The Finisher

“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 104 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 dis- appearance.

” Another Wug stood with his hat in his hands. He said, “Beggin’ pardon, but why offer a reward if something took 105 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 prepar- ing 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 neigh- bor. 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.

” 106 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 multicol- ored 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 con- tinued. “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 mea- sure, 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?” 107 Thansius said, “We have every reason to believe that they have been spawned by the unspeakable physical intermin- gling 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 seri- ously 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, cov- ering 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 pre- cautionary 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 Out- liers?” yelled one old Wug named Tigris Tellus.

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

” “But how do we know?” barked a white-faced Tellus, hold- ing 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 par- don 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 quiet- ing 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.

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

Morrigone raised her fist to the beautiful Steeples ceil- ing. “For Wormwood.

” “For Wormwood,” we all cheered back.

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

110 T R E S D E C I M Morrigone Calls Outside steeples, i saw Cletus Loon and two of his male Wug chums taunting Delph, making moronic faces and talking in the halting way he does.

“D-D-Delph s-s-smelts,” cried out one of the gits.

Cletus said, “Seen better-looking faces on the back of a creta.

” Duf roared, “Get away from here, you heathens. Right outside Steeples no less. Bloody Alvis Alcumus turning in his box, no doubt. Har!” He grabbed Delph’s arm and pulled him along.

I just happened to walk next to Cletus, and my foot just happened to reach out and trip him. He fell facedown in the dirt. When he rolled over and tried to get up, I put one of my boots squarely on his chest and held him down.

“You try that again, Cletus Loon, my boot will end up in a place the light never sees.

” I removed my boot and walked on. He and his mates raced past, calling me names so bad that I finally had to cover John’s ears.

It had been hot in Steeples, but the air outside was cool and damp. I even shivered as we walked along. I took John to Learning and then worked all light at Stacks. It was a curious light for all Stackers. We did our jobs, but no one’s mind, I could tell, was on their tasks. At mid-light meal in the com- mon room, all the discussion was focused of course on the Outliers. I said nothing and listened a great deal. To a Wug, they were all behind Morrigone and the plan to build the Wall. While I had doubts, Morrigone had made a convincing case for protecting ourselves.

When John and I walked to our digs after Learning, the Loons were holding what looked like a war meeting at the table in the main room. Cacus had a knife lying close to hand. Cletus was eyeing it greedily, and then he glanced ven- omously at me.

As we passed by him, I made a show of taking my cutting knife from my pocket and examining its sharpness. And then I wielded it expertly, making tricky maneuvers with the blade and tossing and catching it in a blur of speed. Then I tossed it ten feet, point first into the wall. As I wrenched it free, I glanced over and caught him watching me, wide-eyed.

While I put my knife away, I noticed something was off.

There was no smell of food cooking. And there was no heat coming from the kitchen.

“Aren’t we having a night meal?” I asked.

Loon looked at me like I was gonked. “After what we bloody heard this light at Steeples? Outliers coming to kill us? Eat our young? Who can think of food at a time like this, eh, you prat?” “I can,” I exclaimed as my belly gave a painful rumble.

“We can hardly put up a fight against the Outliers if our bel- lies are empty.

” I looked at Cletus and saw the crumbs of 112 bread on his lip and a smear of what looked to be chicken grease on his chin.

“And it looks like you lot ate,” I said angrily.

Hestia started to rise. I was sure she was going to go to the kitchen to make us a meal. But Loon put a restraining hand on her arm. “You sit, female. Now.

” She sat, not looking at me.

I glared at Loon and Cletus for a half sliver longer and then led John back outside, slamming the door after us. On the cobblestone, other Wugs were standing around talking in small groups. John and I found a private spot and sat down. It was raw and clammy out and a chill settled in my weary bones as if they were being immersed in cold water.

John said, “Outliers?” I nodded.

John rested his chin on his bony knees. “I’m scared, Vega.

” I put an arm around his shoulders. “Me too. But being scared and being paralyzed are two different things. If we work together, we’ll be okay. The Outliers will not get to us.

” I pulled my tin box from my cloak and opened it. Inside was some food I had bartered for earlier. It was meant to be for next light meal, but that wouldn’t work now. “Eat what you want, John,” I said.

