The End of Time (22 page)

“And then what?”

Umber rocked in his seat. “Where did you build it? Are there any more like it?”

Doane leaned forward. “I have a shipyard, factories, and refineries in the Land of Doane. The whole area is walled off and heavily guarded, to protect its secrets. A second ship, identical to the Vanquisher, is under construction there, and half complete. It will be called Destroyer.” Hap saw the fingers in Doane’s clasped hands clenching tighter, turning white and red.

“There is hope, then,” Umber said, struggling to keep his voice from rising. “The second ship can be dismantled. The factories and refineries too. All the records and evidence destroyed. We can reverse this, Doane, as best we can!”

“You’re forgetting something,” Doane said. “The men who build the ships. The engineers I’ve trained. Would you have me send their brains to the bottom of the sea too?”

Umber slumped sideways on one elbow. “That’s the trouble with ideas, isn’t it? When they are out, they are out. Nobody knows that better than me.” He rubbed his temple and squinted, concentrating. Then he straightened again and made a circle with his arms. “Wait. But you keep those men inside the walls of your shipyard, don’t you? The same way you keep others outside the walls!”

Doane nodded. “That’s exactly what I do. Nobody leaves and nobody enters. I want my secrets to be mine alone.”

Umber’s eyes shone. “We could isolate those men—take them to an island somewhere, banish them. I’ll make sure they’re treated well, fed and comfortable. It’s mildly cruel, but nothing compared to the suffering we can avert.” Umber stood, too excited to stay seated anymore. “Jonathan, it’s not too late. We can reverse much of what you’ve done. It’s not a perfect solution—but it can delay the inevitable.”

Doane looked up at Umber, and then sideways at his armed men. He sniffed, and as Hap watched, his expression hardened once more. His lip curved into a sneer. “Sit down, Brian,” he said in a cold voice.

Umber’s color drained from his face, and he sank into the seat, casting a mournful look at Hap. It was suddenly clear that Doane had been playing along, pretending to entertain the idea.

“You think I’ve gone mad since I came here,” Doane said. “Has it occurred to you that this new Doane is the true man, and the other one was the fool?”

“Never,” muttered Umber.

Doane laughed. “You want me to help you. But, Brian, my boy, it is you who is going to help me.”

“I don’t want any part of what you’re doing,” Umber said.

“I only ask for one small thing.”

Umber stared back. “What, Jonathan?”

Doane put his hands behind his head and rocked back in his chair. “Give me the computer.”

 
CHAPTER
27

Umber tried to control his reaction, but
Hap saw the way his jaw tensed.

“Computer? I don’t know what you mean, Jonathan,” Umber said.

Doane leaned his head to one side, propped with two fingers to the temple. “Brian. Give me some credit. Of course you have the computer. You have a first-rate intellect, but you certainly did not produce an entire Beethoven sonata from memory. Or the blueprints for those sailing ships. Or the architecture, or the medicines, or any of your other marvels. It’s perfectly obvious that when you came to this world, you brought the Reboot Suitcase with you.”

Hap could hear the breath whistling out of Umber’s nose. “It stopped working about a year ago,” Umber finally said. “The hard drive crashed.”

“Really? Let me see it,” Doane said. The last trace of good humor vanished from his expression. He stared like a bird of prey.

“When I knew it was unfixable, I dropped it into the sea.”

“Brian, you don’t understand. My spy has been observing you for more than a year. Your innovations have never stopped coming. You are lying.”

Umber stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. “Even if it still existed, what good would it do you? Weapons were never the point of Project Reboot. That computer saved the best that our civilization had to offer. Not the worst.”

Doane puckered his lips. “Don’t be naive, Brian. Technology is technology, and perfectly adaptable from peacetime to wartime.” He reached into the fold in the front of his loose-fitting jacket. When he drew his hand out, it was wrapped around the handle of a small object that reminded Hap of the terrible rifles. “But really, at a moment like this, we must be straightforward with each other. History is counting on us.”

Umber looked down at the object with undisguised disgust. “Oh, Jonathan. A pistol, too?”

“Brian, I realize you want to be noble. But you’re getting in my way. Stop this nonsense and give me the computer. I know it’s here. And I know how to make you give it to me.” Doane turned the weapon until it was pointing directly at Hap’s chest.

