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"I don't know how to lift people properly. I only know how to carry them," Goody said in both an angry and apologetic voice, looking out from the balcony at the shimmering valley between the mountains.
"Please accept my sincere apologies for calling you a blockhead," the girl replied quietly.
"Well, my head is really made of a wood block," replied the animated one sadly.
"Does that upset you?"
"No... I don't know."
He shuffled his foot and turned to her.
"It's hard for me to figure out."
"I can understand," Gerda nodded, glancing out into the valley, and then turning to the doll again, she asked, "Have you been here long?"
"No, a few... hmm... these time intervals are called a day."
"Did you get there on your own?"
"Yes. And I brought two more."
"Something tells me you came from the City?"
"Can someone come from somewhere else?" Goody asked with a touch of surprise, taking off his hat and placing it on the bench in front of the girl.
She looked unintentionally at the animated one's hand, and noticed several small twin leaves growing there.
"Rumor has it that one of the local dolls came from the desert. They say there's an endless sea behind it. And it's not me at all," she declared, smiling and plucking the two biggest leaves from the animated one's hand.
Twisting them between her fingers, she tossed the leaves upward.
"Yes, my friend says so. The one I brought in," Goody answered, watching the spinning leaves drop onto his knee.
"But you brought him from the City, didn't you?"
"No, from the desert. He was brought from the City by the Pile of Meet. Or more specifically, it was a flying motorcycle, a scooter, a police swallow series 7711, that dragged us from the City."
"I see you'd make a pretty good reference book."
"Yes," Goody answered confusedly, and frowned, "I didn't know. I mean, I didn't know I knew it. And now I do. It happens to me a lot now."
The girl laughed even louder.
"You have a certain amount of comic charm, blockhead."
"I am no blockhead, I am an animated one, a doll, a slave."
"Ugh. You are not a slave! That sounds quite unpleasant, the blockhead, on the other hand, though a bit naff, is nevertheless elegant and simple."
"Then you will be..."
"What?"
"I don't know," Goody became even more angry, getting lost in the lines of association.
The girl stood up and took his hand.
"That's enough," she looked into his painted eyes, which he tried unsuccessfully to hide in his wooden face.
"Let's go for a walk."
Goody looked back at her, caught the sparkling glare of the moons in her eyes, and without expecting it, nodded.
From the balcony, a narrow serpentine path led down the mountain to the valley deep within the plateau, beyond the large canyon. Glowing insects flickered in the sparse vegetation with green and blue lights. Stepping between rocks that had fallen down the slope, Gerda was careful not to scratch her red patent leather shoes. Goody was following her, wearing his triangle again. He kicked the small rocks off the cliff one by one and listened as they tumbled down, silent somewhere in the valley. He called them travelers to himself.
"When I walk down this path, in the twilight I feel that the stars and these luminous insects are essentially the same phenomenon," said Gerda, "I feel as if I am flying through them."
"In the place you come from, does everyone speak so beautifully?" asked the animated one, pushing another 'traveler' down.
"There is no 'place.' I'm from the City, too," the girl answered without turning around, "From the middle tier."
"Uh-huh," the animated one jingled, "I know what it is, but I don't understand what it is."
"The analogy between humans and the animated ones is appropriate here," the girl replied, turning around and almost tripping over herself at the same time.
This time Goody managed to catch her arm and she didn't fall.
"Thank you. People and the animated ones. Not here, but in the City, as you probably know, the animated ones have no rights. They're all 'dummies,' slaves, as you rightly said. As for people, people have all the power and privilege. They tell the animated ones what to do. That's what happens between people who live on different tiers. At the bottom you are a slave, and at the top you are a master."
She stepped over another boulder that had apparently rolled down from the ledge above them and automatically took the doll's hand, but immediately let it go.
"Between people," she repeated, putting her hand behind her back embarrassedly, "There are those who live on the lower tiers and those who live on the higher ones. I live on the middle one."
"So, there's someone for whom you're a dummy?"
"That's right," Gerda nodded, "I'm a slave to some people, too. And it is against these people that we wage holy war."
"We? Are you going to fight, too?"
"Oh, no, not fight," the girl shook her head, "I... I might as well be called a messenger. I deliver messages to those beyond the wall," she said, waving toward the City.
"Are there 'ours' there, too?"
"Yes and no. There are all kinds. It's just that with some groups we have a common goal, and with others we have more than that."
