The Finisher

DUODECIM: The Impossible Possibility

WE CALLED THE place Steeples because it had one. John and I rarely went to Steeples anymore. Before my grandfather suffered his Event, and our mother and father went to the Care, our family would go to Steeples every seventh light and listen to Ezekiel the Sermonizer, always resplendent in his blindingly white tunic. It was not mandatory for Wugmorts to attend Steeples, but most went. Maybe it was simply to see the beauty of Steeples and listen to Ezekiel’s voice, which sounded like wind rushing between stands of trees, with the occasional thunder-thrust when he wanted to make a point as fiercely as a mallet introducing itself to a nail.

When we arrived outside Steeples, Thansius’s carriage was there. We hurried past it and inside. I had never seen Steeples so crowded with warm bodies. As we took our seats near the back, I looked around. The ceiling was high and laced with beams of blackened, gnarled wood. The windows were fully thirty feet tall and located on both sides of the structure. I counted at least twenty colors in each of them, more than I had to choose from at Stacks. There were Wug figures embedded in them, looking properly pious. And there were beasts represented here too, I guess to show the evil of what was around us. I shivered as I saw a jabbit that took up nearly the entire length of one window. As I stared at it, I could only think that it was far more horrible for real than it was re-created in glass and color and placed in a wall.

There was a high altar at the front of Steeples with a carved wooden lectern in the center of it. Behind the lectern, against the wall, was a face chiseled into the stone of the wall. This was Alvis Alcumus, who was said to have founded Wormwood. Yet if he founded the place, that meant he had come from some other place. I mentioned this once at Learning, and I thought the Preceptor was going to have me committed to the Care.

I could see Thansius and Morrigone seated next to the lectern. As I continued to look around, it seemed to me that all of Wormwood was here, even Delph and Duf near the back on the right. And even those sentenced to Valhall were here, with their hands bound with thick leather cords and with the short-statured Nida standing next to them, fortunately without the great shuck.

The Sermonizer stepped out from behind a screen of embroidered fabric that I had actually had a hand in making at Stacks.

Ezekiel was neither tall nor short. He was not broad-shouldered like Thansius. He did not have large arms or a chest like the Dactyls, and there was no reason he should. I was sure he was quite muscular of brain and sinewy of spirit.

Ezekiel paused to bow deeply to Thansius and then Morrigone before taking his place at the lectern. His tunic was the whitest white I had ever seen. It was like looking at a cloud. It was whiter even than Morrigone’s robe.

He raised his hands to the ceiling and we all settled down. John snuggled next to me and I put my arm protectively around his shoulders. His body was hot and I could tell there was considerable fear in his small chest. I could hear his heart hammering.

Ezekiel cleared his throat impressively.

“I thank all my fellow Wugmorts for coming this light,” he began. “Now let us incant.”

Which of course meant let him incant while we sat silently and listened to his practiced eloquence. Listening to a sermonizer who above all loves to hear himself sermonize is about as much fun as having your toes sheared off by an amaroc. All bowed their heads, except me. I didn’t like looking down. That gave someone the opportunity to get the drop on me. And Cletus Loon was sitting perilously close by and had already glanced sideways at me twice, each time with a nasty grin.

Ezekiel stared upward at the ceiling, but I supposed far beyond that, to somewhere perhaps only he could see.

He closed his eyes and incanted long streams of words that sounded erudite and polished. I imagined him standing in front of a looking glass, practicing. I smiled at this thought. It gave Ezekiel a feeble dimension that I knew he would neither care for nor appreciate. When he was done, everyone lifted their heads and opened their eyes. Was it just me or did Thansius seem a trifle annoyed that Ezekiel had gone on so long?

Ezekiel looked down upon us and said, “We gather this light for an important Council announcement.”

I craned my neck a bit and saw the other Council members resplendent in their black tunics, sitting in a row in front of the altar and facing us. Jurik Krone was prominent among them. As I looked at him, he suddenly stared back at me. I quickly glanced away.

