The Midnight Gate (23 page)

“What are you—”

“Look!” he said. “I don't think we're there yet.”

He was right. There was no sign of the familiar elegant entrance hall of the House of Mists, with its slowly ticking clock and glistening chandelier. In fact, they didn't seem to be indoors at all but outside, in an open expanse of steaming rocky ground surrounded by at least half a dozen volcanoes coughing smoke and flame under a dusty orange sky in which four moons of various sizes hung disconcertingly close to the horizon.

“Wow,” said Steve. “D'you think this could be … yes! Look!”

Belladonna could do nothing but watch in openmouthed delight as a huge, blue-scaled reptile soared across the sky, its massive wings beating slowly as it temporarily blotted out the smallest of the moons before circling lazily over one of the volcanoes.

“Dragons,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe her eyes.

“Did you see the … the thing?” gushed Steve, tapping the center of his forehead. “It had a jewel, just like Ashe said. This must be Pyrocasta, where draconite comes from!”

Belladonna hadn't noticed the jewel; she was too entranced by the whole idea of a completely different world. A world of fire where dragons ruled the sky. Even as she was absorbing the beauty of the blue-scaled dragon, three more came into view. This time it looked like the two smaller ones were chasing the bigger one. They shot across the sky, spinning, looping, and doubling back with the ease of swallows. Finally, the large one stopped altogether, flipped itself around to face its pursuers, and let go with a stream of fire. The smaller ones tumbled through the sky, then regained their bearings and flew away.

“Did you see that?” said Steve. “It actually breathed fire. Real fire. Oh, this is amazing. We have to come back here.”

Belladonna had to agree that it was a truly amazing place. Although it did occur to her that looking at it from the safety of the lift was probably the best way to go about things. She suspected that the smoking rocks and heaving volcanoes were a fairly good indication that this world was not intended for human habitation.

“Hey!”

They froze. Was that a voice? Could someone actually be walking around in this fiery world?

“Was that…?” began Steve.

Belladonna strained to hear something more, but all was silence except for the steady rumbling of the volcanoes and the hiss of the hot wind.

“No,” she said finally. “It must have been the wind or a—”

“Hold the doors!”

This time there was no mistaking it, and as they peered out across the rocky plain, a small figure, almost entirely swathed in what looked like a heavy black coat, emerged from behind one of the larger rocks, waving with one gauntleted hand while with the other he pushed a handcart loaded down with tall canisters.

They watched as he got closer and they began to hear the canisters clanking against one another. The man, if that was what he was, remained a mystery, however. In addition to the heavy black coat and the gauntlets, he was wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a dark scarf that was wrapped around his head and pulled up over his nose and mouth, leaving only two dark eyes sparkling beneath the hat.

“Um … do think this is a good idea?” asked Steve as the man hauled his cart across the last of the smoking stones toward the lift. “He could be anybody.”

“I know,” whispered Belladonna. “But we can't leave him here.”

“Well, we
could
.”

Belladonna opened her mouth to speak, then quickly changed to a smile. The man had arrived, hat, gauntlets, canisters, and all.

“Oh, bless your little cotton socks!” he gasped, heaving the cart into the lift. “I had to wait three days for the lift last time. So unreliable. I'm not convinced the button out there really works, you know.”

As he spoke, he took off his gloves, unwound his scarf, and punched one of the buttons on the panel. The doors whispered shut again and the lift shot down, then sideways, before settling into a steady up-and-down motion as if it were driving across a series of small hills. Belladonna began to feel a little ill.

“I know,” said the man. “Sick-making, isn't it? But it's the only way here. They're a protected species, you see.”

“The dragons?” asked Steve.

“Yes, poor things. Ours died out at the beginning of the latest cold snap.”

“Yours?”

“Yes. Oh, sorry! Introductions all around. Name's Burner. Well, not me real name, obviously, but that's what everyone calls me.”

“Because of the dragons?” asked Belladonna.

