The Impossible Cube

Gavin shook his hand, then suddenly pulled Simon into a hard embrace. “I’m glad I knew you.”

When they parted, Simon wiped surreptitiously at his eyes. There was nothing else to say.

The children, meanwhile, seemed eager to follow Harry, Pietka, and his father, once explanations were made. Since Pietka had found his father, they seemed eager to believe they would find their own parents. Gavin turned to Alice.

“They should take… her, too,” he said gently. “Her parents will want her body back.”

Alice clutched the little girl to her. For a moment Gavin thought she would refuse to give her up, and he wondered if she was going mad. Then Alice nodded. Simon took the girl and wrapped her in his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Alice.

Several of the children solemnly hugged Gavin and Alice, and Gavin was afraid he would cry again. Pietka’s father led the group away. Pietka was already chattering in his father’s arms.

“I’m sorry, too,” Alice whispered. “I couldn’t let go.”

Gavin put his arm around her. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t come back.”

“But that little girl would be.” She buried her face in his shoulder for a moment. “Oh God—I don’t know how to feel right now, Gavin.”

Circus people continued to rush about. Some were packing suitcases and wagons; others simply flung sacks over their shoulders and fled. Performing horses were drafted into service towing wagons. Almost everyone was heading toward a bridge over the Dnepro some distance downstream, since that road led out of town. Urgency drove their movements, and the ashy air was thick with fear. Most of the performers refused to look at Gavin or Alice. The few that did sent hard glares. Gavin felt very small, and very strange. A few minutes ago, he had been ready to die, a sacrifice to hell so that the children could live. But Alice had wrenched him around and led him out. And then it had happened, the very thing he had been trying to prevent. A stray bullet had penetrated the gondola and killed that little girl. Gavin had held her while the life slipped from her eyes. It was as if God had decided the two of them should trade places. He wanted to be angry with Alice, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Instead, he felt glad to be alive, and also guilty that he felt glad, which contributed to that feeling that he was indeed a tiny, tiny man.

“We have some time yet,” he said, “and we need to get to the ship. The stuff onboard is too dangerous to hand to the Gontas.”

“Madam. Madam. Madam.” Kemp’s head was lying on the ground near Feng’s feet, where Simon had left it.

Alice nodded. “Feng, please bring Kemp and follow us.”

The trio hurried toward the train. Along the way, they encountered Linda high up on her brightly painted wagon. She was driving a pair of horses toward the bridge over the Dnepro. “Hello, honey!” she called down cheerfully.

“Linda!” Gavin called up to her. “Are you and Charlie all right?”

“Just fine. Charlie’s in the back. I tried to warn everyone that this was coming, but no one listened. Circus folk are more cynical than most when it comes to fortune-telling.” She popped a butterscotch into her mouth. “I feel like Cassandra at Troy.”

“You knew?” Alice said.

“Of course, sweetie. You haven’t learned to let go yet, so this was inevitable. Besides, I drew the three of swords not long after Dodd got the invitation from Ivana Gonta. It means a disaster, but a necessary one. It teaches a lesson and relieves built-up tension so the journeyer can move forward. Good gracious—what happened to your friends?”

“Madam. Madam. Madam,” said Kemp’s head in Feng’s hands.

“Too long to explain,” Gavin said.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll turn out all right in the end.”

“Was that a prediction?” Alice asked.

“An assurance,” Linda corrected. “I won’t see you again, honey. You’re on your own.” She clucked to the horses, who hauled the wagon away.

“Was I supposed to let you die?” Alice burst out as Linda left. “Gavin, I couldn’t—”

“Listen, now.” Gavin pulled her to him. She burst into tears, hiding her face in his shoulder. It was the first time he had seen her cry, and it made him feel strangely old. Everyone said women were supposed to cry a lot, though now that he thought about it, he didn’t see it happen very often. His mother had never cried that he remembered. He patted Alice awkwardly on the shoulder. “Didn’t Monsignor Adames say I was supposed to save the world?”

“Yes,” she sobbed while Feng stood quietly by with Kemp’s head.

“I can’t save the world if I’m dead. I was an idiot for trying to sacrifice myself like that. You had to come back for me. It was the right thing to do.”

“How can it be the right thing to let a child die? It’s my fault she died, Gavin.”

“That’s strange. I thought it was the fault of the Cossack who fired the rifle.”

“That makes sense,” she snuffled. “My head agrees with you, but my soul scourges me with fiery whips.”

“It’ll pass.”

“I don’t know if I want it to.”

“Madam. Madam. Madam.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so instead they headed for the train. It was partly abandoned. Several