Ezekiel continued. “Our fellow Wugmort Quentin Herms has gone missing. It has been the subject of much idle talk and fruitless speculation.”

Thansius cleared his throat loudly enough for me to hear it in the back.

“And now the Chief of Council, Thansius, will address you all,” Ezekiel added hastily.

Thansius walked to the lectern while Ezekiel took his seat near Morrigone. The two did not look at each other, and my instinct told me one didn’t really care for the other.

Thansius’s voice, in comparison to Ezekiel’s, was soothing and less ponderous but commanded attention.

“We have items of knowledge to convey to you this light,” he began briskly.

I wrapped my arm tighter around John’s shoulders and listened.

“It is now believed that Quentin Herms has been forcibly taken,” Thansius continued.

There were instant murmurings. Herman Helvet rose and said, “Beggin’ your pardon, Thansius, sir, but couldn’t he-a suffered an Event?”

“No, Mr. Helvet,” said Thansius. “It is well known that with an Event, there is nothing left of one.” His gaze found me in the crowd and it seemed that Thansius was speaking directly to me. “There was something left of Herms. We have found clothing that he wore last, a lock of his hair and this.” He held up something in his hand that I could not see clearly. But the Wugs in the front rows gasped and turned away. A female covered the face of one of her youngs.

I rose to get a better look. It was an eyeball.

I felt sick to my stomach and then I felt something else that erased the queasiness. Suspicion. Quentin had had both his eyes when I saw him running into the Quag. And I doubted very seriously that any Wug would have gone into the Quag to find these remnants. What was going on?

“And it was not a beast either,” added Thansius quickly. He had apparently seen several Wugs start to stand and had deduced they would voice this next logical question.

“He was taken by something else that lurks in the Quag.”

“Oi! What be the somethin’ else, then?” asked a Wug in the second row. He had a large family, at least five little Wugs next to him and his female.

Thansius stared down at him with a sort of ferocious kindness. “I can tell you that it walks on two legs as we do.”

A gasp went up among the crowd.

“How do we know that?” demanded another Wug. He pulled on a long stick bowl clenched between his teeth. The Wug’s face was red and creased with worry. He looked like he wanted to hit someone.

“Evidence,” answered Thansius calmly. “Evidence that we have discovered during our investigation of Herms’s disappearance.”

Another Wug stood with his hat in his hands. He said, “Beggin’ pardon, but why offer a reward if something took him, see? We’d thought he’d broken laws, what we were told. See?” He looked at other Wugs near him and they nodded back. Several called out with hearty “Hars!”

This, I had to admit, was getting interesting. I settled back farther in my seat and stroked Destin under my cloak. It seemed to be made of ice.

Thansius again raised his hands for calm. “Fresh facts, that is the answer,” he said directly to the standing Wug. The weight of Thansius’s gaze seemed heavy enough to buckle the Wug’s knees and he abruptly sat, though still looking rather pleased for having stood in the first place.

Thansius gave us all another long look as though preparing us for what he was about to say. “We believe there are Outliers who live in the Quag,” said Thansius. “We believe that they have taken Quentin Herms.”

Outliers? Outliers? What were Outliers? I looked around and found John’s wide, scared eyes on me. He mouthed the word Outliers?

I shook my head and refocused on Thansius. Outliers? What rubbish was this?

Thansius drew a long breath and said, “These creatures walk on two legs and we believe that they can control the minds of Wugmorts and make them do their bidding.”

Every Wug in Steeples turned and looked at his neighbor. Even I felt a chill along my spine. I suddenly realized that while it was true I had seen Quentin run into the Quag, I didn’t know what had happened to him after that.

Thansius continued. “We believe that these Outliers are planning to invade Wormwood.”

If Thansius had intended to incite a panic, he did not fail.

Wugs jumped to their feet. Youngs and very youngs started yelling and crying. Females clutched the tiniest Wugs to their breasts. Shouts and gesticulations and feet stomping sounded throughout. I had never seen Steeples so chaotic. I glanced up at Ezekiel and saw the deep resentment on his features at these outbursts in his sacred domain.