“What about you?” “I had my meal at Stacks, so I’m not really hungry.

Go on.

” This was a lie but there was hardly enough food for him.

I stiffened when I saw the carriage coming. It stopped right where we sat. Despite the chill, the flanks of the sleps 113 were heavy with sweat. Bogle must have pushed them hard.

The door opened and I expected to see Thansius step out.

Instead, it was Morrigone.

John and I hastily stood. It seemed disrespectful to sit in her presence. Over her white robe she wore a red cloak that very nearly matched her hair. Blood on blood, I thought. She looked at me and then at John and then down at the insignificant meal in my tin box. When she looked back up, her cheeks were tinged with pink.

“Would you like to come and take supper with me at my home?” John simply gaped at her. I did likewise.

“Come, it would be both my desire and privilege.

” She held open the carriage door and motioned for us to step inside. As we did, I caught the gaze of the many Wugs who were watching us, openmouthed. That included all the Loons, who had come outside. Cletus Loon, in particular, shot a look of pure malice at me.

We already had been inside this carriage once before with Thansius, but our wonderment was still freshly obvious as we gazed at the rich trappings.

Morrigone smiled and said, “It is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Bogle whipped up the sleps and off we went. We had never actually traveled in the carriage: We had merely sat in it. I was surprised at how fast and smooth the ride was. I looked out at the lantern-lit windows of Wormwood rushing by as the sleps moved in perfect synchronicity with one another.

Morrigone was very private, and no Wug knew very 114 much about her, but I knew her home was set off the road north of Wormwood proper.

The carriage rounded one last bend, where the road became crushed gravel, and a sliver later there appeared the set of massive metal gates. These parted on their own some- how, and the carriage swept through. All I could see on the wrought iron gates was the letter M.

When I turned back, Morrigone was watching me closely.

“I’ve seen where you live,” I said haltingly. “But just through the gates as I was passing by. It’s very beautiful.

” She continued to watch me closely. “When you were a very young?” she asked.


I nodded. “I was with my father.

” She looked relieved for some reason and nodded. “Thank you. It is a wonderful place to live.

” She glanced over at John, who was scrunched so far down in the corner of the carriage as to have almost become part of the cushioned seat. “The time grows late,” she said. “We will have our meal and then we can talk through matters.

” I gaped. What matters needed talking through with Wugs like us? The carriage stopped and she reached across and opened the door. She stepped out first and we followed, with me last.

I actually had to pull John up and push him out.

The house itself was large and magnificent. Compared to what else was in Wormwood, it was like a crystal vase set among rubbish. It was made of stone and brick and timber but it didn’t look jumbled; it looked as though there could be no 115 more perfect way to meld these disparate elements together.

The front door was large and made of wood as thick as the width of my hand. As we neared it, the door opened. I was startled by this occurrence, although the heavy gates had done the same.

And then I saw a Wug revealed behind the door. I had glimpsed him once before on the cobblestones of Wormwood, although I didn’t know his name. He bowed to Morrigone and then led us down a long hallway illuminated by torches set in bronzed holders on the wall. There were large paintings on the wall. And a looking glass hung there as well. The metal frame was of creatures twisted into different shapes.

Then I noticed a pair of silver candleholders on the wall.

“I worked on those at Stacks,” I exclaimed.

She nodded. “I know you did. They are extraordinarily lovely. One of my prized possessions.

” I beamed at this praise as we continued down the hall.

My feet sank into thick rugs awash in lovely colors. We passed several rooms, including one that I could see through the open doorway. This was obviously the library since it had books from the floor to the ceiling; a fire burned in a massive stone fireplace. It had a large chimneypiece fashioned from what I knew to be marble. A suit of dark armor taller than I was stood next to the door to this room. Morrigone, I real- ized, was minted indeed.

As I looked at the armor, I said, “Will we need to start making these in preparation for being invaded by the Outliers?” She gazed at me with far more scrutiny than the 116 query probably deserved. For my part, I kept my features unreadable.

“I think our plans for the Wall will be sufficient, Vega, but I rule nothing out.

