One Realm Beyond (44 page)

Cantor watched over his shoulder as he and Feymare joined Bixby and Dukmee. Bridger whispered something to the cat and put her down. Jesha leapt onto a passing cart.

“Stop!” yelled Bridger. “You have my cat.”

He ran to the man leading a donkey. Bridger grabbed the man and forced him to stop.

He pointed to the cart. “My cat!”

“Well, get your cat.”

Bridger scurried to the side of the cart, but just as he reached for Jesha, she jumped to a man passing the other way. The man screeched and tried to knock the cat off his shoulder. Bridger had raced to intercept Jesha, but she bounced back to the cart and then onto one of the struts that held up a side of the bridge.

Another traveler bent and tried to catch the cat for Bridger. She scratched him, jumped to the side railing of the bridge,
sprang from there onto the man’s back, and then launched herself onto another, larger conveyance. Several people joined in the attempt to corner the cat. Bridger couldn’t reach the vehicle’s roof where Jesha perched. She looked calm, but the end of her tail crooked and straightened in subdued excitement.

A small boy clambered up the side of the carriage and tried to creep up behind her. Waiting until right before the boy pounced, Jesha cleared the space between vehicles and boarded a wagon headed the other direction.

Jesha had landed on a small cart overloaded with round fruit. Apples, oranges, and melons tumbled down and hit the bridge with force. The avalanche picked up speed and fruit bounced in all directions. Jesha continued bounding hither and yon, Bridger continued following, and more citizens joined in the chase.

Cantor chortled at his last sight of the keep-away game. The four rescuers would have no problem leaving the bridge unnoticed.

Below the bridge, Feymare found the opening to the tunnel behind a collapsed section of brick. The bridge had been supported by another column replacing the damaged buttress. The tracks behind the pile of bricks made it obvious that the tunnel was used. Cantor and Bixby followed the older men into the dark recesses. Feymare and Dukmee produced lighted orbs, giving two to the initiate realm walkers and keeping two for themselves.

Bixby wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t smell very nice down here.”

Cantor followed close behind her. “Makes me think we must be in the right place.”

“The storage rooms beneath my parents’ palace have
a fresh, organic fragrance. A little clean dirt and lots of vegetables.”

“Clean dirt?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. You’ve grown crops with Ahma. The soil has nothing rotten or moldy in it. Anything like that has broken down into mulch and loam.”

Dukmee spoke softly over his shoulder. “We’re coming to the storeroom. Hold on a minute while I scout ahead. And be quiet.”

Feymare moved to stand behind them. Cantor saw Bixby open her mouth. He suspected she would ask him why Feymare had taken the rear position. They’d studied strategic positioning in the tactical planning round. She always had questions. He glared and put a finger to his lips. She grimaced and nodded.

Dukmee came back. “I don’t see anyone down here, but it is evident that it is frequently used. There’s a series of smaller closets all around the periphery of the main storage room. We can go from closet to closet all the way to the other side where the flour is stacked and a door leads to the cellar. Keep your ears tuned to pick up the slightest noise.”

“Aren’t the closets full of stuff?” asked Bixby.

“Some hold a few supplies, but most are empty.”

“Let’s go,” said Cantor. “We can figure out why the hall is so low on supplies later.”

Feymare crowded them from behind, urging them forward. “Agreed. We want to find the prisoners and get them out before the building above comes down on us.”

The globes they’d brought gave off enough light for them to see in their immediate vicinity, but not across a room.
However, when they stepped into the closets one at a time, the small space lit up with a glow that was almost too bright.

Cantor tried to discern what was originally kept in each area. First he decided they weren’t closets so much as connected cupboards. One room had shelves and a few glass jars containing interesting vegetables, most he couldn’t name. It was a relief to see green beans on one of the shelves. He left the door behind him open so that Bixby could enter, while he went on through the open door to the next storage unit.

