(eng) P. W. Catanese - Books of Umber 03 by The End of Time

Author:The End of Time [Time, The End of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Hap looked out the twin windows of his tiny room, into the night. Below lay what was left of the ancient castle Petraportus. There was a new tomb inside those ruins. Umber had it made for the fisherman and his wife, the reclusive pair that had turned out to be Hap’s brokenhearted parents. It was Willy Nilly’s fault they were dead. Willy had never laid a hand on them, but the events that he set in motion years before had led to their deaths. And wasn’t that how Meddlers worked: indirectly?

Now Willy was a few doors away, close to death himself. Hap felt the urge to burst in and shake him into consciousness. Why me? he wanted to scream. How dare you make me one of you! And now you and Umber want me to leave this world and save another. But I never asked for these powers. I don’t want this burden!

The hour was late, and he figured that everyone else was asleep. He eased the door to his room open and stepped quietly into the hall. Every other door was closed, except for one threshold that still cast a rectangle of golden light. When he reached it, he saw Willy Nilly’s still and senseless form. The Meddler’s face was pale, his jaw slack, his breathing raspy and labored.

Laurel was sleeping on a second bed in the room with her face to the wall. Lily, the silent one, was dozing in a chair beside Willy. Something alerted her to Hap’s presence, and her eyes fluttered open. She smiled and put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn.

Hap waved but couldn’t smile. He pointed to Willy. “Has he woken up at all?”

Lily shook her head.

Hap gnawed on the knuckle of his thumb for a moment. “Do you think . . . he’s going to live?”

Lily stared at the Meddler with her lips in a pout. Then she touched her hand to her temple and shrugged.

Hap could think of nothing else to say. Finally he waved. “Good night.” She smiled back, and he left the room and took the stairs to the terrace.

In the darkness his gifted eyes saw the thorn tree. The roots and branches hadn’t grown, but the fruits had swollen to the size of skulls, and the branches drooped with their weight. Hap’s finger jabbed at the air as he counted them. Eleven.

He walked among the other plants of the terrace, and past Umber’s little tower, a cylinder on top of the soaring slab of the Aerie. At the corner of the terrace he leaned over with his forearms flat on the stone railing and stared out at the bay. His eyes widened, and he sprang straight up and laughed with delight.

The great leviathan Boroon was floating a hundred yards away, gently swirling his enormous fins to hold him in place. The barge was strapped to his back as usual. Hap leaned over, trying to spot Nima, the amphibious captain of the craft. He was even

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