The gate guards arrived shortly after sundown to buy drinks for Mercer and his crew. One of the guards rapped his leather jack against the table and shouted, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”
Others joined in.
Mercer washed a mouthful of bread down with a long swig of beer before standing up and waving the room to silence. The crowd hushed, and Mercer launched into the story of their trip through Eternal Night. He told up to the part where Drake stopped a cave-in and then said, “So there we were, in the dark, waiting for Drake to come around.” He pointed. “But Cinder played the most important part.”
She had a spoon halfway to her mouth. All eyes turned to her. Cinder put the spoon down, cleared her throat, and slipped off her stool. “I didn’t really do much . . .”
“Speech! Speech! Speech!” the crowd cried.
She laughed, waved them to silence, and told all about how she had used the fallen rubble to hopscotch across the room, found Scribe and his map—the room cheered at the mention of Scribe’s name—and how she had led the group through the twisting labyrinth. Mercer retook the tale at times, and Drake joined in as well. Trix even put in a few words. When it was over, the room cheered and someone bought another round. Cinder was on beer number four and the room was starting a slow-motion sideways tilt.
After they had told of their adventure, shaken a lot of hands, and lifted their leather jacks in cheers many times, a stout fellow started up on his violin. The jolly tune filled the common room, and tables were cleared away to create a dance floor. The crowd stomped their feet and clapped their hands to keep the beat. There was a minor fracas among the gate guards over who would get the first dance with Cinder. The young, good-looking blond won after reminding his fellows that he had asked her first. A moment later, he was offering his hand with a rakish smile.
Cinder felt her ears turn red and before she could say anything, Mercer gave her a push. The guard caught her hand and whisked her into the center of the room. The young guard was good, and Cinder did her best to keep up. Dance in the Realm was an odd mix of modern hip-hop and what sailors would call a hornpipe. Just about the time Cinder was getting the hang of it, the song changed and another man cut in. This one was fat and sweating profusely, but he carried himself well and he was light on his toes despite his weight.
While Cinder was getting passed around the dance floor, Mercer turned to Trix. “What about it? Care to dance?”
She gave him a sickeningly sweet smile and said, “Go fuck yourself.”
Another man was all too eager to take Mercer’s place. Trix accepted his hand, and a moment later she was being twirled around the dance floor while Mercer and Drake sat at the table, fielding questions from eager explorers desperate for any information that might help them survive Eternal Night.
Cinder was blissfully unaware of all this. She danced with every member of the gate guard, a few of them twice, and then several locals who smelled strongly of tobacco and ale. A number of other women joined in the celebration and gave Cinder a chance to rest. The fiddle player took a break at one point. More beers were ordered, stories of other adventures were told, and then the whole congregation joined in for a mixer.
The tune started fast and upbeat, all the dancers stood in a line. Cinder did her best to follow along as the dancers turned in, partnered up, and then trotted across the floor, only to exchange partners halfway around the room. It was a lively scene and Cinder had a smile on her face, even though her feet were starting to hurt. She switched partners rapidly as the music climbed to a crescendo, occasionally barely gripping a partner’s hand before switching to the next. The music climbed to a breathless pace. Cinder reached the end of the floor, did a turn, and found herself facing Mercer. The music suddenly changed, dropping to a slow dance. Couples came together and swayed around the crowded room to the beautiful melody drawing from the strings of the fiddle.
Cinder felt herself blush to the roots of her hair as she stepped forward into Mercer’s arms. He took her narrow waist in his hand and guided her around the room with measured, even steps. He was no great dancer, but he knew it and didn’t try to embellish, sticking to the beat as best he could while holding her close. For her part, Cinder let him lead and wondered why her face felt like it was on fire. They were friends, nothing more. They had been through an ordeal together. Why shouldn’t they have a dance? It was only a bit of fun after all. But if that was true, why did Trix look like she had just swallowed a slug? Cinder looked up and found Mercer gazing down into her eyes. She opened her mouth, closed it, and tried again. “You’re pretty good.”
He grinned. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Okay. You’re not bad,” she admitted.
He laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
She glanced over his shoulder and said, “I don’t think Trix likes the idea of us dancing together.”
Mercer did a turn so she couldn’t see Trix and said, “How’s it feel to be famous?”
“Swell,” Cinder said. “I came for the ten million and ended up a minor celebrity.”
“We’re close now,” Mercer told her. “A few more days will bring us to the wall.”
“And then?” Cinder asked.
“And then you use those math skills to lead us to the ten million.”
“And then what?” Cinder said. They were dancing closer now. The distance between them had vanished. She could feel his heart beat. “Are you and Trix going to buy a house? Settle down? Raise little Realm babies?”
“It’s complicated,” Mercer told her. “What about you? Are you heading back to the Real? See the world?”
“It’s complicated,” she said. After a minute, she added, “Before I joined the game, all I could think about was finding that money and travelling the world. Now . . .” She shrugged.
