by P. G. Bell
“Suzy?” Wilmot looked at her in confusion. “What is she talking about?”
Suzy gave him her bravest smile, then extracted herself from Ursel’s embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said. Ursel tried to catch hold of her again, but Suzy stepped back out of reach. “It’s the only way she’ll let you all go.”
Meridian cleared his throat. “I may have another solution,” he said.
“What?” said Suzy hotly. She didn’t want to hope that the old man might actually be able to help her.
“It’s very simple, really,” he said. “Guards? Shoot her. Shoot them all.”
Suzy went cold, and Ursel drew the others closer to her chest, ready to shield them from harm. But the guards just shuffled their feet and looked to Captain Neoma for confirmation.
“My lord,” Neoma said. “Our job is to protect you and this tower from harm, not to act as your personal assassins, and definitely not to help you hold the Union for ransom. So with all due respect, I think it’s time you took your orders and shoved them somewhere.” She turned her plasma rifle on him, and the other guards followed suit.
“Treachery, Captain?” He gave a bitter little smile. “I’ll see you banished for this.”
“Try it,” she said, flashing him a golden smile. “Old man.”
“Do stop being such a sore loser, Aybek,” said Crepuscula. “It’s over. Accept it.” She held a hand out to Suzy, who flinched. There was a weight of fear on her chest, and she could feel it growing as she thought about everything she was giving up—not just her freedom, but her dignity, her body, her future. She almost sobbed out loud as she thought of her mom and dad, waking up and finding her gone. They would never know what had happened to her …
Frederick, still cupped in Suzy’s hands, spoke up. “I’m sorry, Suzy,” he said. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Neither did I,” she replied, her voice shaking.
She took a deep breath. Then she smoothed her bathrobe out, picked a stray hair from her face, and handed Frederick to Crepuscula.
33
A PROMISE TO BE KEPT
Suzy had expected the old woman to gloat, but Crepuscula just grunted in acknowledgment.
“So that’s it, then?” said Meridian. “I’m expected to just surrender?”
“Yes,” said Crepuscula. “Once the formalities are out of the way.” Keeping her eyes and wand on her brother, she raised the snow globe to her lips and whispered something to it. Then she tossed it into the air, as though she had simply discarded it.
Horrified, Suzy started forward, hands outstretched to catch it before it hit the ground and burst. But she was too slow, and it dropped out of reach. She screwed her eyes shut.
The pop! of breaking glass never came, and when she opened her eyes again there was no sign of the snow globe at all. Instead, a small, pale boy with ash-blond hair and a pinched face stood on the spot where it should have hit. He wore the same plain gray uniform as the other observers and held a NeuroGlobe in one hand.
“Frederick?” she said. “Is that you?”
The boy looked down at his own body in surprise, then back up with a smile. “Yes!” he said in Frederick’s voice. “It worked! I’m me again!”
“That’s one promise fulfilled,” said Crepuscula. “Time for another.”
Suzy’s heart gave a painful lurch as Crepuscula beckoned to her, but she refused to let the sorceress see her fear. Nevertheless, her breathing quickened as she approached Crepuscula and her ears filled with a piercing whine that grew louder by the second.
It was only when Crepuscula looked past her that Suzy realized she could hear it, too. Meridian, Frederick, the guards, Ursel, and the trolls all looked toward a large stained glass window in one wall. The sound was coming from outside it, and a dark shape was growing in size beyond the glass.
“What—?” Suzy began, but that was all she had time to say before the window exploded inward, and the dark shape smashed through it, trailing fire.
People scattered as it plowed across the room with a scream of metal, leaving a wake of flaming books and splintered shelves behind it. Suzy threw herself backward and felt a blast of heat wash over her as the thing raced past. She thought she saw Crepuscula, caught right in the thing’s path, throw her hands up in front of her face, but then Suzy hit the ground, and the object struck the opposite wall with a blow that threw everybody still standing to the floor.
