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The water in the canal flowed as if it didn't notice what was going on around it. Its dark surface didn't change even now that the towers of the cathedral in the Old Quarter weren't blocking the path of sunlight. A fisherman nestled comfortably right on the edge of the rays that fell into the canal, to remain invisible to prying eyes, but also not to miss an opportunity to warm himself. A mouse was pregnant again, its brood rustling in the old shoe, no longer fitting into it at all. And the current was bringing more and more surprises to those who could wait.
It began to get darker. The light disappeared. The fisherman shuddered, and the mice instinctively froze in their shoes. A rumbling and scraping sound was heard in the high ground between the houses. The fisherman rushed into the nearest alley, and the dragon that had folded its wings landed in the water with a splash that rose to the third floor. Behind it, rags, ropes, and laundry hung out of the windows by the surrounding residents to dry began to fall to the surface of the canal.
Milo could hardly unclench her hands, which were flushed with tension.
"The landing was hard," she said through gritted teeth.
The dragon puffed black smoke and lowered its head to the embankment. The girl rubbed the back of her head, bruised on her chair, unhooked the straps, and staggering in shoes uncomfortable for such travel, stepped down to the once-red door at the intersection of the canal and the Alley of the Blind. The dragon raised its head and looked intently at Milo.
"Don't worry, nothing will happen to me here," said the girl, turning to the monster.
The dragon let out black smoke again and defiantly turned its head away from her, staring into the distance, at the curve of the canal. Milo sighed, walked to the door, and yanked on the handle. The door was unlocked, and she stepped inside.
The room smelled of broth. The girl walked down the small hallway and stopped, stepping on a creaky board. A nice young man was looking at her from the kitchen, but his clothes were terribly dirty. He smiled and immediately dropped the pot from the pole. The same broth that Milo had smelled when she entered was spilling onto the floor. The young man's face changed dramatically, and he backed away and pressed himself against the wall. Milo was surprised, but then she looked back and saw the dragon's eye in the doorway, studying him. She turned and wagged her finger at the beast angrily.
"Don't peek," she hissed and slammed the door right in front of the monster's face.
When the girl turned around, Zara was coming down the stairs from the second floor. She was exhausted, barely able to drag her feet. Milo rushed to her and hugged her sister.
"My darling, I missed you so much," she exclaimed.
"Careful, careful, you'll ftain your exfenfife dreff," Zara replied, taking her hands off and pushing her sister away from her dirty clothes.
"Hi, I'm Ethel," the young man interjected, "I'm sorry, I can't invite you to our dinner, it's all gone."
Tearing off his sleeve, he wiped the floor with it. Zara walked past and sat on the floor across from Milo, with her back against the wall.
"Fo, fif, how'f if going?"
Milo looked at her sister in mute surprise.
"Don'f mind me, I'm juff fo damn fired, and I really feel forry for your dfeff... dreff... dress," Zara said with her head thrown back.
Milo walked over to her sister and squatted down next to her.
"What happened?" she asked excitedly.
"We were rescuing Magister Wolfie," Ethel answered for Zara, he had finished picking up the broth from the floor and was off to the bath.
"From where?" Milo asked.
"From unfer ffe ruffle," Zara said with difficulty and looked at her sister, "Feofle fay you fere ffere."
Milo turned her head away. Ethel returned and looked at the girls.
"Well, Lady Zara, you have so many secrets and riddles that I will never be able to guess. Why don't you introduce us?"
"I'm Milo, her sister. Half-sister," the girl said, standing up and extending her hand for a kiss to the young man.
Ethel was confused.
"Wet," he said, kissing it.
Zara looked at her sister sideways.
"You have a... um... mind-blowing dress, Zara's sister, I mean half-sister," the young man said, winking at Zara, who only frowned at that, "Such a dress would be appropriate for the court. Or rather it would be the court appropriate for this dress. And your companion. Oh-ho, your companion is the most unusual I've ever met."
Milo looked out the window, where the dragon's red eye shone, but upon noticing the girl's gaze, immediately disappeared.
"Yes, you know..." the girl began, trying to find the words.
"Ethel," the young man reminded her.
"Yes... Ethel... I... We..."
"Ffe'f ffe Ufurfer'f new foy," Zara cut off angrily, her eyes flashing.
"Zara, what are you saying?" Milo exclaimed. "What a silly envy!"
"Envy?" Zara cried out. "We almost died while you were out there chilling in the Palace, we cleared the rubble, we farely faved your uncle. He was in prison in the Old Quarter."
