by Isaac Hooke
"Oh, I know so." Hoodwink rested a hand on her shoulder. "You stopped for the busker. You could've given him the coins and walked on. But you stopped to listen. Why?"
"I don't honestly know." She tapped her chin with a finger. "I've always liked music, I suppose. And that song he was singing, well, it got to me, you know? I felt it deep inside."
"Your mom always wanted to be a singer. She used to sing to you, every night before bed."
Ari leaped over a slushy area of ground in front of a tavern. "The mother of my revised memories hates singers, and anyone who wants to sing. She told me that singing was daft, and music was for the birds."
"Which is the furthest thing from your actual mother," Hoodwink said. "Do you see? It proves that the old Yolinda is still in there somewhere."
Ari's lips twitched in irony. "How do you know I didn't stop and listen to the busker just to spite the memory of my false, music-hating mother?"
Hoodwink couldn't help but smile. There was definitely some of the old Yolinda left in her.
The two walked in silence for a time. He felt the fake collar the blacksmith Karl had given him, its bronze pressing against his throat. The sham seemed to be working so far. No one paid him or Ari any heed. Earlier he'd even passed a group of gol soldiers, and none had even spared him a glance. He supposed it helped that his prison-issue robes were gone, replaced by an inconspicuous dun coat. He also wore mittens and a cloak—an outfit that was at least somewhat appropriate for this quarter.
It was close to mid-morning, and the slightly warmer temperatures encouraged frigid pockets of mist. As Hoodwink and Ari stepped into one such pocket, Hoodwink's thoughts seemed to cloud as well. He and Ari had to weave left and right to avoid the murky shapes of passers-by.
His mind wandered, and he thought of the Forever Gate. He was going to cross it and stare death in the face a little under an hour from now. Incredible.
"I sometimes have this recurring dream." Hoodwink felt freer to talk now that his face was half-obscured in mist, just as if this moment were itself a dream. "In it, I'm always in a faraway place. In a land nothing like this one. A land long drowned. In the dream, I'm bodiless, and I see in all directions at once. It terrifies me."
Ari remained silence. There was only the sound of their footsteps on the shoveled cobblestone, and the footfalls of the ghostly passers-by.
"I lay awake afterwards," he continued. "And wonder: Is that where I will go when I die? Will I live forever in that faraway land? And more importantly, do I want to live forever there? Spending an eternity as some bodiless entity, remembering what I once was, and never able to return doesn't have much appeal."
Ari seemed to stiffen beside him. "Why are you telling me this?"
Hoodwink sighed. "I don't know. I guess I'm afraid of the Gate and what lies beyond it. Afraid of death. There's a reason why we have a Forever Gate. A reason why not even the gols will cross it. And your Users don't know half the truth of it either, though they pretend they do."
Ari sounded sad. "You don't have to do this Hoodwink. I never asked you to."
"I know Ari. But I want to do it. It has to be me. You know that."
The fog lifted as the two of them passed into Grassylane district, where the mansions of moderately successful merchants squatted behind fences of bronze and gates of iron. Despite the district's name, there was no grass here.
"You should come in," Hoodwink said. "And meet her."
Ari shook her head. "I think... I think it's better if you go alone. I'll meet you with Leader at the rendezvous. Good luck Hoodwink."
She gave him a quick hug and turned back.
Hoodwink watched her vanish into the mist, just as if she herself had only ever existed in a dream.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hoodwink sat with chattering teeth in a plush chair in the sitting room, right where the maid had told him to. Those cold, travertine walls seemed to be closing in around him. He hated travertine. It was like ice in this weather, and the sitting room had no fireplace. But that was the style of the rich. And the rich so loved imitating the rich.
Well, at least the floor was carpeted. That helped retain some of the heat. Still, it wasn't for the cold that he was shivering. No, he worried what his reception would be. He hadn't come to this place in six months. And visiting now, after what happened yesterday morning... the maid's eyes had nearly bugged out of their head when she saw him at the door, and it was only with an effort that she managed to calm herself down after he'd forced his way in.
