THEY WERE COMING. JOSHUA COULD HARDLY DIGEST THE thought.
Somehow they’d found him, and Mr. Meister too.
The Altari were here.
But before Joshua could even think what it might mean, sudden music filled the chamber—the wavering strains of a flute, sweet and somehow cunning, playing a tune that was not a tune. The notes seemed to reach for Joshua, to enter not just his ears but his skin, his very flesh.
Ingrid stood by the doorway with Dr. Jericho, playing her white flute, sending the awful, beautiful music down the hallway and out in to the passageways beyond. Her Tan’ji gleamed in the darkness like a bone.
Ingrid’s music was a way of seeing, somehow—Joshua knew that much. If anyone was within earshot of the flute’s tune, Ingrid would know they were there. But who was there? Joshua had never even seen an Altari, the mysterious beings who lived in Ka’hoka. They were the lost brothers of the Riven, and their sworn enemy, too. He now knew that the Altari, along with the Wardens, were fighting to let the Mothergates die. But he still didn’t understand why. Was April helping them? Did she know? What about Horace and Chloe? Were his friends here with the Altari now, attempting a rescue?
And if so, had they come for him, or for Mr. Meister?
Joshua caught his breath. The sharp-eyed Mordin had left his side, and was standing now with Ingrid and Dr. Jericho. Grooma was still gazing mutely at the ceiling, clearly shaken by the presence of the Altari somewhere above. Isabel, all but forgotten after Grooma’s weavings were interrupted, was a heaving lump of cloth and red hair, collapsed at the Dorvala’s feet.
And Mr. Meister was on the move.
The old man was taking advantage of the distraction, inching his way across the floor toward Joshua. The golem off to his left just sat there, a mindless pile of stone, Dr. Jericho’s attention elsewhere.
Ingrid dropped her flute. Her grasping song fell away. “Grooma’s right,” she told Dr. Jericho. “Altari—several of them, two levels up. And humans too. They know we’re here.” She hesitated, and then added, “Gabriel is with them.”
Dr. Jericho growled angrily. He barked something to the sharp-eyed Mordin, who nodded and galloped down the hallway after the others.
Mr. Meister kept creeping closer to Joshua, clutching his broken leg. His eyes were wide and wild now behind his glasses. He silently mouthed a single word at Joshua, his teeth glinting.
Open.
The Laithe. He wanted Joshua to open a portal. But there was no chance. The moment Joshua began to use the Laithe, steering the surface of the little globe down onto some safe place—Ka’hoka, maybe?—Dr. Jericho would sense it. Besides, the Altari were coming. He shook his head at Mr. Meister, hugging the Laithe, but the old man kept crawling toward him, nodding.
“They have warriors,” Ingrid was saying. “One has a bow, and another—”
“Ravana,” Dr. Jericho said. A name, apparently. He cocked his head at Ingrid. “How many did you say there were?”
“At least a dozen Altari.”
“No,” Dr. Jericho said. “Not a dozen. Far from it. Young Dailen is here, I’m sure of it. And he is only one, at the end of the day.”
Suddenly Joshua heard the sounds of distant battle. The Ravids screeching. grunts and shouts. A steady twang like a great string being plucked, and now a scream.
Dr. Jericho laughed. “The Ravids have found them.”
Ravids. The hissing, screeching little monsters. The Wardens had barely managed to escape from them in the Warren.
Mr. Meister was just twenty feet away now. Close enough so that if Joshua opened a portal, the old man might be able to reach it and crawl through. But Joshua would have to be fast. Faster than he’d ever been.
He laid a hand on the meridian, the flat copper ring that encircled the Laithe. A silver slider straddled it, in the shape of a dozing rabbit. Once the globe was focused in on the exact location he chose, and the Laithe was torn loose, Joshua could make the rabbit run, letting the meridian spin beneath its feet, opening the portal wide. He looked down at the tiny earth in his hands, at North America and the Midwest, a swath of green brushed with imperceptibly drifting clouds. Ka’hoka was just there, near a kink in the bend of the Mississippi. Dr. Jericho was still talking to Ingrid. No one was watching. Maybe he could do it.
But did he want to?
The Mothergates were dying, and Mr. Meister was determined to see that they did. This secret, this truth, had been kept from them all. Maybe Dr. Jericho was right. Maybe whatever it was Grooma had tried to do to Isabel could fix the problem with the Mothergates, in ways the Wardens had never imagined.
Across the room, still oblivious to the creeping Mr. Meister, Dr. Jericho fished something out of his pocket. “Enough,” he said. Joshua saw a glint of crimson. It was another golm’ruun, the ring that controlled the golem. Dr. Jericho lifted his hand, and off to the right, in the darkest shadows of the broad chamber, the wall crumbled and then rose again. Joshua swallowed a gasp as a second golem peeled itself away from the stone, darkness come to life. It poured forth, splitting in two briefly as it rumbled past Grooma and Isabel, like a river around rocks. Dr. Jericho lifted his other hand, and the first golem reared up. The two moving mountains flanked him like faithful hounds.
“There will be no rescue today,” Dr. Jericho said.
Mr. Meister, watching, turned his eyes to Joshua once more, just ten feet away now. His face was full of horror. Now, he mouthed. Trust me.
On the instant, hardly knowing if it was right or wrong, Joshua let his eyes fall onto the Laithe. He slid the rabbit around the meridian, fast as it would go, not sure if he was even using his hands. He was the Keeper of the Laithe. As the rabbit slid, the surface of the globe seemed to spread like melting wax as the view changed. It zoomed in on Illinois, fast as a falling meteor. It was nighttime, of course, but on the Laithe it was never night. The Mississippi, on the west side of the state, grew from a thread to a ribbon to a fat snake in half a blink. The view flickered through a wisp of clouds and then the river was gone, over the western horizon. Down and down. The dots of trees became shrubs, and then Joshua was past them. A sea of green resolved into blades of grass, and he was there. A crooked stick lay in the meadow, close enough to touch. The rabbit had come full circle, back to where it had started. It sat alert now, ears erect, eyes wide and blazing blue, ready for the portal to be opened.