"He's not my uncle!"
"Then who is he?"
"He said that his brother couldn't have been my father."
"Why did your faffer fend you to him then?"
"I don't know!" Milo got angry and stomped her foot. "Father was wrong!"
"Father was never wrong," Zara boiled over, "Do you remember? He had one arm shorter than the other because he worked himfelf ragged at the shipyard to buy back 'the Thirteenth Moon.' He puf hif fhole life..."
"I'd better go," Ethel said quietly, and retreated toward the stairs.
"And where were you?" Zara wheezed.
"If it weren't for me, there wouldn't be a single stone left of the Old Quarter!" Milo shouted back.
"Re-ea-aly?!" Zara jumped to her feet and put her hands to her sides. "Maybe you perfonally saved people, pulled them out from under the rubble, or ftopped those huge barges as they fell down on the houses?"
Both were facing each other, both breathing heavily.
"You... you... Dig in your dirt, and I'm going above to the light," Milo shouted and walked out, slamming the door so loudly that the glass even fell out and shattered on the sidewalk.
There was a crunching and grinding sound, gigantic paws appeared outside the window, and then the tail of the dragon, crawling up the floors. The monster flapped its wings as a shadow descended on the canal and disappeared, making way for the suns again.
When Ethel came down to the ground floor, Zara was sitting and crying. He crouched down beside her and put his arm around her. She jerked her shoulder away at first, but then she collapsed onto his chest.
"If muff be difguffing for you to hear me fpeak," Zara almost whispered.
"No. Come on" Ethel shook his head, "You speak very well."
So they sat there until the sunlight disappeared, and it began to get colder. Ethel picked the girl up and carried her in his arms to the second floor, where the old man lay on the mattress as a lifeless doll. The young man laid her down, went downstairs and outside, shutting the door behind him.
For symmetry, he ripped off the other sleeve of his shirt and walked toward the Market Square, shivering in the evening chill. In the square near the Colosseum, overflowing with the scent of hot spices, he turned toward the market and backed down to the workers' huts, where the barracks began. From there he emerged into the Heart Square, on the opposite side from "the Thirteenth Moon," where, waiting to greet the White Maiden, nearly half the City was now assembled. The remains of the collapsed elevator had lifted a good quarter of the paving stones and uprooted the streetlights, forming a knoll where children now played soldiers. At the beginning of the street, a trumpeter leaned against the wall and poured out his intricate improvisation, which made the young man's mood thicken and become irrevocably pensive and philosophical.
Rubbing his hands from the cold, Ethel squeezed through the endless line of dummies and found himself outside his Chemical Theater. Clacking his pockets, he shook his head disappointedly. It looked like the key was left in his jacket, now buried somewhere under the rubble of the Old Prison. Ethel knocked, then rang the doorbell and looked back at the intersection crossing the line. A big stepladder, limp on its front legs, began to pile into the crowd of porters, seemingly assembled from the oldest spare parts in the City. The porters began to scatter, but the stepladder was caught by a wooden monkey with unusually long arms. Safrona remembered seeing her at the train station. The monkey was turning the clocks and announcing the arrival times of trains and ships from other parts of the City. The paint on her face was worn off, only her one eye blinking frightenedly, looking out at the clouds coming into the City.
At that moment the door opened, and Alladi appeared in front of Ethel, sleepy but clearly in good spirits.
"Hello, master," he smiled as he stretched.
"Hey, Al. What made you call me master again? Have you managed to synthesize that substance you've been struggling with for so long?" Safrona asked as he went inside.
"Yes... I mean, no, master, no, it didn't work out," Al stopped short, "Just a good day."
"And I have a terrible one," Ethel muttered as he walked through the small hall and up to the stage.
"Have you been to the square? Did you go to the Old Quarter?" he asked, throwing off the rest of his shirt and heading for the bathroom behind the stage.
"N-no," Al answered uncertainly, "I've been here the whole time."
"Didn't catch you this morning," replied Safrona, going into the bathroom and turning on the shower in full force.
"I must have been asleep. I was working all night."
"Didn't you hear the rumbling?" Ethel asked, shouting over the noise of the water.
"I can't hear you," Al shouted back and shoved the box that stood under his lab table backstage away.
Ethel came out of the bathroom, girded with a striped towel the same color as the red moon image. He looked at Alladi, pouring something from flask to flask, and asked:
"What is that smell?"
Al turned abruptly, sniffed, but then shook his head.
