Saving Thanehaven (25 page)

“Yes, but—”

“Request denied. I’m sorry.” The girl doesn’t sound very sorry. “There have to be security measures put in place, or we’d be overrun by spam. If you want to amend this text, you’ll have to go back to International Mobile Equipment Identity number 709348880021743 and make it official.” Looking Noble straight in the eye, she concludes in a bored voice, “Is that what you want to do? If so, you’ll have to get special clearance. Because this message is priority one. It needs to be sent as soon as possible.”

N
oble is stumped. He doesn’t know what to do next. It’s Yestin who draws him aside and says, in a low voice, “We’ll have to post our message on Rufus’s computer.”

“What?”

“If this phone has a connection to Rufus’s computer,” Yestin quietly explains, “then we should use the connection to post our message where Rufus can see it. Up on the screen.” Observing Noble’s perplexed look, he adds, “Weren’t you going to visit his computer anyway? Wasn’t that part of your plan? You’d have to get inside his programs to sabotage them—though I guess you weren’t
really
going to sabotage them, were you?”

“No,” agrees Noble. “I just wanted to make sure
I could.” The truth is that Noble hasn’t been thinking that far ahead. He hasn’t yet formulated a proper strategy. It never occurred to him that his postscript might be rejected by Rufus’s phone. “You mean we can write our message on the window into his computer? From the inside?” Noble still doesn’t undersand what a computer is, except that somehow it can be a whole world
and
a box on a table.

Yestin shrugs. “Maybe. It’s worth trying.”

“Unless
she
stops us.” Noble glances at the girl behind the desk, who’s now arguing with Lorellina. “She wouldn’t take our extra message. She said it would be against the rules. Why would she show us the way into Rufus’s computer?”

“Because I’ve got his password,” Yestin proudly declares.

Noble frowns. To him, a password is something you use when approaching a castle gate, to show that you’re a friend, not a foe. Is Yestin trying to imply that the entrance to Rufus’s computer lies through a manned portcullis? And if so, how did Yestin end up with a key to this mysterious gate?

“Who told you about the password?” Noble demands.

“Rufus did. Our Rufus. A long time ago, in the memory heap. Don’t you remember?”

Noble shakes his head.

“It’s bloodquest,” Yestin reveals. “With any luck, it will work as a passkey for the Bluetooth connection.”

“Then let’s try it.” Approaching the desk again, Noble interrupts Lorellina. “We’ve changed our minds,” he informs the blonde girl. “We want to visit Rufus’s computer. Is there a way into it from here?”

The girl stares at him blankly. “What?” she says.

Noble tries again. “We have the password for Rufus’s computer. We want to get in. Can you help us?” he queries—again, to no avail. The girl looks just as confused as Lorellina does.

“You want to go
where
?” the girl asks. But before Noble can do more than sigh, Yestin weighs in.

“Maybe we should give you the IP address and virtual port number. Would that help?”

The girl nods, then begins to jab at her computer screen as Yestin reels off an endless string of digits. Meanwhile, Lorellina puts her mouth to Noble’s ear.

“Tell me why we have to visit this computer,” she hisses.

“To deliver a message,” Noble softly replies. “Yestin says we can put our threat up on the screen, where Rufus will read it.”

“Which Rufus?” The princess still sounds confused. “Our Rufus or the other one?”

“The other one.”

“Oh.”

“I wonder how Yestin knows all those port numbers and virtuous addresses?” Noble remarks vaguely. “Did Rufus tell him about those, too?”

The princess is unable to answer. And it’s not a question that can be put to Yestin just yet; not while he’s is still locked in conversation with the blonde girl. His password must have won her over, because she seems quite happy to be giving him instructions about what she calls our Bluetooth access to the personal area network. As some kind of machine chatters away beside her left knee, she directs his attention to a nearby elevator.

“Just use your swipe card. It’ll take you all the way,” the girl says, reaching down behind her desk for something.

“Swipe card?” Yestin echoes. “What swipe card?”

“Here.” The girl plucks a stiff little square of paper from an invisible slot and pushes it toward him. “Take the elevator up to the fifth floor.”

Examining the card, Yestin reads aloud, “
COM
5.”

“Just keep swiping it.” The girl produces another card, which she places in Noble’s outstretched hand. The third card goes to Lorellina.

