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They reached Midway riding in their makeshift carriage designed by Cosmo and built by Ulysses. Fortunately for them, Lalea’s inhabitants were expert carpenters who knew more than anyone beyond this world about working with wood. The material seemed to bend to their will, forming the shape they desired before they had even begun to saw and put it together.
It was the first vehicle to have ever circulated on Lalea. Aidan had chosen the far back seat so he could be the first to jump off if the horses reared up. Albin sat in the front seat beside Ulysses, and the rest of them took the middle seats. Finlay jumped from seat to seat testing to see if each spot on this new mode of transportation felt the same.
They saw Midway long before reaching it. From afar, the town was hard to miss because of its bright light. The water circling the city reflected multiples of suns shining stronger than ever. A light breeze, as if arriving on call to cool down the burning heat of the suns, carried with it all the odors of the city. The air was filled with dozens of smells: the sweet bitterness of cut grass, the euphoria of southern spices, the tingling of mint, and the mellowness of almonds. Odors drifted from the dusty, trampled roads exposed to the festive suns, the bestiality of sweat from human hide, and the delicacy of silks. The travelers were even more spellbound as they got closer, inhaling the aroma of juicy meats slowly roasting on a spit fork, an aroma that was all the more startling in a world of vegetarians by necessity. Even the exchanges of shouting and laughter had a scent of heated stones and games with balls, a fragrance that was both spicy and soft.
Melodious strains floated from the town, the warm cacophony of a promising morning. Voices of women calling out to each other at the fountain, screams and laughter of children chasing each other in the street, yelling of merchants trying to attract their first customers. No chirping of birds, no barking, just the bellowing of the impressive cow-fish swishing idly in the river that ringed the town. No feet, but horns, and a face with veiled eyes. They were incapable of seeing the nets waiting for them near the bridge or the fishermen approaching when they had run out of their meat.
Midway was the only town with animals, and their horns and scales became precious souvenirs for tourists and gifts for cousins who couldn’t make it to the fair.
They passed by families walking on the road, generating astonishment with every stride. Children pointed at them, mouths agape, and their parents’ reactions were almost the same. The first vehicle, the first carriage, and for most of them, the first horses. Those who weren’t standing stock still, not believing their eyes or too frightened to move, quickly grabbed their children who had their hands out to touch the carriage and horses. Not knowing what evil spell this carriage might hold, they preferred to keep their distance.
They were gripped with curiosity when they caught sight of Albin and his friends who were acting nonchalant though inwardly rejoicing.
They reached the bridge, which was guarded by not quite a man, a teen grown up and newly promoted. Scarcely older than they were, he was intensely proud of his green uniform, which suited his red-headed complexion, and of his horn that he blew with joy early every morning. His mother was no less proud, and the salt of her dried tears rimmed his shoulders. The welcoming of visitors was considered an important job by all the young people in Midway. It had always been bestowed on the student who showed the most promise during the final year of school. Year after year he had worked so hard to finally have the honor of pronouncing the key phrase: “Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Midway. Prepare yourselves to be amazed in every way. Enjoy the fair.” The last sentence had been his own touch. He probably wouldn’t have added it if he’d known how many times he’d have to repeat it.
All his preparation did him no service when he saw Ulysses’ chariot approach him. Ulysses remained still in front of the young man who was incapable of reacting or ceding the way. The city gates, symbols of welcome, were just wide enough for them to get through. They were making their way through when the fiery leprechaun stopped them—he had almost forgotten to pronounce his ritual greeting. Pale-faced, he babbled at Ulysses and avoided acknowledging anything unusual about the scene. He seemed slightly assuaged after hearing Ulysses thank him.
The town looked exactly how they had imagined it. Children chasing after each other barely missed running into the horses’ hooves, merchants hiccupped and then returned to their sales pitches, and the crowd continued to grow behind them. The six travelers hopped down from the carriage—they were in a hurry to get to wherever they needed to go. They said their farewells as they parted ways with Ulysses. Albin gave a silent goodbye to the horses, which were beginning to get nervous, though they remained calm while Albin was still in sight.
Before they could lose their way in the city, the Duc emerged out of nowhere.
“The Duc has found you again. He saw you near some strange creatures; you could have shown a bit more discretion. The Duc will now lead you to the Master. You must follow him and remain silent. The Duc would appreciate it if no one notices you.”
So they obeyed the little man who crept past bystanders who moved out of his way, acting like they hadn’t seen him, yet flaring their nostrils. It seemed he wasn’t very well liked in this corner of the world. They didn’t have time to give it much thought because they were so busy trying not to lose him in the heart of the unknown city. Without slowing their pace, they had soon left the wide streets and were weaving their way through dark, narrow alleys. As they slipped farther away from the city center, structures rose progressively taller to the point of reaching the height of a four-story building. The sunlight seemed to have difficulty making its way between the walls, as if not used to their stature. A stream of brackish water flowed down the alleyway, and the shadows seemed to grow thicker. Right before reaching Scarface’s abode, they saw some haggard shapes moving that appeared to be hunchbacked men wearing rags. The Duc gave them a signal, and they stepped aside, but not before Albin glimpsed feverish expressions as they turned away and blended into the gray walls.