Umber’s face trembled. “Jonathan, you wouldn’t dream of harming this boy if you knew what I know.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you know,” Doane said. “Right after you fetch the computer.”

There was a yelp of pain from the other side of the room. One of the armed men reached down and rubbed his ankle. Doane gave him a sideways glance and returned his gaze to Umber and Hap. “What’s the matter with that man?” Doane called out.

“Something stung me,” the man said. He sucked air through his teeth. “Aagh, it hurts!”

Another man, not far from the first, cried out in pain. He lifted one foot and hopped on the other. Hap realized that both of them were standing close to some bureaus near the side of the grand hall.

“Perhaps we have hornets,” Umber said. Doane stood up and backed away from the table, keeping the pistol leveled at Hap.

A third man screamed, even as the first two cried out as their pain grew. “I saw something under there,” said another man, pointing. “Get away from the furniture! There’s something under there—and it’s no hornet!”

“What is this, Brian?” shouted Doane.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Umber said. When Doane glanced the other way, he looked at Hap and waggled an eyebrow. Hap knew perfectly well what was happening.

Two of the men grabbed the bureau and tipped it over. Hap winced as priceless artifacts crashed to the floor. “There!” cried one of the armed men. Hap saw Thimble at the base of the wall. His tiny feet were a blur as he raced along with a mad grin on his face and his poison-tipped spear at his side. Three of the men raised their rifles. Thimble reached a crack in the wall and darted inside as the rifles fired. Sparks flew and bits of stone were torn from the wall. Another man in the middle of the room dropped his rifle and fell, gripping his knee.

“Stop it, the bullets are bouncing off the walls, you idiots!” shouted Doane, waving the pistol. Umber and Hap stood, and Umber stepped in front of Hap as Doane whirled on them again. The pistol was shaking in his hand.

Hap looked around Umber’s side in time to see an arm appear in the opening of the ceiling, where the lift rose up to the third floor. The hand held one of Umber’s colored bottles. The bottle was dropped, and it shattered on the floor. Hap was never sure what would come out of one of those bottles—an illusion or a cloud of sleep-inducing smoke—but this one produced a thick purple mist that formed itself into a trio of huge, writhing serpents. Every man who could still stand raised his weapon and fired, but the bullets passed through the phantoms, tearing holes in the paintings and maps on the walls.

Two more bottles fell, smashing on the floor. A red mist billowed out, and as soon as it washed over the armed men, they wobbled and slumped to the ground.

When Doane turned toward his men, bellowing with dismay, Umber spun and grabbed Hap by the sleeve. They ran for the corridor that led to the archives and beyond.

Doane cried out behind them: “Stop!” Another crack rang out, and Hap heard a bullet ping off the wall of the corridor as they crossed the threshold. Umber grabbed the edge of the door and flung it closed. Before it shut, Hap saw Doane charging, leveling his pistol to shoot again. As the door slammed, a bullet struck the other side.

Umber leaned against the heavy door to keep it shut as Doane flung his body against it. Hap joined him, throwing his back against the door. Something hard hammered on the wood, and Doane screamed hoarsely. “I’ll kill you, Brian!
 I’ll . . . kill . . . kill . . .” There was a cough, and then the sound of Doane’s body against wood, sliding down.

Umber looked with alarm at a thin wisp of smoke trailing under the door. “Don’t breathe that!” he said, putting his foot across the space and pulling his shirt over his mouth. Hap did the same.

“Was that Balfour who saved us?” Hap said through the fabric.

Umber nodded, and Hap could see his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Balfour indeed,” Umber said. “Our action hero! And little Thimble, of course.”

Oates and Sophie came down the hall from the archives. Sophie looked like a pale ghost, Oates like an angry bear. “What were those noises?” Oates asked.

“Something that doesn’t belong here,” Umber said. He uncovered his mouth and released the door.

Hap folded his arms tight against his chest. “What now?”

Umber paced in a tight circle, working his mouth from side to side. “I’m open to suggestions. We have a dozen invaders knocked out on the other side of this door, along with the most dangerous man in the world. There are another dozen enemy downstairs, wide awake and unhappy. Welkin, Barkin, and Dodd are in the gatehouse, hopefully out of harm’s way. Balfour is upstairs—he kept some of my trick bottles in his room, but I think he’s used all he had. Am I forgetting anything?” He came to a stop and scratched the top of his head.

