by Robert Reed
“There’s other bad people too,” Seldom insisted.
Nissim looked around the cabin, his mouth shut.
The blimp was changing its pitch and velocity, propellers rumbling with purpose. Diamond pressed his face against the window glass, spying another landing jutting far out from Marduk.
“What’s the wilderness?” he asked.
“Dangerous,” Seldom said.
Elata said, “Beautiful.”
Nissim agreed with both answers. “Different trees grow outside the districts,” he said. “And there are different animals, creatures you would never see here. And once you move even farther out, out where the spherical world becomes vertical, another realm takes over.” He pulled a slick white coin from his pocket, handing it to Diamond. “The reefs are coral. This is cut from a kind of coral. It’s a hard, half-living material. What’s alive is part plant, part animal. It feeds on sunlight and gnats and feces, and the reefs are older than any tree, and that’s where the papio live.”
“Papio,” Diamond repeated.
One of the passengers was staring. She hadn’t noticed the odd boy until now, and when Diamond glanced at her, she grew self-conscious, looking out her own window with sudden intensity.
The blimp was docking. Diamond saw men standing together, waiting to board, and the burly red capables pulled hard at the ropes, fighting a breeze to bring the gangway into position.
“The papio live on the reefs,” Seldom explained.
“They look like people,” Elata said.
“No they don’t,” said Seldom.
Nissim put his face close. “The papio are complicated. Let’s leave it there for now.”
Diamond remained silent, wondering how anybody could understand the endlessly complicated world.
Horns sounded, and again the blimp moved. Three men entered the cabin and stopped in the aisle, talking to each other with their eyes. Diamond watched them, trying not to stare. One man nodded and another moved to the front and sat. The nodding man and his companion said nothing, filling an empty bench in back.
Diamond looked out the window while he studied the new world inside his head. “How far down do they reach?” he asked.
“Do what reach?” Elata asked.
“The trees.”
“Less than halfway,” Seldom said.
With stubby fingers, Diamond made the sphere again. Trees dangled down from the top and something called a reef grew on the edges. Seldom put one finger into his round cage, swirling where the trees ended.
“The canopy is my favorite part of the world,” Elata said. “That’s where trees make branches that grow sideways and wrap together.”
“Most of our food comes from the canopy,” Seldom said.
Nissim wasn’t talking, and he didn’t seem to be listening anymore.
“Days are brighter in the canopy,” Elata explained. “That’s where most of the sunlight gets eaten by the trees and epiphytes.”
“What are epiphytes?”
“Plants that hang from bigger plants,” Seldom said.
The world was steadily rising around them. Maybe it was Elata’s words, but the air did seem brighter than ever, and out from the last shreds of mist came a rich green floor that looked solid, impenetrable.
“There’s thousands of species of plants,” Seldom said.
“And tens of thousands of different bugs,” Elata said.
“There’s more than that,” Seldom said. The topic was exciting, and he reached across Elata to grab Diamond’s knee. “We don’t know how many species of insects there are. Sometimes one species vanishes, and sometimes a scientist finds some little beetle or fly that nobody has ever seen before.”
“Is that true?” Elata asked doubtfully.
“It is,” Seldom insisted.
“Who told you that?”
The boy grinned and looked at the Master. “Isn’t that true, sir?”
Nissim seemed to be watching them, but he didn’t react, blinking several times before he returned from wherever his mind was.
“Is what true?” he asked.
“People are finding new insects,” Seldom said.
“Yes.”
The boy straightened his back, proud of himself.
“But it’s very rare,” the Master cautioned. “And we aren’t certain why it happens. Some voices argue that new species are forming. But experts and every textbook will claim that the little things have managed to hide from us until now. They’ve been here since the Creation, and they always will be.”
“That’s what I think,” said Elata. “Always, and always.”
“I like the other idea,” Seldom maintained.
Nissim sat sideways on his bench, watching the youngsters as well as the two men sharing the bench at the back of the cabin.
“Which story do you believe?” Elata asked the Master.
“I avoid opinions,” Nissim said. “It’s easier that way to accept both answers equally, and deny both of them at the same time. That’s how I treat problems that I don’t understand.”
His answer confused everybody, and the subject was dropped.
The canopy was not simple or simply green. Fat brown branches emerged from Marduk—horizontal and thick, radiating straight out from the trunk—and every branch was covered with small branches and lush leaves and moving patches of color that were birds and machines. The closer they approached, the more confused and amazing the view became.
“What’s below this?” Diamond asked.
Nissim put both of his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He seemed ready to talk, but then he pulled his hands back, his mind still wandering.
Seldom spoke. “What’s below the canopy, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Air,” said Elata.
“And daylight,” Seldom said. “Too bright for ordinary eyes, and kids aren’t supposed to ever look it.”
“The sun can blind you,” Elata warned.
Diamond remembered the dark goggles in the closet back home and how his father’s eyes were pale when his face was very brown.
“And what are the coronas?” he asked.
Elata sighed and Seldom twisted against the hard bench. Just the word “coronas” made them nervous and thrilled.
“They have their own place, and it’s a very different place,” Seldom said.
“Nothing like this,” Elata added.