He didn’t linger too long on the somber feeling they had given him because they were finally reaching the inner sanctum of their quest. The building sat atop a small hill ringed by the same waters that flowed along the neighboring alleys. To the eye, the glistening waters alternated between purple and a blood-stained red. The ebony fortress reflected no sunlight and gave the impression of being made of one massive piece of wood. No arrow slits disfigured the surface of the walls. Four taciturn guards surveyed them as they crossed the bridge and didn’t look away until the Duc faced them. Albin could feel their stares shoot through his back until the heavy door closed behind them without making a sound.
More guards were gathered at the entrance, quietly curious just like the others. The Duc practically shoved them into an octagonal room, seeming more and more nervous, even uncomfortable. It was obvious he didn’t want stick around, almost begging them to wait there for Scarface.
The room was an eight-sided black box made with boards so tightly joined as to be inseparable. The door behind them blended seamlessly into the wall. There weren’t even any handles to delineate it from the partitions around it. The only pieces of furniture were a big desk made out of the same wood and a deep armchair made of crackled leather. The only illumination came from wall torches that cast a hot and undulating light throughout the space.
Cosmo was walking toward the desk to get a closer look at it when he heard a voice call out to them.
“Hello, my young friends. I am happy, so very happy that you made this long journey to see me. I hope it wasn’t too unpleasant.”
Scarface, having silently entered the room, shook each person’s hand while staring straight into their eyes. He looked like they’d imagined him, yet not exactly. He was tall, that was for sure, but was now wearing his hair short. They felt a powerful force emanating from him. The dry hands they shook were covered in crudely sewn, black leather mittens. The thick threads, almost bristles, crisscrossed the skin. Fists that made them uncomfortable. He was also wearing white clothes, but they weren’t his size, which made him look disheveled. Above all, no one felt what they had been expecting from this meeting, a sense of warmth and trust.
He went to sit down, his lips forming a smile that never reached his eyes. He continued watching them, and as the silence dragged on, Albin felt the smile turn predatory. He ventured a glance at his friends to gauge their reactions. Aidan seemed to be in a wait and see mode, Sara was smiling back at Scarface, and Arthur and Titiana seemed to be elsewhere. Only Cosmo was also closely watching Scarface, studying him like he was a new species. Sensing they had little time to spare, Albin decided to say something.
“Sir, um, sir. It’s probably time to explain why we came to see you. Because, um, we don’t know how much time is left.”
Scarface’s smile grew wider, and finally his eyes showed amusement.
“Don’t worry about that. This room is sealed. Time can’t reach it. You’ll stay here as long as we wish.”
“And so we’re not in any hurry?”
“Don’t worry, I’m in charge of everything. Here, I’m the one who decides. Everything.”
They didn’t like how he repeated himself. Particularly Cosmo who was falling back into his old habits, forgotten since almost the beginning of their travels. He was going to show he was smarter.
“Since we have time to talk, may I ask you a couple of little questions?”
“Of course you may. Go right ahead.”
“There aren’t any animals on Lalea. We’ve traveled many miles, and the only ones we’ve seen were horses or these strange creatures around your castle. No one eats meat, except here. And reluctantly, if they do. I don’t think it’s because everyone is practicing an extreme form of vegetarianism. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
“No, carry on. I’m listening.”
“If there aren’t any animals...where did you get this leather?”
Albin flinched. It was an obvious question to ask, but he wondered if he really wanted to know the answer. Scarface’s smile grew even wider.
“Yes, it’s a beautiful armchair, isn’t it? And the most comfortable ever. I had it made especially for me. My former enemies made personal contributions to it. But they’re no longer here to tell the story, that’s for sure. No one else has ever sat on it. And that’s not about to change.”
As he was praising the qualities of his chair, bodyguards had entered the room, silent as shadows, and had grabbed ahold of them. Their grip was firm, seeming unlikely they would let go of them. The guards remained completely indifferent to their attempts to fight back. Having finished his short discourse, Scarface stood up slowly and stared at each one of them, gloating at his own wiliness. He was still smiling, but looking less friendly than a guillotine window.
When he walked towards Arthur, Finlay huddled under his shirt, curling into a tiny, warm and shivering ball against his stomach. He gripped Arthur so hard that his nails accidentally clawed him. Arthur hid the pain by frowning. He had a feeling Scarface wouldn’t be happy to find out about Finlay.
Scarface stopped in front of Titiana. He reached his hand towards her face as the guard held her firmly, thwarting her efforts to pull away when he turned her head to get a better look at the nape of her neck. Scarface rubbed his cold fingers along the birthmark at her hairline, a crescent moon, and then suddenly looked distracted. So much so that he missed seeing the flashes of hatred shooting from Titiana’s eyes when he turned to look at her again. By the time he had come to his senses, she had hidden the anger behind her usual timid expression.
Scarface began giving orders to his henchmen.
“Take the girl to the cage on the right wing. And dump the others somewhere on the left.”
Arthur’s reflex was less than helpful.
“But if you separate us, we can never return home.”
Scarface graced him with a smile, once again looking distracted as he rubbed a medallion he wore around his neck.
“Is that so? What a pity.”
And then he sat down at his desk and hummed, deaf to the yells and threats aimed at him as the guards led them away.
