Dormia, p.32
Dormia, page 32
Clink approached Bilblox's bed and began to whisper: "I can escape any time I want, but the hard part is leaving Somnos. Tell you what: I'll get you out of here, no questions asked. But you have to promise to get me out of Somnos. Do we have a deal?"
"I told ya already," said Bilblox with a sigh of exasperation, "I don't know how to get outta Somnos."
"Well can you at least point me in the right direction?" asked Clink hopefully.
Bilblox thought about this. Though he had been in prison for only a very short period of time, the idea of escaping was irresistible. But then he imagined Alfonso getting the news that he had escaped. Typical behavior for a leaf-burner, everyone would say.
Bilblox shook his head. "No," he finally said. "I ain't escapin'."
"Why not?" said Clink.
Bilblox said nothing.
"Suit yourself," replied his cellmate. "But I'm leaving tonight. I can escape whenever I want, you know. It's just that Somnos is a small place. Escaping this jail is the only fun I get."
The day dragged on. It grew colder, and Bilblox could hear Clink muttering to himself and blowing on his hands. Bilblox was too numb to be cold. He lay on his mattress and tried unsuccessfully to sleep. His mind journeyed back in time to Fort Krasnik and to the Success Story. Over and over, he returned to that moment on the Success Story when he touched the powder and rolled it curiously in his hands. He had been tired, that much he remembered. And so it was perfectly normal for him to yawn and to rub his tired eyes with his hands. In that small moment, his life had changed forever. Now he was blind and facing life in prison. The sadness of it all overwhelmed him. He sighed heavily. Then, completely unexpectedly, he saw a flash of bright light. A moment later, his vision returned.
Bilblox leapt to his feet and shouted with joy. He knew that this spell of vision wouldn't last. Although he still experienced brief moments of sight, in recent days they had hardly come at all. However, when they did, he could see perfectly for a few precious minutes.
"Wh-wh-what happened?" asked Clink excitedly.
"My eyes can see again," said Bilblox happily. "Really, it's true. I can see."
He quickly walked over to the cell's thickly barred window and stood there, drinking in the sight of the sky and the landscape, which was bathed in moonlight. He couldn't remember seeing a more beautiful sight in his entire life.
"Not a bad view, eh?" asked Clink.
Bilblox nodded and turned back. He saw Clink for the first time; he was a tall, skinny man with a wild mane of scraggly hair. Clink reminded Bilblox of a paintbrush, with his narrow body and a thick bushy top. He was so skinny that Bilblox could make out most of his bones. The cell looked grim. The floor was muddy and the roughly cut stone walls were covered with a slick-looking green moss that was flecked with specks of ice. He turned back, grabbed the iron bars of the window, and felt the rust flake off in his hands. The feel of the bars in his hands should have depressed him, but it didn't. At that moment Bilblox felt surprisingly happy. In fact, he wondered if he'd ever been happier. It was so good to see again! For a few minutes, he stood there, staring out. He marveled at the movements of the clouds and the incredible Ural Mountains looming above everything else. Their snow-covered flanks slowly turned a phosphorescent gray in the moonlight.
Bilblox tried to keep his eyes open as much as possible. He was afraid that if he closed them—even to blink—his vision would disappear. He swiveled his head back and forth, trying to see everything. Everything looked normal; in other words, beautiful. Only one thing struck him as odd: just beyond the prison wall he could see someone walking alone in the snow-covered landscape, as if out for an evening stroll. It was an older man. His back bowed heavily to the ground and he staggered forward, leaning on an old cane for support. There was something familiar about that walk.
"Clink," said Bilblox.
"Yes?"
"Do ya know all the guards here?"
"I guess so," Clink replied. "I've been here eleven times, you know."
"Yeah, I know," said Bilblox. "How about that old guy outside the prison walls? Ain't he too old to be a guard?"
"Maybe he's not a guard," said Clink. He walked to the window and looked at the old man. "Strange. He's not wearing a prison guard uniform, and he's certainly no prisoner. Maybe he's lost. Sometimes these elderly Dormians, well, they get a little confused. Especially if they're awake."
"He looks very familiar...," said Bilblox, his voice trailing away. But who exactly? The old man stopped and looked in Bilblox's direction. At that point, the moon retreated behind some clouds, and Bilblox couldn't see the old man's face. Still, an unmistakable chill ran down the longshoreman's spine. After a long pause, the old man continued walking and soon disappeared from sight.