Dr. Jericho was already whirling toward him, bellowing. Mr. Meister lifted himself onto his hands, grimacing, his legs dragging. Joshua ignored them both. He tore the meridian free. The globe became a sphere of featureless yellow light in his hand. As he set the meridian in the air, where it hung like a picture frame, Joshua willed the rabbit atop it to run—fast, fast. Its feet became a blur, hurtling. It rode the meridian as the copper ring spun beneath it, and as it spun, it grew—no, it exploded—opening faster than it ever had before. It slammed fully open with a heavy thump, eight feet wide, and became a window. The green meadows of Ka’hoka lay beyond, dark and empty.
The very instant the portal was open, Mr. Meister clutched at it. His fingers passed through and he gripped the edge of the meridian. Dr. Jericho was sprinting toward them, howling, his sharp tiny teeth bared. The twin golems roared forth beside him.
“The truth,” Mr. Meister said to Joshua, and with a grunt he hoisted himself through the open portal. He rolled clumsily into the grass, two hundred and forty miles away, just as Dr. Jericho lunged forward and swiped at him with his huge sharp fingers, catching nothing but air.
Dr. Jericho straightened, heaving, glaring through the portal at the old man. The Mordin obviously wanted to go after him, but knew Joshua might trap him on the far side—or worse, slam the portal closed while he was passing through it. Joshua astonished himself, thinking these thoughts. But watching Dr. Jericho hesitate now gave him the strength to think them.
“Go ahead,” Joshua told him. “Leave this place. See if you can get back. I don’t know how those rings of yours work, but I’m pretty sure you can’t control the golems from across the state.”
As if in reply, the golems swirled around the little scene, becoming a massive stone tornado, surrounding Joshua and Dr. Jericho and the portal. The Mordin just stood there, seething. Through the portal, Mr. Meister lay gasping, looking blind. From the other side, Joshua knew—since Joshua and the Laithe were here and not there—the portal was just a hollow ring, the meridian hanging empty in the air, revealing nothing and leading nowhere. Joshua reached out with his thoughts, asking the blue-eyed rabbit to run back. It ran swiftly, the portal closing. The meadows of Ka’hoka winked out, replaced by the tumbling avalanche of shapes, until the meridian was back to its normal size, no bigger than a dinner plate.
Still Dr. Jericho didn’t move. The swirling golems ground slowly to a halt, looming all around them as if Joshua and the Mordin stood in the bottom of a dark well. Cautiously, Joshua reached out and plucked the meridian from the air. He looped it back over the yellow globe of the Laithe, and the blue-and-green living earth faded back into view.
Dr. Jericho reached out, striking like a snake. He grabbed Joshua by the throat, hauling him from the ground. The Laithe slipped from Joshua’s grip, left to hover bobbing at his side.
“The Altari,” Dr. Jericho growled. The stench of brimstone poured from his mouth. “How did they find us?”
Joshua grappled with the Mordin’s huge hand, choking. “I don’t know,” he gasped.
“Is it you? Were you left behind in the Warren on purpose—some kind of beacon the Wardens could track?”
Joshua’s vision began to dim. “No. I stayed on my own. I don’t know how they found you.”
And he didn’t.
“You heard the truth tonight,” Dr. Jericho snarled, pulling Joshua even closer, their noses practically touching. “You’ll die if the Mothergates are allowed to fail. The Taxonomer has been lying to you all. Why did you let him escape?”
And then Joshua saw a startling thing, deep in the Mordin’s dark eyes, on the edges of the black rage that burned there. It was in his voice too, Joshua realized. A shiver of something unsteady and unfamiliar.
Fear.
For all his taunting and raging, all his awful threats and sinister plans, Dr. Jericho, Ja’raka Sevlo, was afraid.
He didn’t want to die.
Joshua’s realization must have bled onto his face, because Dr. Jericho drew back angrily. Then the Mordin released him, practically tossing him aside. Joshua fell heavily to the floor, clutching at his throat.
Dr. Jericho clenched his fists, and the golems that surrounded them parted. In the room beyond, Ingrid and the sharp-eyed Mordin stood there watching, full of alarm. Past them, Isabel had risen onto her haunches, still trying to catch her breath. Grooma had wandered away from her, Aored glowing dimly in his chest, his blank eyes still on the chamber roof.
“They’re coming closer,” Ingrid called. “The Ravids—”
Dr. Jericho held up a hand, silencing her. Faintly, through the rattle of the golems, Joshua could hear the battle still raging. Coming closer. Something or someone roared furiously—an Altari? And then a familiar tearing sound, like a giant sheet of paper being torn in two.
The Humour of Obro. Gabriel was here.
“You heard the truth tonight, Joshua,” Dr. Jericho repeated, his voice low and full of sullen rage. “And here is another.”
He clasped his hands together. The golems to either side of him surged forward and became one, like two flocks of birds mingling into a single massive cloud, big as a building. The huge new mass began to ripple and heave, assuming the loose shapes of predatory beasts, shifting swiftly from one colossal form to another, suggestive but never explicit—a shape like a tiger, a dragon, a wolf, a raptor—pulsing and rippling with power. Each one seemed to seethe with the desire to crush and kill.
Dr. Jericho looked back at Joshua. “You live because we need you. I freely admit it. But the so-called friends who come for you now?” He smiled his savage smile and spoke slowly, seeming to taste each wicked word as it left his mouth. “Them I do not need.”