The Marus Manuscripts (23 page)

“You understand, I’m sure.”

“I understand completely. But they cannot see our guest unless they come here. The choice is theirs to make.”

“Must you be so difficult about everything?” the bowling ball asked.

“Indeed I must,” Arin replied. “Now, here are some cakes my wife made. They’ll comfort your journey back.”

The bowling ball’s face lit up. “Thank you, Arin,” he said sincerely. “And thank Muiraq for us.”

“You’re welcome, Flabian.”

“Who are the elders?” Wade asked after Arin had returned from seeing the bowling ball to the gate. “And from what city?”

“The elders of Sarum,” Arin answered as they stood outside the front door of the cottage. “It’s our capital city, the city that surrounds us even now. Or maybe I should say that it’s the central city of the confederacy.”

“What do you mean by ‘confederacy’?”

“The simplest way to explain it is to say that the country we’re in—Marus, it’s called—is a collection of little countries. It’s a confederacy of factions or
tribes
. The elders represent those tribes and make the laws accordingly.”

“You don’t have a president or a king?”

“No. There was a time when the Unseen One was considered our king, but those days are long gone. Now there are elders. However, there is a man who wants to change all that. He wants to be our king, though he hasn’t been honest enough to say so directly.”

“This is a very strange world,” Wade said softly.

Arin looked at the boy, then said wistfully, “One day, when the
Unseen One’s judgment has come and gone and a new generation has risen up, then Marus will be united under a true ruler. But that will be a long time in the future.”

“Look at that!” Wade suddenly cried out.

Arin spun around. Wade was staring up at the clear night sky.

“Do you see that?” Wade asked.

“What?” Arin said, looking but not seeing what could have caught Wade’s attention.

“There are
two
moons up there! Do you see?” Wade was pointing wildly in excitement. One was large and white, the other nearly half the size and slightly more orange.

Arin laughed, then said, “We’ve always had two moons. How many moons do you have in your world?”

“Just one.”

“How sad,” Arin said, then headed back into the cottage.

“May I walk around?” Wade asked.

“Be my guest,” Arin said. “But don’t leave the compound. Remember what I said.”

Wade didn’t answer but continued to stare at the two moons. He walked slowly away from the cottage, hoping to see if the sky held any other surprises. He followed the path that took him back toward the shelter. The stars blurred together until he lost interest in them.

The main entrance to the shelter lay just ahead, he remembered. It occurred to him that if he returned to Bethel’s stall, it might magically turn into the coal cellar once more and he’d be home again.
But the door will be locked
, he thought.
Arin wouldn’t leave it open at night
.

He tried anyway. Sure enough, the door was locked.

Strolling around to the left of the top of the shelter, he noticed how much it looked like the roof of a large and long house sticking
up from the ground. It reminded him of a military bunker—made of thick cement and with a gently sloping roof.

He wondered if he could see over the compound wall if he stood at the pinnacle of the shelter. Glancing around, he hoped to find something to climb on, something high enough to get him onto the roof. His eye caught sight of a ladder leaning horizontally against the shelter wall. He ran over to it and was pleased to see that it might be long enough for him to see over the compound wall, which was about 15 feet high.

I could climb the ladder to the top of the wall and look out at the city
, he thought. Then another idea came to him:
Maybe I could find a way to climb down the other side, check out the neighborhood, then come back again. No one has to know.

He looked around. Arin and his family were nowhere to be seen. Moving as fast as he could, he dragged the ladder over to the nearest section of wall and hoisted it up. It reached nearly to the top.

Wade’s heart raced. Now he’d be able to see more of this new world he’d discovered! He climbed the ladder carefully, but even standing on the uppermost rung, he was still a few feet short of the top of the wall. The only way he’d be able to see over would be to jump up, grab on to the top, and pull himself up the rest of the way.

But then how would he get down again? He eyed the wall, the ladder, and then the wall again. He decided that when he was ready, he could hang from the ledge of the wall and drop back onto the ladder.
Easy
, he thought.

Taking a deep breath, Wade crouched on the top rung, then sprang up as hard as he could. His fingers crooked over the top of the wall. He kicked his legs wildly as he tried to climb up. One of his feet caught the ladder, not just once but two or three times, and knocked it aside. To Wade’s horror, the ladder slid along the wall and fell to the ground.

