Memorable. Hugh had a feeling it would be that, at least. Walking among the wizards, hearing introductions, he looked into eyes that never looked into his, saw faces that might have been carved of the pearl substance around them, devoid of any expression other than polite and proper welcome. His sense of danger and unease grew and was made manifest by a peculiar incident.
“I was wondering, my friends, if you would care to walk about our city and view its wonders. My own dwelling is some distance away, and you may not have another opportunity to see much of New Hope before you have to leave.” All agreed and, having ascertained that Alfred was not injured—beyond a bump on the head—they followed Sinistrad through the park. Crowds of wizards gathered on the grass or sat beneath the trees to stare at them as they passed. But no one said a word, either to them or to a neighbor. The silence was eerie, and Hugh felt that he much preferred the thumping and banging of the Kicksey-Winsey.
Reaching the sidewalk, he and his companions stood among the glittering buildings whose spires soared into the rainbow-shimmering sky. Arched doorways led to cool, shadowy courtyards. Arched windows gave glimpses of fabulous luxuries inside.
“These to your left belong to the college of the arcane, where we teach our young. Across are the dwellings of the students and professors. The very tallest building that you can see from here is the seat of government, where sit the members of the council, whom you have just met. Ah, I must warn you of one thing.” Sinistrad, who had been walking with one hand resting lovingly on the shoulder of his son, turned around to face them.
“The material used in our buildings is made magically and therefore is not . . . How shall I put it so that you will understand? Let us say: it is not of this world. And so it would be a good idea if you, being of the world, did not touch it. Ah, there, what did I say?”
Limbeck, ever curious, had reached out his hand to run his fingers over the smooth, pearly stone. There was a sizzle, and the Geg yelped in pain and snatched back burned fingers.
“He doesn’t understand your language,” said Alfred with a rebuking glance at the wizard.
“Then I suggest that one of you translate,” returned Sinistrad. “The next time, it might cost him his life.”
Limbeck stared in awe at the buildings, sucking on the tips of his hurt fingers. Alfred imparted the warning to the Geg in a low voice and they continued on down the street, new wonders continually unfolding before their eyes. The sidewalks were massed with people, coming and going on their business, and all staring at them curiously and in silence. Alfred and Limbeck kept pace with Bane and Sinistrad. Hugh was doing the same until he noticed Haplo lagging behind, walking slowly to assist his dog, which had suddenly developed a limp in one foot. Hugh, answering a silent request, paused to wait for them. They were a long time coming—the dog was in obvious discomfort—and the others drew well ahead. Haplo stopped and knelt down beside the animal, seemingly absorbed in its injury. Hugh joined him.
“Well, what’s the matter with the mutt?”
“Nothing, really. I wanted to show you something. Reach out and touch that wall behind me.”
“Are you crazy? You want to see me burn my fingers off?”
“Go ahead,” said Haplo with his quiet smile. The dog was grinning at Hugh as if sharing a wonderful secret. “You won’t get hurt.” Feeling very much like a boy who can’t resist a dare though he knows he’ll only end up in trouble, Hugh gingerly stretched out his hand toward the pearl-glistening wall. He cringed in expected pain when his fingers touched the surface, but he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing! His fingers went completely through the stone! The building was solid as a cloud.
“What the...?”
“Illusion,” said Haplo. He patted the dog on the flank. “Come on, the wizard’s looking at us. Thorn in its paw,” he called out to Sinistrad. “I removed it. The dog’ll be all right now.”
Sinistrad regarded them with narrow-eyed suspicion, perhaps wondering where the dog had managed to pick up a thorn in the middle of the city. He continued on, however, though it seemed that his speech about the wonders of New Hope was a bit forced, the descriptions delivered somewhat bitingly. Hugh, mystified, nudged Haplo. “Why?”
Haplo shrugged. “There’s something else, too,” he said in a low voice, the words coming out of the corner of his mouth so that, if Sinistrad glanced back, they would not seem to be talking. “Take a close look at all these people around us.”
“They’re a quiet bunch. I can say that for them.”
“Look at them. Closely.”
Hugh did as he was told. “There is something strange about them,” he admitted.
“They look . . .” He paused.
“Familiar?”
“Yeah. Familiar. Like I’ve seen them somewhere before. But that’s not possible.”
“Yes, it is. If you’re seeing the same twenty people over and over.” At that moment, almost as if he had overheard, Sinistrad brought the tour to an abrupt halt.
“It is time we traveled on to my humble dwelling,” he said. “My wife will be waiting.”
49
The quicksilver dragon carried them to Sinistrad’s dwelling. They did not travel far. The castle seemed to float on a cloud, and commanded, whenever the mists parted, a view of the city of New Hope that was spectacular, breathtaking, and—to Hugh’s mind—disturbing. The buildings, the people—nothing but a dream. If so, whose? And why were they being invited—no, forced—to share it?
Hugh’s first action on entering the castle was to take a surreptitious poke at the wall. He noted Haplo doing the same, and both exchanged glances. The castle, at least, was solid. This was real.
And the woman descending the stairs . . . was she real?
“Ah, there you are, my dear. I thought you would be out front, waiting impatiently to greet your son.”
The castle’s entry hall was enormous, its dominating feature a grand staircase whose marble steps were so wide that a war dragon could have flown up it, wings fully extended, and never touched the sides. The interior walls were made of the same smooth, pearlized opal as the outer, and shimmered in the sunlight shining softly through the shifting mists surrounding the castle. Tapestries of rich and wondrous beauty adorned the walls. Rare and valuable articles of furniture—massive wooden chests, richly carved high-backed chairs—line the hallway. Ancient suits of human armor made of precious metals, inlaid with silver and gold, stood silent guard. The stairs were covered with a thick, smooth carpet made of woven wool.
Halfway down the stairs, dwarfed by their massive size, they could see—once Sinistrad had drawn their attention to her—a woman. She stood frozen, staring at her child. Bane kept very near Sinistrad, the boy’s small hand clinging tightly to the wizard’s. The woman put her hand to a locket she wore at her throat and clasped her fingers round it. With her other, she leaned heavily against the balustrades. She had not stopped on the stair to make a grand entrance, to draw all eyes to her. She had stopped, Hugh saw, because she could go no farther.
Hugh had wondered, briefly, what kind of woman Bane’s mother was. What kind of woman would participate in a baby-switching. He had thought he knew, and would not have been surprised to see someone as treacherous and ambitious as the father. Now, seeing her, he realized she was not a perpetrator but a victim.
“My dear, have you taken root?” Sinistrad appeared displeased. “Why don’t you speak? Our guests—”