by J. A. White
She dropped the pages at Grace’s feet.
The girl reacted as though Kara had tossed a rattlesnake in her direction, flinging herself backward and crawling away like a crab, her ruined leg dragging along the ground. “Get it away from me!” she screamed, slapping at the air. “If I feel the magic I’m going to want to cast a spell and then another one and then before I know it I’ll be back there and then the Faceless will make me one of them!”
“I’m sorry,” Kara said, her cheeks flushed with shame. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just needed to know for sure that you weren’t lying to me.”
Grace folded her knees to her chest and looked away. Her entire body shook with feverish convulsions.
“Who’s the cruel one now?” she asked softly.
Kara didn’t apologize again; she knew there were no words that could undo her action. Instead, she reached down, intending to pick up the grim by the knot and move it out of sight. Her hands were trembling, however, and she accidentally brushed the top page with her index finger.
Suddenly she was no longer herself.
This new mind in which she currently resided had only ever known bleakness and despair. Its oppressive weight pressed down on Kara, and she reached out desperately for a single recollection of love, a trickle of light to buoy her in the darkness. Kara had lost access to her own memories, however, and this mind was an alien landscape that had never experienced even the most workaday of kindnesses: a tucked blanket, a warm smile, a goodnight kiss.
No light. No hope. No love.
Kara opened her eyes.
A desperate need for human contact overwhelmed her, like a drowning girl who breaks free of the surface and gasps for air. She grabbed the first person she saw—Grace—and held her tight.
“What’s . . . happening . . . right . . . now?” Grace asked. Her arms were ramrod still at her sides, her breath squeezed beneath Kara’s embrace.
Lucas and Taff, awoken by all the commotion, stared at Kara with alarmed expressions. Grace tried to indicate with raised arms that she had no idea what was going on, but Kara was holding her so tightly that she could only manage to flap her hands.
“Evangeline!” Kara exclaimed, tears flowing from her eyes. “I felt what it was like to be her. It was terrible! She hadn’t known a single moment of happiness her entire life. No one had ever . . . not one act of kindness, of compassion. All she knew was hate and disdain and . . . I couldn’t take it a moment longer. It was like . . . suffocating in sorrow. It’s no wonder she did the things she did.”
Grace managed to free one arm and patted her on the back.
“There . . . there,” she said. “This is all . . . very tragic. But I need . . . to breathe. . . .”
Kara jumped back, suddenly realizing who was in her arms.
“Sorry,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of one hand.
Grace waved Kara’s apology away, too flustered to respond. She used her walking stick to rise to her feet, and leaned on it heavily.
“This means that Evangeline’s spirit is trapped inside the Vulkera,” Taff said. “Just like Minoth said.”
“Yes,” Kara said. “I’m sure of it.” Noticing that there were no longer any sounds coming from the grim, she held her hand above the top page, like testing to see if a pan was hot, and then touched it with the pad of a finger.
Nothing happened.
“Is she gone?” Taff asked.
“Not exactly,” Kara said. “But that’s all she can show me right now. She’s weak. It’s because we only have a single grim.”
“So you’re saying that if we put the Vulkera back together, we’ll restore Evangeline’s spirit as well?” Lucas asked.
“We might,” Kara said.
“And is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Kara wasn’t sure. She had never experienced such complete desolation in her life. Even the deadliest creatures in the Thickety knew the joy of a good kill, or the satisfaction that comes from teaching their young to hunt. Princess Evangeline, on the other hand, was just empty: closer to a shell than an actual human being.
And yet Minoth and King Penta had said she was such a happy child. What happened?
“Rygoth,” Kara said. “It can’t just be a coincidence that she was at Dolrose Castle. What did she do to that poor girl?”
They set out for Kutt the next morning, leaving the desert behind and flying over a mountainous region sprinkled with tiny villages and encampments. The devastation that Rygoth had wrought was even more obvious from the sky: burning villages, caravans of people fleeing their old lives, houses toppled to the ground. The worst part, Lucas pointed out, was that Rygoth might not have even been to these areas at all. Her mere presence in Sentium was enough to create chaos.
“I saw a lot of that when I was with the graycloaks,” Lucas said. “People hear stories about the great evil coming their way and they panic, lose track of who they are. They steal, hurt others—all in the name of survival.” A somber expression settled over his features, making him look far older. “It wasn’t always witches we fought in order to keep the peace,” he said.
“That’s terrible!” Taff exclaimed. “Why can’t everyone just stick together?”
“They’re scared,” said Lucas, placing a comforting hand on Taff’s back. “And it wasn’t everyone. Some people rise to the occasion. And not always the people you’d expect.”
“Like us!” Taff exclaimed.
Kara was certain that Grace was going to roll her eyes, but instead she simply looked away.
By the fourth day, they had passed beyond the mountains and there were no more villages. The land below them grew swampy. Sickly-looking trees lay half submerged in green water; pockets of gas belched noxious fumes into the sky. At the end of each day, Kara built mind-bridges to a few local creatures suitable for guarding them during the night. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Her mind, once a well from which she could draw memories with ease, had begun to run dry.