Bilblox's rare moments of vision usually lasted only three or four minutes, and unfortunately, this was no exception. His vision disappeared moments later and the awful blank whiteness in his eyes returned. Bilblox moved away from the window and the gentle breezes and shuffled to his mattress. He sat down.
"What happened?" asked Clink.
"What do ya think happened?" said Bilblox. "I'm blind again." He recalled what Dr. Van Bambleweep had told him back in Barsh-yin-Binder: your blindness is irreversible and it's only going to get worse.
As he recalled those words, Bilblox froze.
"Van Bambleweep—that's who it is!" he shouted. Bilblox stood up, walked over to the window, and stared blankly outside. "But what would he be doing here? It doesn't make sense..."
"What are you talking about?" asked Clink.
"Clink!" exclaimed Bilblox. "I've changed my mind. Can ya get us outta here?"
Clink sprang up from his mattress, his eyes shining with excitement. "I'm only the most famous escape artist in Somnos!" he proclaimed. "Let's go!"
Chapter 41
AN ANCIENT MYSTERY
THAT NIGHT, Alfonso tossed and turned. The knowledge that Bilblox was sitting in a prison cell made him feel both angry and guilty. The following morning, he tiredly joined Hill and Spack for breakfast, although it was soon interrupted by a loud knock.
"Who could that be?" asked Hill.
"I'll get it," said Spack. She stood up and headed for the front door of the guesthouse. Moments later, she returned with an elderly man at her side. He was completely bald except for a few specks of curly white hair that stuck up from his head. He had a long white beard that reached down to his waist, and was dressed in a spotless white robe.
"This is Josephus," explained Spack. "He says he's some kind of historian or something."
"I am the royal scribe of Somnos, which is just a fancy way of saying that I take a lot of notes," explained Josephus with a hearty laugh. "It is my job to write your story for the history books. As you know, the Dormian bloom is scheduled to be planted either later today or tomorrow morning, and I would like to conduct this interview before then. That would be in keeping with custom of course. You see, every time a Great Sleeper arrives, the royal scribe records his or her story—"
"Can't we do this later?" Alfonso interrupted.
Josephus looked at Alfonso with total bewilderment.
"Alfonso," said Hill. "Let's go with him. It would do us good to get out of here for a while."
"Excellent!" declared Josephus. "I'm also interested to hear about the outside world. We've had no news in some four hundred years. I'm most curious to know whether the British ever confronted the Spanish armada."
A few minutes later, the entire group—Josephus, Alfonso, Hill, and Spack—climbed into Josephus's carriage. It jerked forward and within seconds they were hurtling down the steep, spiraling road that connected their guesthouse with the city below. Soon they arrived at the Somnos library. It was an imposing five-story building made of the same marble as the six towers. A long rectangular slab of stone with an inscription on it adorned the front of the building. Josephus explained that the inscription was Dormian hieroglyphs.
"What does it say?" asked Hill.
"Ahh yes," said Josephus excitedly. "A very good question. The inscription comes from the ancient Story of the Tree and, interestingly enough, it pertains directly to Alfonso."
"To me?" inquired Alfonso. "What do you mean?"
"Well," said Josephus, "the inscription says, roughly translated, 'Study the path of the Great Sleeper and all will be well.'"
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Alfonso.
"Simple," replied Josephus. "We learn to better protect ourselves by examining how Great Sleepers either succeed or fail. That's how all the rituals developed. For example, we had to make sure that you were not an imposter, because—as you know—a Dragoonya soldier once posed as a Great Sleeper, entered the city of Loptos, and then burned it to the ground. That's why you were tested. We are also interested in how exactly a Great Sleeper gets his or her hands on Dormian seeds. I believe you got yours from a maraca. We have used other devices to send seeds out into the world—including necklaces, belts, and even earrings—but have found, from interviewing previous Great Sleepers, that maracas work best.
"That's also how we developed the Wanderer's watch that you used to get here. Aldwyn Blodeuwedd helped us develop it. Believe it or not, there is actually a Dormian seed from the current Founding Tree of Somnos implanted within that Wanderer's watch. For reasons that we still don't fully understand, Dormian seeds typically shed their seed coat, or outermost shell, roughly one hundred and forty three days before the death of the Founding Tree from which they came. This gives the Great Sleeper a five-month period to germinate the seed and then get the plant to Dormia. We built the Wanderer's watch in such a way that the date wheel starts ticking backwards as soon as the coat seed erodes. In any case, we're always trying to improve our techniques."