” As we reached the end of the hall, Morrigone, her gaze sweeping briefly over our less-than-clean appearances, said, “William will show you where you can, um, tidy up a bit before we take our meal?” William was obviously the Wug escorting us. Short and amply fed, and wearing overly clean clothes, with skin that was as smooth and pristine as his garments, he motioned for us to follow him as Morrigone set off down another passageway.

William showed us to a door. I stared blankly at it, not knowing what to do. He opened it and said, “Hot water tap on the left, cold water tap on the right. Matters of a personal nature right where it looks to be,” he added, pointing at the device set against one wall. “Meal is awaiting, so no loitering about.

” Then he gave us each a shove into the room and closed the door behind us.

The room was small and well illuminated. There was a white bowl with pipes against one wall. Against another wall was the toilet where you could sit down or stand up to do your personal business, as William had said.

Our personal business was normally done in the loo located in a shack behind the Loons. The pipes we used were next to it. There was no hot water, only the freezing variety that came out most times at little more than a trickle.

Here were thick cloths and a white cleaning bar set next to the bowl. I had seen one of those at hospital. Most Wugs 117 just used the suds flakes you could get cheap at a shop on the High Street.

I looked at John, who did not appear capable of move- ment. So I stepped up to the bowl and turned on the left tap.

Water flowed out with good pressure. I put my hands under it. It was warm! I picked up the cleaning bar and rubbed it across my palms. The grime came off. I wiped my face and then washed it all off with the water. I hesitated and then grabbed one of the cloths and dried myself.

I motioned to John to come and do what I had done.

When I put the cloth down, I could see that it was black with my freed dirt. As I stared at the soiled cloth, I felt shame for having besmirched something so pristine of Morrigone’s.

While John was using the pipes, I stared at the looking glass hung above the bowl. Myself looked back at myself. I had not seen my reflection for some time. It was not a pleas- ing sight. My face was a bit cleaner because of the bar and water, but my hair was all over the place, looking like an untidy stack of hay. I would have to give myself a hack soon.

My gaze then flitted over my clothes. They were filthy. I felt truly embarrassed to be in this remarkable place. I was unworthy to ride in the elegant carriage. I was too unclean even to ride on one of the majestic sleps.

I self-consciously rubbed at a dirt spot on my cheek that the water and cleaner had missed. My nose looked funny too, I thought. And my eyes appeared mismatched, one slightly larger and higher placed than its neighbor. In the light in here, my eyes looked more silver than blue.

I opened my mouth and counted my teeth. My mother used to do this with me as a very young. We would skip over 118 the gaps where my very young teeth had fallen out and con- tinue on. She made a game and a song out of it.

Tap, tap, tap, leap over the gap.

Smile big and wide, as you have nothing to hide.

John pulled on my arm. I looked down at his clean face as both the lyrics and my mum’s face faded from my mind.

“I’m done, Vega,” he said, his fear obviously gone and replaced with something even more powerful. “Can we go eat?” 119 Q U A T T U O R D E C I M A Night of Queries William was waiting for us outside the door.

Still ashamed of my appearance, I kept my gaze down as we followed him along another hall. But I couldn’t resist snatching a glance here and there. I wondered how large Morrigone’s home was.

William opened another door and ushered us in. “Madame Morrigone, your guests,” he announced.

The room alone was about six yards long and eight yards wide, far bigger than our digs at the Loons, where six Wugs slept together on tiny cots that had the firmness of a bowl of mush. It was no wonder I always woke with aches and pains.

Morrigone was already seated. She had taken off her cloak. Underneath was the impossibly white robe she had worn at Steeples.

“Please come and sit,” she said pleasantly.

We did as she asked, though after seeing how dirty and disheveled I was, I could no longer meet her eye. What occurred next was something I would never forget. A female Wug dressed in crisply ironed black-and-white clothing appeared and put a bowl in front of me with steam rising off it. She did the same with John and Morrigone.

“Hearty soup will help fight off the chill of the night,” said Morrigone. She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the soup that had been set before her.

We did not, as a matter of course, use utensils at the Loons, but my parents had done so, and John and I knew how to use them. We were a bit rusty, though, and it showed when I dribbled a bit of soup onto the table and looked horrified.

The female merely stepped forward and dabbed it away with a cloth.


