The heavy man turned and faced Saint Dane, and in a distinct, strong voice he said, “My only regret is that I will not live long enough to see Kagan suffer the way we have all suffered.”
Saint Dane chuckled and said, “None of you will live that long, for that day will never come.” He then gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod and the two knights pushed the doomed man backward into the pit. His wife screamed, but the guy didn’t let out a sound. One second he was there, the next he was just…gone. Hopefully his death would be quick and he’d now be in a better place than this horrible village.
The knight holding the chain let it go and the wooden platform fell down with a boom. Saint Dane walked up to Rellin, who looked him right in the eye. Saint Dane then pointed to the man’s sobbing wife.
“We will use her for tomorrow’s Transfer,” he said with pleasure. “She seems quite light. It should make for an easy day. Please thank me for being so considerate.”
Rellin looked at Saint Dane and for a second I thought he was going to spit in his face. But he didn’t. Instead, he gritted his teeth and said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Saint Dane said with a smile. With that he strode to his horse, jumped into the saddle and was just about to ride off when he once again looked back toward us. Actually, it was more like he was looking right at me. I could feel it. He knew I was there. Was all of this a show for me? Saint Dane laughed, kicked his horse and rode off through the stunned crowd back toward the Bedoowan palace.
The knights pushed a few of the miners toward the basket of glaze with their spears. The valuable stones had to be delivered to Kagan and it was clear that they weren’t the ones who were going to carry them. That was a job for their slaves. The miners picked up the basket from the seesaw and started the long walk toward the palace. The rest of the villagers slowly started to disperse. Not a word was spoken. A few people went up to console the poor woman who had just lost her husband, but most simply headed back toward their homes. They had been through this horror before, and they probably would go through it again.
But I hadn’t. I was frantic. I had just witnessed a man murdered in cold blood. It was even more horrible than the poor homeless guy who Saint Dane hypnotized into running into the subway train back in New York. That was awful, but it didn’t seem real. This was very, very real and I didn’t understand it. My emotions were all over the place. And yes, I’m not ashamed to admit it, I was crying. They were tears of anger, and fear, and sadness for a man I didn’t even know. And for his family. I didn’t care that I was crying in front of Loor or anybody else. I was out of control.
“Why didn’t they do something?” I shouted at Osa. “They could have ganged up on the knights. They could have pulled the guy away. Why didn’t they stop it?”
Osa was as calm as I was upset. She said, “If they had done anything, Kagan would have sent an army to punish them. They had no choice.”
I looked to Loor and was surprised to see that she too looked upset. She may not have been ranting the way I was, but her icy calm was cracked. I even thought I could see a tear in her eye. Maybe there was a heart beneath that tough exterior after all.
Still, I didn’t buy what Osa was saying. “So what? They should have done something,” I cried. “If they don’t do something, it’ll never stop.”
Osa put a hand on my shoulder, and I could feel myself starting to calm down. But what she said next was the last thing I wanted to hear.
“They are going to do something, Pendragon. They are going to take destiny into their own hands and rise up against Kagan. That is why we are here. We are going to help them.You are going to help them.”
These words hit me like a bolt from the blue. Uncle Press had told me there were people who needed our help, but I had no idea he was talking about an entire village of people who were at the mercy of a vicious army that didn’t think twice about killing people in cold blood. This was crazy. I felt bad for these people, but there was nothing I could do to help them. I didn’t care how tough this Loor person was, those knights were killers. And there were only three of us…four if you counted Uncle Press. What good could we do against an army? No, this was crazy. I made up my mind right there that the first chance I got, I’d get away from these nutburgers and get back to that flume thing. If it brought me here, then there had to be a way for it to get me back home. Yes, that was the answer. I was going to get myself out of here and kiss this place good-bye—with or without Uncle Press.
Second Earth
“Hey, you kids!”
Mark and Courtney looked up from their reading to see Sergeant D’Angelo calling to them from the front of the building. The two had been sitting there the whole time, reading the pages from Bobby.
“Run!” yelled Mark. He started to get up, but Courtney grabbed him by the seat of the pants and pulled him back down.
“Why?” she asked him calmly. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”
Mark had to think about that for a second. She was right, all they were doing was sitting in the alley, reading. Nothing illegal about that. So then why was this policeman yelling at them? Courtney looked to the cop, but didn’t budge.
“What do you want?” she yelled.
“I want to talk to you,” came the reply.
“Then you come to us,” Courtney yelled.
Ouch. Mark winced. Courtney was being pretty disrespectful. Okay, so maybe the guy dissed them before, but he was still a cop. Mark was sure he was going to arrest them.
D’Angelo took a few steps toward them with his hands on his hips, and said in a downright civil tone, “I want to talk to you about the Pendragons.”
