The palace of glass, p.5
The Palace of Glass, page 5
“No!” the thing said again. “Leave him alone, Reader!”
CHAPTER SIX
FLICKER
ALICE PULLED UP SHORT and called on the devilfish for more light. The dust was clearing, giving her a better look at the person standing opposite her.
He was slim and pale-skinned, wearing only a pair of ragged shorts. Though he had long hair and fine, androgynous features, Alice decided she thought he was a boy. If he’d been human, she would have guessed he was close to her own age. His eyes shone a deep red from within, but it was the brilliance of his hair that held her attention.
To say that it glowed wasn’t doing it justice. It shone like liquid fire. It wasn’t a solid red, but a shifting mass of color, crimson and orange and yellow, swirling and flickering around one another in a never-ending dance. It lit up the tunnel just as real fire would have, the light rising and falling, clashing with the cold green glow of the devilfish.
He was breathing hard, letting out little puffs of steam, and his hands were tight on the shaft of his shaking spear.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. He ought to be able to understand her. Geryon had explained that the magic of Readers allowed them to communicate with practically anything.
“You were hurting Ishi.” The spear-point wavered a little.
“Ishi? That’s your . . . pet?” Alice said. The boy—a fire-sprite, surely—nodded. “It attacked me. I didn’t mean to hurt it.”
“He . . . didn’t know it was you.” The spear dropped a fraction. “You’re not supposed to be up here. No one is. When we heard something moving around, we thought . . .”
The fire-sprite chewed his lower lip, trying to look down at the dog-thing and up at Alice at the same time. Alice let her hands fall.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she repeated. “Why don’t you put the spear down and see if Ishi is all right?”
With one last, suspicious glance at Alice, the boy turned away, kneeling beside the dog-thing. The tough, rocky creature was already on its feet, and the fire-sprite patted its two heads. Alice went to retrieve her boots, which were lying where she’d changed into the Swarm. The flames had singed them a little, but she was pleased to see they were mostly intact. The same could not be said for her pack, which had torn open in the fall and spilled food everywhere. She managed to tie it all up again with a few more knots and gathered everything that hadn’t been ruined.
When she turned back to the fire-sprite, the boy was on his feet again, staring at Alice but not actually pointing his spear at her. She supposed that counted as an improvement.
“Ishi’s all right,” he said, “luckily for you.”
“I’m glad I didn’t hurt him,” Alice said. “I’m Alice. What’s your name?”
“Flicker.” The boy peered at her. “You’re not the Reader who usually comes, are you? Geryon.”
Alice couldn’t see how anyone could think that she and Geryon were the least bit similar, but she let this pass. “No. I’m his apprentice.”
“Oh.” Flicker’s expression darkened again. “You should have sent a message ahead. Nobody ever comes up here anymore. You could’ve gotten lost.”
“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I’m glad I ran into you, then.”
“I’m not,” Flicker said, and sighed. “With all this noise, there’s no chance of catching the bluechill now. I had better take you back to see Pyros. Come on.”
Flicker led her at a quick pace, padding barefoot through the cold, rocky tunnels. However much Flicker’s hair looked like fire, it certainly didn’t shed any warmth. Ishi stayed by his side, keeping well away from Alice, which felt a bit unfair. He attacked me first, after all. They entered an area where the passages showed definite signs of being adapted for habitation—the curved floors had been flattened, and there were arched doorways leading to chambers on either side. It all looked disused, though, and a thick layer of black dust covered everything. Here and there rocks had fallen from the ceiling and lay scattered on the floor. Every passage sloped down, as though they were descending into the heart of the world.
Her guide seemed determined to be uncommunicative. He directed her with grunts and gestures, as though he begrudged every word. If she was going to secure the fire-sprites’ help, Alice decided, it was up to her to begin the conversation.
“Ishi is your pet?” she asked again.
Flicker looked over his shoulder, his expression pained. Since he’d decided she wasn’t about to attack him, a kind of arrogant disdain had replaced his fear, as though he could hardly be bothered to talk to her. Alice could have understood a little irritation—after all, she was the intruder here—but this seemed uncalled for. He could at least be polite.
“He’s my friend,” the fire-sprite said, after a pause long enough to be insulting. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Alice wanted to argue but decided to let it pass. Instead she said, “If this area is abandoned, what were the two of you doing here?”
“Tracking the bluechill.” He slammed the butt of his spear on the ground irritably. “We would have found it too, if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”
“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I expect you’ll get another chance to catch it.”
Flicker pulled up short and rounded on her, his red eyes blazing a bright hue. Yellow streaks flickered and danced in his mesmerizing, ever-shifting hair, as if responding to his emotions. His voice had a strange undertone, a crackling like the roar of a distant fire.
“The bluechill is a monster,” he said. “It killed three people last night and hurt a lot more. I expect I’ll get another chance to catch it, yes, the next time it gets hungry. Assuming it doesn’t pick me for dinner.”
Ishi growled, picking up on Flicker’s mood.