“So is Rufus’s computer still running?” Yestin queries. “I mean, is it turned on?”

“Oh, yes.” The girl’s eyes flick toward her desk, as if checking a signal of some sort. “The device is discoverable.”

“What about our message? The one we just delivered? Has Rufus read that yet?”

“You mean the authorized one?” This time the girl has to dab at her computer screen a few times before
answering. “It’s in-boxed,” she finally announces. “But it hasn’t been opened yet.”

“Thanks.” Turning to Noble, Yestin observes, “We’d better hurry. If Rufus sees Mikey’s message, he might panic. He might turn off his own computer, and then we won’t be able to get in.”

Noble nods. He follows Yestin to the elevator, which opens as soon as Yestin’s finger alights on the
UP
button. It’s another smooth, steel box, very streamlined and efficient-looking, with doors that close behind Lorellina with barely more than a gentle sigh. But when Yestin punches the button marked 5, nothing happens.

“Are we moving?” Noble asks with a frown.

“I don’t think so …,” says the princess.

“Whoops!” Yestin suddenly points at a bisected lump protruding from the wall. “I guess we have to swipe our card, first.”

He drags his card through the slot in the lump, pressing button 5 as he does so. The elevator immediately springs to life. Humming quietly, it ascends at a stately pace, giving Noble plenty of time to ask Yestin about the virtuous port numbers.

“They’re not
virtuous
, they’re
virtual
,” Yestin corrects. “And I saw them in that e-mail. The one I found on the garbage truck.”

Noble grunts. He’s casting his mind back, sorting through all the fresh-laid memories. Soon he dredges up a vague image of Yestin sitting in a sea of paper.
“Are you talking about the letter you read to us?” he asks Yestin. “That one from Rufus to Mikey?”

“It had all of the source details in it,” Yestin confirms. “I remember them.”

“You remember everything,” Lorellina remarks, with a kind of grudging respect. But Yestin just shrugs and says, “I guess I must be programmed that way.”

Still the elevator keeps moving. It rises and rises until Noble begins to wonder if something’s amiss. Surely, the trip shouldn’t be taking
this
long? Surely, no building could be
this
high?

“Will we have to catch another train?” he asks Yestin.

“Maybe.” Once again Yestin shrugs. “Or maybe this
is
the delivery platform.”

“We have no tokens for a train,” Lorellina observes, so gloomily that Noble feels compelled to reassure her.

“We have the cards,” he points out. “Maybe they’ll work.”

At last, their elevator reaches the fifth floor. It bounces to a halt. Then the door opens onto a scene of utter confusion.

“Oh, dear.” After a brief, shocked pause, Yestin is the first to speak. “I guess this must be the computer firewall.”

Noble blinks. He can’t see any fires—or indeed any walls. All he can see is a very large, well-lit space divided by a long chain of booths, each occupied by a stern-faced, uniformed officer. In front of these
booths, half a dozen long queues wind back and forth through a maze of ropes and stands. The lines inch forward every time somebody peels off to approach one of the booths, where a lengthy interrogation then takes place.

Noble decides that he’s arrived at a kind of indoor portcullis. The booths are arranged like iron bars, and the guards manning them are like chained dogs, defending their territory with questions instead of swords and shields.
Perhaps they’re asking for the password
, Noble thinks, his confounded gaze running over the weird array of applicants standing in line. There are men in white coats, who look a bit like the AV from Thanehaven. There are men wearing orange helmets and tool belts, toting lengths of pipe or spools of cable on their shoulders. There are messengers with bags of sealed envelopes; bedraggled old women propping themelves up on brooms or mop handles; broken-down men who keep getting turned back at the booths because they’re so diseased that they’ve left a trail of hair or teeth or maggots behind them on the floor.

Some of the applicants aren’t even human. Noble spots a black bear with a chain through its nose, a hulking monster made of steel, a one-eyed blue blob, and a sealed bag full of something that writhes and heaves and rolls forward every so often, propelled by whatever is tumbling around inside it.

“Hey! You!” a sharp voice exclaims. “Yes,
you
!”

Glancing around, Noble spies someone beckoning to him. It’s a short, stocky woman in a gray uniform. Standing near a line of elevators embedded in the rear wall, she seems to be directing traffic.

“Yeah, that’s right. You,” she says roughly. She has bad skin and is carrying too much weight around the middle. “You’re with that group, over there. Come on. Move.”