He was staring at a wall hanging of a strange underwater scene when Briar came into the foyer. The two exchanged how-are-yous and exuberant jolly-goods just as if Hoodwink wasn't a fugitive wanted for terrorism.
"You didn't come to my execution," Hoodwink said.
"Oh, you know how it is," Briar said casually, just as if the two of them were talking about some idle matter. "The life of a merchant. Always something to do: A client to visit, supplies to haul, money to count. Besides—" Briar palmed his chin and became very serious. "I didn't need to see you get killed, Hoodwink. I didn't need my last memory of you to be a body's worth of blood gushing from your headless corpse."
"Sure." Hoodwink quickly segued into the reason he'd come. "Is Cora home?"
"Cora? No, she's in Rhagnorak, training to be a singer. Didn't I tell you about her application?"
Rhagnorak. A city at least two portal hops away. You couldn't walk Outside between the cities, but you could travel to them by portal. "No." Hoodwink tried to hide his disappointment. "You never told me." At least she was finally achieving her dreams now, if that was true.
Briar slapped him on the knee. "You dirty rascal! You just can't leave my sister alone can you!" Briar seemed a little too jolly, like he was trying to hide something. Or was he just nervous that an escaped terrorist had called upon him?
"I'm going past the Gate, Briar," Hoodwink said. "I'm going Outside, I am."
Briar merely gaped at him. "Well that's... that's very nice. Good for you."
"I've met the Users."
"Really?" Briar wiped at his brow, visibly perspiring now. "Interesting. I've never been sure if they were just some rogue organization invented by the gols as a funnel for our hate. A political tool. Your little terrorist act caught the attention of the Users, did it? Terrorism attracts terrorists, I suppose."
Hoodwink held up his hand, extending one index finger. Sparks of electricity danced from it. Briar flinched.
"What are you hiding, Briar?" Hoodwink said.
"Well!" Briar stood. "Good luck to you in your adventures on the Outside and all. Tally-ho." He turned toward the hall, but was too late, it seemed, because Cora stood transfixed behind him.
"Cora darling," Briar said. "I told you to stay in your room."
She pushed past him.
"So it really is you." Cora stood over Hoodwink. "I knew Briar lied to me. He told me the maid had shooed off some beggar at our door. But then while I was lying on my bed, I heard your voice, and I thought, no, it can't be. Surely Hoodwink wouldn't come here, of all places. Surely Hoodwink wouldn't dare set foot in my brother's home. Not after what he did to me." Cora had never forgiven him for what happened to their daughter, and she never would, though she knew it wasn't his fault.
Hoodwink didn't meet her eye. "I've talked to our daughter, Cora. She's well. Doesn't remember us, of course."
"Can't you just leave her alone, Hood?" Cora said. "Can't you just leave me alone?"
He was going to say more about Ari, but there was something he wanted to mention first. "When Briar told me you went to Rhagnorak, I was so happy for you Cora. Happy that you're finally living your life again. I want you to succeed. I always have. You should really go. Make the application if you haven't. Be happy."
He risked meeting her gaze. Her face was full of ire, and resentment.
"Happy?" She seemed to spit the word. "I can never be happy again. Not after..." She shook her head. "No, I'm not going to Rhagnorak. Happine
ss? I'm happy just to make it through to the next day. One morning at a time, that's the only way I can face life. Now, if you don't mind." She gestured toward the door.
Hoodwink didn't move. "Don't you want to hear what our daughter had to say?"
"It's not her anymore, Hoodwink. When are you going to get that in your head? She's lost to us."
"All right," he said. "All right. There's another reason I came."
"Please, say what you came to say then, and just go."
Hoodwink sighed. "As you wish. I came to say good-bye, I did. And, well, I've never stopped loving you, for what it's worth."
She smiled sardonically. "Not much. Good-bye then. Now go."
This wasn't quite going the way he'd expected. Not at all. She was trying to hurt him. Well, he could hurt her back so easily. With all your brother's money, you couldn't save her, he wanted to say. Though you ran into his arms, begging him to take you in. But no, he wasn't here to hurt her, and doing so wouldn't lessen his own feelings of guilt.