Hap, Oates, and Sophie took turns giving one another worried, bewildered looks.
We’re trapped,
Hap said to himself. He stared down the hall, which led past the archives and plunged deep into the caverns behind the Aerie, where the sorceress had escaped. “Wait,” Hap said, even as the idea took shape in his mind. He turned to see Umber staring back with his mouth cinched tight.

“Let’s take him,” Hap said. “Before anybody wakes up. Just open the door and grab your old friend. You can put him in Turiana’s cell.”

Oates frowned at Umber. “Your old friend is the most dangerous man in the world?”

Umber ignored the question. “Hap, you’re a genius. That is where we keep our dangerous minds, isn’t it?” He put his hand on the knob of the door and dropped his voice. “The smoke should be mostly cleared by now. I’ll open the door for a peek. If it’s safe, I’ll throw it open—Oates, I want you to grab the man lying just outside and pull him back in. Ready?”

Oates crept up beside the door and nodded at Umber. Umber grabbed the doorknob. “Hap and Sophie—stand back in case they fire on us.” Umber yanked the door open enough to peer out into the grand hall and stuck his face in the gap.

 
CHAPTER
28

He withdrew his head just as quickly
and looked at the others with his jaw hanging loose. Then he swung the door open wide.

“He’s gone,” Umber said. Through the threshold, Hap could see the bodies of the armed men scattered across the floor with their rifles by their sides. But Doane was not where he should have been, outside the door.

Umber stepped into the grand hall and peered right and left. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. The odor of the potion still hung in the air, a sweet and flowery scent that made Hap feel the faintest touch of drowsiness.

“How could he have gotten away?” Hap asked.

“I don’t think he could have,” Umber said. “Unless someone . . .” He froze, and then gestured frantically for them to get back to safety in the corridor. There were footfalls on the steps, coming up from below. Before Umber could swing the door shut, they saw Dodd’s familiar face appear as he raced upstairs.

“Dodd!” cried Umber, waving to him. “Quick—over here!”

Dodd smiled and raised a hand. “No need to hide, Lord Umber. The Aerie is a stronghold once more.” He looked down at the dozen senseless men on the floor. “We’ll have to do something about these rascals before they wake up, though.”

“Kill ’em!” cried a small voice from ankle-high. Thimble had stepped out from a crack in the wall. The tiny fellow had a knife brandished in one hand, and he whipped it from side to side.

“That’s not the kind of folk we are,” Umber said, dropping into a squat.

“Not the kind of folk we are,”
Thimble repeated, mimicking the words as if Umber were a whiny brat. “This will be your undoing, Umber. I heard the whole exchange with this Jonathan of yours. He won’t show you mercy. Any of these men will kill you on his orders. Why give them the chance? Don’t worry, I’ll do it for you. Their necks are down here where I want them. . . . A little nick is all it takes.”

“Thimble!” cried Umber, in a voice stern enough to stop the tiny man in his tracks. “If you slit a single neck I’ll bring an army of cats into the Aerie within the hour. Now get back to your hole in the wall and leave this to us.”

Thimble grumbled, shook a fist at Umber, and slipped into the shadowy crevice between two stones.

Umber shook his head as he watched Thimble disappear. When he turned to speak to Dodd, his mouth opened into a horrified circle. “Dodd!” he cried.

Dodd had picked up a rifle to inspect it and was holding it straight and staring curiously down its length, as he’d watched the invaders do. He looked up, shocked by the tone of Umber’s voice.

“Dodd, put it down,” Umber bellowed, pointing at the floor. “Stop looking at it! Stop thinking about it!” Dodd bent to lay the rifle on the floor and stood straight again, stung by Umber’s words.

Umber wiped a hand across his eyes and collected his wits. “Sorry, Dodd . . . I didn’t mean to be harsh. Listen, tell me what happened just now. Where is the leader of these brutes?”

Dodd cleared his throat and managed a smile. “Welkin, Barkin, and I were downstairs, being watched by a gang of those invaders. Then we heard those banging sounds upstairs—what a commotion! Some of the men rushed up to the grand hall, and they came back, staggering from that sleep potion, dragging that Supremacy or whatever they call him behind them. They carried him outside, and I have to say, they’re not the brightest bunch, because all but two of them forget about us. We caught them by surprise and grabbed those death-sticks away, and they ran out after the others. Then we slammed the door after them and barred it.”

