by P. G. Bell
The old man took his eye from the spyglass and looked very hard at her for a moment. She stared right back.
“That information is classified for good reason, Captain,” he said very quietly. “Our data protection rules are sacrosanct.”
“Yes, sir. And I wouldn’t normally ask, but something is clearly very wrong here, and I can’t be expected to fix it if I don’t have all the facts.” She could feel her frustration starting to boil up, like a furnace deep inside her, filling her with a hot, sputtering energy. She had to open her mouth to let it escape, and it came out as words. “We are in the business of collecting information, after all.”
The old man’s eyebrows came together in a scowl. “Collecting it, yes. Giving it out willy-nilly to anyone who asks for it, no.” He gestured toward the vault. “Information is a treasure, Captain—more precious than gold and more dangerous than magic. It can reshape whole worlds, in the right hands.”
“Or the wrong ones,” said Neoma. “Which is why we need to keep it out of Crepuscula’s reach, whatever it might be.”
The old man folded his hands over the head of his cane and studied her for a moment longer. Then he closed his eyes. “He was studying the farming practices of the Western Fenlands,” he said at last. “Lots of fields, cows, and milking sheds. I don’t know what else you think he’s likely to have seen.” He chuckled at the idea, and Captain Neoma knew that, very gently but definitely, he was putting an end to her questions. She still didn’t have everything she needed but knew she was unlikely to get anything more from him right away.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, snapping off an especially crisp salute. “There’s just one more thing.”
He raised an eyebrow and took a theatrically deep breath. “Yes?”
“The chancellor of Wolfhaven. I checked the official diary, and there’s no record of her visit at all, sir. No appointment, no security arrangements. Nothing.” She let the last word hang there between them, watching for his reaction.
He simply blinked, smiled amiably up at her, and said, “How careless of me. I must have forgotten to write it down. My apologies, Captain.”
Captain Neoma smiled back. “No need to apologize, sir. We all make mistakes.”
Except you, she thought as she marched away, her mind more alive than ever with questions. You never forget anything. There’s something you’re not telling me, and I’m going to find out what it is.
12
A TALE OF TWO TOWERS
Anger boiled in Suzy’s chest like acid. “You lied to me!” she said. “You told me you were a prince.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” protested Frederick. “It was a cover story. That’s different.”
“How much of it was true?” she demanded.
“Some of it.” Frederick’s embarrassment was audible. “Crepuscula really did put this curse on me. And you were right, I did say the fate of the Impossible Places might be at stake. I wasn’t lying about that.”
The captain cleared his spectral throat and tried to bat away a passing fish, which swam straight through his hand, unperturbed. “The lads and I are a little confused,” he said, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “If your friend here isn’t a prince, who exactly is he?”
“He isn’t my friend,” she said. “And I’ve no idea who he is. He claims his name’s Frederick.”
“It is,” said Frederick. “That bit’s true as well.”
“Then why did you lie about everything else?” said Suzy.
“Because some things are dangerous to know,” he said in a plaintive voice. “And the less you know about them, the safer you’ll be.”
Suzy glared at him. “I’m already in danger, thanks to you,” she said. “I saved you, and you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
“You haven’t really saved me yet, though, have you?” said Frederick. “I’m still stuck in this ridiculous snow globe. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m also stuck in this diving suit, with you breathing on me.”
“I’m sorry, would you like me to hold my breath?”
“You’re fogging my glass! Plus, I can see right up your nose.”
“Perhaps you’d prefer the view from Crepuscula’s mantelpiece,” Suzy said, and immediately regretted it. She would never dream of handing anyone over to somebody like Crepuscula, but her anger had made her mean. She was about to tell Frederick as much, but he spoke first.
“You’re right,” he said in a humble little whisper. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Good,” she said, although she didn’t feel good about it at all.
The ghosts huddled closer, not wanting to miss a word.
“I’m not a prince,” said Frederick. “But I really am a Fenlander. And I’ll be a hero, too, if I can ever break this curse and get back to my proper form. You see, there really is a plot and I’m the only one who can stop it.”
“Why you?” said Suzy.
“Because I’m the only one who knows about it, of course,” he replied. “Why do you think Crepuscula wants to get her hands on me so badly?”
“Hang on,” said Suzy, narrowing her eyes at him. “How can there be a plot to steal the throne when there isn’t even a throne to steal?”
“Because it’s not a plot to rule the Western Fenlands,” he said. “It’s a plot to rule the Impossible Places. Every single one of them.”
Nobody spoke for a moment, and the words weighed heavy on Suzy. Could she believe them? She didn’t want to, but the memory of Crepuscula’s shadow crawling toward her like a living thing reared up in her mind, and she pictured it sweeping out from the tower like an oil slick, enveloping everything in its path. The idea seemed horribly plausible.
Worse, it made her feel very small and vulnerable, like a mouse that feels the shadow of a circling hawk sweep across it. Crepuscula was out there somewhere right now, hunting for them. Suzy didn’t want to think what would happen if she caught them.
“So Crepuscula wants to conquer the Union,” said Suzy, trying to wriggle out from under the feeling. “All right, I can believe that. But how did you find out about it?”