“And now?” Mercer prompted.
“Now I’m not sure what I want. The Real has a lot to offer, but the Realm has its own charm, once you get past the pirates and the monsters.”
“What about the people?” Mercer asked.
She looked up and their eyes met. “The people are surprisingly . . . complex.”
“We should stop now,” Mercer said.
“Why?” she asked.
“The music stopped,” Mercer told her.
Cinder gave herself a little shake and glanced around the room. The fiddler had stopped and the couples were drifting back to their tables. Cinder and Mercer stood alone in the middle of the floor. She cleared her throat and took a step back. Her ears were burning, brighter and hotter than ever. She spotted Trix pushing her way through the crowd toward the back door.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Breakfast was a hardy, but somber, affair. Cinder woke late, dressed, and found the rest of the group already gathered around a table downstairs. She was greeted by friendly, vaguely familiar faces from last night, and stopped to shake a few hands. She sat down across from Drake, who looked like he was nursing a hangover. He greeted her with a surly grunt and reached into his cloak for his flask. Trix flatly ignored her and Mercer gave a polite nod.
Shepard hustled over with a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, stewed tomatoes, and what he claimed were sausages, but tasted like he used sawdust for filler. He offered Cinder a friendly smile. In his baritone British accent, he asked, “How did you sleep?”
“My first real bed in over a week,” Cinder told him as she picked up a fork and speared her eggs. “I slept like the dead.”
Shepard placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of her and told them to shout if they needed anything before heading off to greet a knot of customers who had just walked in. Cinder watched him nod and point in their direction before leading the new group to a table on the other side of the room. The newcomers, two men and a portly woman, craned their heads for a better look at the local celebrities.
Cinder spoke around a mouthful of food. “Are there any horses to be had in Citadel?”
Mercer nodded. “There are, but they’re
rare this far north. They’d cost us an arm and a leg.”
“It’s only a three-day trek to the wall,” Drake assured her.
“Besides,” said Mercer, “we don’t know what kind of terrain we’ll face on the other side. Horses might be no good at all.”
“Assuming there’s anything on the other side of the wall,” Trix said.
“My math is good,” Cinder said in a level tone that left no room for debate.
Mercer picked up his mug, sipped and said, “Let’s hit the market early and gather our supplies. We’ve got a long walk ahead.”
Shortly before noon, they had restocked their trail rations. Cinder had bought a fur-lined wool cloak and gloves. The same group of gate guards greeted them as passed under the portcullis. They were forced to stop and shake hands all around.
“Where are you headed now?” the captain wanted to know.
“South,” Mercer told him at once. “Back to Redgate to help in the war effort.”
“Good luck,” the captain said, pumping Mercer’s hand.
They took the steep stairs back to the wooded valley and turned south for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. They went half a mile before turning north again. If Hardin and his crew were still on their trail, they had seen no sign, but Mercer wanted to err on the side of caution, so they took a circuitous route through the towering evergreens, over rocky land that would leave little evidence of their passing. All that day and the next, they scrambled over rugged terrain amid green firs, with pine needles underfoot. On the second day out from Citadel, they happened on a ravager encampment. Cinder only saw it from a distance. Thirty or so hasty lean-tos and a half dozen campfires marked the spot. Mercer led them in a wide circle around the encampment to avoid patrols. By the end of the second day, the evergreens thinned out and snow dotted rocky highlands in scattered patches. A harsh wind howled down out of the north, bringing with it a blast of arctic air that cut right through Cinder’s fur-lined cloak and chilled her to the bone. Drake had resumed the task of lecturing Cinder in magic, but he did so with an odd reluctance, sticking mostly to harmless fire and light spells. Cinder chalked it up to exhaustion. On more than one occasion, Cinder asked when he was going to teach her something useful and Drake evaded the question. Mercer happened to be standing near, and Cinder caught an odd expression on his face. It occurred to her that maybe they were planning to double-cross her when they got their hands on the money, but she didn’t want to believe that. After all, they had been through Eternal Night together. She was a part of the crew now.
All that night, she lay close to the campfire, shivering in her blanket roll. Her teeth chattered so hard she was afraid she would wake up with nubs. Drake gave her a hit from his flask, and that helped some, but sleep was late coming, and it felt like she had just drifted off when Mercer shook her awake.
“Danger?” Cinder mumbled as she clawed her way out of her sleeping roll.
“Morning,” Mercer told her.
“Any more coffee?” Cinder muttered.
“Bitter root,” Mercer offered.
“Keep it,” she told him.
That day, shortly before noon, she got her first look at the wall. They topped a steep hill and the ground fell away to a stretch of land which reminded Cinder of pictures she had seen of the Scottish Highlands. Patches of fog and snow gathered in the low places and, away over the hills, a great stone wall stretched across the horizon.
Cinder’s eyebrows walked up her forehead. “Wow.”