Too many spells, Kara thought. I have to slow down.
At the very least, she couldn’t risk conjuring another creature from nothing, as she had with Topper and the baby faenix. Spells of creation—and the mind leeches they drew like moths to a flame—drained her far more than any other magic. How does Rygoth create animals so easily? Kara wondered. Sometimes she felt as though she were doing magic completely wrong, like a carpenter trying to build a house with a garden hoe.
Then again, maybe Rygoth is so powerful that the rules don’t apply to her.
It was a disheartening thought that put Kara in a foul mood for the rest of the journey, which went on a full four days longer. Finally, just after she decided that she might in fact exchange the grim in their possession for a hot bath, they saw a black mist in the distance.
“The Plague Barrier!” Lucas exclaimed. “We’re finally here.”
Rattle landed as close to the mist as possible. From the ground it was even more intimidating, a wall of swirling miasma that seemed to blot out the sun. The stench was unbearable. Kara, who had learned much about healing from her mother, recognized the smell of infection gone to rot.
“This is impossible,” Taff said while holding his nose. “Mist doesn’t just stop. It has to spread out. Unless—is there a glass wall or something we don’t see?”
“I don’t think so,” said Lucas. “People call it the Clinging Mist. It never moves. It never leaves. No one can really explain why—though if Grandfather were here I’m sure he’d have all sorts of fascinating theories.”
Lucas smiled sadly, and Kara could see how much he missed his only living relative, a kindly old Mistral of Nye’s Landing named West. Her heart ached for her friend: All those years longing to find his family, and after he finally does to have to leave so quickly . . .
“You’ll see him again soon,” she said. “And just think about the stories you can tell him! He’ll be so proud of you.”
Lucas grinned, comforted by the words.
“I can only tell you what I’ve heard about the Clinging Mist,” he added with renewed energy, “which is mostly rumor and supposition. The most common story, especially by the more religious types, is that the mist is Kutt’s divine punishment.”
“For what?” Grace asked, with an oddly cheerful lilt.
“They’re scientists,” Lucas said. “And they specialize in the mysteries of the human body. But there are those who question how they’ve gone about their research. I won’t get into all the grisly details.”
“But that’s the best part,” said Grace.
Taff nodded enthusiastically.
“As far as the Clinging Mist goes,” Lucas continued, ignoring them both, “the story is that they were trying to make a disease but things went horribly wrong.”
“Why would anyone try to make a disease?” Taff asked.
“They were trying to figure out a way to use sickness as a weapon,” Lucas said, “but instead they destroyed their entire region. If that mist touches your skin you’ll be inflicted with an incurable plague. Death comes quickly.”
“Then where do the people live?” Taff asked.
“In underground cities,” Lucas said, stroking the area above his upper lip where a few hairs had sprouted. “Can’t imagine what kind of life that’s like, never seeing the sun.”
“How do we get to them?” Kara asked. “Tunnels?”
Lucas shook his head and told them what they needed to find. For once, it was easier than Kara had thought it would be. They hadn’t even walked ten minutes before Grace glimpsed the glint of something metallic.
“Swoop station,” Lucas said.
His eyes met Kara’s, and he instantly blushed and turned away. Kara felt her heart quicken.
Our almost-kiss. He remembers.
The windowless building stood on tall stanchions and was constructed from large plates of flattened steel that had turned black with corrosion. There was no way to determine the length of the station; it began outside the Plague Barrier and vanished into the mist.
They followed a set of rickety stairs into the station.
A long Swoop train dangled from a water-filled track that stretched into the darkness. The train had been corroded black by its many trips through the Clinging Mist, though faint veins of green provided a sad remnant of its original color. Their boot heels clicked against a platform lined with cracked benches and abandoned food stands.
A small booth stood against the wall, the word TICKETS glowing glorb blue on its awning. A woman sat behind the glass window.
They approached the booth, Kara in the lead.
“Good morning,” Kara said. She found herself whispering, not wanting to disturb the silent station. “I was wondering if you could help us.”
The ticket seller looked up.
Her skin was the red of fired clay. Enlarged veins protruded from her forehead and neck. Kara could see the blood pulsing through them.
“What’s wrong with her?” Taff whispered.
“Kuttians are forced to take special medicine from the day they’re born,” replied Lucas, too soft for the woman behind the window to hear. “It protects them from their proximity to the Clinging Mist . . . but it changes them, too.”
“Been weeks since I’ve seen a visitor,” the ticket seller said. “Where you from?”
Kara, caught off guard by the question and uncertain how much of the truth she should reveal, glanced back at the others with a quizzical expression.
“You’re in charge,” Lucas whispered in her ear, grinning. “You’ll think of something.”
He gave Kara a playful push toward the window. The woman’s expression grew suspicious.
“Where you from?” she repeated slowly. “It’s not a hard question.”
Grace, smiling sweetly, slid in front of Kara.
“We hail from an island of no consequence, far, far away from here,” she said, her hands clasped together. “We hope to bring news of true civilization back to our people.”
The ticket seller nodded, apparently satisfied. Grace stepped back behind Kara.
“Good job,” whispered Taff.