“Oh, no!” he gasped. He waited for a second, then mustered all his strength to pull himself to the top. It was a painfully slow process since his arms weren’t that strong. The rough cement of the wall dug into his fingers. He felt beads of sweat form on his forehead and upper lip. He pulled and pulled until, eventually, he worked one elbow over the ledge, then another, and then he swung his right leg up, followed by his left. Finally, he was lying completely atop the wall. He stayed there, panting, for a few minutes.

When he felt slightly recovered, he rolled onto his side. The wall was a couple of feet thick and gave him enough room to sit up. He was facing an alleyway with several tall brick buildings directly across from him. They looked like warehouses, with large leaded windows that were now dark and barren of any people or activity.
No view of the city from here
, he thought with disappointment. He looked in both directions and decided to make his way to the right. Maybe he could see more if he followed the wall to that end of the alley. Looking like a squirrel, he scurried along as fast as he could on hands and knees. When he reached the end of that wall—and the corner of the compound—he stopped. To his disappointment, he’d come to another alley.
Will I have to scurry all the way around to the front gate in order to see the city?
he wondered.

He decided he wouldn’t try. The chances were good that Arin or one of his sons would spot him. Looking back into the compound, he searched for a tree branch he might jump onto. He couldn’t see any that were close enough, however, and then he realized Arin was too smart to allow a tree to grow close enough to the wall for an intruder to break in that way.

Wade turned to look in the other direction and only then saw that he was face-to-face with some kind of pole that stuck up from the corner of the wall. At the top of the pole was a rectangular piece
of metal tilted down toward the street. It was a sign of some sort. Wade twisted around to get a look at what it said.

The sign read: “Warning. This is a high-powered security wall.” Then it had symbols that looked like lightning bolts, followed by the word
Danger
.

Wade felt his heart jump into his throat. This was a hazardous wall, probably like an electric fence! Yet another way that Arin kept intruders out.

Why isn’t it turned on?
Wade wondered.
Does Arin have it on some sort of timer? Is it about to come on at any moment and shock the living daylights out of me?

He tried to decide what to do. He could hang from the side of the wall and let himself fall back into the compound, risking a twisted ankle or, worse, a broken bone. That didn’t appeal to him. Maybe he should call to Arin for help, admit he was wrong, and hope they’d let him back in. That didn’t appeal to him either. There had to be another way.

Just then, he heard a couple of voices from below. He froze where he was. The voices came from the street, not the compound. Two men walked up the alley, one carrying a flashlight that he occasionally shone along the wall. Wade moved carefully and gently around the sign pole. Suddenly the man with the flashlight flicked the beam up toward Wade. It was a casual gesture; he didn’t know Wade was there. But it startled Wade, who jerked back and banged the large sign.

The men stopped and looked up, searching the area with the light. “Who’s there?” one of them barked.

“It’s someone,” the other man said to his partner.

“I guess the power isn’t turned on,” the first man said.

The second man called out, “Identify yourself! We see you up there.”

Wade leaned over the ledge. “It’s me,” he said. “I mean, it’s Wade. Who are you?”

“We’re . . .” the first man hesitated. “Guards, I guess you could say.”

“How did you get up there?” the second man asked.

“A ladder.”

“A ladder!” the first man growled. “What ladder? We’ve been around this compound at least twice tonight, and we haven’t seen a ladder.”

“There’s a ladder on the inside, but it fell down.”

“So you’re saying you’re stuck up there?” the first man asked.

“Yes.”

The two men laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Wade said indignantly.

“Don’t get snippy with us, boy,” the second man said. “What possessed you to get on top of that wall? Don’t you know that old Arin could be turning on the power any minute now?”

“I wanted to see the city,” Wade explained.

“That’s not a very smart way to see it,” the first man observed.

“Do you belong in there or out here?” the second man asked.

“In here.”

The flashlight beam hit him again, and the two men consulted between themselves in low tones. Wade thought he heard one of them mention his blond hair.

“We could help you,” the second man said. “Just crawl down and dangle your legs over. Then let go and we’ll catch you.”

“Then what?” Wade asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What’ll happen to me if I let you help me?”