"There is too much for me," Goody said tiredly, and crouched down on a rock at the bend in the path.
"It's too much for me, you mean," the girl corrected him and sat down on a nearby boulder, watching the waterfall of fireflies descend into the dark abyss below them.
"I only learned to speak normally yesterday. And I noticed... myself a few days ago, in the desert. And now everyone around me is getting ready for war. The humans own the animated ones. The first-born hate both. Other people feel the same way about other people. And we have to fight them. My head is about to burst."
Gerda laughed as she spread the lace on her dress.
"Was life easier in the City?" she asked as she glanced at another waterfall of fireflies.
"Yes," Goody nodded, "But I don't remember it very well. I remember fixing the clock, and I didn't have any, what do you call it... thoughts in my head."
"Yes, those freaking thoughts," the girl nodded.
"They sting and jerk me back and forth," Goody lowered his head, "As if many, many other voices had been put inside me. It's all Father's fault. He's been messing with my head, and now it's full of knowledge that I don't understand, and I think I'm about to explode."
"Please don't get into this humiliating grousing," Gerda said quietly.
"What?" the animated one asked.
"You're sitting here and complaining, but it's so beautiful around you."
Goody raised his head and looked around. Another waterfall of glowing insects floated past him, and a blue butterfly settled on his hand. He lifted it slowly to his eyes, watching the shimmer of its wings, glimmering turquoise and red.
"I wish I were alive," he rang out.
"I'd like to point out that you are alive," the girl smiled.
"No, not like this. Not to be made of wood and metal or stone. But to be made of such thin materials," he almost whispered.
The animated one turned his hand, looking at the butterfly. It didn't take long for it to flutter and fly down, along with the others. Goody followed it with his eyes, and then looked at Gerda, examiningly.
"To have skin like yours."
"What would you use it for?" the girl squinted her eyes and asked. "And does it matter what material the Heart made you out of?"
The animated one pondered.
"I don't even have a mouth," he answered confusedly.
Gerda burst into tinkling and infectious laughter, so that even Goody smiled with the edges of his visor.
"I like the fact that you don't have a mouth."
"Really?"
"Really."
They were silent.
Goody raised himself and looked down, holding up his hat.
"It's a long way to fly," said Gerda thoughtfully.
From the cliff they could see the valley: it was in the bed of a river that had made its way through the plateau. Rare lights illuminated the dark, grove-covered surface, from which gusts of wind lifted the wreaths of small, colorful flowers they had picked. They flew upward, spinning in front of Gerda's face, and for a moment they were clearly visible in the light of the onboard lamps of a flying gondola that rose swiftly from somewhere below and disappeared over their heads, beyond the edge of the plateau, as quickly as it had appeared. As Goody swiveled his head, footsteps were heard on the stone stairs. The man in the doublet who had spoken in the tent came up to them in a dignified manner.
"Oh, my dear Gerda!" his voice was almost purring. "I didn't expect to find you here."
"Good evening, Baron," said Gerda, half bowed, and then extended her hand for a handshake. But the man unwrapped the girl's hand with his thin fingers and kissed it.
"Fate couldn't have picked a better moment for our conversation. As I like to say, nothing comes from nothing," he smiled, but then he noticed Goody standing on the cliff. "Oh, you're not alone here, but with my copycat!"
Goody remembered the hat on his head and immediately took it off.
"Come on," laughed the Baron, "Don't be shy. I'm flattered."
"I'm not..." Goody wanted to object, but the Baron, ignoring him, had already turned to Gerda:
"My child, I have a message for... a friend of yours."
With these words he took out a sealed letter from his inside pocket and handed it to the girl.
"Pass it on, please, as soon as possible."
"Will do," Gerda nodded and taking the letter, hid it behind a wide satin belt.
"All right then job!" the man grinned, brushed his finger over his thin mustache, and straightened up. "I hope you're enjoying the party, my friends! Don't take too long, come back, there'll be a show soon!"
With these words, the Baron bowed out and walked down the path toward the grotto, where music and laughter were heard.
Goody approached Gerda, who was staring thoughtfully after the departing man.
"Who is it?" he asked, rubbing the edge of his triangle.
"Him?" Gerda was surprised in response. "What a shame. Don't you know? This is the Baron. Our hope and our leader."
"Our?" Goody said.