Frederick hesitated. “Because I’m a genius,” he said.
The ghosts all made appreciative noises, but Suzy snorted. “Is that a fact?”
“Hey,” he protested. “Just because I grew up on a farm doesn’t mean I can’t be clever. You don’t know what it was like, stuck out there in the middle of the marshlands. No brothers or sisters, no neighbors, no friends, no school, no money, no prospects. And my parents, who thought I was just taking up space.”
“Poor lad,” said the captain. The rest of the crew nodded sadly, and the wreck grew darker as their ghostly luminescence dimmed a little in sympathy.
“Oh.” Suzy hadn’t been expecting such a frank confession, and it made her feel awkward. “I’m sorry. It sounds awful.”
“Life was…” He sighed. “Pecorous. But it meant that if I wanted something, I had to do it for myself. I taught myself to read before I was five years old, and I’d mapped every star in the night sky by age six. Not to boast, but I’m a bit of a prodigy.”
“And how old are you now?” said Suzy.
“Ten,” he said. “Almost eleven.”
“But how can a ten-year-old uncover a secret plot by the most dangerous woman in the Union?” said Suzy. “I’m eleven, and I still can’t find a matching pair of socks most mornings.”
“I just talked to the right people,” said Frederick. “I put all the evidence together, but before I could use it, Crepuscula’s curse got me. And here I am.” His voice trailed off.
“But you can still talk,” said Suzy, hoping to brighten his mood a little. “That means you can still report what you’ve found, doesn’t it?”
“But it’ll be my word against hers, and that’s not enough,” he said. “I’ve got loads of evidence, but I was holding it when the curse hit me, so it’s stuck in here with me. It’s part of the snow globe now.”
“Then we need to break the c
urse somehow,” she said. “Change you and the evidence back to normal.”
“Yes, but how?”
Suzy shrugged. “The trolls can do magic. Maybe they can help.”
To her annoyance, Frederick laughed. “Troll magic? It’s fine for machines, but not people.”
“Then what do you suggest?” she said, feeling the edges of her patience beginning to fray.
“May I take a look?” said the captain. She nodded, and he leaned forward, putting his face through the skin of the helmet. She couldn’t help recoiling as his glowing blue features appeared inside the helmet, barely an inch from her own face.
“Sorry,” he whispered with an apologetic smile. “This will only take a second.” He scrutinized Frederick’s snow globe, and his brow furrowed. After a minute, he withdrew his face and floated back to rejoin the others. “I’m afraid the boy’s right,” he said. “That’s some quality spell craft at work there. Very powerful stuff.”
“Told you so,” muttered Frederick.
“So how do we undo it?” said Suzy.
“With an equally powerful counter-spell, of course,” said the captain. “And there’s only one place I know of that can match the magic of the Obsidian Tower.”
“Oh no,” said Frederick. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” asked Suzy.
The captain drew himself up. “The Ivory Tower,” he said in a somber tone.
“I knew it,” wailed Frederick. “Isn’t there anywhere else you can think of?”
“Wait a minute,” said Suzy, who could feel the conversation running away from her. “What’s the Ivory Tower?”
The ghosts all looked at her in astonishment. “Perhaps Gavin here can enlighten you,” said the captain. “He’s the ship’s historian, and he spins a good yarn.”
“It’d be a pleasure, sir,” said Gavin, clearly thrilled to be called upon. He drifted up above the others and waited until he was sure he had their full attention. “It’s a tale as old as any I’ve heard told,” he said in a half whisper. “Countless ages ago, when the Impossible Places first agreed to live together in union, two mighty towers were built. They were to be symbols of hope, to which all could turn in times of need—one tower of strength, and another of knowledge.
“For centuries, the magic of the Obsidian Tower offered protection to the helpless, justice to the wronged, and courage to the weak. Its strength shone like a beacon for all who needed it. But strength is power, and power corrupts. As the years passed, the lords and ladies appointed to rule the tower began to wonder why the strong should serve the weak at all. Thus, it became a symbol of fear, from which the mighty could reach down and punish those who displeased them.”
Suzy gave an involuntary shudder inside the suit. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that she had displeased Crepuscula. She tried to put the feeling to one side as Gavin continued.
“The Ivory Tower, meanwhile, was a storehouse of wisdom, fostering understanding between the newly joined peoples. Its library gathered texts from across the Union, and brought enlightenment to many. But knowledge is power, too, and the keepers of the tower grew arrogant and aloof, setting themselves apart from those they served. Never cruel, never dangerous, but cold. Now the tower guards its knowledge closely, granting access to a select few, and then only in exchange for its most valued currency—new information. That is the price of knowledge now: a truth for a truth.”
His tale concluded, Gavin drifted back down with a nod of satisfaction. There was a smattering of applause from the rest of the crew.
“Well done, Gavin,” said the captain. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“So we need to get to this Ivory Tower,” said Suzy, glad of a clear objective at last. “Where is it?”
“Getting to it is easy,” said Frederick, sounding morose. “Getting in and out again is almost impossible.”
Suzy picked over the things that Gavin had said. “You said we need new information to get in. ‘A truth for a truth.’”
