Page 10 of The Last


  Khara glanced at me. “No, I’ve business at the Academy tomorrow. Then we’ll be off.”

  “Sorry again I can’t do more for you, Khara.”

  “You’ve done plenty, Eldon. You have my thanks.”

  “You’re most welcome,” he said as he took his leave.

  Khara spread out the food Eldon had procured. “Byx,” she said, “you haven’t eaten all day. Try to eat some meat, at least.”

  Tobble stroked my shoulder. “Please, my friend,” he said. “You have to eat something.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why should I eat, Tobble?”

  “Because . . . because you have to stay strong.”

  “I’m the last dairne on earth. What point is there in staying strong? What point is there in living at all?”

  “It seems to me,” said Tobble gently, “that when you’re the last of anything, you’re especially important to the world.”

  “My father had a saying,” I said. My voice was hoarse from crying. “Well, he had lots of sayings. But the one he repeated to me and my siblings from the moment of our births was this: ‘A dairne alone is not a dairne.’”

  Tobble tilted his head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “It means,” Khara said, placing a slice of sausage and a piece of cheese beside me, “that Byx feels she doesn’t have a place to belong in the world without the company of other dairnes.”

  “It means,” I said, “that the pack is everything. And without it, I am nothing.”

  Khara handed Tobble the carrots. He passed one back to her. “For Vallino.”

  “Are you sure? Eldon found some hay for him, and a bit of barley.”

  “Rhime shhr,” Tobble replied, his mouth already full of carrot.

  Vallino accepted the carrot with a grateful nicker.

  “Byx,” Khara said, tearing off a piece of bread, “I don’t have a ‘pack’ to speak of, myself.”

  “But you have family somewhere,” I said. It was half statement, half question.

  Khara didn’t answer right away. “I . . . believe so.”

  “And you’re clearly not the last human in the world.”

  “No, but—”

  “Then you can’t know what I’m feeling,” I said flatly.

  Khara chewed on her bread, gazing at me thoughtfully. I saw pity in her eyes, and perhaps even sadness.

  “Here’s one thing you might not have considered,” she said at last. “This species funeral, this ‘eumony,’ as they call it, is a ceremony to acknowledge that dairnes are officially extinct, correct?”

  I gave a terse nod.

  “Well, forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I seem to be talking to a real, live dairne at this very moment.” Khara placed some olives next to Tobble. “Explain that.”

  Tobble slapped his forehead with a paw. “Khara’s right, Byx. If they’re wrong about you, they might be wrong about other dairnes. Maybe there’s still hope.”

  “And maybe there isn’t,” I said.

  “But you can’t know for sure,” Tobble insisted.

  I tried, for a moment, to find the part of myself that had always been so hopeful and curious. Could I have lost that old Byx so quickly and completely?

  Khara gulped water from Eldon’s jug. “And here’s another question,” she said. “Why did the Murdano’s soldiers kill an entire pack of dairnes, knowing that the species was about to be declared extinct? Why weren’t they under orders to take you all alive?”

  “They were on patrol, far from the capital. Perhaps they didn’t know,” Tobble said.

  “Very little happens in Nedarra without the Murdano’s say,” Khara said. “Trust me on that.”

  I shrugged. “Does it matter? They did what they did. And now here I sit in a horse stall, in a town I never wanted to visit, pretending to be a dog, the captive of a girl who intends to sell me tomorrow to the highest bidder.” I shot Khara an angry glare. “Think about it, Khara. When your friend the scholar sees that I’m a dairne, you’ll be able to charge a high price indeed for me. For you, this eumony couldn’t come at a better time, could it?”

  Khara looked wounded. “If it weren’t for me, Byx, you’d be dead right now.”

  “As I should be,” I whispered. “As I should be.”

  25.

  The Pillar of Truth

  It was a long night. A very long night.

  I woke, eyes crusted with sleep, and rinsed my head in Vallino’s water bucket, to his great annoyance. Khara tore apart pieces of stale bread and shared them with us, but I was in no mood to eat.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Khara said. Her voice was resigned. She stood and brushed stray bits of straw from her dress. “At least you’ll be able to stop playing dog, Byx.”