Ahead of him, Dukmee stepped through the next door, and Cantor knew immediately that something was different. Instead of the bright glow in a confined space, the light from his globe showed dimly.

Cantor followed and found they had entered the large storage room around which the smaller closets circled. Stacks of flour bags reached almost to the ceiling. He and Dukmee hid there, waiting for Bixby and Feymare.

As soon as they grouped together, Feymare held his finger to his lips and tilted his head, listening. Dukmee leaned around the towering bags. He crept forward into the main room.

In a moment, he was back. “Cats. They must keep them here to thwart a community of mice springing up.”

Whistling from beyond the flour raised Cantor’s eyebrows. “Talented cat,” he whispered.

Bixby clamped her lips together and glared at him. He grinned at her, enjoying her outrage at his disregard for their successful hiding. He didn’t think they were in danger from one whistler, one who was still some distance away.

At Feymare’s signal, they dimmed their light orbs. The whistling came closer, joined by a metallic squeak. A pale light
illuminated the rest of the room. The whistling ceased. The harsh squeak ceased.

“Hello, cats.” A young voice, probably a boy’s. Cantor wanted to see him. He crouched low and crept around the edge of the flour stack.

The boy wore all white clothing, although the white wasn’t pristine. Smudges decorated his chest and elbows. The rest of his outfit was cleaner, but still a far cry from fresh. A small baker’s hat sat on his head, and a too-big apron that hung around his neck reached below his knees.

The cats came to wrap around his ankles, weaving around and around in a typical feline demand for attention.

The boy dug in his pockets and sprinkled handfuls of unidentifiable crumbs on the floor. Whatever it was pleased the cats. The young baker put his hands on his hips and with a big grin watched his offering disappear.

“There’s a big do in the Hall this afternoon, cats. A special meeting’s been called, and we’re making a tea. It’ll be fancy. Little cakes, sandwiches, crackers, jam, cheese, and cookies. I’m helping with the little cakes. I’ll be pouring the glaze on them, so I’ve been sent to get the soft sugar. I’ll come back when it’s over and tell you all about it.”

He heaved several bags into the wagon he’d brought, turned it around, and moved down a dingy corridor. He whistled. The wagon screeched under its heavy load.

As soon as he was out of sight, Cantor backed up and ran into Bixby.

“He’ll be killed, Cantor.” She pointed toward the gap in the other wall where the boy had gone. “There are lots of people in this building that only work here. They aren’t bad. We must warn them and get them out.”

The rustle of movement sounded loud as the four, who had remained so still, shifted to continue their mission. Bixby stood and faced Cantor.

She pushed her hair out of her face. “Nobody should be blown up. Not even the bad people.”

She sounded a little hysterical. Cantor put his arm around her shoulders and turned her to the closed door leading to the dungeons. “I agree. Let’s get the prisoners, then spread the word.”

Dukmee bent to put his hands on the door. A small flash passed between his fingers, followed by a click as the hidden bolt moved out of the doorjamb.

Feymare pushed the door open. Hot, putrid air flowed out and enveloped the four. Bixby clapped her hand over her mouth and nose. Cantor pinched his nostrils. Feymare and Dukmee waved their hands in the air, and the thick cloud dissipated.

Cantor lowered his hand and blessed his companions. The smell was gone.

Silently, they entered the hallway and began their search. Many of the cell doors stood open with no one occupying the tiny, squalid rooms.

“I hear her,” exclaimed Bixby. “Totobee-Rodolow is down this way.”

Feymare put up one hand to stop her. “Wait one minute.”

She paused.

“There are five spokes going out from the central location. One we just used.” His thumb over his shoulder indicated one. “There are four of us and four more to explore.”

He handed each of them a small glob of pliable material. “Roll this between your hands into a long, narrow cord. Wrap it around a lock, tap it with your fist, and the lock will snap.
It’s much faster than generating your own force to pop open a door. Free everyone you come to. Send them back to this hub. I’ve communicated to Bridger to guide the prisoners to freedom. He’s left the bridge and is now doubling back to help us.”