“Aye,” said Gavin. “That’s the one inviolable rule of the tower.”
“But what does it mean?” she said.
“It means a secret,” said Frederick. “Something that only one person in all the Impossible Places knows.”
“I see.” Suzy chewed her lip and thought. Then it struck her. “But we’ve already got one!” she said. “Your evidence against Crepuscula. You’re the only one who knows it, right?”
“Wrong,” he said. “I gathered it from other people, remember?”
Suzy slumped in disappointment. The crew were all bowed in concentration as well, stroking their spectral beards and muttering to themselves. Looking at them, Suzy had another idea. “What about the location of Condóro?” she said. “You’re the only ones who know it, now that the map’s dissolved.”
“But the whole crew knows it,” said the captain. “That makes five of us already.”
“But don’t any of you have any secrets?” she said. “Anything at all?”
The captain laughed. “Not after all these years together. Besides, even if we did, the moment we shared them with you, they’d cease to be secret.” He gave a shrug of defeat. “I’m sorry. We’re not much help to anyone these days.”
This softened her. “You’ve been a great help,” she said. “I didn’t even believe in ghosts yesterday, but I’m very glad you exist.”
The crew all seemed to glow a little brighter at this. “It’s very nice of you to say so,” said the captain. “And may I say, it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We’re already looking forward to your next visit.”
Next visit? The words hit Suzy like a shock of cold water, and for the first time she was forced to confront the question she had been keeping at arm’s length since jumping onto the train—just how long could she keep this whole thing up? She hadn’t even thought about how much time it might take her to get back home; she had just been in a hurry not to let this chance escape. But now that she had taken it, was she stuck with it? The trolls couldn’t make her stay, surely? But how could she possibly find her way back home without them? And what would be waiting for her if she did? Had her parents woken up and found her missing? Was Fletch still out there somewhere, ready to scramble her memories? And what about poor Wilmot, toiling all alone in the sorting van? She hated the idea of abandoning him, but what else could she do? She couldn’t stay with the Impossible Postal Express forever. Now that she had faced them, she finally began to appreciate the scale of her problems, and they reared up like mountains, surrounding her on all sides. She began to sweat a little.
“Where do you want me to leave this?” she said, fumbling the rum bottle out of the pocket of the diving suit.
“Just pop it out of that porthole over there, and we’ll see where the sea takes it.” The captain pointed to a circular hole in the hull, its edges softened by a growth of coral.
She did as he asked, being careful not to stand on any stray bones as she clumped her way across the ship’s interior and stuck the bottle out through the opening. She let it go, and it rocketed away like a cork, swirling upward out of sight.
“Thank you,” said the captain.
“You’re welcome,” she said, feeling terrible at the idea she would never see them again. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right in here all by yourselves?”
“We’ve grown quite accomplished at passing the time,” said the captain. “The months just fly by. Although I do think we’ve exhausted all the possibilities of Eye Spy by now.”
“I spy with my little eye,” piped up Neville, “something beginning with sea.” The others all groaned.
“Now, go and find that secret,” said the captain. “Get this boy to the Ivory Tower, get him back to normal, and save the Union. And then come back and tell us all about it.”
“I’ll try,” Suzy said, not wanting to make any more promises she couldn’t keep. The ghosts each raised a hand in farewell and began dissolving back into amorph
ous clouds. Only the captain retained his form, and as she stepped outside the wreck and looked back, he was still there, watching her, a sad but hopeful look in his eyes.
13
SUBTERFUGE
“We need to get a move on,” said Frederick as Suzy picked her way back through the reef toward the H. E. C. “We’ve got a lot to do, and I don’t want to spend any longer in this bubble than I need to.”
Suzy didn’t reply. Her encounter with the ghosts had left her sad and troubled, and she wanted a moment’s peace to put her thoughts in order. “You said the Ivory Tower is easy to get to,” she said at last. “Can the Express get us there?”
“Of course,” said Frederick. “Every rail line in the Union leads to the tower eventually. But what good will that do us if we can’t get inside?”
“It’ll be a start,” she said. She watched the fish dart out of her way as she plodded on and started thinking aloud. “The Impossible Postal Express delivers to the Obsidian Tower, so it must deliver to the Ivory Tower as well. Right?”
“Yes,” said Frederick, starting to sound impatient. “It delivers everywhere.”
“Which means the posties must have a way of getting in,” she said.
“Maybe. But deliveries to the tower are very rare. The Express might not get one for months. I can’t afford to wait that long.”
She was too busy putting a new idea together to respond, and they were almost at the outer hatch of the H. E. C.’s air lock when she stopped abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” said Frederick. “We need to get inside.”
“And we will,” she said, “once you’ve made me a promise.”
“Fine. Anything. Just hurry up!”
“No more lies, is that clear? If I’m going to help you, I have to know you’re being honest with me. Otherwise you’re on your own.”
“I am being honest,” he said. “I’ve told you everything now.”
“You haven’t told me who gave you the information about Crepuscula’s plot,” she said. “Or why you knew to ask them about it in the first place.”
“Why bother?” he said. “It’s not as if you’d know any of them. But I happen to have friends in high places.”
