Jane Doe and the Key of All Souls

by Jeremy Lachlan

  ‘Sorry,’ they say together, and Violet holds my good hand again. ‘It’s time, Jane.’

  ‘We’re right here,’ Hickory adds, ‘and we’re not going anywhere.’

  He’s right. The Makers may not be here, but they are – Violet and Hickory – and that’s all I need. I place my still-prickling hand on the stone. Close my eyes.

  ‘Happy thoughts,’ I whisper. ‘Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts …’

  I think about Dad, back on Bluehaven at last. His smile. His eyes. Sure, he has terrible taste in music, but we can’t all be perfect. I think about Elsa smiling at me in the watchtower of Orin-kin as the twin suns rose before us. Sure, she secretly wanted to kill me, but think what could’ve been. I think about Aki putting his life on the line to save us and hope to the gods he’s okay. I think about the townsfolk marching into the Manor to help us, even though they used to be a bunch of jerks, and some possibly still are. But mostly I think about Hickory, kneeling beside me on the stone, placing his hand on my shoulder. And Violet. The girl with the crossbow. The girl who’s afraid of scorpions. The girl who’ll stand up for what’s right no matter what, and who’ll always have my back. The pyromaniac with the prettiest goddamn eyes I’ve ever seen. I use them both as an anchor to drive the bad thoughts away.

  The gaping void closes, replaced by that warm, golden glow. The glow that spreads and swirls inside me, lighting me up like the Arakaanian suns. But it isn’t just inside me. The light pours from the wound in my hand, across the stone, into the stone, seeping like honey through every inch of the Cradle, outshining the Spectres, calming the Sea, healing every crack, cleft and fissure.

  ‘Your eyes, Jane,’ Violet gasps. ‘They’re shining.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say, and it doesn’t sound like my voice, it sounds like the voice from my dream. The voice of the Manor itself, the Makers combined. ‘You might want to hold on.’

  And, just like that, I truly let go and embrace the connection, give myself to the Manor, body and spirit. My mind expands beyond imagining, stretching on and on into infinity. I become the Manor. The halls and corridors are the veins in my body, the gateways connective tissue, synapses firing. And this, right here, the Cradle: my furiously beating heart.

  I can feel every living thing within its walls, too. Every lost and injured soul. The prisoners in Roth’s lair. Eric Junior and his team running to save them. Other, lost people wandering through the Manor far, far away, just trying to find their way home. I feel the townsfolk of Bluehaven still battling the Leatherheads in that sprawling, pillared hall. I feel the Tin-skins, the river creatures, and more. I feel Aki, so close – injured but alive – still trying to reach us from the frozen hall. And beyond the Manor, out in the Otherworlds, I feel Dad and Yaku, Winifred and Atlas. I feel the strangers I used to dream about, regular people going about their lives. I sense their anger, their joy, their fears and desires. Billions of shining lights, like stars in an endless sky.

  I’m connected to them all.

  I’m at one with the Manor at last. More connected to the Makers than ever before. I rebuild every broken wall. Every trap, chamber and hall. I seal every gateway. I know I could give it everything, disappear, pour every ounce of my essence into the stone, just like the Makers. Part of me thinks that’s what they’d intended all along. It’d be so easy. But the two brightest souls of all are right by my side: Violet and Hickory, tethering me to the waking world. When the final gateway heals and the last crack seals, I ease back, retreat to my body of flesh and blood – this vessel the Makers made – and lift my hand from the stone.

  The connection severs. The quake stops. The Sea calms.

  It’s over. We’ve won.

  The Spectres vanish to the depths without so much as a glance goodbye, leaving us alone at the centre of all things, catching our breath, wiping tears from our eyes, bathed in the waning light of the Cradle Sea, shimmering like liquid gold. Like my eyes.

  ‘Well, that was … intense,’ Hickory sighs, falling back to the stone.

  Me and Violet just stare at each other.

  This is what I want to happen: I brush that strand of wet hair behind her ear and tell her she’s more than a sidekick, more than a friend. Then I lean in and kiss her.

  This is what actually happens: Violet leans in and kisses me.

  It’s just a peck on the lips – soft and warm and over before it begins – but I know I’ll never forget this feeling, this thrill, which is saying a lot considering I was mentally and physically connected to an infinite bloody labyrinth between worlds ten seconds ago.

  I’ve kissed a goddamn girl.

  ‘Sorry,’ Violet says. ‘Figured if there was ever a time to do that –’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I –’

  ‘No! I mean, I’m glad you did. I think my brain’s just … melting.’

  ‘In a good way? Like, you’re okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Are you okay?’

  Violet smiles. ‘Never better.’

  Then Hickory clears his throat behind us.

  ‘Um, I’m not. Just in case anyone was wondering. I mean, I’m happy for you two – really – but I’m also bleeding. A lot.’

  ‘Crap,’ I say. We spin around to help him. ‘Sorry, Hickory …’

  ‘I need a healer,’ he grunts. ‘And a drink. Seriously, can we get out of here already?’

  We help him to his feet and look out over the Cradle Sea, back towards the hundred-keyhole door. I know Aki’s waiting for us on the other side. I can still feel him. I can still feel them all, the billions of souls out there in the Otherworlds. The feeling’s fading, like the golden shimmer of the Sea, but for now it’s comforting, like I’m part of something big.

  There’s loads to be done. So many people need our help. We have to pick up the keys, and get the rest of Roth’s prisoners back to their homes. We have to help Yaku get back to Arakaan and march any surviving Tin-skins and Leatherheads back there, too. There are all kinds of strange and deadly creatures still trapped inside the Manor. So many more wonders to see.