  Tobble yanked at the hem of Khara’s dress. “Please, Khara,” he said, his big eyes shiny with tears, “isn’t there some other way?”

  Khara looked from Tobble to me and back again. “You must believe me. If I thought there was another way to protect Byx, I would do it.”

  “Even a way that didn’t line your pockets?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Even then. But with the eumony coming, I can’t protect you from the world, especially not now. And not even here on the isle. Neither can you, Tobble.”

  “I can try,” Tobble said, crossing his arms.

  “Ferrucci is our best hope. He is powerful. He is wise. And he understands the ways of the Murdano.”

  “Tobble,” I said, “I’m grateful for your loyalty. But I think you should make your way home now. There’s no telling what will happen to me after today. And you heard Khara: they’ll have no use for a wobbyk here. Even the bravest of wobbyks.”

  Tobble shook his head. “By now, my friend, you must have realized I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

  That word—“friend”—made me smile, even as hot tears filled my eyes. I looked to Khara for help, but she merely shrugged.

  “Wobbyk Code, Byx,” she said. “Tobble has a mind of his own. There’s nothing I can do.”

  We left Vallino in the stable. Eldon had assured us the horse would be safe, and with the swelling crowds on the streets, taking him with us would have been challenging indeed.

  It was still early when we left for the tower, but already the town was more crowded than the previous day. Crowded and festive. It seemed the loss of my species was quite the cause for celebration.

  We came at last to the base of the Pillar of Truth, which towered grandly above us. It was protected by a low stone wall, behind which hired men wearing the black-and-gold livery of the Academy stood guard, tall pikes at parade rest, brass helmets shiny in the morning sun.

  A line of people waited to speak to the gatekeeper, a gnarled old man. He, too, was impressively arrayed in Academy livery, but armed with a staff rather than a spear. He made quick decisions, jerking his staff back to indicate that petitioners could enter, thrusting it forward to tell the hopeful to leave.

  We stood in line silently. Khara refused to meet my eyes or talk to Tobble.

  “Don’t worry,” Tobble whispered to me, stroking my head, but I could feel his paw trembling.

  For my part, I felt strangely calm, resigned to my fate, whatever it might be. I’d seen my pack, my family, my life destroyed. What more could anyone do to me?

  The three of us came at last to the gatekeeper, who glared at Khara.

  “I am called Kharassande. I am known to Ferrucci the Gharri. I wish to speak with him on an important matter.”

  The gatekeeper said, “And what are these with you?”

  “This wobbyk is called Tobble. He’s my servant. And this is my dog, Byx.”

  The old man glanced at Tobble only briefly before settling his gaze on me. He stared at me for too long and I felt helpless to look away.

  “A girl, a wobbyk, and a dog,” he said, with a faint shake of his head.

  He jerked back his stick and we moved through the gate along a paved walkway until we reached an arched entry as tal
l as a maple tree.

  The whole lower level of the tower was a vast circular open space. Massive lights, filled with some glowing red substance, hung on thick chains from the distant roof. Stairwells curved along the concave walls. I saw dozens of humans, two tan-and-black felivets, and a vividly orange raptidon flying lazy circles above us.

  The space also boasted a long slit trench lined with stone, a pool for natites from the watery level below.

  I expected a long wait, standing awkwardly in the midst of echoing space, but a messenger, a uniformed student carrying a list, approached us almost immediately. He was thin and gangly, perhaps Khara’s age, with a clever face.

  “Your name?”

  “Kharassande.”

  “Follow me.”

  I’d seldom had occasion to use stairs, and never on all fours. They were quite a challenge to master, and the only way to do it, I realized, was at a run.

  This meant I arrived at the next level of the tower before the others. The next level: the home of the terramants.

  It was black as a moonless night. The air stank of rot.

  And then it got worse.

  I saw a dim and sickly light glow in the darkness. The light was green, but a red tracery appeared, revealing the shape of a terramant.