Umber thumped Dodd on the shoulder. “Wonderful. And where did they all go?”

Dodd pointed with his thumb. “In the gatehouse and on the causeway. Trying to revive their leader.”

“He won’t be asleep much longer,” Umber said. “Let’s get busy. Oates, lug these bodies down to the gatehouse. Dodd, tie them up so they won’t cause trouble.” Umber turned to Hap and Sophie and breathed deep before speaking. “You two. Pick up those rifles. I’ll get the ones from downstairs. Don’t touch the metal loop near the middle, and do not point the hollow end at yourselves or the others. Stack them in the corner and cover them with a tablecloth from the kitchen. Understood?”

Sophie nodded. “Understood,” said Hap.

The lift clattered into motion, engaged from above. Balfour appeared, riding down on one of the platforms. Umber gave him an enormous grin and clapped his hands loudly together, while the old man blushed and waved away the applause.

“This one’s dead,” Oates announced in a booming voice. He was standing over the man who’d been struck in the leg by a bullet that bounced off the wall. Hap saw a glistening pool of blood beneath his sprawled form.

Umber’s applause ended. He walked over to the body and darted an angry glare at the rifle at his feet. “How easily they kill.” He shook his head. “Bring him downstairs with the others, Oates. Quickly. I don’t know how much longer they’ll sleep.”

“I could just snap all the necks,” Oates said, twisting an imaginary head with his hands.

“What is it with you people!” Umber cried, shaking his arms. “Just bring them downstairs.
Gently!
” he added, as Oates tossed an unconscious man over his shoulder like a dishrag.

Hap was draping a cloth over the stack of rifles when the voice drifted through the window. “Brian! We need to talk!”

Balfour was closest, and he peered out quickly, pulling his head back an instant later in case bullets flew. “It’s your friend, the homicidal madman,” he told Umber.

Umber stood beside the window with his back to the wall. He shouted without showing his face. “Jonathan, this has to stop.”

“I want the computer. And I mean to have it.” The tone of Doane’s voice had changed. Before, Hap had the impression that he was wildly entertained by his violent expedition. All that remained was a cold, venomous fury.

“Even if I had it, I wouldn’t give it to you,” Umber replied. “Look what you’ve done with the knowledge you have! No, Jonathan. I’d sooner smash it on the rocks. Hurl it into the sea.”

A silence followed, oddly peaceful, with only the sound of gulls. Then Doane spoke again. “Listen, Brian. I’m returning to my ship now. My men will guard this causeway, and they’ll signal me when you produce the object I’m looking for. If you don’t, I will turn every gun on the
Vanquisher
upon this city of yours. And wherever I see your hand at work, I will destroy it. Your sailing ships. Your libraries and schools. Your hospital. Every hint of modern architecture. You would ask me to sink my ship, and undo everything I’ve accomplished? Then that will be
your
fate, Brian. I suggest you watch from your rooftop. It will be spectacular—like nothing this world has seen before. Do you hear me? You have one hour to give me what I desire. And when you see our flare, you have one minute.”

Umber tilted his head back, and it thumped on the stone. He closed his eyes and called out in a voice thick with passion. “Remember who you were, Jonathan. Before you came here. Your mind has been twisted, your ambitions deformed. But I can help you. Send your men away and come inside alone.”

There was no answer. Hap heard the carriage door slam. Reins snapped, hooves clattered, wheels squeaked. The sound faded. Umber risked a quick glance out the window. He blew air out of the corner of his mouth. “He’s gone. There are about a dozen men staying behind, on the causeway.” Umber clasped his hands atop his head and sighed. “Gather the others, please. I want to talk to all of you.”

They stood in a half circle: Oates, Balfour, Sophie, Hap, Welkin, Barkin, and Dodd. Even Smudge had been cajoled from the archives to join the group, but he stood away from the rest, mumbling and twisting his filthy beard. Umber faced them with his hands clasped behind his back. “My friends. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” said Balfour.

“I do,” said Hap.

Umber gave Oates a particular stare. “I trust you,” Oates said.