Thansius’s voice boomed so loud I thought the multicolored windows might break under the strain of holding it in. “Enough!”

Every Wug, even the very youngs, grew quiet.

Thansius’s gaze was deadly stern now. I had never seen him like this. I had forgotten all about Quentin Herms. I was just concerned about being invaded by the Outliers, whoever the Hel they were.

He said, “As you know, long, long ago there took place the Battle of the Beasts here.” We all nodded. Thansius continued. “Our ancestors defeated, at terrible cost, an attack from the beasts that made their home in the Quag. Many Wugmorts were killed valiantly defending their own home. Ever since that time, the beasts have remained, in large measure, within the confines of the Quag.”

Thansius let this sink in and then continued. “It has been an uneasy balance at times, but a balance nonetheless. Now, however, I’m afraid that delicate balance has been upset by the emergence of the Outliers. We must take steps to protect ourselves from them.”

A Wug called out, “But whence did they come, Thansius, these bloody Outliers?”

Thansius said, “We have every reason to believe that they have been spawned by the unspeakable physical intermingling of vile beasts and other hideous creatures in the Quag, resulting in specimens of complete horror and depravity.”

If he thought that would keep us calm, Thansius had seriously overestimated our capacity for terror. More shouts instantly started up. Feet stamped the floor. Young Wugs wailed. Mothers clutched their very youngs and screamed. My heart was beating so hard I thought I could see my shirt moving.

Thansius shouted “Enough!” once more and we calmed, although this time it took nearly a sliver to do so. He said, “We have a plan to protect ourselves. And it will involve each and every one of you.” He pointed at us for emphasis. Then he paused again, apparently to gather his strength. “We are going to build a wall between the Quag and us, covering every foot of our border. This and only this will keep us safe. All workers without exception, from the Mills, the Tillers, Stacks especially” — here he looked at me — “will be employed to build it. We do not know how much time we have. While the Wall is being constructed, we will take precautionary measures, which will include armed patrols.” He paused and then delivered the next giant morta blast right into our heads. “But there is every possibility that Herms is not the only Wugmort who has been forced to work with the Outliers.”

Once more, every Wug turned and looked at every other Wug. Their suspicious glances were clear enough.

“How do we know they ain’t about us already, these Outliers?” yelled one old Wug named Tigris Tellus.

“They are not,” said Thansius firmly. “At least not yet.”

“But how do we know?” barked a white-faced Tellus, holding his chest and sucking in one scared breath after another. He seemed suddenly to realize to whom he had raised his voice. He clutched his hat and wheezed, “Beggin’ your pardon o’course, Thansius, sir.”

However, shouts similar to Tellus’s outburst went up. The crowd threatened to get completely out of control. I believed we were one punch or a single accusatory word from a riot.

Thansius held up his hands. “Please, fellow Wugmorts. Let me explain. Please. Quiet down.” But there was no quieting us down. Not until it happened.

“We do know,” said a firm voice booming above all others.

All Wugs turned their heads to her.

Morrigone was standing now, her gaze not on Thansius but on all of us.

“We do know,” she said again. She seemed to look us over one by one. “As all of you know I have been given a gift. This gift has allowed me to see the fate of Quentin Herms. He broke the law and ventured into the Quag, and that is where the Outliers took him. They plucked out his eye and made him tell them certain things of Wormwood and of Wugmorts. After that I saw no more of his fate. But from what we found left of him it is clear that Herms is now dead. My gift has also given me the vision of what we must do to protect ourselves from them. And we will do so. We must never let them take Wormwood from us. It’s all we have.”

I was holding my breath. Along with every other Wug.

We all released our collective breaths at the same time and it turned into a cheer.

Morrigone raised her fist to the beautiful Steeples ceiling. “For Wormwood.”

“For Wormwood,” we all cheered back.

And despite all my misgivings, I was among the loudest.