Suzy sat up, spitting dust from her mouth. The room was full of smoke, and everything around her had been reduced to a shifting vortex of vague shapes. “Frederick?” she called. “Wilmot? Is everyone all right?”
There was an answering chorus of coughs and splutters.
“I’m fine,” called Frederick from somewhere to her left.
“So are we,” came Wilmot’s voice.
“Grunf!” confirmed Ursel.
“Good grief!” Stonker staggered toward her out of the haze, his uniform white with dust. “Did you see what that was?”
“No,” said Suzy. “I was too busy trying not to die.”
He caught her by the shoulders, pulled her to her feet, and turned her to face the smoldering object. It was as big as a bus and lay at a drunken angle, surrounded by blackened books. “Don’t you see?” he said. “It’s the H. E. C.”
Its paintwork had charred and blistered, it was missing its wheels, and its front end was a concertina of twisted metal, but she realized with astonishment that he was right. And as they watched, the hatch on its side popped open and a figure stumbled out, clad in the silver space suit she had seen hanging on the rack inside. The figure groped its way clear of the wreckage before raising the helmet’s reflective visor. “Whoops.”
“As I live and breathe,” exclaimed Stonker. “Fletch!”
The engineer turned to them in surprise, still a little unsteady on his feet. “It’s true what they say, Stonks. The landing really is the tricky part.”
The smoke and dust began to settle, and Suzy was able to see the extent of the damage. Neoma and her guards had already taken up fire extinguishers and were tackling the small fires that had sprung up in the H. E. C.’s wake, while Ursel, Wilmot, and Frederick picked their way over the wreckage to rejoin her and Stonker. It was only when she saw Meridian that she realized everything had gone wrong.
He stood among the rubble, his suit scorched and his hair in disarray, but with a look of triumph on his face. Crepuscula lay on the floor at his feet, glaring up at him as he pressed the tip of his cane into her forehead. In his other hand, raised high above his head, he held the NeuroGlobe.
“Not another step,” he warned as the statues advanced. “Unless you want me to turn her into something resembling wallpaper paste.” Crepuscula tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but he pressed down harder, forcing her flat. The statues lowered their swords.
“This won’t help you, Aybek,” Crepuscula said. “You’ve got no friends left, and I’ve got too many witnesses. Not to mention more statues on the way.”
He laughed. “And I have every army in the Union to command,” he said. “Why, just today I struck a deal with the Berserker Chief to rally his people to my cause should I ever need them.”
“The Berserkers don’t take orders,” she said, “and they don’t answer to anybody.”
“They do now,” Meridian said imperiously. “They will reduce your statues to dust, and I will declare you an outlaw, banished for the rest of your days.”
“The people of the Union will never stand for it,” she said.
“But they will.” He grinned. “You may have inherited some nostalgic sense of justice along with your tower, but your bedside manner is awful. As long as people think you’re a monster, you won’t be missed.”
Crepuscula grimaced, and her shadow writhed beneath her. It had shrunk to a smudge, its edges badly frayed, and Suzy wondered if it had somehow absorbed the bulk of the H. E. C.’s impact on Crepuscula’s behalf.
“What are we going to do?” whispered Frederick.
“I don’t know,” Suzy said. Her head was reeling, as though she were still on the Belle de Loin—everything felt out of control, careering toward disaster. She hated feeling so helpless.
Defeated, she let her hands fall to her sides, where one of them brushed against something heavy in her pocket: Fletch’s wand. She took it out, not knowing what to do, but unable to just stand there empty-handed. There had to be something …
“With you gone, I’ll be able to step up my restructuring program,” Meridian went on. “I’ll dispense with whole worlds. Why, I could put Troll Territory out of its misery in weeks, rather than years.”
“Don’t you dare!” said Stonker.
“But I do dare,” said Meridian. “I’m the only one with the capacity to imagine a greater future, so only I can hold the strength to realize it.”
Suzy stared at the wand in her hand, feeling so angry with herself she could have cried. She had carried it so far with her, she had thought it was the key to saving Frederick, but she still didn’t even know how to use it. It might as well just be a stick of metal.
