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Winston leads me through a series of rooms – all awash with locks – and out onto a large balcony overlooking the geographically impossible skyline. I can see the Sphinx, the Statue of Liberty, the Colosseum.
Winston smiles as I stop to study the scenery. “You’re impressed.”
“It’s amazing. How does it work?”
“This is a wrap zone,” he says. “The deviser visited places in the Born, encircled them with vines so that they became anchors, then linked them. It’s a very difficult undertaking. There have never been many zones like this one.”
“Did you ask for it to be built?”
“No. The zone was established by a queen who enjoyed a mix of the spheres, though I’ve had it updated — I think she would have liked that.”
My gaze moves from one world-famous landmark to another. It’s a sunny day and they’re all looking their finest, but as I’m admiring the great rock of Uluru in the Australian outback, I pause.
“How do day and night work? If it’s day in London, it must be night in Australia, yet...” I point to the clear blue sky.
“London’s the hub,” Winston explains. “It’s the centre of the zone, so everything is set to London time. Of course you can exit anywhere, so if you decided to visit Ayers Rock, you’d find yourself in the middle of an Australian night.”
“Cool,” I grin. “You could celebrate New Year’s Eve dozens of times on the same night, all around the world. How many others live in this zone?”
“None,” Winston says.
“You have it all to yourself?” I gasp. “With that view, I assumed this would be tourist central.”
Winston shrugs. “The Merged have little or no interest in the Born. I rarely pause to take in the view myself.”
“Then why do you live here?”
“Because it’s a forgotten zone and that suits my purposes. It makes it hard for my enemies to find me.”
I look at the nice old man. He’s smiling, but sadly.
“The SubMerged?” I ask quietly.
He nods. “I was one of the finest locksmiths of my time, but talent can be a curse as well as a blessing. I was forced to do the bidding of masters not of my choosing.” His fingers wander to his cheeks and he strokes old scars.
“Would they target me if I turned out to be a really good locksmith too?” I ask.
“Possibly,” Winston says, “if you develop the way I think you can.”
“Then it’d be better if I didn’t learn any more, wouldn’t it?”
Winston sniffs. “Safer? Certainly. Better? I’m not so sure. Is it better to live a life of limits, defined by fear? Having been hurt, I retreated to this oasis. I live in isolation, cut off from those I care about. I’m safe, yes, but happy?”
Winston’s face crinkles into a sea of wrinkles and I worry for a moment that he’s going to cry.
“Why don’t you go back?” I whisper.
His fingers return to his cheeks and his eyes widen with the memory of ancient pain. “There’s only so much you can take. I was betrayed by a boy I thought of as a son. The thought of suffering as I’ve suffered before...”
His arms tremble and he lowers them. Stooping, he picks up a lock – there are even some out here, strewn across the balcony – and fiddles with it, concentrating until he forgets the torments of the past.
“I’m a weak, foolish old man,” he says, smiling apologetically.
“No,” I protest.
“Yes,” he chuckles, “but there’s nothing wrong with being weak and foolish near the end of your days.” His smile fades. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself.”
There’s a long silence. I focus on the sights, feeling awkward.
Winston finally puts the lock on the floor and clears his throat. “I’ve wasted enough of your time,” he says. “If you follow that vine down to street level, you’ll find yourself at the base of the clock tower. The borehole is always open from this side. There’s a lock as you approach it from the Born, but you’ll have no problem picking it if you choose to return.”
“Thanks,” I say, then start towards the vine, not saying goodbye, wanting to act the way the Merged do.
“Archie,” Winston stops me and I glance back. He starts to say something, then shakes his head and waves me on.
“Archie,” he stops me again. This time, when I look back, his face is firm. “I won’t be able to meet with Inez.”
I frown and retrace my steps. “You’re not going to the pineapple island?”
He groans. “The thought of facing my foes again, running the risk of capture, of being tortured...”
“But Inez needs you,” I tell him. “I’m not sure what it’s all about, but she risked her life to come here.”
“I know,” he says miserably, “but I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“OK,” I sigh, “but what will happen to Inez?”
“She’ll have to look for help elsewhere,” he says. “I don’t think she’ll resent me. She knows I’m reluctant to get involved in affairs of this nature. If the situation hadn’t been so grave, she wouldn’t have attempted to make contact.”
“How bad is the situation?” I ask.
Winston looks at me sadly. “The lives of millions of people hang in the balance. An entire realm is at risk.”
“Of falling?” I cry.
“No,” he says. “Of slavery and brutality.”
I frown uncertainly. “What do you mean?”
Winston shakes his head. “It’s not my place to tell you. I probably shouldn’t tell you this either, but I can see that you’re fond of Inez.”
“I don’t know about fond,” I mumble, blushing.
Winston laughs, but it’s a short laugh, and he’s deadly serious when he speaks again. “You could help her.”
“Me?” I bleat.
“There’s a special lock she’s going to need assistance with,” he continues, “and I’m confident that you can pick it when the time comes. You’re not ready for it now, but if you stick with her...”
I stare at Winston, my heart beating faster than normal.
“My foster parents,” I wheeze.
“I know,” he says.
“How long would it be?”
“A few weeks, maybe longer.”
“Couldn’t I go home, spend some time there, then come back?”
“No,” he says. “If you returned home, your carers would surely keep a close eye on you for a very long time. I doubt you’d be able to sneak away again any time soon. You’d have to go to her now, and stay with her until the end of her mission.”
“I can’t be away from home that long,” I croak.
“I understand,” Winston says. “It would be a terrible thing to put your family through. And you might not make it back at all. Nobody will blame you if you go home. You’re not one of us. Your place is there, not here.”
“But loads of people will suffer,” I moan.
“They might suffer no matter what,” he says.
“But they’ll have a better chance if I team up with Inez?”
He nods reluctantly.
“Even though I’ve no idea what I’m supposed to do?” I press.
A smile flickers across his face. “Sometimes the people best equipped to change a world are those who have no idea what they’re doing.”
I stare at Winston’s ancient, wrinkled, scarred face. “I don’t have time to think about this, do I?”
“No,” he says.
“You’re asking a lot of me.”
“Too much,” he agrees.
“Why should I do it, for people I know nothing about?”
“I can’t answer that,” he says.
But to my surprise, I can. My foster brother has popped into my thoughts. I’m remembering the day we lost him, thinking about where he might be now, and without fully understanding my reasoning, I know I have to do this, not so much for my sake, but for Dave’s.
I take a deep breath and say, “Show me how to get to the island of pineapples.”
And the expression on Winston’s face when I volunteer is a mixture of great pride and joy, mingled with immense pity and terror.