“We’ll take you around to the front gate and let you in.”

“How? By telling Arin?”

“No, we’ll let you in with our key.” The first man held up some keys and jingled them.

“Why do you have a key?” Wade asked.

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” the second man complained. “We have a key because we’re guards for Arin.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” the first man said. “Why would we lie to you?”

“Why
wouldn’t
you lie to me?” asked Wade.

“Stay up there and cook, then.”

The two men made as if they might walk off.

“Wait!” Wade called out. “I’ll trust you.”

“All right, just climb over and hang down,” the first man instructed.

“Okay.” Wade did that very thing: He sat on the edge of the wall, rolled over onto his stomach, slowly slid down until he hung by his fingers, and finally let go. He felt the two men grab his legs, then carry him to the ground.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” the first man asked once Wade was standing on firm ground between them.

“No, it wasn’t,” Wade said. “Thank you.”

The second man chuckled and said, “You’re welcome, you gullible boy.”

“Gullible?”

The two men grabbed him with heavy hands. One clamped down on his nose and mouth before he could shout. He couldn’t breathe. Then everything went black.

L
iven, an elder of the confederacy and the only one who actually lived in Sarum, carefully moved the thick blackout curtain an inch to the side. The curtain was designed to keep the meeting room’s light from shining outside so the enemy airplanes wouldn’t be able to see the building in the dark. In the distance, flares went up and shells exploded like fireworks in the sky. They lit up the skyscrapers and lower rooftops. He wondered what kind of rubble they’d have to sort through in the morning.

“Close the curtain,” Acad, another elder, said in a weary drone from the conference table. “It’s bad enough that I have to argue with you men. I don’t want to die with you.”

Liven pulled the curtain tight and turned to the room.
What a sight!
he thought. A blanket of smoke from too many cigars and pipes covered the assembled leaders in a haze. The table, around which they’d gathered, was littered with papers, half-empty coffee cups, filled ashtrays, and food wrappers.
They’re pigs,
Liven thought. He frowned. They had been arguing all day, and it looked as if they were going to argue well into the night—all while his beloved city went up in flames. “Can’t we stop for a while?” he asked. “My brain hurts.”

Dedmon, a heavily bearded man from the Mechlites, wagged a finger at Liven. “I promised my people I would not rest, nor return, without a final agreement,” he said.

“I’m not bound by the promises you make,” Liven said. He was grumpy now. He would just as readily have assassins kill these
men as speak to them. But he needed them; they needed one another to keep from being overrun by their enemies.

“Have we made
any
progress?” Greave of the Kenans asked. He brushed his hand absentmindedly across his bushy gray eyebrows. They stuck out like wild branches from his thin face.

“We’ve agreed that we must combine our resources to ward off our attackers,” sniffed Krupt. He was from the Shonens, a wealthy faction from the south, and spoke with a thick, stuffed-nose accent.

Acad groaned. “We had agreed on that much before we entered the room this morning!” he complained. “The question is, how much are we each willing to commit?”

“I’m overextended,” Dedmon said. “I’ve poured all we have into battling those pesky barbarians from Gotthard. We’re keeping them at bay, but I can’t say how long we’ll last.”

Liven threw his hands up. “Your problem is
everyone’s
problem, Dedmon!” he exclaimed. “We’re besieged on all sides.”

Dedmon picked his teeth casually. “I’m only saying that if we don’t come to agreement here, I’ll be forced to negotiate my own peace with the Gotthardites.”

“You’ll have no peace with the Gotthardites,” Acad droned. “Only surrender.”

“Which will leave the rest of us vulnerable!” Greave snapped.

Dedmon turned on Acad. “It’s easy enough for you. You have nothing but sea to the east. What battles do you have?”

“Only the Palatians sending boats from the south, plus the Albanites with their big ships from the north,” Acad whined. “They send their marauders in day after day. My coastal towns are panic-stricken.”

“If you think the Palatians are vicious on the water, try engaging them on land,” Krupt said, then yawned. “Gentlemen, I will die of boredom if something doesn’t happen soon. This gathering was tiresome when it began and has not improved since.”

Just then, a knock came at the door. Madalay, Liven’s assistant, opened it and peered in. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but he’s still waiting,” he said.