… not much more than a blunt instrument, really … Frederick’s words resurfaced in her memory, dislodging others.
… like playing the violin with a hammer …
… when I couldn’t unlock the globe, I tried smashing it open …
A hammer.
The wand twitched in her hand, as though in answer to her thoughts, and suddenly, inexplicably, it felt different. Not just an awkward length of metal anymore, but a tool. A tool with a purpose.
She moved quickly, before Meridian could react. Aiming at the NeuroGlobe in his hand, she pointed the wand and felt the truth of its purpose. It wanted to smash things. To shatter great big holes in reality.
So she let it, and it twitched again as a bolt of invisible, silent magic leaped from its tip toward the globe. Go on, she thought. Smash it wide open.
There was no sound of breaking glass—just a moment of connection in which she knew without a doubt that the wand had done its job: It had struck the NeuroGlobe with all its might.
With a dull thud, the globe dropped to the carpet where, a second before, Lord Meridian had been standing. Suzy stepped forward very cautiously and looked down at it. It was no longer full of shifting energy and clockwork, but had regained its gaudy ceramic base. A storm of neon glitter was just settling on the familiar form of the little frog inside it, which blinked up at her and spoke with Lord Meridian’s voice.
“What happened?” it said. “Why is everything so big?” It blinked again as understanding dawned. “No!” it raged. “You did this? I demand you let me out this instant!”
Suzy picked up the snow globe and gave it a vigorous shake. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I think you deserve this.”
“Never a truer word spoken.” Panting with effort, Crepuscula finally regained her feet. “Hand him over.” Suzy was only too happy to comply. Crepuscula looked in at her brother and gave a weary cackle. “Whatever else happens, Aybek, this is how I’ll always remember you.”
“Oh, shut up,” he said. “Just hurry up and lock me away, so I don’t have to look at you anymore.”
“Gladly,” she said. “But not before I’ve seen one last promise kept. There’s room for two in this snow globe, you know.”
Suzy went cold as the old woman turned her eyes on her, but before she could react further, she found Ursel’s arms locked around her body, holding her back.
“We will not let you do this, madam,” said Stonker, putting himself between Suzy and Crepuscula. “It’s not right.”
Suzy put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said, although she certainly didn’t feel it. “I have to do this. Please. I gave my word.” The truth was that, if she waited any longer, she knew she wouldn’t have the courage to go through with it.
Stonker looked shocked, then sad. His mustache drooped. But he stepped aside and nodded at Ursel who, after a moment’s indecision, released her hold. Suzy stepped forward, eye to eye with Crepuscula.
“I’m ready,” she lied.
Crepuscula grunted. “I wasn’t sure you’d keep your word.”
Her dismissive tone stoked the last of Suzy’s anger, though she was too tired to retaliate now. “Just get it over with.”
Crepuscula studied her closely, as though looking for something. “Very well,” she said. “Apologize for stealing from me, and we’ll call it even.”
Suzy thought she had misheard. “Sorry?”
“Close enough.” Crepuscula dropped the snow globe into her pocket.
“What?”
“I wanted to be certain you could really be trusted when it counts,” Crepuscula said. “And now I am.”
Suzy gaped at her, relief and anger fighting for control of her feelings. “How dare you put me through all that!” she said. “I thought I was giving up my life!”
“And it was very noble of you,” said Crepuscula. “Perhaps you’d like a sticker, or a lollipop or something?”
Suzy was about to tell her exactly what she would have liked, but Wilmot caught her by the arm.
“Don’t push your luck,” he said. “We’re all still in one piece. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
“No, let’s not,” said Neoma, cutting in. “Someone needs to take responsibility for this mess, and it’s not going to be me.” She indicated the rows of ruined bookshelves and the smoking wreck of the H. E. C.
“Why not?” said Crepuscula. “The tower needs a new keeper. Someone who knows the ropes. Someone trustworthy.”