Dukmee nodded. “Choose your tunnel and run.”

Bixby sprang into the one she believed would lead her to Totobee-Rodolow. Cantor didn’t wait to see where Feymare and Dukmee went, but plunged into the nearest opening.

As he ran past open doors, he reached with his mind, trying to contact Ahma or Odem. He got no response. This part of the dungeon rang hollow as if no one with life dwelt here. He ran into the wall that ended this spoke and turned, panting, to lean against the stones.

Nothing. He prayed the others hadn’t also come up empty-handed. He pushed off from the wall and ran back the way he’d come.

EXPLOSION

B
ixby struggled to keep Totobee-Rodolow on her feet. The dragon’s body was heavy, and her friend was too ill to shift herself into something easier for Bixby to handle. She’d tucked the light orb into her lace vest so she could use both hands to help Totobee-Rodolow. The globe slipped, and she used her forearm to nudge it back into place.

“We’re almost there.” Bixby spoke to encourage herself as much as Totobee-Rodolow.

The dragon hummed an answer. It sounded like, “Yes, darling.”

She paused, thinking she’d heard a sound in the long corridor ahead of her. She peered out from under her burden and spied a globe shining on the chest of a man, then revealed his face as he came closer. Cantor.

“Did you find Ahma? Odem?”

He shook his head and put his shoulder under
Totobee-Rodolow’s other arm. With a quick adjustment, he carried the dragon’s weight. Bixby stood aside and flexed her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He thrust his light globe toward Bixby. “Can you carry my orb as well?” He turned his face toward the dragon’s. “Totobee-Rodolow, are you in pain?”

Her lips moved but only a hum came out.

“What did she say?”

“I’m pretty sure she said, ‘No, just weary, dear one.’ Her thoughts aren’t much clearer than her tongue, though.”

Cantor nodded. “Lead on.”

She held up both light orbs and hurried toward the center of the dungeons. “How much time do you think we have?”

“No idea.”

Bixby turned and trotted backward a few steps. “What kind of explosives do you think they’ll use?”

“Dynamite, maybe.”

She faced forward again, and her clothes fluttered around her. “Who would light the fuse? Do you think there will be one explosion or several?”

“They couldn’t bring the building down with one.”

“So, several. That would mean several people to light the fuses. How could they synchronize the blasts?”

“I don’t know, Bixby.”

“I don’t think it’s dynamite. They’d need it to be a chain reaction-type setup. You know, one person sets off the first explosion and then boom, boom, boom, the rest go off in order. Quickly! It must happen quickly so the victims won’t hear the first explosion and have time to get out.”

Cantor grunted.

“If we could find the first blast, we could stop the whole thing before it even began. Even if we found one in the middle, we could limit the damage. One of us could follow the trail back and dismantle whatever they’re using, and another could go forward to disrupt the explosions that way. We can do this. We just have to find whatever they’re using.”

She pondered the possibilities as they traveled the last few yards to the center of the spokes. Light orbs illuminated the center room. She saw the glow and hurried forward, forgetting that Cantor carried no globe.

“Bixby.”

She turned and saw the problem, hurried back, and apologized.

“You’re going to be all right now, Totobee-Rodolow. Dukmee is there, and he’ll give you something to strengthen you. We’ll get you out of here.”

This time Totobee-Rodolow’s hum definitely had the rhythm of, “Yes, darling.” Bixby threw her arms around the dragon and gave her a quick squeeze.

Cantor grunted. “That doesn’t help.”

Bixby stepped back. “You’re panting.”

Cantor stopped. “Bixby, I ran all the way down one corridor and back, and then halfway down this corridor, and now I’m supporting a very limp and heavy dragon.”

Totobee-Rodolow made some comment that Bixby didn’t understand. She swallowed a giggle and choked when she realized the hum was an objection to being labeled heavy.