"There's something else," he said. "But before I say anything more, I want you to know, I'm not telling you this to hurt you." He swallowed nervously. "Our daughter was the one who planted the bomb at the Forever Gate."
Cora's lips twitched, but she said nothing.
"The Users put her up to it. She's one of them, now. They wanted her to cross to the Outside. They wanted her to talk to the gols out there."
"Stop it." Cora said. "Stop it. Stop it! Get out of here!"
He barreled on. It was important to him that she knew his sacrifice. "I wouldn't let her do it. The Users are sending me in her place. I'll probably die."
"Please," Cora said, covering her face. "Just go."
He hadn't wanted to hurt her, yet it appeared he'd done that very thing. He took a step forward. "Cora. I didn't mean—"
Briar hugged her, and turned her away from him. "Hoodwink..."
"I'm sorry," Hoodwink said, feeling terrible. Why did he always hurt those closest to him? He went to the front door.
Before he could open it, a harsh knock came from outside. "City watch! Open up!"
Hoodwink froze, and shot Briar an accusing glance.
"Sorry, Hood." Briar backed away, bringing Cora with him. "I really am. They've been watching my house since your escape."
The door thudded so heavily that it shook on its hinges. "Open up now or we'll break it down!"
"You bastard." The sparks flared on Hoodwink's knuckles. But it was just a show. He wasn't fully charged, not even close. He wouldn't be able to take on the city guard, not in his condition. "You didn't say a word. How did they get to you? Yesterday you were begging to save my life."
Briar's chin quivered. "Yesterday you were collared. Innocent until proven guilty, and all that. Today you're a User fugitive. A terrorist. I had to give you up. Mayor Jeremy promised he'd have my hide if I harbored you."
"Jeremy." Hoodwink nearly spat the name. "Bad move, Briar. Very bad move. Because now I'll have your hide."
Hoodwink drew his green sword and Cora screamed. Hoodwink had wanted to scare Briar, not her, and when he saw the look of fear on his wife's face, a look that said "I don't even know who you are anymore," Hoodwink felt utter shame.
The knock came again, more frantic.
Hoodwink raced into the hall past Cora and Briar, making for the rear entrance. He heard Briar open the front door to the troops, heard the clank as the gols dashed onto the travertine floor behind him.
He swept through the kitchen toward the back door. The scullery maids screamed at the sight of his sword.
The back door abruptly flung open and reserve troops flooded in with swords raised.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hoodwink backtracked through the kitchen and took the short staircase in the hall moments before the troops from the front converged on him. He climbed those stairs three at a time and came out at a lung-burning dash onto the second floor. Shouts came from behind as he sprinted across the deerskin carpet, toward the window that backed onto the rear alley. He leaped, and swung his sword to shatter the glass as he struck.
He was counting on the deep snow drifts in the alley outside to pad his fall, and he wasn't disappointed.
"Hey!" One of the sentries assigned to the back door outside spotted him.
Covered in snow, Hoodwink rolled to his feet and waded through the alleyway drifts, the shouts of pursuit harrying him on.
He stumbled over the windrow that blocked the end of the alleyway, and emerged onto the main street, thankful that the gols had shoveled this quarter of the city.
He ran for some time. Behind, the guards gave chase, harrying him on.
He veered onto Luckdown district and the path became bumpy with unshoveled snowpack.
Hoodwink nearly slipped more than once, though he had nails hammered point-first through the soles of his boots. The shouts grew closer. He glanced over his shoulder. The guards were only paces behind.
Hoodwink took a sharp right at Down Street. Too sharp. He slid right into a foodcart.
He scrambled to his feet—
Into the arms of a guard.
"Give 'er up, krub!" the gol said, tightening his arms around Hoodwink's chest. Others quickly approached—
Hoodwink angled the guard between himself and the bottom of Down Street, and then he hurled himself backward. He and the guard tumbled onto the sloped snowpack and gravity took over. The two slid down the steep hill, picking up speed by the moment. Bumps in the packed snow jolted the two continuously. The few street-goers gave the pair a wide berth, not wanting to join in that perilous slide.