“I’m a guard, not an academic,” said Neoma. “I don’t want the job.”
“Which makes you the perfect person to take it,” said Crepuscula. “You’ll be less tempted to abuse your privilege. But perhaps you’d rather trust someone else with it?” She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, while a flurry of emotions swept across Neoma’s face.
“No,” she growled at last. “If anyone’s going to make a mess of this, I’d rather it be me. But this is only until I can find a proper replacement—is that understood? I can probably handle the fallout from the Union leaders, but I don’t know how to run a library.”
“No, you don’t,” said Crepuscula. “But he might.” She turned to Frederick, who flinched.
“Out of the question,” said Neoma. “I wouldn’t trust that little sneak as far as I can throw him, though I’d like to throw him a very long way. Preferably off the top of the tower.”
“It’s up to you, of course,” said Crepuscula, “but he has a reasonably sharp mind. Perhaps an honest job will be enough to keep him out of trouble.”
Neoma gave Frederick a look that suggested she doubted this very much. Frederick, for his part, didn’t dare say a word, although Suzy could see the eager spark of hope in his eyes.
“You know your way around the shelves, I suppose,” Neoma said.
“I do!” said Frederick, springing forward. “I’ll take care of everything down here for you. Shelving, research, the archives. You name it!”
Neoma surveyed the ruined shelves again, clearly weighing the amount of work involved in restoring them. “If you do anything to annoy me in the slightest, I’ll let you live just long enough to regret it. Is that understood?”
Frederick nodded, half scared, half excited. “So is that a yes?”
“Against my better judgment,” said Neoma. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“Splendid,” said Crepuscula. “I’ll leave a few of my boys to help clean up.” She rapped her cane against the floor, and ten of the statues lumbered over. “Do whatever the new Lady Meridian tells you to do,” she said. “Within reason, of course.”
The statues turned as one to face Neoma, who grimaced.
“‘Lady Meridian’ is going to take some getting used to,” she said. Then, addressing the statues, “You’re going to help my new librarian here tidy up. Is that understood?”
The statues bowed, and she smiled, despite herself.
“And if you so much as misfile a book,” she went on, “I’m going to blast you all into gravel.”
They bowed again.
“Might I recommend dismantling the Observatory while you’re at it?” said Crepuscula. “I’ll share the contents of Frederick’s NeuroGlobe with the public. It will let the leaders know they’ve nothing to fear from the Ivory Tower any longer, but they’ll want to make sure such a thing can’t happen again. A pile of broken spyglasses might just keep the mobs from your door.”
“I never liked the place anyway,” said Neoma. “Sergeant Mona? We’re redecorating the Observatory. Break out the explosives.”
“What about the observers?” said Frederick as Sergeant Mona and her squad jogged away. “They’re all out of a job now.”
“They can find better ones,” said Neoma.
“What if we make them library assistants?” he mused. “I could use the help.”
“You’re the head librarian,” said Neoma. “It’s up to you.”
“Head librarian!” he said, beaming. “Let’s see what Mom and Dad make of that.”
The last Suzy saw of him, he was hurrying away among the rubble, arguing with Neoma.
“This is someone else’s problem now,” said Crepuscula. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put my brother somewhere safe.”
“Not on your mantelpiece, I hope,” said Meridian from her pocket.
“I was thinking of a prison cell,” she said. “For a very long time.” He made a noise of disgust.
She gathered her shawl around her shoulders and began stirring the air with her cane.
“Wait!” said Suzy as a cold wind with no apparent source began to circulate around the old woman. “There’s something I forgot to ask.”
“Make it quick,” said Crepuscula, still working her spell.
“The moon,” said Suzy. “Why can I see it from Earth if Earth’s not part of the Union?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Crepuscula. “Aybek? Do you know?” She pulled him out of her pocket.
“Of course I do,” he said. “I can remember every fact I’ve ever learned. But I don’t see why I should tell her anything.” Crepuscula gave him a quick, hard shake, but he remained stubbornly silent.
