Matt Ruff by Fool on The Hill

Author:Fool on The Hill
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-10-25T11:19:56+00:00

Book Three

PANDORA’S BOX

1866—INSIDE THE BONE

ORCHARD

It is in the north end of The Bone Orchard that the Plot really begins to come together for Mr.

Sunshine. He crouches over the site of Ithaca’s only live burial, a spot marked only by a ring of seven round white stones—enchanted stones, he senses. The other, more conventional markers surrounding the site lean away like the petals of a budding grey flower, but their lean is not nearly so pronounced as it will be a century from now.

Mr. Sunshine places his palm against the damp earth, understanding what it is that lies beneath. Its presence here is wholly fortuitous, nothing to do with any of his previous Meddlings on Earth, but—as much an opportunist as an originator, like all storytellers—he immediately sees its potential uses for the Plot he is weaving.

“Animation,” he says. “Animation, that’s wonderful, I can have some good times with that.

And if . . .”

He trails off thinking: Stephen Titus George. St. George. And animation. Hmmm . . .

Standing behind him like an impatient valet, Ezra Cornell clears his throat several times.

“Getting a bit late,” Cornell hints, wondering what in hell he is doing here in the first place.

“Getting a bit cold, too.”

“Hold this,” Mr. Sunshine says, handing him the lantern. Cornell takes it obediently and waits while the Greek Original bends low over the site and does something Meddlesome with his hands.

“Better,” Mr. Sunshine says a moment later, standing and taking the lantern again. “More appropriate, considering.”

“Heh-em,” Cornell throat-clears once more. “I really think . . .”

“Onward and upward,” Mr. Sunshine interrupts him. He pats Ezra on the shoulder companionably. “You like climbing The Hill, I know you do. Good for the circulation, good for the lungs. I’d wager your middle name is Sisyphus, you love climbing so much.”

“Yes,” Cornell agrees, eyes glazing for a moment. “Yes, I love it.”

“Good.” Mr. Sunshine nods. “Double-time, then.”

“Double-time. Yes . . .”

They move off, and now the scene has changed. The center of the budding grey flower is no longer a ring of stones, but a solitary, still-enchanted marker. A white marble square bearing a single, appropriate word:

PANDORA

HOBART VISITS

THE BONEYARD

I.

The hangar doors slid open silently, moved by a set of rollers and counterweights finer than anything human hands could have designed. Snow whipped into the hangar as if seeking targets, yet Hobart stood right at the opening, enduring the cold, looking down from the very pinnacle of the Tower. Outside chaos reigned: with the setting of the sun visibility had dropped almost to zero, and now the air currents goaded each other to greater feats of abandon. Foolish to tempt Fate by venturing out on such a night, but out he must go. Hobart’s nightmares had gotten progressively worse, and he could no longer suppress the feeling that something terrible had happened in The Boneyard.

He walked back to the rear of the hangar where the gossamer glider waited and climbed into the sling-seat. His pinsword was in his belt, but he did not bother arming himself with a crossbow, for if he ran into trouble he doubted it would be much use to him.

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