitch earlier that while we in Wormwood had many things to fear, Outliers were not among their number. But was the image I was seeing now real?

  An instant later the glass went back to being just a looking glass. I saw my reflection in it and gasped as I whirled around, thinking I was now trapped inside there and a frek might be just behind me. But I was alone in the room.

  Poor Quentin. I saw no way for him to survive. This made my heart sink. And then I stiffened.

  There it was, in the glass, barely inches from my hand. The Adder Stone!

  The dazzling white rock was simply resting on the marble floor. I whirled around again because I thought what I was seeing was a real reflection of it in this room and the Stone was just behind me on the floor. But there was nothing there. I turned back. I suspected some sort of trap because Stacks had been none too kind to me in that regard.

  Still, I thought of Delph hovering over his terribly injured dad, waiting for the legs to come off. I could not go back and face Delph unless I had tried everything Wugly possible to save Duf’s limbs.

  I reached out tentatively, my fingers lightly touching the glass. I jerked them back, although nothing had happened. I decided I was just being a git. I touched the glass again. It was hard, like glass should be, and impenetrable, unless I smashed it. I wondered if I should use my Elemental to do so. But what if the Elemental also smashed the Stone? I couldn’t take that chance.

  Then I recalled what I had done in fixing the window in my house. I wasn’t sure how I’d done it exactly, but I looked at the glass and imagined that it was simply a wall of water. I focused all my thoughts on transforming glass to water.

  I reached out again and my hand passed through the glass. A satisfied smile
filled my face. I had done it! Maybe I was becoming like that sorceress thing Eon had mentioned being in the Adder Stone.

  As my fingers closed around the rock, hard and cool in my palm, my smile was immense. Until something seized upon my wrist and pulled me off my feet and headfirst through the looking glass. I landed on something rough and warm to the touch. Momentarily stunned, I quickly picked myself up and stood ready to defend myself. The darkness was all around me, quite a change from the well-lighted room I’d just vacated.

  I thrust the Stone in my pocket and stiffened when I heard something coming toward me from out of the black. I took out the Elemental and willed it to full size. Yet, for the first time ever, nothing happened. When I glanced down at my gloved hand, the Elemental remained as small as a long splinter of wood. I thrust it back into my pocket and tried to take to the air. But Destin seemed as powerless as the Elemental inside the glass and I fell back to the floor. I pushed down the lump in my throat and faced what was coming with none of my special tools.

  A vague silhouette a shade lighter than the darkness around it emerged into my line of sight. As it drew closer and I could see it better, I gapsed in shock.

  It was a very young, only it wasn’t a Wug, or at least none I had seen before. It was dressed only in a cloth diaper. It had a few hairs on its head, and its skin was as pearl white as the Adder Stone in my pocket. Its features were as angelic as any I’d ever seen. But I was still on my guard, for sweetness could quickly transform to wickedness. The image of Morrigone appeared in my mind.

  It closed to within a yard of me and then stopped. It looked up at me and I looked down at it. I felt my heart go out to the tiny creature because its mouth drooped and its eyes narrowed and tears dribbled out from them. Then it gave a little bit of a cry and then something truly remarkable took place.