"Yours, mine, all those who are lucky to gather here," the girl answered, stood up and, taking a serious look, continued, "'The hope and faith of all the living and the dead. The new king will not pass on the pain. He will stop the circle of bound hands.' That's me quoting the Forbidden Poet," she grinned. "But, yes, that's right. A living legend. It is only through his efforts that the struggle lives and everything you see around you thrives. He is a true knight and my hero. I... I love him with all my heart."
"Ri-i-ight," Goody said, nodding slowly.
"Please don't tell me you haven't learned anything about that either," Gerda laughed, "You're a dummy, and since you're here, the Heart's summoned you. You are here to set it free. We are here to set it free."
"Nobody summoned me," Goody said sadly and lowered his head, "I'm here by accident."
"You heard the Baron, there are no accidents. You're here because everything has cause and effect, you became conscious of yourself. So did I, that's why we're here," she lowered her head in embarrassment. "Come on, walk me to my dinghy, I have to get back."
"Get back?" Goody asked, clutching hard the edge of his triangle.
He lowered his eyes to his hands in surprise and loosened his grip, causing his hat to fall.
"Yes, I live in the City, and they've been waiting for me," said Gerda, while Goody picked up and shook off his triangle.
"Did you fly here?" he asked, putting it back on his head.
"That's right, I have a special flying ship," the girl said proudly.
They walked back across the grotto to the canyon, where a small brig was parked on the opposite side of the library, its engines humming as Gerda and Goody approached it.
"Much appreciated that you're pleased to escort me," the girl bowed.
"You're welcome," Goody bowed back. "It was a pleasure spending time with you. Sorry about the bump."
He looked at the girl's swollen forehead, and she embarrassedly covered it with her bangs.
"I hope you won't think of telling everyone... Well, who cares," Gerda said angrily, but then she cooled down. "I'd love to stay longer. But..."
"But?" repeated Goody, feeling a pang in his chest, and he scraped his foot against a rock.
"But I must do my duty to the resistance," the girl replied with a serious look. "See you around!"
"See you around," Goody nodded.
She climbed up the rickety wooden gangway, catching her balance, and turning around, waved to the animated one. The ship rolled up the gangway with the girl, like the tongue of a frog catching its prey, and began to rise slowly. Gerda covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes.
"It's always like this!" she shouted to Goody.
"What?" the animated one shouted after her and waved to the ship disappearing over the edge of the canyon.
"Your relationship is doomed as long as you don't have a mouth," Raud gurgled as he floated up from behind Goody.
"What?" said Goody, turning to the octopus with a blurred look in his eyes. "Wait a minute. What's a relationship?"
"Oh-ho-ho-ho, I know whose ship it was, all thirteen moons down my throat," the octopus gurgled, levitating to Goody's face level.
"Whose?" Goody asked.
"I take it you have a crush on a human?" the octopus laughed, ignoring the question.
"Human?" the animated one raised his head thoughtfully to the stars. "And I wondered how she got such skin."
"Yes," Raud glanced suspiciously at the doll. "You understand what humans are, don't you?"
"Humans? To be honest, I can hardly tell the difference yet," Goody shrugged sadly and rang out again thoughtfully, "So that's why she was hurt."
"Yeah, doesn't look good," Raud said, rubbing his head with his tentacle.
"I feel very ashamed right now," Goody confided.
"I'd be ashamed, too," Raud smiled crookedly, "I felt like you when I first came aboard the ship. So many names, and you have to know them all at once, right now, while the chief mate is yelling at you."
"I didn't know she was human, though I should have known, because she has skin and a mouth," Goody shook his head. "Did she use us to do... bad things to you, first-born, too?"
"I have skin and a mouth, too," the octopus frowned. "You mean 'the exaltation of man?' That was a long time ago. She couldn't have been a part of it."
"A long time ago, like when?" said Goody, as he sat down on a rock to keep his unsteady inner balance again.
"Many centuries ago," Raud replied, floating closer.
"How long is a century? How many days is that?" Goody asked, grabbing his head. "Oh, I think I feel dizzy again."
"You know what, let me take you to Father, you need to rest and sleep," suggested the octopus and sarcastically added, "Because I'm beginning to fear for the health of your wooden head!"
The octopus picked up the animated one with its tentacles, lifted him up, and they moved down the nearest bridge, where the workshop was located under the library.
In the semi-darkness of the workshop, broken only by a single oil lamp in whose light Lila was reading, Raud sorted out the piled parts on the couch and laid Goody on it.