“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “I didn’t know—”
“Why should you?” Flicker snapped. “You’re a Reader. You’re just here to collect your precious tribute.”
“I’m not—”
But the fire-sprite had already turned away, stomping around a corner with the dog-thing at his heels. Alice followed hurriedly, and they entered another long, downward-sloping corridor. The air grew perceptibly warmer as they went along, and at the far end a metal door was set into the rock. Another fire-sprite, tall and broad-shouldered, stood beside it with a black spear in his hand.
“I lost the bluechill,” Flicker said, by way of introduction. “But I found the Reader. Pyros will want to see her.”
“He wants to see you too,” the guard said, staring openly at Alice.
Flicker muttered something under his breath, a sound like the sharp pop of a log on the hearth. “Come on, then, Reader. This way.”
“My name is Alice,” said Alice. “Not Reader.”
Flicker didn’t respond, and the guard dragged the door open with a creaking of old hinges. Alice followed the boy through, into the village of the fire-sprites.
While she’d encountered any number of beasts and monsters in her travels through the library and its books, Alice hadn’t met many intelligent magical creatures, and hadn’t had much opportunity to see the way they lived. There had been the needle-elves who’d nearly devoured her and Isaac, but she’d been too focused on getting herself out alive to really pay much attention.
Here, she felt like a tourist, wandering through a strange country and gawking at the native customs. The arched doorways here were covered by cloth or beaded curtains, and stone and glass tools were stacked neatly in corners. Confections of black glass hung from the walls, teased out into thin strings and elaborately interwoven and braided. They were beautiful, especially in the shifting light from Flicker’s hair. Alice wasn’t sure if they were decorative or had some more practical function.
Fire-sprites were everywhere, in the corridor or visible through doorways. Most were larger than Flicker, the size of human adults, and though they all had the same long, liquid-fire hair, Alice did not see any women among them. I wonder if they live separately. She’d heard of places on Earth where things were done that way.
There were children too, running and playing in a way that was not too dissimilar from human children, although once or twice Alice saw them kicking around tiny balls of fire as humans might toss a beanbag. They stopped their games as soon as they saw Alice and stared in wonder. The adults watched her too, but there was less awe and more anger in their glowing eyes. She could understand the curiosity—after all, with her leather coat and her dull, flame-less hair, she was probably just as odd to them as they were to her—but she wondered about the rage. She thought about asking Flicker, but before she got the chance, a little fire-sprite emerged from a doorway and wrapped him in a hug.
“Flicker! Are you okay?”
Flicker hugged the newcomer back and ran a hand through his hair affectionately. “I’m all right.”
“I was so worried.” The other fire-sprite pulled away slightly. He was shorter and thinner than Flicker, with a blue tint to his hair at the edges. “Pyros was very angry with you.”
“I’ll handle Pyros.”
“Did you find the bluechill?” the smaller sprite said excitedly. “Did you kill it?”
Flicker shook his head. “I ran into this instead.” He hooked a thumb at Alice. “I need to take her to Pyros.”
The fire-sprite looked at Alice and blinked in confusion. “The Reader?”
“It’s not the same one,” Flicker said. “The old one was taller, and had hair on his face, remember?”
“This one must be a runt, then.” The smaller sprite came up close, goggle-eyed, like someone peering into an aquarium.
“Actinia!” Flicker barked. “Stay out of her way.”
“It’s all right,” Alice said. “My name is Alice. It’s good to meet you.” She offered her hand to shake.
Actinia gave a squeak like a teakettle and jumped backward. Then, hesitantly, he mimicked her gesture. Flicker’s hand shot out and caught his wrist before they touched.
“Remember what your spark told you about Readers,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Where can I find Pyros?”
“In the banquet hall,” Actinia said, tearing his eyes away from Alice. “With the people who were hurt this morning.”
“Then we’d better not keep him waiting.” Flicker jerked his head to indicate Alice should follow. “Come on.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she said as they left Actinia behind and passed through a beaded curtain.
“He’s too curious for his own good,” Flicker muttered. “In here.”
A short corridor passed through another curtain and opened up into a high-vaulted cavern taller than any of the tunnels they’d come through. Huge slabs of polished rock were set out in rows, like tables for a feast, and smaller boulders might have served as chairs. A hundred fire-sprites could have dined there comfortably, but now there were only half a dozen, clustered around the tables nearest the door.
On those tables, Alice saw, a number of other fire-sprites were laid out. Smoke rose from them, little trails from their mouths and larger plumes from other places on their bodies. The closest one was missing his arm above the elbow, and smoke gushed from where it ought to have been.
They’re bleeding, Alice realized, with a sudden sick feeling in her stomach. Her throat went thick.
“Pyros!” Flicker said.
The fire-sprites on their feet were gathered around one slab, their backs to Alice. One sprite, thin and frail compared to the rest, pointed a finger and said, “Try it again!”
Another one did something that produced a flare of orange light. The smoke stopped for a moment, then redoubled, accompanied by a fierce hiss like a bucket dumped on hot coals.
“Stop,” the thin sprite said. “It’s no good. He is with the Heartfire now.”