“Why?” asked Courtney, oozing skepticism.
“Because I believe you,” answered D’Angelo.
Mark and Courtney shot each other a look. Victory! He must have found Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon. They both jumped up to go to the cop. Mark made sure that Bobby’s half-read journal was tucked securely in his pack, and the two followed D’Angelo back into the station house.
Once inside the sergeant led them past the lobby and continued on through the back offices. Mark thought this was kind of cool. He had never been behind the scenes at a real police station. The experience wasn’t exactly what he had expected. On TV, police stations had a lot of activity. There were always cops leading handcuffed perps toward interrogation rooms, and detectives taking statements and SWAT teams hurrying to some mission and generally a ton of cop-type hubbub. But not here in Stony Brook. Here a guy was making a phone call to Domino’s for pizza, and another guy looked bored while playing FreeCell on an old computer. Not exactly a beehive of electrifying police activity. Very disappointing.
“I gotta be honest,” said D’Angelo as he led them through the station. “I thought you two were pulling a number on me until I spoke with Captain Hirsch.”
“What did he say?” Mark asked.
“Ask him yourself,” said the sergeant as he opened a door and motioned for Mark and Courtney to enter. The two walked into a conference room with a large metal table surrounded by eight chairs. It was a plain room with a huge mirror that covered most of one wall. Sitting at the head of the table was a pleasant-looking man wearing a suit. When the kids entered he stood up and smiled, but both kids sensed that he was troubled. Good. He should be. There were troubling things going down.
“Hi, guys. I’m Captain Hirsch,” the man said. “Thanks for coming back.”
Courtney went right up to the mirror and stuck her nose to the glass while cupping her eyes to block out the light.
“This a two-way mirror?” she asked. “Who’s back there? You interrogating us?”
Hirsch looked to D’Angelo and the two chuckled. “Yes, it’s a two-way mirror,” said Hirsch. “But nobody’s back there and we’re not interrogating you.”
Courtney kept trying to look through the mirror. She didn’t believe him.
“Why don’t you two sit down and relax,” said the sergeant.
Mark and Courtney took seats next to each other at the table. D’Angelo stood by the door. Hirsch sat down and looked at the kids. The kids looked back at Hirsch. Hirsch nervously pulled at his eyebrow. It seemed as if he didn’t know where to begin, so Courtney being Courtney, decided to kick things off herself.
“So how come you suddenly believe us about the Pendragons?” she asked Hirsch.
“Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon are good friends of mine,” he said.
“My son Jimmy plays basketball with Bobby.”
“Jimmy Hirsch!” shouted Mark. “I know him. Strong forward.”
Captain Hirsch nodded. This was good. Now they had an adult on their side. And he was a cop. A captain, no less. Now things were going to start happening.
“When was the last time you saw Bobby?” he asked them.
Mark knew the answer, but it was up to Courtney to give it.
“Last night at his house,” she answered. “About an hour before the game.”
“Did he say anything that would make you think he was going away?” came the next question.
Courtney and Mark looked at each other. They knew exactly where Bobby had gone. If the story on the parchment were true, then they knew how Uncle Press had taken him on the back of his motorcycle and left for a place on the far side of the universe called Denduron. But neither of them were sure if the outlandish story was really true, and they didn’t want to sound totally insane. Besides, the pages didn’t explain what had happened to the Pendragons’ house. Mark and Courtney had decided before going to the police that they’d stick to the facts that could be proved. And it was pretty easy to prove that the house was gone. So without discussing it again, they both decided to stick with the original plan.
“I was talking to Bobby at his house,” answered Courtney. “His uncle Press came in and I left. That’s the last I saw him.”
Captain Hirsch looked down at a piece of paper where he had written some notes.
“Right. Uncle Press,” he said out loud, though it seemed like he was thinking it more than saying it. Hirsch looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. He looked to Sergeant D’Angelo for guidance.
“I think you should tell them, Captain,” said the sergeant.
“T-Tell us what?” asked Mark.
Obviously these policemen had some disturbing information. Captain Hirsch stood up and paced nervously.
“After you spoke with Sergeant D’Angelo, he told me about your visit,” began Hirsch. “Frankly, he didn’t believe you because he couldn’t find any information on the Pendragons.”
“But you know them,” interjected Courtney.
“Yes, I know them,” said Hirsch. “I’ve been to their house many times.”
“And the house is gone!” added Mark.
Hirsch didn’t continue right away. He looked at the two kids, then to Sergeant D’Angelo. Finally he said, “Yeah. The house is gone. This may be a small police department in a small town, but we have access to pretty much any piece of information that’s part of the public record,” he said. “After you came in here, we did a computer search for the Pendragons…and found nothing.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” asked Courtney. “No police record?”