Once again, the blimp changed speed and direction. Propellers rolled hard and fast, and from somewhere on the canopy another horn sounded, thunderous notes rising up through the machine and through them.
Once again, Diamond made the spherical world with his hands, fingertips touching with his thumbs closest to his face.
Seldom reached between his palms, down low. “This is where the night grows. Between us and the sun.”
“Night grows,” Diamond repeated doubtfully.
“Sure,” Elata said. “There’s a second canopy down there, only the plants aren’t anything we would recognize.”
Suddenly the Master made a soft sound, lifting a finger.
The others fell silent.
Leaning close, the man put his face in front of Diamond’s face. “Those three men who came onboard,” he whispered.
Seldom started to turn his head.
Nissim dropped a hand on Seldom’s shoulder. “Hold still. Look at me, please.” Then he watched Diamond, saying, “One of them is sitting ahead of us. Do you know who I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why he might know you?”
Diamond shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Elata asked.
“Those gentlemen are taking turns,” Nissim explained. “One at a time, they’re watching us. And they’re mostly interested in Diamond. Which is reasonable, I suppose, since the boy is remarkable. But what worries me is that they don’t strike me as being the inquisitive sort.”
Once more, the great horn sounded, and the blimp finished making its majestic turn, alig
ning with the new landing.
Thinking about the three men, Seldom trembled. “What do we do?” he asked.
“Nothing,” said Nissim.
The boy started to turn his head, trying to catch sight of the two men behind them.
“Stop,” Nissim said.
Elata took Seldom by the hand. “We’re all right. Nobody’s going to hurt us.”
Diamond felt cold and sorry.
Nissim touched his shoulder. “You need to go to the bathroom.”
The boy started to say, “I don’t.”
“Come. I’m taking you.” Then the man made a point of grabbing the others’ hands, squeezing hard as he said, “Sit and wait. This won’t take long.”
Seldom started to ask questions but thought better of it.
“Let’s go,” Nissim said.
Diamond’s legs were weak, and his breath came in quick shallow bursts. But he managed to stand, joining the Master in the aisle, a sure hand guiding him toward the front of the cabin. The strange man sitting in front was quiet, staring hard at the floor between his feet. But as the two of them passed, he turned and stared, brown eyes unblinking and his mouth clamped as tight as could be.
A long hallway ended with a staircase leading up to the cockpit. Diamond looked at the bank of controls and the pilot standing before the open window and her assistant sitting beside her. “Now,” said the pilot, and the assistant pulled a long lever, deploying the gangway again.
Two narrow doors stood in the hallway, facing one another and each wearing a bowl-shaped emblem. Nissim knocked on one door and opened it, ushering the boy into a tiny room. The sink was dirty and the toilet smelled. Diamond felt a sudden need to urinate. Nissim closed the door and pulled a latch to lock it, and then he reached behind his back, saying, “If you have to go, go.”
Diamond didn’t need any more encouragement.
And from behind, Nissim removed a pair of knives wrapped in soft brown leather. He had carried them from the beginning.
“Three men,” he began. “Somebody sent them, and I can’t guess who. But it doesn’t matter. The problem is that there’s three of them. If somebody wanted us followed, he would send just one person, somebody we wouldn’t notice. But three big boys strutting onboard like they did . . . no, that means they plan to take you. They know who you are, and I don’t know how that can be. But I’m almost certain that they want to grab you up.”
“Me,” said Diamond. “Me?”
The butcher’s knives were designed to cut stubborn meat off bones and carve away tendons. Nissim used the smaller knife, working on the window high on the outside wall. The window was already partway opened, supplying meager circulation to the stinking room. He jabbed the knife’s point into a hinge, prying it away from an old wooden frame.
“Why me?” asked Diamond.
“A fine question and I wish we had time to talk. But we don’t.” Nissim stopped working on the hinge, rewrapping each knife in its own leather. Then he grabbed the window with both hands, and he waited.
Another horn sounded.
The blaring was enormous and close, and it covered up the sound of the big man twisting the window away from the rectangular opening. Without a false motion, Nissim set the glass on the sink and knelt down in front of the boy. “Who they are and why they want you—I don’t know the answers. But there are three of them, and I’m responsible for the three of you. And I think this is our best chance to get away.”
Diamond glanced at the window.
“This is a big landing, and we’re floating over it right now,” the man explained. “In a few moments, the gangway will be pulled back up. And you’ll climb out through this hole and carefully, carefully jump down.”
“But then what will I do?” he began.
“Listen,” said Nissim, pushing a broad thumb against Diamond’s mouth. “You’ll have to run to the District office. The office is on the big blackwood tree called Hanner. When you get lost—and you will get lost—ask for directions. Find a nice woman. Tell her that you’re meeting your father at the Ivory Station, and beg for help. You’re a sweet odd boy, and she’ll take pity on you. It’s a trick that you could master, I think.”
One last time, the horn sounded, and the gangway lifted as the blimp began to push forward again.
“This isn’t fair, but this has to be,” Nissim insisted. Then he picked up Diamond, aiming his legs for the hole in the wall.
Diamond straightened his arms, making himself small enough to fit.