  It reminded me of a beetle, or perhaps a mantis. Far larger than either, far larger than I had imagined. Bigger than a dairne. Bigger than the humans I’d seen, though its size was mostly in length. It had a low, sleek body, wings folded like armor over its back, and six large hind legs, jointed and spiked like a spider’s.

  The terramant’s head was triangular, with two bulbous eyes. Around its mouth, which opened and closed with mathematical consistency, were four additional limbs, small but strong arms that each ended in a sharp, curved blade. The blades were useful, I suspected, for slicing through roots and soft earth under the ground. They could also be used to catch and eat various animals—including, according to the scary stories my older siblings had often told, dairnes.

  More green and red lights glowed, and I realized my eyes were simply adjusting to the dark, making out the shapes of dozens of the huge bugs.

  Khara, Tobble, and the messenger caught up to me.

  “Terramants,” Khara said with a shudder, looking almost as uncomfortable as I felt.

  Again, in order to climb stairs on four legs, I had to run ahead, but this time I was prepared. I knew that the next level would be almost as disturbing as the last.

  I emerged at the top of the stairs into a high-ceilinged room dense with trees. They were true trees, but unnaturally shaped, with shimmering blue leaves. Their branches were more horizontal than vertical, and woven together at various points, creating rough platforms.

  On many of these branches, distributed in small groups and chatting amiably, were felivets.

  The messenger arrived with Khara and Tobble.

  “The felivets are, of course, perfectly safe,” the messenger said. “They are bound by the agreements and treaties that govern the isle. These are the most learned of felivets: brilliant artists, poets, and philosophers.”

  Learned they might be, I thought, but I saw more than one pair of glittering eyes trained on me as we climbed up to the next floor.

  “Where is the dairne floor?” Tobble asked the messenger.

  “Top floor. But of course it’s unused now.”

  We continued on to the human level, located below the raptidons. Here a sort of building had been constructed within the tower, a tower within a tower. None of it touched the outer wall, creating a broad, paved pathway that circled all the way around.

  The messenger led us to the inner tower, and we stopped before an imposing gold door. He lifted his hand to knock, but before he could do so, the door swung open, held by a dark-haired young man wearing the simple gold-and-black tunic and trousers that seemed to be the student uniform.

  “Please come in,” he said. “I am Luca, Ferrucci’s student. Also his assistant.”

  Khara and Tobble stepped inside, but my limbs seemed to freeze in place.

  Luca grinned at Khara. She met his gaze and returned the smile—shyly, it seemed to me. “Your dog?” Luca said.

  She turned. “Byx,” she said. “Come.”

  Whether she was addressing me as a dog or a dairne, it didn’t matter.

  I took a breath and crossed the threshold, knowing my life was about to change again, and that I had no control over the outcome.

  26.

  Ferrucci

  The room we entered was like nothing I’d ever imagined. It was cavernous, with walls entirely covered in deep shelves. Stuffed onto every square inch of those shelves were scrolls and leather-bound volumes. Rolling wooden ladders put even the highest books within reach.

  I’d seen a book once. It had belonged to Dalyntor and was his most prized possession. It was small and thin, hand sized—nothing like these heavy tomes—and made of bark and pressed leaves. His great-grandmother had made it for him, filling it with ancient poems she’d carefully transcribed. Like many dairnes before her, she’d used a raptidon’s talon for a writing implement and clairberry nectar for ink.

  The words in that book, small enough for Dalyntor to keep in his pouch, might fill just a page or two of the enormous volume lying open on the wooden desk in the center of the room.

  How much knowledge was contained in all these books and scrolls? It seemed to me that every fact in the world must be here within reach. Was there a question that couldn’t be answered? A problem that couldn’t be solved?

  For a moment, I forgot my circumstances, forgot, even, my companions. Still on all fours, I headed toward the nearest bookshelf, fascinated by the scents of ink and paper, dust and leather.