"Probably sodium sulfate," he shrugged, "I needed it to test one of my theories."
Safrona frowned, but shook his wet head and jumped up the stairs and ran to the grate where his jackets and shirts were hanging.
"Tell me," he shouted out of the darkness, "Could you help me?"
"With what?" Al asked reluctantly, putting the flasks aside.
"I have a lot to bring to the market district," Ethel said tiredly, hanging down from the grate just above the shuddering Alladi's head. "Zara's house is completely empty, and I need to get some food, blankets, dresses."
"I see you're really getting into it, master," Alladi grinned.
"Easy there," Safrona threatened him and disappeared on the grate again.
"Unfortunately, I can't," Al said after a pause, "I have a meeting."
"Oh, your meetings," Ethel grimaced, hitting something on top of him. "Okay, I can manage without you."
"Well, shall I go then?" Alladi asked hopefully.
"Yes, go," answered Safrona, as he went downstairs, "Just leave me the spare key. I seem to have lost mine."
Alladi fetched a bunch of keys, took a duplicate from the ring, and handed it to Ethel. The young man got it and slipped it into his pocket. Alladi bowed, took his vest off the hook, put it on, and went into the hall.
Closing the door behind him, Al headed straight for the train station building. He could not hide his excitement, and in some places he shifted from step to run. Since he had returned from his mission, he had no one to talk to or discuss what had happened. With whom could he discuss it after all? The meeting was only scheduled for today, and he had already pictured in vivid detail the way he would ascend the podium, the applause, the recognition, how Cloud and Vegsnake would look at him with respect, how his fellows in arms would thank him. He was so looking forward to this moment that he purposely put on a pressed shirt and his best pants, especially since the old magister cloak smelled so badly of the substance he used to set it on fire that it would have been insane to wear it.
The narrow streets were deserted, and Alladi, without hiding, ran over bridges and alleys down to the station. He had never covered that distance so fast before. But he couldn't wait any longer either. He ran out into the square in front of the station, where he could see how the moons, which until recently had formed an almost even line, were now reflected in the calm surface of the lake that surrounded the Central Prison, in the form of someone's displeased face.
Al did not notice the guards at the gate leading to the platforms. When he stopped in front of the building, he looked up at the top of the East Tower and saw no lights.
"They were smart enough to draw the blinds," Alladi smiled and went to the small door at the side of the main entrance.
When he yanked the handle, he found that the door was locked. He yanked again. Then he rummaged in his back pocket and pulled out a metal wire. Al pushed it through the keyhole and pinched the uncomplicated locking mechanism. The door opened, and Alladi, visibly nervous, ran down the stone corridor toward the tower. Halfway up the spiral staircase he was tired and, breathing heavily, leaned against a narrow window in the wall. In the square he saw men in black cloaks come out from the main gate of the station and disappear into the darkness of the alleys. Al sighed, turned, and hurried upstairs.
Finally, he reached the door. There was no light coming from under it. He peered through the crack and listened, but nothing was seen or heard. Alladi got up and knocked with a secret knock – silence. He knocked again. Nothing happened either. Al frowned, then somehow wearily crumpled, took a step down the stairs, but he heard footsteps. Someone was coming up the stairs from below. Al huddled against the wall. Then he came to his senses and tried to look relaxed. Nothing was visible in the darkness, only the glow of the moonlight oozing out of the small strip of window, and the dust glittered in it, slowly dancing around. A heavy figure appeared in the beam of light, and Al took another step back. The figure recoiled and shrieked. Alladi recognized the fat woman, the station attendant at whom their group was gathered.
"Don't be frightened," he began, putting his hands over his eyes and mouth. "It's me, Al. Alladi."
The woman clutched her heart, exhaled, and continued on her way upstairs. Al stepped back to let her pass. She jangled with her keys and unlocked the door. Al tried to squeeze in, but she pushed him away and slammed the door behind her. Al heard her lock it from the inside and begin to walk away. He stood for a while – and only then realized he wasn't breathing. He took a deep breath and tried to get thoughts together. The woman's footsteps were heard again behind the door.
"Don't you ever come here again, do you hear me?" she wheezed. "Do you hear me? Now get out of here before I call the guards, you bastard."
At these words, Al staggered back and almost fell down the stairs. He crouched on the steps and something in his chest turned so badly that tears rolled from his eyes. He tried to get up, but the bitterness and awareness of what had happened weighed heavily on him.
"It wasn't my fault!" he shouted. "I didn't know!"
ns 15.158.61.5da2