"What's wrong with him?" the monkey asked, turning away from the book.
"Wore himself out," replied the octopus, shaking off the dust from its tentacles.
"Strange, I don't even think about sleep," Lila shrugged and turned back to her book.
Raud floated closer and peered over the monkey's shoulder.
"'The most complete History of the City.' Hmm..." muttered the octopus thoughtfully.
Lila turned to him and stared silently into his eyes.
"What?" Raud flinched.
"What, what?" the monkey asked without looking away.
"I think we never got to talk about what happened," the octopus said as he swam closer to the table and settled down on Lila's right hand.
"What's on your head?" she asked, peering into the black spot on the top of the octopus.
"What is there?"
"A black spot."
The octopus grabbed his head and felt a black lump, opened his eyes wide, and then closed his eyes tightly, shook his head, and turned back to Lila.
Once again catching the octopus's demanding gaze, the monkey looked ahead and sighed heavily. Then she closed the book and pushed it away from her to the opposite edge of the table.
"I don't remember," she waved her paws.
"Since when?" Raud asked.
"I don't remember anything, like him," Lila nodded at the doll on the couch. "I don't remember who I am, I don't remember why. Life started all over again for me. Some vague images, but nothing certain."
"What about the rune?" the octopus frowned.
"What rune?" the monkey asked sadly.
"I see," Raud replied thoughtfully, and put a pair of tentacles on the table with his head resting on them.
"Baron will have a showdown any day now, and we seem to have nothing to say," he slowly drew a figure of eight on the table with the tip of his tentacle.
"I wish I knew who your Baron was," Lila shook her head and dropped it on the table.
"Well, maybe you don't need to know all that," said Raud thoughtfully. "The more I'm involved, the less I like it. And after what happened to you, if I were you, I'd gladly forget it and never speak of it again."
"What happened to me?" the monkey raised her head.
"You've been burned," the octopus gurgled heavily, "All that's left was..."
He pointed to a section of old wood glued to her body with blackened curls on Lila's head. She touched herself in the glued area and put her paws back on the table.
"You know," she said without raising her head, "All I remember is a strange dark hall. Big columns going into the darkness. No ceiling or walls, just the floor, water on it for some reason, and an old man running out from behind the column and looking at me in wonder."
She turned her head to see the octopus, but it only spread its tentacles.
"Yes, that's exactly how I feel," the monkey hummed.
There was a knock at the workshop door, and a moment later the old man appeared from a closet on the side. He took off his glasses, looked at the octopus and the monkey, grunted, took a step toward the front door, and fumbling for the handle, turned it. The person standing on the threshold was out of sight. The old man took a step back, letting the guest pass. Leaning to get through the low door, the Baron entered the room.
"Oh, you're having a late-night party," the man grinned, tracing the corner of his finger along the edge of his mustache. "Sit, sit, sit, that's a social call."
The octopus and the monkey looked at each other.
"Just wanted to thank our venerable Father," he turned to the old man and shook his dry hand, keeping his white gloves on. "I've been to the range, and it's impressive. The mere sight of these creatures would terrify the guards and demoralize the army."
The old man grunted, but said nothing in reply, he just began to wipe his oily hands on a cloth hanging on a nail. The Baron looked at the gloves, also stained with oil, and began squeamishly pulling them off his fingers.
"How's the rest of it?" he asked as if nothing had happened, tossing the gloves on the table and immediately pulling a new pair out of his pocket.
The old man walked silently to the back of the room and turned on the light where the torso and head of a knight stood on a large table, and the figure of a metal horse hung from suspended structures nearby. The knight was polished to a shine, and part of it was already covered in white paint. The horse, on the other hand, was only partially polished, and in places the surface was still black.
The old man went to the oblong tube, covered with a thick cloth, and pulled it off in a few strokes. A spear of gleaming whiteness was revealed to those present. It was so skillfully made that one could not take their eyes off the openwork seams that ended in graceful fastenings. It was too big for a man, but it was just right for the knight's body on the table. The old man walked over to the structure and pulled two terminals from under the long bench, where the weapon rested, that reached out to an impressive battery that was also under the bench. He plugged them in, and then stepped back to the wall opposite the edge. It was covered with thick red curtains, the old man pulled them open and fastened them to the edge of the opening, behind which darkness thickened like a tight embrace. Holding his back, the old man returned to the spear and pressed something inside, behind the guard. The tip of the spear sparkled, blue sparks of lightning ran across its surface, and a yellow arrow gleamed from the hilt to the end. At the same time, there was an eerie rumble that raised a pile of dust in the room, and the beam of energy vanished into the darkness of the doorway, scorching the curtains. When Raud and the Baron, who had his ears covered, looked out into the opening, they saw the blue beam of energy moving away across the desert surface, flickering in the darkness until it disappeared somewhere on the horizon.