All the sprites murmured something Alice couldn’t catch, including Flicker. She saw him make an intricate gesture above his bare chest, ending with his fist against his heart.
“Pyros,” Flicker said, more subdued now but still insistent.
The thin fire-sprite looked up. His hair, even longer than the others’, wavered between a snowy white and ash gray, with only a small corona of bright flame reaching down to his ears. His face didn’t have the lines a human’s would, but something about the set of his dull red eyes gave Alice the impression of immense age.
“Flicker,” the old sprite said with a sigh of relief like the creak of a forge bellows. “You’re all right. And—” His eyes found Alice, and he ducked his head in a half bow, long white hair falling around him like a curtain. “Reader. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
The other sprites turned to her at this, naked hostility on their faces. One by one, they bent as Pyros had, but Alice felt herself shrinking under the glare of all those red eyes.
“It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to do that.”
“She’s not the same one as last time,” Flicker said. “She’s a kindling of his, or something—”
“An apprentice,” Pyros said, straightening to look Alice over. “Bitumen, can you see to Glare’s arm? I must have words with the Reader in private, and I fear I am near exhaustion in any case.”
He looked at the largest of the other sprites, standing close behind his shoulder. After a moment, the big man grunted, and Pyros gestured toward another curtained doorway leading off from the big room.
“If you would, Reader?” Pyros’ eyes found Flicker, who had begun to edge to the rear. “And Flicker, I would appreciate it if you would join us.”
Without waiting for an answer, the old man turned away. Flicker slunk after him, shoulders hunched. Alice followed. She couldn’t help but glance at the table they’d all been gathered around, steeling herself for the sight of something gruesome, but there was nothing there but a pile of flaky gray ash.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AN OFFER OF AID
PYROS LED THEM TO a room with a few stone chairs and two of the elaborate glass sculptures. There were also a great many long stone cylinders, about as thick as Alice’s arm, leaning in bundles against the walls or stacked in the corners. They were covered in intricate inscriptions, and Alice wondered if they served the fire-sprites in place of books. She hadn’t seen any paper since she’d gotten here, or indeed anything that might have come from a plant; everything the sprites used for clothing or furnishing was made from leather, glass, or stone.
As soon as the beaded curtain had fallen closed behind them, Pyros spun on his heel, looking furious. Alice grabbed the Swarm thread at once, ready to defend herself, but the old man was advancing on Flicker, one bony hand coming up to slap the boy hard across the face. Flicker’s hair pulsed a wild blue-white for a moment.
“You have been accused of many things,” Pyros said, “but never, until now, of being an utter fool. What were you thinking?”
“That we have a better chance of finding the bluechill if someone looks for it,” Flicker spat back. The impression of Pyros’ hand was livid on his cheek. “That I’d rather do something than cower and hide.”
“And what were you planning to do if you found it?”
“I had Ishi with me,” Flicker said, sullen defiance in his voice. “And my spear.”
“A hound and a boy with a spear against a monster out of legend,” Pyros said. “I’m sure that would have been a fight to remember.”
“Then I’d be dead,” Flicker said. “So what? At this rate, we’ll all be dead sooner or later. Better than just waiting here.” His eyes, glowing bright, went to Alice. “Better than running to the Readers for help.”
Pyros slashed a hand in the air. “Enough. Be silent.” He turned to Alice. “I am sorry for that. Flicker is young, and like all youth, inclined to foolishness.”
“It’s all right,” Alice said. “If he hadn’t been there, I’d have had a hard time finding my way here.”
She left out the part where Ishi had attacked her. Flicker watched her, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what sort of game she was playing.
“A happy accident, then,” Pyros said. “For both of you.”
He turned and walked to one of the stone seats, limping a little, and waved Alice to another. She sat, shifting uncomfortably on the hard, cold rock.
“I am afraid I don’t have much to offer in terms of hospitality,” Pyros said. “In the past, Readers have told me that our food and drink does not agree with them. But I hope I can make you feel welcome here, nonetheless. We are honored to receive an apprentice of the great Master Geryon.”
“Thank you,” Alice said.
“And we are deeply grateful that he is willing to aid us in our time of need.” Pyros bent his head again. “Please tell your master we appreciate his acting so quickly on our request.”
Need? Alice thought quickly. Ending hadn’t said anything about a request. But better for everyone if they think I’m here on Geryon’s business.
“Yes,” she said, making things up as she went along. “The master appreciates your . . . your loyalty. I am here to help you however I can.” She hesitated, then added, “Afterward, there may be some small matters in which you can help me, as well.”
“Of course,” Pyros said. “Anything we can do.”
“What?” Flicker said, breaking his silence. “You can’t mean that. You know what she wants. The agreement—”
“I said enough,” Pyros spat, and bowed again toward Alice. “My apologies. We are grateful, I assure you.”
“What exactly is the problem?” Alice said. “Flicker said something about a monster.”
“A bluechill,” Pyros said. “A terror my people thought we had left behind long ago, when we first came to this world. It must have come through the wild gate.”