Those words made Umber smile. “That means plenty, coming from you. But listen, everyone. You’ve just heard some things that must have been confusing, and I need to explain. Um . . . how do I say this?” Umber looked down, and shook his head, and chuckled quietly, as if he could not believe that he was about to share his secrets. “Doane and I come from . . . the same place. And I have something that Doane wants, an object that doesn’t belong in this land. It’s a machine called a computer. A wonderful machine, filled with information on everything you can imagine. Everything I’ve done here—the architecture, the engineering, the medicines, the music—came from that machine. I’ve tried to use that power to make this a better world. But Doane would use it to build greater horrors than that warship in the harbor. So I can’t give it to him, no matter what. Are you with me so far?”

Hap looked at the others, and they were all looking at Umber with the same mix of surprise and admiration. Dodd broke the silence. “I can’t claim to understand all that. But as we said, we trust you.”

Umber’s mouth twisted and he covered his eyes for a moment with his hand. “Thank you. There is a nightmare before us now. I don’t see how we can stop it. But . . . I think we should get ready for what’s coming. The final attack will be on the Aerie. They will either destroy it completely or blow it open and storm inside to search for the computer.”

“What do you want us to do?” asked Barkin.

“Pack up what you can carry and bring it down to the caverns. We’ll be safe from the great guns down there. And if necessary . . .” Umber grimaced and rubbed his jaw. “We might have to escape through the underworld.”

“The caverns?” screeched Smudge.

Balfour blanched. “Beyond the gate?”

“But the troll came from back there,” Sophie said under her breath.

“The troll is the least of it,” Smudge howled. “Those caves are filled with monsters—the horrible things that served the sorceress when she ruled here!”

“But there may also be a way out,” Umber said. “It’s our last resort.”

“Could we sneak out that side door and hide in Petraportus?” Balfour asked. “We might be able to swim to safety.”

Umber shook his head. “We’d be seen. The gunmen would pick us off, or the artillery would blow us to pieces. No, the caverns may be the only chance. Everybody, get the stuff you need. Balfour, grab food and water from the kitchen for all of us. Meet back here as soon as you can.”

Hap stepped onto the terrace. He inhaled and smelled the blossoms of the tree of many fruits and the other remarkable flora of Umber’s garden. The door to Umber’s rooftop tower was open, and Hap saw a flickering light through the window. He went inside and climbed the stairs and found Umber in his study, staring at an assortment of books and objects on his desk.

Umber glanced up, biting his lip. “Hap, you shouldn’t be walking around alone. If the Executioner showed up . . .”

Hap shrugged. “We have so many problems, I almost forgot about him.”

Umber snorted out a rueful laugh and looked down again at the clutter. “I’ve been collecting stuff for a decade. How do I to decide what to leave behind?”

That decision hadn’t been so difficult for Hap. His existence could be measured in months, not years, and his possessions were few. “I can carry some,” he said. The elatia was in its pot on his desk. “We should definitely take
that
,” he said, pointing.

Umber didn’t seem to hear him. He gestured toward the set of books that he kept on a shelf in his study:
The
Books of Umber
, which chronicled his discoveries of all things monstrous and magical. “No room for those of course. And I can’t take
these
.” He waved his hand over the box of charms and talismans that had once belonged to Turiana. “If we bring them into the caverns and Turiana is still there, I’ll be handing them right to her. Better to leave them in the Aerie, where they’ll be buried in the rubble.”

Hap went to Umber’s window and stared down at the enormous ship in the harbor. “Will he really destroy the city? Because you won’t give him the computer?”

Umber’s head slumped into his hands. There were dark crescents under his eyes, and he looked a decade older, with all his youthful energy gone. He seemed dangerously close to slipping into one of his deadly melancholies. “Happenstance.
 I . . . I always thought I was doing the right thing. But
 now . . . everyone would be better off if I’d never come at all. How did it come to this?”

Hap’s thoughts whirled in his head. He leaned heavily against the windowsill, looking at the great city, the wonder of its age, about to be devastated. “It wasn’t you. Meddlers did this. Willy Nilly brought you here. Willy’s nemesis brought your friend to the Far Continent. They set you against each other, like game pieces.”

“But now both those Meddlers are dead. And Jonathan is going to win,” Umber muttered. “Any minute now, in fact.”

At the pier below, Hap saw the royal carriage come to a stop. The Supremacy stepped out and walked to the boat that would ferry him back to the
Vanquisher
. He turned his head and stared up at the Aerie, and Hap felt their gazes meet, even across that great distance.