CHAPTER 14

A few minutes later, Marin returned to the parlor, standing alongside her mother and Kana, waiting for Anton to finish up. They were all dressed in their seafaring clothing: wool caps, cloaks, waxed canvas pants, and knee-high boots. Finally, they heard Anton’s voice coming from the foyer. “The okrana just ordered us to the loading area.” There was a long pause. “I’ve been told to say that anybody who refuses will be dragged out.”

“Is that a joke?” asked Kana.

“No,” said their father as he appeared in the parlor. “Everyone is getting cranky. But don’t worry. This happens every time we leave the island.” Anton grabbed a candle from the windowsill and handed it to Marin. They exchanged glances, and a hint of irritation lingered in his eyes. “No confirmation on Line yet,” he said. “I’m guessing he’s down at the staging area.”

Marin nodded.

Together they walked outside and stood in front of the darkened house. Two members of the okrana were waiting solemnly for them. They were both old—not as old as Palan, but from his generation. They each held high a blazing wick torch. Rivulets of sweat rolled down their faces, and they were trembling slightly.

“This is a new beginning for us,” said Tarae as she put her arms around Marin and Kana, drawing them tightly to her. “The Desert Lands are waiting.” The happiness in her voice was unmistakable. Neither Marin nor Kana replied.

“Remember the front door,” said one of the okrana.

“Of course,” said Anton. And very carefully, he closed the door so that it remained open just a crack.

The okrana helped them pile their luggage onto a small, rickety handcart. And then, together, with Anton pushing the handcart, they walked through the shadows—westward, toward the cliffs. Kana and Tarae brought up the rear. Tarae was walking slowly—she had a nagging fear of tripping in the dark—and Kana guided her gently, draping an arm across her back.

“You know, the Night is beautiful in the desert,” said Tarae. “The sky is clearer there and the stars are more numerous.” She smiled at Kana and ran a hand through his hair.

Kana said nothing. Three days of sunlight and three days of darkness. For Kana, this meant three days of vision and three of blindness. His mother had been fretting about this lately, as if she were personally responsible for the habits of the sun.

“Don’t worry, Mother—it’ll be fine,” Kana said. “It’ll be easier than the years of daylight that I had here.”

“I know you’ll miss all this,” said Tarae, gesturing vaguely toward the darkness around them. “But I think a change of scenery might be good for you . . . you’ll sleep better once we’re off the island,” said Tarae with an air of certainty.

“Really? Why is that?” He sounded unconvinced. His mother was trying her best to tiptoe around his feelings, but somehow this extreme tactfulness made it worse.

She glanced at him sideways. “Just call it a mother’s intuition.”

Several minutes later, they arrived at the cliffs. The area was always busy with people coming to and from boats, but today it was crowded with people, boxes, suitcases, sacks of flour, rolls of fishing nets, caged chickens, and other supplies of all kinds and quantities. Children ran wildly, caught up in the excitement of the moment, and dogs chased them. The noises—shouting, crying, talking, barking—were overwhelming.

Only the faintest pinprick of orange remained in the western sky. Marin walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Several men were descending to the pier via a spiderweb of ropes secured to the cliff face. Nearby, a series of makeshift wooden cranes had begun lowering loads of crates. Down below, several dozen ships with bright yellow sails were moored along Bliss’s docks.

“LOOK FOR YOUR FLAGS!” yelled a burly, gray-haired okrana. He wore a leather vest and the dark green clothing of a woodcutter. He spoke through a large, cone-shaped speaking trumpet. “CALMLY WALK TO YOUR FLAGS!”

“Which way is Glimmer Glen?” a woman called out, her long white hair escaping in strings from her shawl. She was cradling a suitcase to her chest.

“ALL THE WAY AT THE END,” boomed the man through his speaking trumpet.

Cloth banners were tied to the end of slender flagpoles, which were stuck in the ground at regular intervals throughout the staging area. Next to each pole stood an okrana with a bound codex in hand.

“Where’s our flag?” asked Kana.

“Night Fire is down this way,” replied their father, pointing to a distant blue flag with two red swirling lines. “They always put it down there.”

Where is Line? Marin looked around anxiously for any sign of him, or of the okrana who had been searching for him. “Excuse me,” said Marin, tapping a gray-haired okrana on the shoulder. “Have they found Line—the boy who went missing?” The man just stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign tongue. It was maddening. If Line’s parents were alive, they would be raising hell.

She grabbed her father’s arm. “I don’t see Line—I’m going to go look around.”

“No,” replied Anton firmly. “Wait until we get to the flag, and then we’ll make inquiries.”

It took several more minutes before Marin and her family arrived at the grassy knoll where their flag was fluttering. Standing rigidly next to the flagpole was one of the okrana’s youngest members, a thin teenage boy with kinky black hair and crooked teeth. The boy nodded at Marin’s parents solemnly, then opened up his codex and began flipping through pages of vellum until he found what he was looking for.

“Four of you?” asked the boy. He frowned. “It says here there are three.”

“No—it’s four,” their mother quickly replied. She glared at the young okrana boy.

“Shadow House?”

“Of course,” she replied, glancing at Anton. They exchanged a look that Marin found hard to decipher. Fear, anger, annoyance, fatigue, sixteen years of marriage—perhaps all of it at once.

“That’s your luggage?” asked the boy. He frowned again.

“Yes.”

The boy paused. “You may have to leave some behind.”

“Why?”

“I have no further information—these are my instructions. Please be patient,” he replied. The words coming from his mouth sounded dutifully rehearsed.

Their neighbors, young parents with a sleeping baby, approached the knoll, and the young okrana turned to them. Marin’s mother moved several feet away and collapsed to the ground with an exhausted sigh. She called to Marin and Kana but was interrupted by the sound of shouting.

“They’re coming!” someone yelled. “The furriers have climbed up from the cliffs.”

Similar shouts rang out along the cliffs.

“Stand up!” hollered the teenage okrana who stood by their flag. “On your feet now!”