“Yes, of course he is,” Liven replied.

“Who is?” Greave asked. “This is supposed to be a closed meeting.”

Liven rubbed his eyes. “It’s Tyran.”

“Tyran! What’s he want now?” Dedmon growled.

“Only to address us for a moment,” Liven said. He gestured to Madalay and instructed, “Bring him in.”

“I don’t trust him,” Krupt said simply.

“You don’t trust anyone,” Greave countered.

Krupt waved a hand to everyone present. “Do you blame me when I have to deal with cutthroats and double-crossers like you?”

The men regarded Krupt and his comment silently. He was right. They were united now only because of their enemies. If they weren’t being attacked from without, they would be attacking each other from within. It was the way of the world, Liven thought. In their own way, they were each playing King of the Hill. A handshake, a stab in the back, and, ultimately, the survival of the fittest: Those were the only rules they lived by these days.

The door opened again, and Tyran strode in.

If nothing else, Liven thought, Tyran knew how to make an entrance. When he walked into a room, he did so with a theatrical flourish and an unmistakable confidence that drew all eyes to him. And yet he was only medium in height and build; his hair was kept unfashionably short; and his skinny mustache—something no one in good society would wear—hung above his thin lips like a black slash on a pasty-white page. His eyes were magnetic, though—black and mesmerizing. His voice was commanding, a deep boom from an otherwise small cannon.

“Gentlemen,” Tyran said, gesturing respectfully. “How go the negotiations?”

“None of your business,” Dedmon said.

“Not well, then,” Tyran said pleasantly.

“You have one minute,” Liven informed his guest.

Tyran stood at the head of the table, leaning on the surface with his knuckles. “I will be succinct then,” he said. “This confederacy, as you call it, is a joke. You meet for hours and days and accomplish nothing.”

The elders reacted with indignation. “Throw him out!” Krupt demanded.

“Throw me out at your own peril,” Tyran said, raising a hand to silence them. “I am here to tell you that the
people
are fed up with your politics and bureaucracy.”

“People? What people?” Acad demanded to know. “
Whose
people?”

“People from all your districts, the people in the streets,” Tyran said. “While you debate and argue uselessly, I have been talking to those you claim to represent. Their confidence and patience are gone. They trust
me
now. I am now the voice you must listen to. I am the one you must respect.”

“Nonsense!” said Krupt.

Tyran leaned forward, staring each man down in turn. “I am here to warn you. The people are weary of your ineffectiveness. They are tired of war. They want someone to take charge, to take action. Divided as you are, you cannot accomplish anything.”

“And what do you propose?” Liven asked as calmly as he could.

“A united nation. No more factions, no more individual tribes—the Mechlites, the Shonens, the Lahamites, the Kenans. We are the people of Marus, and we should be one!”

“You’re living in a dream,” Greave said.

“I am living in the
future
,” Tyran said. “You may join me or die in the past.”

Acad shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Are you threatening us?” he asked.

“Not a threat but a warning.” Tyran spun on his heel and marched out of the room.

“Nonsense,” Krupt said again.

Deep crevices formed on Greave’s forehead. He stroked his chin. “Is he capable?” he asked. “Does he have the support of the people like he says? My spies haven’t reported anything to me about this.”

“Your spies are probably working for him,” Liven answered.

Greave looked as if he might disagree, but he thought better of it and kept his mouth closed.

Liven addressed the men: “I believe we should take Tyran very seriously. He wouldn’t be so emphatic unless he had substantial power behind him.”

“It’s a bluff,” Krupt snorted.

“I’ll have some of my men kill him,” Dedmon offered.

“And we’ll have riots all over the land,” warned Liven.

Dedmon was not deterred. “They’ll make it look like an accident,” he said confidently.

“We’ll still have riots,” Liven said. “Please, let’s put aside our barbaric tendencies for just a moment and consider what we can do to save ourselves. Tyran may well know how the people are feeling, and if we don’t take decisive action soon, we may find ourselves on the wrong end of the assassin’s knife.”

The rest of the elders began to argue Liven’s statement. He wearily turned again to the blackout curtain and pushed it aside. To the north, the sky was nothing more than a blood-red stain.