Josephus beamed and clapped Alfonso on the shoulder. "All this brings us to today's Transcription of the Tale," he said. "I can assure you, we're very excited."
Upon their arrival at the library, Alfonso discovered that the front steps of the building were mobbed with librarians pushing one another and angling to get a look at the Great Sleeper. When they saw Alfonso walking toward them—with Hill and Spack trailing behind—the librarians let out a huge cheer and clapped wildly. Alfonso blushed. Walking just in front of him, Josephus beamed and slowed down to allow more time for cheers.
"Notice how they're all awake?" asked Josephus. "Ordinarily, most of these employees are asleep, filing and cataloguing. But I gave them special permission to be awake for your arrival, so that they could enjoy the moment to its fullest!"
Once inside, they walked down a long marble corridor known as the Hall of Great Sleepers. The walls contained a number of oil paintings with ornately carved gold frames. Each painting, explained Josephus, was a portrait of a Great Sleeper from Dormia's past. Beneath each portrait was a plaque that provided a name and historical information. Three in particular caught Alfonso's eye:
One showed a man in a toga who appeared to be Roman. His plaque read:
MARCUS DOIORIUS—BORN IN 3034 (122 A.D.) IN THE
ROMAN CITY OF CAESARIA. HE AND HIS SEVEN BROTHERS
ARRIVED IN SOMNOS IN 3068 (156 A.D.) RIDING ON A
PROCESSION OF ELEPHANTS. HIS JOURNEY WAS A LONG ONE.
HE WANDERED THROUGH THE URAL MOUNTAINS FOR
ALMOST SEVEN YEARS BUT, ALONG THE WAY,
HE MADE A SERIES OF VERY CAREFUL MAPS.
THOSE MAPS, NOW KNOWN AS THE DOIORIUS MAPS,
ARE STILL IN USE TO THIS DAY.
Another painting showed a tall, imposing man dressed in a bright red robe. His plaque read:
ONERO MITIMBU—BORN IN THE WEST AFRICAN KINGDOM
OF ATANGA IN 2092 (820 B.C.). HE ARRIVED IN
SOMNOS IN 2177 (735 B.C.) AT THE AGE OF
EIGHTY-FIVE, PURSUED BY A PACK OF
SNOW LEOPARDS AND DRAGOONYA.
Yet another painting showed a barefoot woman in a dark green robe with a herd of goats behind her. Her plaque read:
MOLLY FINNEGAN'S DATE OF BIRTH IS UNKNOWN,
BUT SHE LEFT HER HOMELAND OF IRELAND AS A CHILD
AND SPENT THE NEXT SEVERAL DECADES WALKING
TOWARD SOMNOS. SHE ARRIVED AT THE GATES OF SOMNOS
IN 4060 (1148 A.D.) BUT, FOR SOME REASON, HER ARRIVAL
WENT UNDETECTED AND SHE SPENT ALMOST THREE YEARS
WAITING IN THE SNOW FOR THE GATES TO OPEN.
EVENTUALLY, AFTER SHE FINALLY MADE IT INTO
THE CITY, FINNEGAN HELPED INVENT THE CURRENT SYSTEM
WHEREBY THE GATES OF THE CITY OPEN AUTOMATICALLY
WHENEVER A DORMIAN BLOOM IS PLACED IN THE
KEYHOIE LOCATED IN THE FALCONS' CAVE.
The group spent several minutes perusing these paintings and then continued onward to Josephus's office, a spacious, high-ceilinged room filled with strange-looking books and maps. In the center of the room was a massive wooden desk. Josephus walked over to the desk and sat down on a chair behind it. A stack of blank paper, four quill pens, and an oversize bottle of black ink rested in front of him. The group sat down in a row of high-backed cushioned chairs that faced Josephus. He looked at them eagerly. Alfonso could see his feet dangling like a boy's about a foot above the creaky wooden floor.
"And now," said Josephus in a solemn, formal voice, "please begin with your story. Spare no detail." Josephus took a sheet of paper from the pile in front of him, dipped his quill pen into the ink well, and smiled expectantly.
"Before we begin," said Alfonso, "there's something I wanted to ask."