“We’ll be at the Station waiting,” the Master promised. “Are you ready?”
The boy didn’t have time to answer.
“Good,” said the man, giving him one hard shove.
And for the second time in his life, Diamond was falling.
EIGHT
The blimp was fixed to the air while a broad sheet of wood moved beneath him. Diamond fell sideways toward the landing, letting out a bright shout to warn those not looking up.
People looked up, but nobody moved.
Legs bent, he crumbled and rolled. Nothing about his landing was graceful, but the wood was softer than expected and the only pain was from a bruised shoulder that immediately started to heal.
An old woman bent down. “What do you think you’re accomplishing?”
Diamond sat up, watching the blimp push away.
“You nearly hit me,” she said, even though he hadn’t. “And why would you jump from an aircraft?”
She was holding a stick, and above her head was a round piece of fabric supported by smaller sticks.
Diamond stood, paying strict attention to his body. Something hard was pressing against his side, and reaching under his shirt, he found the small butcher’s knife wrapped in soft warm leather.
“Answer me,” the woman insisted.
“Where’s Hanner?” he asked.
She fumed and stepped back. “Where it always is,” she said, throwing a sloppy wave behind him.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He turned and ran.
The landing narrowed, becoming a walkway. Diamond watched the flat planks of wood ahead of him, sliding left or right when feet and legs had to be avoided. People called out warnings. Other voices had nothing to do with him.
It was terrifying to know that three strange men were chasing him, but only to a point. This was a new fear that easily dissolved into the day’s other horrors.
Diamond stopped running, breathing deeply.
Nobody was following. He touched the knife stuck into his waistband, and after a moment touched it again. The walkway was white and slick because it was dirty. Everybody except Diamond carried an umbrella. Soft popping sounds came from ahead and behind, and then a little fleck of something wet struck the top of his hand. He lifted the hand to his nose, finding an acrid, familiar odor. Eyes narrowed, he looked straight up. Blimps and birds and the enormous leatherwings were tiny in the air, and everything seemed to move slowly, and he wondered what happened when those huge animals relieved themselves.
Diamond dropped his face, wiping his hand against his trousers.
Ropes and posts created railings. The walkway was built on top of one of Marduk’s enormous limbs—a massive, nearly straight column of wood that had seen healthier days. Bark was missing, wounds full of deep rot. Yet nothing about the limb seemed weak. Countless smaller branches erupted from it, some dropping into the canopy, out of sight, while others reached out to both sides, every branch ending with knobby leaves as big as people.
Diamond grabbed the rope railing, staring into the canopy. Leaves twisted in the breeze. Their topsides were a paler green and different in texture than the dark glossy almost black faces that pointed downward, aiming for the unseen sun. A face was gazing up at him. The green-gold monkey was balanced on a tiny branch, and with a spitting voice, it said, “Go, leave. Go.”
The boy ran again. The walkway dropped, slowly and then steeply, and the limb it was riding grew narrower frailer. Every gust of wind caused planks and ropes t
o creak. A second walkway soon appeared, rising up from the deep canopy as it moved closer to his path. Stairs and ladders descended into other places, every destination hidden by the foliage. Then the two paths crossed, and reaching the intersection, Diamond slowed. A young woman was sitting on a long bench, protected from feces by a broad fixed canopy. Her hands and eyes were occupied with a toddler trying with all of his might to run away.
Diamond watched mother and son struggle.
Without looking up, the woman asked, “What do you want?”
“My father,” said Diamond.
She still didn’t look up. Leather straps fit around the boy’s chest, and she grabbed her son from behind, yanking. He let loose a pitiful wail, and her instant reaction was laughter, telling him, “You’re fine, silly nut. You couldn’t be any better.”
Diamond waited, and when the crying quit, he asked, “Where is Hanner, ma’am?”
She pointed up the new walkway. “Straight ahead.”
“All right, ma’am. Thank you.”
The mother rose, uncoiling a narrow rope. One end of the rope was looped and needed to ride her wrist, while the clip on the other end was fastened to the boy’s leather halter. Having control of her son, she picked up a blue stick covered with bird feces, opening the spring-powered umbrella.
Diamond jumped back in surprise.
She looked at him. She hadn’t paid attention to him before, but she became curious and then agitated. Surprised by his face, she asked, “Who are you?” Then before he could answer, she said, “You’re too young to be out by yourself.”
“I am,” he agreed.
But one boy was enough of a burden. Tugging on her son, she said, “Come on, nut,” and the two of them took the new walkway in the opposite direction, heading for the green shadows.
Diamond looked for chasing men. There weren’t any. He looked over the edge and saw where Marduk’s old limb had broken away. The ragged wood looked fresh and sappy, and the tip of the branch had tumbled into the canopy, smaller branches and thousands of leaves pulled down by the catastrophe. He was staring down into an enormous hole. It seemed like a new hole, perhaps torn out by the morning rain. The hole’s sides and the bottom were rich green. Holding the railing, Diamond pushed out, staring down into a dense tangle of crisscrossing branches and epiphytes and odd bright birds, and he listened to the white buzz of animals talking, and his thoughts shifted and shifted until he came back to where he began the day.