  Whatever Otherworldly environments were inside when I healed the gateways are here for good, I’m afraid. The snow, the lava, the river, the black sand and crystals – they’re part of the Manor now, like me. Hell, the forest’s probably tearing it to pieces again already. Bloody repair work’s never gonna be done, but that’s okay. A new age of the Manor has begun.

  First, I want a coconut. And a nap. Most of all, I want some quality time with Dad. I’ll have to tell him about Elsa when he wakes up. It won’t be easy, but what’s new? I have Violet. I have Hickory. As long as they’re with me, I can do anything.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Let’s go home.’ And once we’ve helped Hickory down to the bridge and started the long, slow walk back across the Sea: ‘It’s a pity we don’t know the name of it.’

  ‘The name of what?’

  ‘Our home.’

  ‘Bluehaven,’ Hickory says.

  ‘Bluehaven’s the name of the island,’ I say. ‘I’m talking about the world.’

  Hickory pauses, hand clutched to the wound in his gut. ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘The name was lost long ago,’ Violet says. ‘Our ancestors – your people – struck it from their early records. Vowed to never say its name. “The Unspeakable Plague has destroyed the world beyond the ocean,” Riggs wrote. “It is no more. We must look to the Manor now. We are the last. We are Bluehaven.” We lost the names of places and peoples, but some things –’

  ‘Earth,’ Hickory says, looking at us like we’ve lost our minds. ‘We called it Earth.’

  ‘Earth?’ I say.

  ‘I may have forgotten a lot of things, but I remember that. You seriously didn’t know that? Everyone’s been calling the whole thing Bluehaven for two thousand years? That’s bananas.’

  ‘Earth,’ Violet whispers. Then she screws up her face. ‘No, that doesn’t sound right.’

  ‘Whateve
r it’s called,’ I quickly say to stop them arguing, ‘it’s safe.’

  ‘For now,’ Violet says as we set off again. ‘I’m sure something else will go wrong, sooner or later. The question is, what do we do about Bluehaven? The island’s ruined.’

  I shrug. The answer’s easy. ‘We rebuild.’

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book, together with Cradle of All Worlds, took twelve years to write. Nearly a third of my life. There are far too many people to mention individually for all their love and support during this time, so let me start by sending a million hugs and a great big THANK YOU to all my friends and family who have stood by my side since this adventure began.

  Mum, my number one fan and pseudo publicist, I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you for – well – quite literally everything (and apologies for saying ‘ain’t’ in the dedication – I know you hate it). Dad, you’re not around to read this, but wherever you are in the great beyond, know that my love and admiration for you imbues every page. Brooke, my purely platonic soulmate, words can’t express how much our friendship means to me. Damn it, I’m tearing up. Thanks for the chats, the cheerleading, and simply being there every single day. Bailey the Golden Lab, my lil’ editing buddy, thanks for distracting me.

  To my wonderful agent, Grace Heifetz of Left Bank Literary, and the entire Hardie Grant Egmont team – thank you, thank you, thank you. Big hugs to Emma Schwarcz, Marisa Pintado (special shout-out to little baby Raf), and my incredible eagle-eyed editor, Luna Soo. To Amanda Shaw, Tye Cattanach, Emily Wilson, Lauren Draper, Pat Cannon, Madeleine Manifold, Joanna Anderson, Annabel Barker, Troy Lewis, and the sales team, thank you for helping me share Jane with readers here in Australia and around the world. Thanks also to designer Pooja Desai and illustrator Alessia Trunfio for creating this astonishing, incendiary cover. I just love it.

  More shout-outs to my dear cousin, Georgia Lyons Brown (aka Porge), for her aeronautical expertise, Elizabeth Tan for her correspondence and advice, and to my future husband, who still hasn’t shown up yet. How dare you. To my fellow authors everywhere, thank you for making this such an incredible industry to be a (very small) part of.

  To the booksellers and librarians, thank you for championing adventure, celebrating queer heroes, and supporting Aussie kids’ literature. To my readers, I love you all. So many of you have reached out since Cradle was released, and your messages of support lift me up every time. Even if I didn’t have time to respond, know that you made my day.

  Till next time, intrepid adventurers,

  Jeremy

  Jeremy Lachlan was born and raised in Griffith, country New South Wales, Australia. He completed his honours degree in creative writing at the University of Canberra in 2004, and now calls Sydney home.

  His debut novel, Jane Doe and The Cradle of All Worlds, was the 2019 Australian Book Industry Award winner for Book of the Year for Older Children, and he once took home $100 in a karaoke competition, of which he’s equally proud.

  He came up with the idea for Jane Doe while lost in the Cairo Museum.

  Twitter: @jeremylachlan

  Instagram: @jeremy.lachlan

  Jane Doe and the Key of All Souls

  first published in 2020 by

  Hardie Grant Egmont

  Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street

  Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia

  www.hardiegrantegmont.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.

  eISBN 9781743586761

  Text copyright © 2020 Jeremy Lachlan

  Design copyright © 2020 Hardie Grant Egmont Illustration

  by Alessia Trunfio

  Series and cover design by Pooja Desai

  We welcome feedback from our readers. All our ebooks are edited and proofread vigorously, but we know that mistakes sometimes get through. If you spot any errors, please email info@hardiegrantegmont.com.au so that we can fix them for your fellow ebook readers.