away from her prison and her imprisoner. Then the shadow-smudge had gone from sight, lightless against a lightless sky.
Mater Motley’s return to the Needle Tower, and her subsequent discoveries and dealings there, had delayed the departure of the
The Izabella did not protest the vessel’s brutal power. The sea knew what dread influence had wrought the vessel, and had given it authority. She knew the monstrous power the Old Mother wielded. Simply by reading rumors and toxins in the streams that poured down the slopes of the islands into her tides, the Izabella knew how much worse things were soon to get. It would serve the myriad life-forms who dwelt within her waters no good to oppose the Midnight Empress for she was capable, the waters knew, of practically limitless acts of destruction. Not flesh nor wood nor stone nor dust was inviolate. She had it in her, this woman and her allies on high, to do death to every Hour of Day and Night if she did not get her way.
So for now, the Izabella decided, she must seem to do so. To have her will, however wicked.
Thus, untroubled by the sea’s enmity, the woman who would very soon change the Abarat out of all recognition speeded toward her destination.
On board the
“We are approaching the pyramids, my lady. You told me to come and tell you.”
Mater Motley rose from the hovering stone on which she sat and descended the air to come to the place where Maratien stood.
“Are you excited, child?”
“Should I be?”
“Oh yes. If you have the courage to stay with me today and for the days to come, I promise you that you’ll see such rare sights as will change forever the way you imagined the world to be. And of your place in it.”
“So I may watch?” Maratien said cautiously, not entirely certain that she had understood the invitation correctly.
“Of course. Right here at my side. And if you are as wise a child as I believe you to be, then you will take note of everything you see. Every detail. Because there may come a time when someone will ask you what it was like to have been there, and you will want to answer them truthfully.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Now go to Melli Shadder, one of my sisters—”
“I know her.”
“Tell her that I ordered you be given my warmest coat. It will be bitterly cold when all the suns go out, Maratien. Go on. I’ll wait for you.”
“You will?”
“Of course. I’ve waited for the better part of six centuries for this Hour. I can wait a few minutes more while you find yourself a coat.”
Chapter 28
Altarpiece
CANDY? MALINGO? ARE YOU up there?”
It was a familiar voice that instantly lifted Malingo’s spirits.
“John Mischief? Is that you?” Malingo said.
“Yes—”
“We knew you’d be on one of these ferries sooner or later—” said John Serpent.
“A ferryman told us where to find you—” said John Pluckitt
“And we’re all here!” said John Drowze, eager to share the good news.
As he spoke, the brothers rose up the stairs from the deck below, followed by Two-Toed Tom and—
“Even Geneva!” said John Fillet.
“It’s good to see you all again. But please, keep your voices down. Candy’s still asleep.”
“Should we wake her up?” said a rather heavily armed Geneva.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea right now,” Malingo said.
“Why not?” Two-Toed Tom asked, emerging from behind.
“There’s something weird about the way she’s sleeping,” Malingo said.
“What do you mean?” Geneva said.
“Well, look for yourself. But put your weapons down first.”
“Why?”
“They make such noise.”
“I’d only do this for you,” Geneva said, unbuckling her belt and handing it, with sheathed swords, to Tom. “If anybody but me unsheathes those . . .”
“We wouldn’t think of it,” Mischief said.
“No, no, no, no, no . . .” the brothers all murmured. “We’re just concerned for our Candy.”
“Keep your voices down, please,” Malingo said. “She mustn’t be disturbed. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. She just shouldn’t, I think.”
“Look at the expression on her face,” Geneva murmured. “She’s in pain.”
Malingo nodded.
“Yes. I think she probably is.”
“If she’s having a nightmare, shouldn’t we wake her?” Geneva said. “Look at how troubled she is! How pained!”
“I know,” said Malingo. “I don’t like seeing her like this either. But wherever she is right now, and whatever she’s doing, it’s something important. And I think we’re better leaving her to do it. When she dreams like this she goes to Chickentown to see her mother.”
“She doesn’t seem very happy about it,” Geneva remarked.
The frown on Candy’s face deepened.
“Lordy Lou! She looks terrible,” John Serpent remarked. “Are you sure she isn’t dying?”
“No,” Malingo said after a length of silence, “I’m not.”
Candy counted eleven people, including her father, but not herself, now assembled within the church. They had emerged from the shadows and they could all see her, a feat no doubt made possible by her father’s stolen magic. Candy recognized almost all of their faces, though she could name only a few. One was Norma Lipnik, who had once (a long time ago, in another life) showed Candy the haunted room in the Comfort Tree Hotel. It was she that had told Candy about Henry Murkitt, the ghost of Room Nineteen. Seeking out his legend was what brought Candy, for better and for worse, to the spot where she now stood. Now, Norma was dressed in all her best Sunday clothes. She even gave Candy a smile as though there was nothing remotely odd about seeing Candy’s dreaming presence.
Also among the small group were two of Melissa Quackenbush’s friends. One, she remembered, was called Gail, an overweight woman who always wore an excessive amount of sweet perfume in an attempt (which failed) to mask the unpleasant smell that her body exuded. The other was a woman, named Penelope, who lived a few doors down from them on Followell Street. She knew by sight several of the others too; one was the janitor at her school, though like all the others she didn’t know his name. Each one of them in turn locked eyes with her, unblinking, and smiled—puppet smiles, painted on puppet heads.
“Today is a special occasion. My daughter is here in her dreaming state,” Bill was explaining to the small gathering of his worshipers, “but it should be no more difficult to get what we need out of her in this form as in her