After the soup came cheeses. After the cheeses came breads. After the breads came greens. And after the greens came a side of cow that melted on my fork and then in my mouth along with round potatoes, ears of corn and green sprouts that were warm and tasted far better than they looked.

Tiller fare rarely made its way to the Loons. We might get a few corn kernels and a bit of potato, enough for a mouthful, but that was all. I had seen ears of corn when the Tillers piled them in their cart. I had never had one on a plate in front of me. I watched Morrigone closely to see how to properly eat it.

John’s face was hovering so close to his plate that I could barely spot the food disappearing into his mouth. Morrigone had to show him that the part of the ear in which the corn kernels were imbedded was not actually edible. John was not embarrassed by this. He just kept eating as fast as he possibly could.

Males are males after all.

I too ate as much as I possibly could and then ate some more just in case I was dreaming and the feeling of being full would disappear when I woke. After the cow came plates of plump fruits and sugary confections that I had seen in the 121 window of Herman Helvet’s shop but could never hope to buy. I noticed John surreptitiously slipping a few of them into his cloak. I think Morrigone saw this too, though she said nothing.

When we could eat no more, John and I sat back. I had never eaten such a meal in all my sessions. I felt warm and sleepy and good.

Morrigone said, “Do you desire anything else to eat?” I glanced at Morrigone, again ashamed to meet her gaze fully.

“I think we’re fine. Thank you for such a wonderful meal,” I added hastily.

“Shall we go to the library, then?” We followed her down the hall. I marveled at how she carried herself, so tall and straight and graceful, and I found myself trying to walk straighter too. We passed a longcase clock standing against one wall. It gonged the section of time as we passed, causing John and me to jump. Most Wugs don’t have timepieces, much less case clocks.

We settled in the library, where the fire was still blazing.

I sat with Morrigone across from me. I felt my eyes grow heavy because of the big meal and the warm fire.

John didn’t sit. He walked around the room, staring up at all the books.

Morrigone watched him curiously.

I explained, “John likes to read, but the Learning doesn’t have many books.

” “Then take any that you would like, John,” said Morrigone.

He glanced at her in disbelief. “Really, John, take whatever books you want. I’ve read them all.

” 122 “You’ve read all of them?” I said.

She nodded. “My parents encouraged reading from an early age.

” She looked around. “This is the home I grew up in.

Didn’t you know?” I shook my head. “No one in Wormwood knows much about you,” I said quite frankly. “They know you’re the only female member of Council. And Wugs see you from time to time, but that’s all.

” “Your parents never spoke about my family?” “Not that I can recall, no.

” I frowned because I felt I was disappointing her.

“My grandfather was Chief of Council before Thansius.

This was many sessions ago of course. He actually served on Council with your grandfather, Vega.

” I sat up straight, my drowsiness gone. “My grandfather was on Council?” “He left before . . . well before his . . .

” “Event,” I finished for her with a frown. And I wondered once more about what Krone had said back at Quentin’s cot- tage. Did Council simply use an Event to explain away some Wug vanishing? If so, where was my grandfather really? “That’s right,” she said. “You really didn’t know Virgil was on Council?” I sat back, my frown deepening. I was so ignorant of my birthplace, my own family history. I looked over at John. He had pulled a dozen books off the shelf and looked to be try- ing to read them all at once.

“I was never told that much about Wormwood,” I said defensively. “But I am curious about it. Very curious,” I added for emphasis.

123 “Learning is not what it once was,” she replied in a resigned tone. “Things that were taught when I was John’s age are no longer taught. That is sad to me.

” “It’s sad to me too,” I said. “Perhaps you can tell me a few things?” “Alvis Alcumus founded Wormwood long ago, perhaps five hundred sessions or more in the past; no one knows the exact date.

” “I knew that. But where did he come from? Because if he founded Wormwood, that means it didn’t exist before him.

And that also means he had to come from somewhere else.

” I had asked questions such as this many times at Learning and had never received an answer. I’m sure they were glad to see the back of me when I turned twelve sessions and my Learning experience was officially over.

Morrigone gave me an uncertain look. “It’s not all that clear. Some say he appeared one light out of nothing.

” “You mean like a reverse Event?” said John.