“Yes. Not very imaginative, but there you go.”

The lift lurched to a halt again and the doors opened into what appeared to be a dark room full of loud music and lights the size of cricket balls that pulsated in time with the beat and whizzed from one side to the other.

Burner looked alarmed and reached for the button to close the doors, but before they could fully close, two of the lights zoomed into the lift and hovered at head height. Burner glanced at them disapprovingly, then seemed to decide that he would pretend they weren't there and returned his attention to Belladonna and Steve.

“What about you two? Bit young to be traveling the old Transversal alone, aren't you?”

“The what?”

Burner opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, one of the lights suddenly spoke up in a voice that sounded like it was being filtered through an entire hive of bees.

“The Transversal. The lift. Goes to all Nine Worlds. Don't you know anything?”

“They don't know anything,” piped up the other one. “Look at them. They're small. They're probably not finished yet.”

“Ignore them,” said Burner. “They're just trying to wind you up.”

“What are they?” asked Belladonna.

“We
are
here, you know. You needn't talk about us as if we're not.”

“They're Emphots. Now, where did you say you're going?”

“Oh,” said Belladonna, not really feeling any wiser. “We're going to the Land of the Dead. My name's Belladonna and this is Steve.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Burner, holding out his hand. “And thanks again for holding the doors.”

Belladonna shook his hand. It was hard and calloused and speckled with burn scars. He noticed her concern and grinned.

“Yes, it is a bit of a mess,” he said, “but that's one of the risks of the business.”

“What business?” asked Steve.

“What business? Well, what business do you think?” said Burner, patting the canisters proudly.

“I don't—”

“Dragon milk, of course!” said one of the Emphots.

“I told you they're not finished yet,” buzzed the other.

“But I thought you said they were protected?” asked Belladonna, suddenly concerned about the dragons.

“I don't kill them. I just milk them. And I've got a contract, all legal and aboveboard.”

“If you believe that, I've got a large bridge you might be interested in purchasing,” said the first Emphot, fizzing like a dying fly.

Burner glanced at the Emphots and seemed about to say something, then took a deep breath and smiled.

“Dragon milk?” said Steve, gazing at the canisters. “What for?”

Burner shrugged. “People like it. Our world, Nidval, is going through a bit of a cold snap, like I said.”

“But … how do you milk a dragon?”

“Very carefully, my boy, very carefully!”

Belladonna and Steve stared at him, then all three broke into broad grins.

“I love it when people ask that question!”

“You should get out more,” said the second Emphot in a way that Belladonna would have described as smirking if they'd had faces.

“There's no need to be rude!”

The Emphots crackled like crinkled plastic and Burner reached out a hand and patted Belladonna's arm.

“Don't let them get to you,” he muttered. “They feed off strong emotions; that's why they talk like that. Doesn't take them long to figure out which button to press.”

Belladonna and Steve stared at the glittering balls of light.

“Is that true?”

“Perhaps. Tell me, half-things, do you mean to say you have never tasted dragon milk?”

“Of course not,” said Steve.

“You should give them a taste.”

“No.”

“Go on.”

“No. They could be allergic.”

“Would you like a taste, half-things?”

Steve stared at the canisters. Belladonna could tell that he was really curious.

“Don't do anything stupid,” she whispered.

“Are you afraid?”

“Of course it's afraid. It's not finished yet. It's just a baby.”

“If you're trying to make me mad, it isn't working,” said Steve in a tone that made it abundantly clear that it was.

The Emphots crackled again.

“Look,” sighed Burner, “you can't let them get to you. They feed off that.”

“Lots of people do,” said Steve. “I'm used to it.”

“No. The Emphots
really
feed off it. You'd better have a drink. It'll shut them up.”

“What?” said Belladonna, alarmed. “Drink the dragon milk? How do we know it's not poisonous?”

“You see, you see!” buzzed the second orb. “Frightened.”

