The Book Man, Chapters 52-53 (Revised)

52 THE PALACE ON THE MOUNTAIN

They traveled together the rest of that day and most of the next. By early that evening, they had left the forest behind. In the mid-afternoon they came upon a clear lake beneath a cliff that reared up before them into a mountain range; it was there the river ended. They left it behind as well and began their ascent, although Christian was soon out of breath from the steep hike up the mountainside and Narodnaya seemed uneasy at leaving the water behind. She vanished from his side frequently and reappeared without warning.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Christian asked when she had done this for the seventh time.

I have rarely traveled so far from my lands. I do not like to leave them untended.

“How much farther is it?” Christian asked.

To the Sunforest? Far. But I am not taking you to the Sunforest. I could be there in an instant, but for you it would be weeks of travel—

Weeks! Weeks for a journey that should have been over by now. His lungs constricted at the thought. What if Goblin attacked again before he returned? What if Mr. Catcher and Minerva and the fairies perished? Oh, if only he had not been separated from Liza, coming through the portal—

Narodnaya’s voice cut sharply into his thoughts.

Calm yourself. I am taking you to Neva to see if you cannot get there faster. His home is only another day’s journey by foot.

“Who is Neva?” Christian asked, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm down. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

What do you mean? He is Neva. We have no other name for him. I think your kind would call him an angel.

Then Christian remembered: Neva was the magnificent being of Aurelia’s story, the being who had charged her and her sisters with the task of keeping Goblin trapped so he wouldn’t escape to Earth. The being who had banished her and her sisters when they failed. That didn’t make him sound like a particularly friendly person, so Christian asked, “Will you come with me?”

I do not like to leave my lands behind, but I will be with you as much as I am able.

With an effort, it seemed, she stopped disappearing as they traveled, though when he fell asleep that night in a small and sandy cave partway up the mountain he awoke before dawn to find her gone again. She reappeared after a while and he murmured sleepily, “Is everything alright?”

All is well, human. Do not be concerned on my account.

Christian fell asleep again.

It was the following evening that they approached the top of the mountain up which they had been traveling. A ways ahead of them they saw a palace shining with gilt and marble. The light from the sunset glanced off a glass dome rising high from the center of the building, blinding Christian as he followed Narodnaya toward the palace. The air this far up the mountain was colder and thinner than it had been in the lands below. His lungs were bursting, his bare feet freezing and sore from walking on rock and scrub, and his stomach whining in hunger. Narodnaya had brought him some fish the night before, but he had failed to produce a fire. He had not eaten but only looked on, feeling sick, as she ate them raw.

They kept on even as darkness fell and a chill wind blew all around them. The palace blazed with light shining warmly in every window, reminding Christian of the Book House. He felt as if he had not been home in years. He missed the Book House, in that moment, more than he missed Minerva or Conrad. He sighed without realizing it. Narodnaya looked sideways at him but said nothing.

Then, finally, as the stars rose higher in the sky, they stood before the palace. Christian reached out a hand and knocked on the golden doors.

53 THE GARDEN

The doors opened inward, apparently on their own. A hummingbird hovered in the doorway, turning its jeweled head between them expectantly.

He wants to know why we’ve come, Narodnaya said. He is one of Neva’s messengers.

“Oh,” Christian said, and then, to the bird, “I beg your pardon, but my name is Christian Abernathy and I’ve come to see Neva on a matter of some importance.”

The hummingbird cocked its head at him. Narodnaya gazed at it intently, so much so that a crease appeared in her forehead.

He wants—he wants to know who you are, that you should come to Neva’s doorstep and summon him without notice. I think that is what he wants. I cannot read the minds of beasts and birds as well as humans. They are not so simple-minded.

Christian decided to take offense on behalf of his species later. In the meantime he said to the bird, “I—well, I’m a human, from Earth, you know, which I understand is a matter of some concern for your master, and I need his help. If you please,” he added with a bow more graceful than he was feeling.

The bird hovered before him a moment longer, considering him with its head still cocked, and then it darted off through the palace. Christian looked after it uncertainly.

“Are we—are we meant to follow?” he asked.

I think not, but I cannot be sure. When I came before I charged through to see Neva without invitation, to demand he would stop the fairies from their attack on me.

“You did?” He could not imagine charging in on anyone so important. He would never intrude on the Mayor of the Town unannounced and unwelcome, nor his employer, nor even his barber—much less an angel. “How did that go?”

He was displeased, but he honored my request. Let us wait here until we are summoned.

Narodnaya fell silent, so they waited without speaking. The doors closed behind them without aid; the sound of their closing echoed around the entrance chamber. Its walls were gilt-covered. Several ornate doors circled it, though the hummingbird had gone through none of them but instead through an open area at the far end of the hall. Beyond this there was bright light, but the entrance hall itself was dimly lit by candles glowing in brackets on the walls.

They may have waited only a few minutes, though it felt much longer to Christian, who had never been anywhere so grand. All the same, he was glad to at least be indoors again, where it was warm and dry and windless and his feet had relief from the rough rock of the mountainside.

At last the hummingbird zipped back to them, tossing its head with a peep. Christian glanced back at Narodnaya, who nodded. The bird made its way back toward the far end of the entrance hall, slower this time so they could keep up. Christian’s bare feet slapped against the marble tiles as they followed.

The bird led them through many corridors and grand chambers, until finally they reached a glass door that opened into a steaming garden. Leafy plants towered over the grassy pathways (which felt glorious to Christian’s feet) or reached out to stretch across them. Somewhere there was water running, perhaps a fountain or an artificial brook or both, and unseen birds could be heard calling softly to each other from their perches. The glass dome Christian had seen from outside arched high overhead so he could see the stars through the canopy. He felt another wave of homesickness for the Book House.

In the center of the garden was a round grassy area reminiscent of the center of the maze in Celadon Park. The towering, leafy plants surrounded it, as did many beautiful, tropical flowers: hibiscus, orchids, fuchsia, and frangipani. The fountain Christian had heard stood in the middle, tinkling like a bell as water fell from the font into the stone bowl beneath it, in which several goldfish swam. Two massive trees at the far end had grown and twisted together into the shape of a throne. Bougainvillea clung to the back and the arms and the legs; and on the throne sat Neva.