She gestures at a knot of figures to her left—and when Noble sees them, his jaw drops.

Lorellina grabs his arm. “Is—is that …?” she stammers, but can’t seem to finish her sentence.

Noble recognizes the crest of Thanehaven on a well-muscled warrior’s gleaming white surcoat. He can also identify the salt devils standing behind this warrior, even though they have more spikes and suckers than usual. He’s never encountered anything like the scaly silver horse looming over the salt devils, despite the fact that it bears a Thanehaven brand. And the legless, fork-tongued gargoyles are also strange to him.

But the three-headed Tritus in the warrior’s hand is a dead giveaway.

“Oh, wow,” Yestin murmurs, gawking at the warrior. “That guy reminds me of you. I guess Rufus must be downloading a Thanehaven upgrade.” He then peers up at Noble. “Which means
Thanehaven Slayer
must be on this computer, somewhere. I guess it makes sense. He’s probably been playing it with Mikey.”

Noble frowns. “You mean we
are
in the computer?”

“Oh, I think so. Don’t you?” Yestin replies.

Just then, the squat woman in the gray uniform cries, “Keep moving, please! Let’s go! Over here, sir.” She’s addressing Noble. “It’s okay—you’re not jumping the queue. You, too, ma’am.”

She’s obviously classified both Noble and Lorellina as part of the Thanehaven group. After exchanging glances, they step out of the elevator and move into position. When Yestin tries to join them, however, the woman in gray intercepts him.

“Port number?” she says flatly.

“Uh …” After a moment’s hesitation, Yestin produces his card. The woman examines it, then gestures at another line.

“Over there.”

“But—”

“Sorry, bud. No piggybacking. No queue jumping, either.”

Yestin throws a terrified glance at Noble, who says sharply, “He’s with us!”

“No, he’s not.” The warrior in the white surcoat speaks up. He has long, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard; his voice is as deep and resonant as Noble’s. “That boy doesn’t belong to this group.”

“Neither do we,” Lorellina points out.

“Yes, you do. You’re Princess Lorellina,” the warrior replies.

Noble attempts to dodge the outstretched arm
of the woman in gray. At that very instant, however, Yestin suddenly has a change of heart.

“I’m all right! Don’t worry about me!” Yestin squeaks, as he’s pushed toward his designated queue. “It’ll be
much easier
if you stay with that group. I’ll meet you on the other side of the checkpoint, okay?”

“We’ll wait for you,” Noble promises Yestin, who looks tiny and fragile sandwiched between a large, angry-looking bird and a pile of books in a silver cart. Meanwhile, the warrior in white is talking to Lorellina.

“I am one of the Seven Scryers,” he’s saying. “I am Sangred, the warrior priest. I guard the Sacred Well of Thanehaven.”

Lorellina eyes him suspiciously.

“This is not Thanehaven,” Sangred continues. “This must be a mystic vision. I have many mystic visions.”

But the princess isn’t interested in Sangred—or his mystic visions. Turning her back on him, she addresses Noble in an undertone. “We need Yestin. We need him with us.”

“I know.”

“How can we give our message to Rufus without Yestin? Yestin understands how it should be done.”

“I
know
.” Noble lets the Thanehaven group shuffle past him as he pauses to check on Yestin’s progress. Lorellina is right; they can’t post a message without
Yestin’s help. Nor can they abandon the boy. It was cruel enough, abandoning Brandi and Lulu and Lord Harrowmage. Abandoning Yestin would be even crueller.

“When I wake up, I will have many truths to convey to the other scryers,” Sangred remarks, near the head of the line. “Truths revealed to me in this vision of the Otherworld.”

Suddenly, Noble has an idea.

“This is more than a simple vision, my lord,” he exclaims. “This is a vision of the
future
. This is a
prophecy
.”

“A prophecy?” Sangred echoes.

“A prophecy of the Seven.” Though Noble has never met a single one of the Seven Scryers, he knows that they’re prophets. He knows it the way he knows how to fight. It’s built-in knowledge. “What you’re seeing here is the future of Thanehaven,” he declares. “Soon there will be legless gargoyles in Thanehaven. And bigger, stronger salt devils. And horses covered in silver scales. These things will be ranged against our kingdom, but we must take heart. Because that boy over there will deliver us.”