Mercer stood next to her, his arms crossed over his broad chest, staring out at the wall. He said, “This is the second time I’ve seen it. Still impresses me.”
Drake gave a croak, like snapping chalk.
“But how do we get over it?” Trix asked.
Mercer uncrossed his arms and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “If the money is on the other side, and this really is an expansion, there will be a door somewhere.”
“But which way?” Drake asked. He reached in his bag, brought out a pair of polished magnifying glasses and a rawhide strip of leather, and used it to make a crude spyglass.
“According to the numbers,” said Cinder, “the prize money is located due north of Tanthus.”
Trix choked out an incredulous sound. “You think we know where that is from here?”
“I’m just telling you,” Cinder shot back.
Mercer turned and gazed south, like he might be able to see all the way to the ocean. “I think Tanthus is east of here.”
Trix snorted and shook her head. “Not even your sense of direction is that good.”
“Agreed,” said Drake, “but Mercer’s guess is better than mine. Or yours for that matter. Let’s go east and see what we find.”
By twilight, they were walking along a ridgeline, the wall away on their left, when Cinder’s young eyes narrowed against the fiery glow of the setting sun reflecting off the stonework. She thought she spotted something—a break in the flat, featureless wall. She turned back and said, “Drake, let me use that spyglass.”
He passed it over and she held the makeshift scope up to her eye. There, set in the wall, was an archway. Her heart did a double tap inside her chest. This was proof that she was right. There was a door, and if there was a door, it was there for a reason. She bounced up and down on the spot. “It’s there! An opening. I see it.”
Mercer took the spyglass and held it up to his eye. He nodded. “She’s right. There’s a door in the wall.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
The sun hung low over the horizon by the time they reached the arch. The last rays of light colored the sky in brilliant hues of orange and purple, and the towering wall glowed like burnished gold in the failing light. The opening was tall and wide enough to drive a train right through the center, and the wall itself was taller still. It would have taken an army with siege towers to mount the top. Wind whistled through the opening, one long mournful song that sounded like some lonely soul lost among the hills. Beyond the open door they glimpsed a forbidding gray land of stunted trees and sharp rock shrouded in thick fog.
They stopped before the yawning archway. No one spoke. They simply stood there, wind whipping at their cloaks, gazing at the opening and the strange land beyond. Cinder wondered what new terrors awaited them on the other side. Fear and excitement battled for control.
At length, Mercer spoke. “As the first explorers to discover the opening, we have naming rights. I move to call this Cinder’s Pass.”
She felt herself blush despite the cold.
Drake shrugged. “I’m okay with it.”
“Fine,” Trix said without enthusiasm.
Mercer turned to Cinder. “Any objections?”
She swallowed a catch in her throat. “It’s an honor.”
“That’s settled,” said Mercer. “This will be called Cinder’s Pass.”
Drake said, “What should we call the land beyond? Drakeville?”
Mercer cracked a smile. “You wish. We’ll call it Mercerland.”
Trix said, “If we find a city, I vote to call it Trixopolis.”
“Hey, I found it,” said Cinder. “If there is a city, we call it Cinderburg.”
They shared a laugh and Mercer nodded toward the opening. “Shall we?”
Together, they passed under the arch, becoming the first to set foot in the expanded territory. It was twenty paces to the other side, and when they cleared the wall, they stopped again. Mercer said, “This seems like as good a place as any to greet Hardin and his crew.”
“No sense letting them see the promised land,” Drake said.
Trix examined the archway and nodded. “I could rig up a few welcoming gifts.”
“What should I do?” Cinder asked.
“Stay out of sight and don’t get killed,” Drake told her. “You’re the only one who can lead us to the money now.”
She frowned, but was secretly relived she wouldn’t be called on to play a part in the fight. So far, she had only fought monste
rs, digital creatures that weren’t real and only exist in the Realm. She didn’t want to kill another human being, even if it was only a simulation, and hoped she wouldn’t have to.
The rest of the evening was spent in preparation. Trix rigged a pair of tripwires, one on the southern side of the wall and a second on the northern side, a trap she claimed would melt the face off a grimlac.
“What’s the other one for?” Cinder asked.
“So they’ll see it and think they’re smart,” Trix told her.
Meanwhile, Drake sat down to cast a spell. He mixed two potions from his bag, along with a foul-smelling powder, a dozen small chicken bones, and a lock of wiry hair that might have come from a large rat, or maybe a small hodag. It took most of the night, and he was covered in sweat by the time he finished. “No one go near the arch,” he announced.
Mercer had built a fire in a hollow not far from the wall. The flickering orange light was shielded by a mound of stone and a few stunted thorn bushes. Cinder sat huddled close to the warmth and said, “Think they’ll come tonight?”
Mercer nodded. “Probably wait until the early hours of the morning. That’s what I’d do.”
“And we’ll spring our trap,” Cinder said.
Mercer nodded. He sat running a sharpening stone over his axe. The blade made a long, shrill sound with every swipe of the stone.
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