A long hallway ended with a staircase leading up to the cockpit. Diamond looked at the bank of controls and the pilot standing before the open window and her assistant sitting beside her. “Now,” said the pilot, and the assistant pulled a long lever, deploying the gangway again.
Two narrow doors stood in the hallway, facing one another and each wearing a bowl-shaped emblem. Nissim knocked on one door and opened it, ushering the boy into a tiny room. The sink was dirty and the toilet smelled. Diamond felt a sudden need to urinate. Nissim closed the door and pulled a latch to lock it, and then he reached behind his back, saying, “If you have to go, go.”
Diamond didn’t need any more encouragement.
And from behind, Nissim removed a pair of knives wrapped in soft brown leather. He had carried them from the beginning.
“Three men,” he began. “Somebody sent them, and I can’t guess who. But it doesn’t matter. The problem is that there’s three of them. If somebody wanted us followed, he would send just one person, somebody we wouldn’t notice. But three big boys strutting onboard like they did . . . no, that means they plan to take you. They know who you are, and I don’t know how that can be. But I’m almost certain that they want to grab you up.”
“Me,” said Diamond. “Me?”
The butcher’s knives were designed to cut stubborn meat off bones and carve away tendons. Nissim used the smaller knife, working on the window high on the outside wall. The window was already partway opened, supplying meager circulation to the stinking room. He jabbed the knife’s point into a hinge, prying it away from an old wooden frame.
“Why me?” asked Diamond.
“A fine question and I wish we had time to talk. But we don’t.” Nissim stopped working on the hinge, rewrapping each knife in its own leather. Then he grabbed the window with both hands, and he waited.
Another horn sounded.
The blaring was enormous and close, and it covered up the sound of the big man twisting the window away from the rectangular opening. Without a false motion, Nissim set the glass on the sink and knelt down in front of the boy. “Who they are and why they want you—I don’t know the answers. But there are three of them, and I’m responsible for the three of you. And I think this is our best chance to get away.”
Diamond glanced at the window.
“This is a big landing, and we’re floating over it right now,” the man explained. “In a few moments, the gangway will be pulled back up. And you’ll climb out through this hole and carefully, carefully jump down.”
“But then what will I do?” he began.
“Listen,” said Nissim, pushing a broad thumb against Diamond’s mouth. “You’ll have to run to the District office. The office is on the big blackwood tree called Hanner. When you get lost—and you will get lost—ask for directions. Find a nice woman. Tell her that you’re meeting your father at the Ivory Station, and beg for help. You’re a sweet odd boy, and she’ll take pity on you. It’s a trick that you could master, I think.”
One last time, the horn sounded, and the gangway lifted as the blimp began to push forward again.
“This isn’t fair, but this has to be,” Nissim insisted. Then he picked up Diamond, aiming his legs for the hole in the wall.
Diamond straightened his arms, making himself small enough to fit.
“We’ll be at the Station waiting,” the Master promised. “Are you ready?”
The boy didn’t have time to answer.
“Good,” said the man, giving him one hard shove.
And for the second time in his life, Diamond was falling.
EIGHT
The blimp was fixed to the air while a broad sheet of wood moved beneath him. Diamond fell sideways toward the landing, letting out a bright shout to warn those not looking up.
People looked up, but nobody moved.
Legs bent, he crumbled and rolled. Nothing about his landing was graceful, but the wood was softer than expected and the only pain was from a bruised shoulder that immediately started to heal.
An old woman bent down. “What do you think you’re accomplishing?”
Diamond sat up, watching the blimp push away.
“You nearly hit me,” she said, even though he hadn’t. “And why would you jump from an aircraft?”
She was holding a stick, and above her head was a round piece of fabric supported by smaller sticks.
Diamond stood, paying strict attention to his body. Something hard was pressing against his side, and reaching under his shirt, he found the small butcher’s knife wrapped in soft warm leather.
“Answer me,” the woman insisted.
“Where’s Hanner?” he asked.
She fumed and stepped back. “Where it always is,” she said, throwing a sloppy wave behind him.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He turned and ran.
The landing narrowed, becoming a walkway. Diamond watched the flat planks of wood ahead of him, sliding left or right when feet and legs had to be avoided. People called out warnings. Other voices had nothing to do with him.
It was terrifying to know that three strange men were chasing him, but only to a point. This was a new fear that easily dissolved into the day’s other horrors.
Diamond stopped running, breathing deeply.
Nobody was following. He touched the knife stuck into his waistband, and after a moment touched it again. The walkway was white and slick because it was dirty. Everybody except Diamond carried an umbrella. Soft popping sounds came from ahead and behind, and then a little fleck of something wet struck the top of his hand. He lifted the hand to his nose, finding an acrid, familiar odor. Eyes narrowed, he looked straight up. Blimps and birds and the enormous leatherwings were tiny in the air, and everything seemed to move slowly, and he wondered what happened when those huge animals relieved themselves.
Diamond dropped his face, wiping his hand against his trousers.
Ropes and posts created railings. The walkway was built on top of one of Marduk’s enormous limbs—a massive, nearly straight column of wood that had seen healthier days. Bark was missing, wounds full of deep rot. Yet nothing about the limb seemed weak. Countless smaller branches erupted from it, some dropping into the canopy, out of sight, while others reached out to both sides, every branch ending with knobby leaves as big as people.
Diamond grabbed the rope railing, staring into the canopy. Leaves twisted in the breeze. Their topsides were a paler green and different in texture than the dark glossy almost black faces that pointed downward, aiming for the unseen sun. A face was gazing up at him. The green-gold monkey was balanced on a tiny branch, and with a spitting voice, it said, “Go, leave. Go.”
The boy ran again. The walkway dropped, slowly and then steeply, and the limb it was riding grew narrower frailer. Every gust of wind caused planks and ropes to creak. A second walkway soon appeared, rising up from the deep canopy as it moved closer to his path. Stairs and ladders descended into other places, every destination hidden by the foliage. Then the two paths crossed, and reaching the intersection, Diamond slowed. A young woman was sitting on a long bench, protected from feces by a broad fixed canopy. Her hands and eyes were occupied with a toddler trying with all of his might to run away.
Diamond watched mother and son struggle.
Without looking up, the woman asked, “What do you want?”
“My father,” said Diamond.
She still didn’t look up. Leather straps fit around the boy’s chest, and she grabbed her son from behind, yanking. He let loose a pitiful wail, and her instant reaction was laughter, telling him, “You’re fine, silly nut. You couldn’t be any better.”
Diamond waited, and when the crying quit, he asked, “Where is Hanner, ma’am?”
She pointed up the new walkway. “Straight ahead.”
“All right, ma’am. Thank you.”
The mother rose, uncoiling a narrow rope. One end of the rope was looped and needed to ride her wrist, while the clip on the other end was fastened to the boy’s leather halter. Having control of her son, she picked up a blue stick covered with bird feces, opening the spring-powered umbrella.