“No, I mean absolutely nothing,” said Hirsch. A hint of frustration was creeping into his voice. “No birth certificates, no driver’s licenses, no social security numbers, no bank accounts, no deeds, no electric bills, no school records, no credit cards, no nothing! The Pendragons didn’t just disappear—it’s like they never even existed!”
Hirsch paced faster. He was getting upset because what he was saying didn’t make sense, yet it was true.
Finally Mark said, “B-But they do exist, don’t they? I mean, we know them.”
“I know!” snapped Hirsch. “I’ve had dinner at their house. I’ve driven Bobby to Boy Scouts. Here’s another one for you: We scanned back copies of the newspaper where Mr. Pendragon works and couldn’t find a single article he had written. But I remember reading them. I’ve discussed some of those articles with him.”
This was getting stranger by the second. Disappearing is one thing. But having someone’s whole history vanish seemed downright impossible.
“W-What about Uncle Press?” asked Mark nervously.
“Again, nothing,” answered Hirsch. “There is nothing we can find to prove that any of these people ever existed….”
“Except in our memories,” added Courtney.
That was a chilling thought. If what the captain said were true, the only thing left of Bobby and his family were the memories they all held…and the parchment papers in Mark’s bag. Captain Hirsch sat back down at the table and looked to the kids with pleading eyes. This had turned his orderly policeman’s mind inside out.
“Kids,” he said with a touch of desperation. “Help me out here. If there is anything you can add, anything that might help us figure out what happened to the Pendragons, please tell us.”
Mark and Courtney had plenty to add. It was all sitting in Mark’s backpack on the table in front of them. All they had to do was slide it over to Captain Hirsch. He would read the pages and take over. That’s what adults did. They took over and fixed things. It wasn’t Courtney’s call—the letters were to Mark. If they were going to tell the police about the pages, it would have to be Mark’s decision.
Courtney saw that he was staring at the pack. She knew exactly what was going through his mind. He was debating whether or not to give over the pages. He then looked to her and they made eye contact. Courtney wished that she had some way of helping him make the decision, but she honestly didn’t know the right thing to do. So she gave him a slight, helpless shrug that said, “You’re on your own.”
“Well?” asked Hirsch. “Can you guys think of anything else?”
Mark took a deep breath, turned to Hirsch and said, “No. We’re just as confused as you are.”
Decision made. Courtney picked up on Mark’s lead and added, “Yeah. We’re pretty freaked out.”
Hirsch took a deep, tired sigh and stood up saying, “Okay, we’re going to start an investigation. Tell your parents, tell your friends, tell anybody who’ll listen. If they hear anything about the Pendragons, have them call me. Okay?”
Courtney and Mark nodded. Hirsch then gave each of them a business card with his phone number on it. Mark grabbed his pack and they headed out.
Once they were out of the building, they walked silently for a long while. The police station was right near Stony Brook Avenue, which was the main business street in town. Most of the shops and restaurants were there. Since there was no mall in Stony Brook, the “Ave” as they called it was where everybody hung out. But Courtney and Mark weren’t interested in any of the temptations that the Ave held that day. They walked by the CD Silo without even a glance into the window; they weren’t tempted by the smell of the best french fries in the world coming from Garden Poultry Deli; they had no interest in ice cream from The Scoop; and they didn’t even think of going to the library. The front steps of the library was where everyone stopped first on a trip to the Ave because you were sure to find someone you knew there.
But not today. Not for Courtney and Mark. Somehow these familiar haunts didn’t seem so familiar anymore. Everything looked the same, but the last few hours had opened their eyes to the possibility that the world didn’t work exactly the way they thought it did. Between Bobby’s adventure and the strange disappearance of the Pendragons, everything they’d ever believed was thrown into question. With thoughts like this running through their heads, somehow grabbing a box of fries at Garden Poultry Deli didn’t seem all that appetizing. So the two walked past the usual places where their friends hung out and went into a small, quiet pocket park that was sandwiched between two buildings. They sat down on a park bench and stared at the ground.
Finally Mark looked to Courtney and asked softly, “Should I have told them about Bobby’s letter?”
“I don’t know,” was Courtney’s reply. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Mark tried to put his feelings into words. “I have a feeling,” he began, “that there’s an important reason Bobby is sending me his story.”
“Why? We haven’t even read what he wants yet,” said Courtney.
“Yeah, I know. But I think it’s more than that. I’ve got a feeling that something big is going on and Bobby’s only one part of it. There’s some serious stuff going on here. I mean like, cosmic stuff. Am I being weird?”
“Weird?” chuckled Courtney. “How could anything sound weird now?”
“Exactly! The idea of Travelers who understand languages, and territories, and flumes that send you across space and time…that stuff changes everything we know about how things work.”
The Merchant of Death Page 11