  “Ferru!” Khara exclaimed, and I stopped in my tracks. I turned to see her embracing an old man in a long gold robe inscribed in black with writings, runes and glyphs. He had cloudy green eyes and pale, papery skin. His long white beard fell in stiff waves, like a frozen waterfall.

  “It has been far too long, Khara,” Ferrucci said. “Have you come to witness the eumony? It will be quite the event. The Murdano’s Seer, Araktik, is coming to officiate!”

  Khara dropped her hands and said, her voice suddenly serious, “Well, I may be disrupting that ceremony a bit.” She jutted her chin in my direction. “As you can see.”

  “My eyesight is not what it used to be,” Ferrucci said with a sigh. “What is it you’re referring to, my dear?”

  “Byx,” Khara said, “come closer.”

  I walked over, slowly, deliberately, on all fours.

  “Well, what have we here?” Ferrucci asked.

  Khara drew a deep breath. “Ferrucci, meet Byx.”

  “Your dog? Well . . . good boy. Good doggie.”

  I stood up on my hind legs and said, “I am honored to meet you, but I am not a dog.”

  Ferrucci gaped at me, speechless.

  Luca dashed over, grabbing his teacher by the arm, as if he might topple over at any moment.

  “I don’t . . . ,” Ferrucci said, peering at me through his cloudy eyes. “It’s not . . .”

  “It is, Gharri,” Luca said, his eyes wide. “It’s a dairne.” He reached out a hand to touch my shoulder, and I instantly recoiled. “The fur, the pouch, the erect stance.” Luca leaned close to examine my right hand. “The fingers, almost human!” He pulled back, head tilted, a strange, knowing smile blooming. “Under the forearms, there! A hint of the glissaires. Less visible than I’d imagined.”

  Slowly Ferrucci shook his head from side to side. “No, no, no,” he said. He shot a stunned look at Luca, then Khara. “No, this is not possible!”

  “But . . .” Khara frowned. “But it is possible, as you can see. Dairnes are not extinct, at least not yet.”

  I felt like an insect, trapped beneath the intent gazes of both scholar and student. I stepped back a few paces, and Tobble stood resolutely beside me.

  “I brought Byx here,” Khara said, “because I felt
certain you would know what to do with a dairne. She masqueraded as a dog during our journey. You can imagine how worried I was that she’d be recognized for what she is.”

  “Of course,” said Luca. “Far too many in Nedarra would pay any price for the last dairne. You were wise to come to Gharri Ferrucci.”

  Ferrucci blinked several times, as if he were waking from a nightmare. “Luca,” he said urgently. “Lock the door immediately.”

  “Yes, Gharri.”

  “The rest of you, come with me, quickly!” Ferrucci snapped. “And you,” he said to me, “on all fours, now!”

  He practically ran from the library—impressive for a man his age—and waved us into a side room, also stuffed with scrolls and books. We crowded in, Khara and Tobble and I sharing questioning looks.

  “Luca!” Ferrucci shouted. “Get your lazy rear end in here!”

  Luca joined us, a thin layer of perspiration on his brow. “The door is locked.”

  “Then lock this one as well,” said Ferrucci impatiently.

  “Ferru,” said Khara, and I could hear her forcing calm into her tone, “why the panic? I thought the Academy would be the one place we could relax. Do you not trust your fellow scholars?”

  “For every true scholar here, there are ten of the Murdano’s men, pretending to be students,” Luca said under his breath.

  “My assistant speaks the truth,” said Ferrucci. He twirled an arthritic finger through his beard, lost in thought. “The Academy is not . . . what it used to be.”

  “Then if it’s not safe here, we must get Byx to a location where she can be sheltered,” said Khara. “Perhaps in the north country. You must know any number of people who could provide a safe place.”

  Ferrucci waved an indifferent hand at Khara. “There’s no safe place for an endling dairne.”

  “But you have to help Byx!” Tobble cried.

  “Quiet, rodent, or I’ll have you for lunch,” Ferrucci said. He turned to face Luca. “Luca, take this dog—and yes, it is a dog, whatever you may hear—to the cells.”

  “Wait.” Khara’s eyes went wide. “What?”