The West Passage by Jared Pechaček

Author:Jared Pechaček
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

25. Kew and Frin Go to the Oculus and See What There Is to See

Night soon fell on the palace. The only light in the stairs came from the small, scattered windows, and from the trail that only Kew could see, so when darkness came, they had to stop moving. They were hungry, but all they had was water. Each of them took a sparing drink. The night was very cold, so they curled up together against the wall, and Frin spread his extra clothes over them, and Kew spread his overgown on top of that. Before they slept, Frin squeezed his hand. He patted Frin’s shoulder. Outside, the moon rose as chilly winds blew winter out of Grey, around Black, and into Blue and Red.

They were awakened not by sunrise but by their stomachs gnawing. In the dry environment of the tower, there were not even mushrooms to be had, and though they might eventually stoop to eating insects and spiders, all those they found were merely empty carapaces. After stamping and swinging their arms about for a bit to get the blood flowing, the boys resumed their climb.

The windows were larger and more frequent, but there was less to see. Fog blanketed much of the palace, with merely the tops of the highest towers visible. Only in Yellow was there sunlight.

A voice said Attention, loyal subjects. The boys skidded to a stop. There was a small brass tube coming out of the wall. The voice emanated from it.

On this twelfth day of the third month of the three hundred and fortieth year of the Willow Era, Her Ladyship has decreed that all residents of the palace must wear a yellow ribbon pinned to their left sleeve, in memory of those who fell fighting the forces of Blue Tower in the one hundred and eighth year of the Willow Era.

The announcement ended. Neither Kew nor Frin had anything yellow on them, but they tore a small strip from Kew’s pale doublet and divided it between themselves to wear. How many other such decrees had they missed? Hopefully, everyone would understand that they were newcomers to the tower. And they went on.

To Kew’s frustration, the trail began to meander. It ran up the walls, looped around, doubled back on itself, even ventured onto the ceiling of struts above them. As long as they were going in its general direction, he would not allow himself to worry too much, but even as he followed it intently, he resented his own determination.

They passed some doors. A few were locked. Some opened only on darkness. One led to a disused study piled with books and paper. Excitedly, Kew ran in, grabbed a pencil, and began to write a note to Frin on a scrap of parchment.

I’m following a trail. I know you can’t see it, but I think if we keep

Frin interrupted by gently putting a hand over Kew’s. He pointed at the paper, shrugged, and shook his head. Did nobody in the

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