"Impressive," grunted the Baron, still covering his ears with his hands and wrinkling, "And how many of these things will you manage to build?"
"One," the old man said, unplugging the terminals and throwing the cloth back on the spear.
"Hmm, slim pickings," said the Baron, cautiously lowering his arms.
"Slim or not, but it'll put a ship down with one shot if you hit the engine," the old man replied, tying the cloth around the hilt.
"That's exactly what we need," the Baron raised an eyebrow and sat down in a chair near the table with the knight.
"What do you require this guy for?" he asked, nodding his head toward the polished torso.
"You'll see," the old man smiled into his mustache.
"All riddles as always," laughed the Baron, "But I'm not complaining, no. You have pleasantly surprised me so many times, surpassing all my expectations, that, the Heart is my witness, I have no right to complain."
The old man smiled and sat across from the man on a stool he had fished out from under the table in front of him. Throwing a glance at Raud, the old man asked:
"When are you planning to head out?"
The octopus instantly knew what he should do, and floated carefully toward the monkey. With a meaningful glance at her, he moved toward the door. Lila jumped down from her chair, and taking the book with her, followed Raud, who had already creaked the front door. The Baron glanced at the door that had closed behind her and, turning to the old man, answered:
"Ideally, no later than ten days. We have to make it before the new lunar cycle begins."
"That's right," the old man nodded.
"But we still don't have the rune," the man said, and his hand clenched into a fist.
The old man sighed and lowered his eyes.
"All attempts fail one by one," said the Baron, slapping his knee, "We constantly risk exposing ourselves, and the more persistent our attempts become, the more chance of figuring out what's going on they have. If they haven't already," he fell silent and closed his eyes.
"So far we've been able to leave no trace, but it's foolish to expect us to be as lucky as we are all the time," the Baron continued, getting up and heading toward the doorway.
"Nothing comes from nothing," the old man said. "The Heart will find a way."
"Of course it will," the man nodded somberly, and leaned one hand on the corner of the doorway, near the scorched edge of the curtain, "But won't it be too late?"
"Too late for what?" the old man asked, squinting his eyes.
"For me," answered the Baron sullenly, "For us, for everyone. What are we doing all this for?"
"For what?" the old man asked.
"For the sake of freedom, for the sake of being happy, to throw off this damned tyranny. To free the Heart, to let it breathe and beat again... To cast aside the fears that something will go wrong, and let the world be what it is."
"If you believe your own words, then cast them aside," the old man smiled.
"I understand what you're getting at, but..." the man shook his head, "But isn't everything I do a manifestation of the very pattern that will lead to the inevitable."
"Absolutely," the old man nodded.
"I will destroy the City and free the Heart," said the Baron and slammed his fist against the wall, causing the edges of the scorched curtains to fall in shreds to the floor.
The man took a step onto the balcony, pulling back the hanging fabric, and a beam of light from the room illuminated a small ledge, darkness towering behind it. Father stood up, arched his back, grunted, and joined him. The Baron looked up at the starry sky and the succession of moons lined up. A meteor streaked through the darkness above their heads and fell somewhere in the desert, flashing for an instant.
"Do you think it's a part of the plan, too?" the man asked, twirling his mustache.
"Go ask it," the old man grinned.
The Baron shook his head and looked back at the spear, wrapped in a thick gray cloth, staring straight at him.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, looking at the weapon under the cloth, "I've often had the same dream since we... I'm here. I see a three-horned bull. He wanders at night in the desert between the ruins. Alone, the sky is frozen above him. The bull is mooing, as if calling to someone. But the desert is dead, and nothing else, but sand can be seen as far as the horizon," the man coughed into his fist.
"The landscape and the ruins change, but the point remains the same."
They stood in silence for a long time, looking out over the desert. Then the man straightened up, adjusted his hat, bowed to the old man, and headed away from the workshop, slowing his pace for a moment in front of Goody, who was sleeping peacefully. The Baron could have sworn the doll was smiling, though it had no mouth.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