"By all means, go ahead," replied Josephus with a kindly smile.
"Is there any connection between Morvan's syndrome and the Dormians' ability to do crazy things in their sleep?"
"Morvan's syndrome?" asked Josephus. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"Quiesco coruscus," interjected Hill. "Sleep shaking."
Josephus laughed. "Of course not," he replied. "Sleep shaking was a terrible illness many hundreds of years ago, but Dormia was never affected. The history books are filled with Dormians worrying that somehow they'd get that disease, but we're much too isolated for catching any nasty bugs. Is the outside world still worried about that?"
Alfonso shook his head. "So the Dormian sleeping ability comes only from Dormia," he said.
"That's right," replied Josephus. "You have to be born here. Simple as that. The only exception is someone like you, a Great Sleeper."
"And how is a Great Sleeper chosen?"
Josephus hooted. "You may as well ask how many stars there are in the sky! Some things we just can't answer ... All we know for sure is that a Great Sleeper must come from the outside world, while also having some connection to Dormia. Even a drop of Dormian blood may do the trick. Why we once had a Great Sleeper from Mongolia who was only one-sixteenth Dormian." He cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Alfonso and the others were tired of telling and retelling the story, but soon they were caught up again in the memory of their adventure, beginning as it did many months ago in Minnesota. Josephus wrote furiously, never seeming to tire. The sheets of paper filled up with his elegant writing as the story took them to Fort Krasnik, to Lars's iceberg, across the polar icecap into Barsh-yin-Binder, and after many harrowing days, to the doorstep of Somnos.
Hours passed. Library workers brought in trays of strongly scented herbal tea. After a while, Alfonso noticed a wall hanging that intrigued him. It was an intricately drawn map of Dormia, with the eleven major cities and a number of outposts scattered among the mighty peaks of the High Urals. Josephus saw Alfonso looking at it, and he nodded sadly. "Yes, Dormia was once a mighty kingdom," he remarked. "As I'm sure you know by now, there were once eleven cities of Dormia. We were a loose but patriotic grouping of city-states, but mistrust and suspicion followed Nartam's actions, and Dormia was never the same after the city of Dragoo fell. After a second city, Iopode, was destroyed by Nartam and his gang, the ties that bound the Dormians together were torn, in a tragic event called the Splintering."
Josephus sighed and rummaged on his desk and found a chart that he showed Alfonso. "Here it is," he said. "This shows the fate of the eleven cities. Yes, we were once powerful and respected far beyond this tiny corner of the Urals. And now only Somnos is left."
The Eleven Cities of Dormia Current Date 4920
Dormian history starts with o—the year Jasber was founded.
City Year Destroyed Cause of Destruction
Prenjuk 984 The Great Sleeper failed.
Majlom 2114 The G. S. failed.
*Order of the Wanderers founded 2116
Dragoo 2386 Nartam burned his own city to the ground.
Iopode 2429 Dragoonya followed G. S. and sacked city.
*Splintering occurs 2430
Zuydhoek 3111 The G. S. murdered by Dragoonya.
Loptos 3408 Dragoonya impersonated G. S. and sacked city.
Quartin 3776 The G. S. failed.
Ribilinos 4131 Dragoonya sacked city.
Noctos 4318 Dragoonya sacked city.
*The fault roads are closed 4319
Jasber Date unknown Exact fate unknown.
Somnos Still in existence
"Why don't you just rebuild the cities?" asked Alfonso.
"Not without a Founding Tree," replied Josephus. He stood up, looked out the window, and gestured broadly out the window at the thin layer of snow that now covered much of the city. "You see what happens when a Founding Tree dies? Winter takes over. When burned, the change is much more rapid: the roots shrivel up, the fields disappear, and the ground freezes. All that is alive and growing dies. Without the Founding Tree, there is no life. In the past, we Dormians have tried to regrow a Founding Tree in the place where one once stood, but it has never worked. As far as we know, the only person who can hatch a seed from the Founding Tree is a Great Sleeper like you. What's more, a Great Sleeper is summoned only when a Founding Tree is at the very end of its natural life. So when a Founding Tree dies prematurely—because someone has burned it—no Great Sleeper is summoned and no replacement is delivered. This is why our cities have perished, one by one, and have never been rebuilt. Once a Founding Tree is burned, the city surrounding it is doomed."