We both shot him glances. He was on the floor holding a book whose title was Jabbits and the Jugular. After nearly feeling their bite, I felt sick reading those words.

Morrigone rose and went to the fire and held out her long, thin hands to the flames, while John turned his atten- tion to another book, entitled Nefarious Wugs of Wormwood: A Compendium.

I turned to Morrigone, hoping she would continue the discussion.

“My father suffered an Event when I was only six sessions old,” she said.

“Where?” I blurted out before I could catch myself.

124 She didn’t seem to take offense. “He was last seen down by the Quag. He went there to collect a particular mush- room, the Amanita fulva, which grows only along the edge there. We never knew if that was where the Event occurred.

There is nothing left to tell you the exact location of course. There never is.

” I went to stand next to her, gearing up my courage to ask my next question.

“Morrigone,” I began, and my tongue seemed thrilled to say her name, as though we were longtime friends. “If there is nothing left, how do Wugs know it was an Event? If your father was down by the Quag, couldn’t a beast have attacked him and pulled him into the Quag? If so, no Wug would go in to find him.

” I stopped because I suddenly couldn’t believe what I was actually saying. I had just spoken about Morrigone’s father in a way that could be deemed disrespectful.

“Your question is a perfectly natural one, Vega. I had it myself when I was a young.

” “And did you find a satisfactory answer?” John asked.

She turned from the fire and gazed at him. “Sometimes I think that yes, I have. Other times, well, it’s not an easy answer to arrive at, is it? Why some Wugs leave us,” she added wistfully.

“I guess not,” I said doubtfully.

“Now I would like to discuss some matters with you,” she said.

My heart started beating faster because I was afraid what she wanted to discuss was Quentin Herms. But once more, Morrigone surprised me.

125 “What do you think of the Wall?” She stared at each of us. John put a book down and glanced at me.

“Do you believe it a worthy idea?” she said.

“It is if it keeps the Outliers from eating us,” voiced John.

“You said your vision had seen the attack on Herms,” I said. “And that you could also see the Outliers want to take Wormwood from us.


” “That is true.

” “So what became of Herms? You said your vision stopped.

But you assumed that he was dead because of what was found left of him?” “My vision did not stop. What I said was a bit of an untruth to spare Wugs the horror.

” She glanced over at an open- mouthed John. “I have no desire to comment further on his fate. But Herms is no more.

” I looked back from John to find Morrigone’s gaze full upon me.

“You were there that light, Vega,” she observed. “And while I know you told Krone you saw nothing, are you abso- lutely sure you didn’t? Perhaps a glimpse?” With a start I realized that with her gift of special sight, Morrigone might have seen what I had seen at the edge of the Quag. She might know I had lied to Krone. I thought for a sliver. When I spoke, I did so with great care.

“Everything happened so fast,” I began. “The attack canines were making a lot of noise and there were Council members rushing around. Some of them were very near the Quag. Whether they actually entered it or not, I couldn’t be sure. Perhaps I glimpsed one of them darting into the place.

But surely a Wug would not stay there long, right?” 126 She nodded. “No, no Wug in his right mind would stay in the Quag.

” She looked directly at me. “It means death, be very certain of that.

” She glanced at John. “Both of you.

” I looked at John, who I knew needed no such admonish- ment. He looked ready to fall headfirst into the fire, so shaky was he.

But something had occurred to me. “Thansius said that the Outliers can control the minds of Wugs. How?” “It is not clear. They are foul creatures to be sure, but their minds are advanced. Perhaps more advanced and cun- ning than our own.

” “So they can make Wugs do their bidding?” I asked.

She looked troubled by this question. “Let us hope you never have occassion to find out the answer to that, Vega,” she said ominously.

I felt my face grow warm at her response and I looked away.

She said, “I trust you both will give all your effort to help with the Wall.

” John nodded vigorously and I did as well, though not quite so energetically. He said, “What will the Wall look like?” “It will be high, made of wood with guard towers at spec- ified intervals.

” “That’s all?” said John, looking disappointed.

She focused more fully on him. “Why? What would you suggest?” He said with great conviction, “A two-layered defense.