“Thanks,” said Grace. “Lies always go down better with a spoonful of truth. Remember that.”
Kara glanced over her shoulder.
“Could you not give my brother life lessons?” she asked.
“Destination?” the ticket seller snapped, tired of being ignored. To her left sat a countertop machine with all sorts of buttons, knobs, and levers. Something shifted behind the woman: a fat cat with spikes like a cactus. It looked up at Kara, quickly decided that she wasn’t worth the trouble, and went back to sleep.
“We’re not exactly sure,” Kara said.
The woman sighed.
“I can’t tell you where you’re going,” she said. “I can only send you there.”
Kara remembered that in Ilma Station there had been a board listing possible stops, but there was nothing of the sort here. Apparently you were just expected to know your destination. She thought about what Delvin, that strange representative of Kutt, had told Minoth about the grim: It will make an excellent addition to our museum. That was over two thousand years ago, and it could have been moved since then, but she supposed it was worth a try.
“We’re heading to the museum,” she said.
The woman sighed again, as though this was exactly what she didn’t need today.
“The great region of Kutt is home to over two hundred sixty-five museums, collections, and cabinets of curiosity. Please specify.”
“We’re interested in old books,” Lucas tried.
“Kutt’s largest library is in the city of Zu’norg. I will arrange transport there. If that is not to your liking you can always transfer to another library.”
The woman’s fingers flew over the machine next to her in a frantic blur: punching buttons, pulling dials.
“I don’t know,” Taff said. “That doesn’t sound right. The weird guy said museum, not library.”
“You’re right,” Kara said.
Taff tapped the glass with his knuckles, and the woman twisted in his direction, the blood in her veins pumping visibly faster.
“Do not touch my window!” she shrieked.
Even the spiked cat raised its head for a moment at that.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Taff said. “But I think you’re sending us to the wrong spot. We’re looking for something that’s really, really rare.”
“Zu’norg Library has three entire buildings housing rare books.”
“Fine,” Taff said. “More than just rare. This book is . . . special.” Ignoring the warning look in Kara’s eyes, he added, “Some might even call it magic.”
The ticket seller stopped punching buttons on the machine.
“Why didn’t you say that from the start?” she asked.
She squeezed a bulbous lever, apparently erasing all she had done, and began to punch buttons at an even more furious rate. Finally she pulled the largest of the levers and a flat stone with tiny bumps shot upward through a glass tube that took it all the way to the first car of the train.
“The conductor has received your destination. You may board.”
“How much is it?” Kara asked nervously. They were almost out of coin, and she was worried that they wouldn’t have enough for all of them.
“Transit and admission are free,” the woman responded. “The museum’s wonders, all nine hundred eighty-six rooms of them, are Kutt’s gift to the world.” She smiled, revealing teeth that were disturbingly white against her red skin. “In fact, it’s said that anyone who visits the Museum of Impossible Things will never look at the world in the same way again.”
The doors of the train closed behind them with a sucking sound. It was warm inside the car, and stuffy, like a room whose windows have remained shut for an entire season. Lifting the lid off a trunk bolted into the wall, Kara found black jumpsuits and masks connected to metal canisters. According to the placard inside the lid
, these were to be used only in the event of an emergency, in which case they would be forced to evacuate the train and traverse the Clinging Mist by foot.
Kara really hoped there wasn’t an emergency.
Though it was a fair assumption that someone was driving the train, they were its only passengers. Before they even had time to sit, the Swoop began to pull away and then jerked to a sudden halt. A loud screeching noise filled the car. Pressing her face against a long, soot-cornered window, Kara saw a metal wall in the process of closing behind them, sealing off the station from the infectious air. Once this was done, a second partition opened in front of them, and they pulled out into the darkness.
The ride was smooth, and it was difficult to tell how fast the Swoop was going, though Kara suspected that they were moving very fast indeed. Through swirling mists she saw the shapes of buildings, some abandoned, some cast in the bluish light of the glorb lamps that surrounded them like tiny moons. The track headed off into many directions and glowed in the darkness like a phosphorescent web.
“Except for the threat of horrible death just beyond these windows,” Lucas said, “this is actually kind of fun.”
He slid into the seat next to her and their hands brushed together. Kara felt her cheeks grow warm. Grace, sitting on the opposite bench, looked from Kara to Lucas and back again.
“Why don’t we go see what’s in the other cars, Taff?” Grace asked, her eyes remaining on Kara. She grinned in a knowing way.
“Really?” Taff asked, his voice flush with excitement. “You want to explore?”
“Oh yes,” Grace said in a perfect deadpan. “I live to explore. Make sure you ask a ton of questions, too. That will only make it better.”
Taff scrambled to his feet. Kara could still hear him talking as they moved to the next car: “So I think what we should do is start from the very end and then make our way back again. Do you want to count the windows? Also I really want to look underneath all the benches. I find that hidden spots usually hide the most interesting—”
The door between cars slammed shut.
“Do you trust her with Taff alone?” Lucas asked.
“She won’t hurt him,” Kara said, surprised by how certain she felt. “She likes Taff, in her way.”