“I'll drink some with you,” said Burner. “We don't usually drink it on its own, mind. We mix it with other things, and … well, you never know how it's going to take people. Some people have a bit of a reaction to the neat stuff.”

“A reaction?”

“Um … yes … like an allergy.”

“I don't think you'd better have any,” said Belladonna. “What if you're allergic?”

“What if you're allergic?” whined the first orb. “What if you're allergic?”

“I'm not allergic to anything,” said Steve grimly.

Belladonna rolled her eyes. What was it with boys and always having to prove things? She wanted to say something else, something that would convince him to leave the stuff alone, but Burner had already slapped Steve on the back in approval, and she knew there was little she could say that would override a slap on the back from a real adventurer, let alone one who worked with actual honest-to-goodness dragons.

Burner smiled and opened his coat to reveal a sturdy leather belt with various tools hanging from it. He removed what looked like a small bone disk and pulled it apart so that it telescoped into a cup. Then he pried open the lid of one of the canisters, scooped out some of the contents into the cup, took a drink, and handed it to Steve. Belladonna peered over his shoulder.

“It looks sort of … pink,” she said.

“Yup,” said Burner. “That's the color it comes. Only take a sip, mind; it's powerful strong stuff.”

Steve stared into the cup, then turned to look at Belladonna. For a moment she thought he was going to back out.

“Dragon milk,” he whispered. “From actual dragons.”

“Go on, then,” said the first Emphot. “Or are you scared now it's come to it?”

“Of course it's scared. Half-thing, half-finished.”

Steve glared at the orbs, then raised the cup to his lips and gulped it all down.

“No!” Burner reached forward to stop him, but it was too late.

For a few moments, even with the undulation of the lift, it seemed as if time stood still. Burner pushed the lid back on the canister, the Emphots bobbled slightly in the air, the lights on the panel's buttons flickered by, and Belladonna stared at Steve—watching as his face went from its normal ruddy hue to white, then pink, then violently red.

“Gah!” he gasped, dropping the cup. “Hot! Hot!”

He staggered back into the rear wall of the lift, clutching at his throat. The crackling of the Emphots was almost deafening.

“Ow! What are you doing!?” Steve grasped his head and stared at the orbs as they moved toward him across the lift. “Aagh! Stop!”

Belladonna looked at Burner, her eyes wide with panic.

“What's happening?”

The dragon milker put his finger to his lips, then, just as the Emphots seemed to be close enough to Steve to touch him, he hit a button on the panel. The lift screeched to a halt with a sound like a dozen fingernails on as many blackboards. Belladonna and Steve stumbled against the back wall, but Burner stood, sure-footed, and pulled a long stick from his belt. The doors opened to reveal a vista of sun-splashed beaches and distant glistening water as he swung the stick once, then twice, hitting the orbs and sending them spinning out of the lift and across the sand. The Emphots wavered, slowed, then swung around and began flying back toward the lift, but Burner hit the button again and the doors slammed shut.

He twirled the stick happily and shoved it back into his belt.

“Nasty things. There's supposed to be a lock preventing the lift from opening on that world, but the wretched thing is always breaking.”

Belladonna looked at Steve. He didn't seem to be in quite so much pain, but he was still gasping. Burner reached into a pocket and produced a large teardrop-shaped green bottle. He picked up the cup, poured some clear liquid into it, swished it around, and spilled it out onto the marble floor of the lift. Then he filled the cup to the top and held it toward Steve.

“Here,” he said, “drink this. Sorry about the dragon milk, but I needed to distract them so we could get them out of here.”

“Wait.” Belladonna took the cup from his hands before Steve could grab it. “What's this? Is this poison too?”

“It's water,” said Burner, taking it off her and handing it to Steve, who eagerly gulped it down. “And the dragon milk isn't poison, it's just very … spicy.”

“More…” gasped Steve, holding out the cup.

“Drink it slowly,” said Burner. “And hold it in your mouth for a bit before you swallow.”