Height can be defeated in various ways. What would be much harder to overcome is if we combined the Wall with another 127 obstacle that would reduce the effectiveness of any attack against us.

” I was impressed and I could tell by her look that Morrigone was too.

She asked, “What would this other obstacle be?” “Water,” he promptly answered. “Deep enough water to slow the Outliers down. If they are descended from beasts, I would imagine they are large and heavy, even if they do walk on two legs. Thus, I would dig moats on either side of the Wall. It would provide us great tactical advantage because it would allow us to control the situation and divide and con- quer our opponent.

” “That’s brilliant, John,” I said, marveling at how he had concocted this seemingly out of nothing. We had only just learned this light of the threat of the Outliers and of the Wall solution, and already he had improved upon our defen- sive plan.

Morrigone nodded and added with a smile, “Brilliant indeed. When did you think of all this?” “When I was using the pipes in your room to wash my face. I saw how the water collected in the little basin. It gave me the idea for the moats.

” My respect for John’s intellect, already high, increased a hundredfold. I could only stare at him in awe.

Morrigone rose and fetched a book off the shelf and handed it to John. “This work is on numbers,” she said. “I understand from the Preceptor at Learning that you like to work with numbers.

” John opened the book and instantly focused on what was there.

128 However, I was wondering why Morrigone had queried the Preceptor about John.

Morrigone looked at me. “We all must use our strengths in these difficult times. And it is incumbent on Council to determine what the strengths of every Wug is.

” I looked back at her uneasily. Had she just read my mind? Later, as we parted company, Morrigone said, “I would very much appreciate if neither of you talked about your trip here. I realize that most Wugmorts don’t live at this level of comfort. And I myself find it more and more difficult to remain here when I understand the challenges the rest of Wormwood faces. However, it is my home.

” John said, “I won’t say anything.

” I could tell in his voice that he was hoping for an invitation for another grand meal.

John was smart, but he was also a young male with a usually empty belly. Sometimes it was simple as that.

The carriage took us back, with Bogle of course at the whip. The sleps moved swiftly and in perfect coordination and we were soon at the Loons, but Morrigone’s home would remain a vivid memory for a long time, as would the wonder- ful meal we had consumed.

As we headed up to our cots, John, who was staggering slightly under the weight of all the books he had brought with him, said, “I will never forget this night.

” Well, I knew that I wouldn’t either. But probably not for the same reasons.

129 Q U I N E C I M The Start of The End Next light, i walked John to Learning. He had stuffed as many of the books from Morrigone’s into his tuck as possible. I knew he would spend the time at Learn- ing reading them. I had loved books at his age. I still loved books. But Morrigone had not extended her offer to me.

I struck out for my tree, where I planned to eat my first light meal, which would forever seem trivial in comparison to the one we had enjoyed at Morrigone’s. It was no wonder that she kept her living arrangements a secret. Jealousy was not a lost emotion in Wormwood.

As I walked, I touched the chain, which was wrapped around my waist and tucked under my shirt. A sliver later I ran into them.

I first saw Roman Picus in his greasy coat and dented hat.

A long-barreled morta rode over his shoulder and a short- barreled morta was in a garm-skin holder on his belt. With him were two other Wugs, both carrying mortas and long swords. I knew both of them, although I wish I didn’t.

One was Ran Digby, who worked at Ted Racksport’s weapons shop. He was a mess of a Wug, one of the filthiest blokes about, actually. I would wager that he had never held cleaning suds in his hands in all his sessions. Racksport kept him in the back building the mortas, principally because no one could stand the stench of him.

He looked at me from behind his great, bristly beard that was filled with remnants of meals eaten long ago. When he smiled, which wasn’t often, there were only three blackened teeth visible.

The other Wug was watching me in quiet triumph. Cletus Loon carried a long-barreled morta nearly as tall as he was.

He was dressed in some of his father’s hand-me-downs.

Whether this was done to make him feel like a full-grown male, I didn’t know. But the effect was comical. My face must have betrayed this because his triumphant look changed to a poisonous scowl.

Roman said, “And where might you be headed, Vega?” I looked up at him blankly. “To Stacks. And where might you be headed, Roman?” He made a show of checking his fat timekeeper and fol- lowed that by an equally impressive gazing up at the sky.