The soldier tightened his grip during the descent, slowly crushing the air from Hoodwink's lungs. Hoodwink tried to pry that grip open, but it was like trying to take off one of the collars. He focused on the spark inside him instead. He wouldn't be able to generate much. He closed his eyes, and released a flare of electricity up and down his torso. The man's arms jolted away.
Handy, that.
Still sliding down, Hoodwink turned and gave the gol a good punch to the nose. Finally the road curved up to catch them, and the two slid to a halt. Hoodwink scrambled to his feet, kicked the gol in the belly for good measure, and raced on. About five seconds behind him, the four remaining soldiers slid to the bottom of the street and gave chase.
There was a market ahead, one that was always crowded after snowstorms. Sure enough the throngs were packing it today. He hurried in among the crowds, weaving his way past peddlers, entertainers, and beggars. He quickly sat down beside a stand of skewered dog meat, lowered his head and extended his hand like the beggars he so feared, and waited.
The four guards jostled their way through the market. They passed almost right in front of him, oblivious to his presence.
The instant they had gone, Hoodwink stood up and hurried from the square.
He'd made it.
It wasn't long before he reached Forever Street, the road that lay in the shadow of the Gate. You could circle the entire city if you walked that street long enough. Beside it, the aptly-named wall that was the Forever Gate reached into the sky, the topmost edges lost in the clouds. The Forever Gate entombed the city, preventing all access to the Outside.
He passed the section where Ari had placed the bomb the day before. The area was blackened, but otherwise unharmed. One would have expected the gols to beef up their presence after an attack like that, but there actually seemed less gols along this portion of the wall today. There weren't enough of them to watch every section of the Gate every waking moment, Hoodwink supposed, especially when the wall was, by all indications, indestructible.
He soon met up with Leader. The ancient man observed the Forever Gate from the shade of a vendor who sold maps and miniature replicas of the city.
"Your goodbyes went well?" Leader asked, his breath misting. He stared off to the side in that way he had of not meeting one's eye.
"Splendid." Hoodwink picked up a replica of the city.
The vendor im
mediately stood up. "Touch and pay," the middle-aged woman said.
Hoodwink gingerly returned the replica.
Ari came up beside him and saved him from the woman by giving him a hug.
"How did it go?" Ari said. She carried two duffel bags, one big and one small, on each shoulder.
Hoodwink smiled sadly. "Cora says good-bye."
"You told her everything?"
He nodded.
"I'll seek her out," Ari said. "Let her know you spoke the truth."
"She knows." Hoodwink shook his head. "But don't go to her. It's probably better if she never sees you again."
Ari seemed about to contest him, but then she bit back whatever it was she was going to say.
Leader rested a palsied hand on his shoulder and finally turned that penetrating gaze on him. "Time wastes. Are you ready?"
Hoodwink shrugged. "As I'll ever be."
Ari handed the larger duffel bag to Hoodwink, and kept the smaller one for herself. Then he and Ari walked on either side of Leader, helping the haggard man through the streets. Leader verbally steered them down the byways to a secluded back alley.
The snow was never shoveled here, nor was it packed by the tread of passersby, so the three of them had to wade and dig through snow that was sometimes chest high. They reached a rusty iron gate that was nearly buried by the drifts, and Leader opened it with a key he'd brought along. The gate was like a portcullis, and they were able to slide it upward with some difficulty. Once through, Hoodwink saw that the alley offered secluded access to a portion of the Gate.
"Why didn't you put the bomb here?" he said.
Ari shook her head. "There'd be too much damage to the neighboring buildings. We didn't want any human casualties, remember?"
The three dug their way forward through the snow, until the sky-reaching wall consumed everything else. The Forever Gate. What looked like a flat, gray surface from far away was actually a craggy mountain of sheer, infinite stone. A silver rope dangled from the heights, and Hoodwink followed it with his eyes. He couldn't see where the rope anchored—it became lost in the coarse texture of the wall a mile or so up.
