Never before in Flett's life had the feelings of elation and dread so viciously battled with each other, never had they so determinedly vied for superiority, as when he had looked out upon Omniphrax for the very first time, the great city sprawled beneath him, visible through a tiny window inside the hull of the First-Age sky galleon into which he had been loaded and shackled.
He had never imagined that such a beautiful place could possibly exist.
From the air, the receding shape of the great fortress—"Twilight's Edge", he had heard one of his captors call it—was no less impressive. Flett realized that it must stretch all the way from the northern Edgelands to the southern Edgelands, allowing the troops manning the defensive towers and gantries to screen anyone unwanted from entering this entire region of the Edgeworld. It was absolutely incredible…and it was only the beginning.
Sprawled out on the other side of Twilight's Edge was a huge collection of colonies connected by serene-looking roads winding through gently rolling hills of greatgrass. Each small settlement was structured differently—some comprised long-huts or hive-huts in styles of ancient goblin tribes, others were collections of modern-looking buildings, still others simulated Deepwoods habitats. Could this truly be the Mire? Could it truly be the region that, a mere six hundred years ago, was a desolate wasteland of bleached white mud?
As they approached the very lip of rock that was the Edge, Flett caught sight of a more developed region. The city of Old Undertown seemed to have been rebuilt, though even here, great stands of trees fought with the buildings for control of the skyline. Still more astonishing, the ancient floating rock of Sanctaphrax had been restored to its former location, nearly perfect replicas of its academies and institutions rendering the city just as it had been during the First Age of Flight. Furthermore, it appeared that in the Stone Gardens, the academics were busy creating brand new Sanctaphrax rocks, the clusters of towers protruding from massive bulges in the rock face.
Peatwood was right. He had been right about everything. Even from this lofty, distant viewpoint, Flett felt that the whole place had an aura of curiosity, of eagerness and tolerance. This was a place of freedom.
But Flett's insides clenched painfully at the thought that the academics believed he had come in the attempt to destroy those freedoms. Earth and Sky willing, Peatwood would regain his wits and back up his story.
Eventually, as they approached Undertown, the sky ship began to descend. Flett remained where he sat, heart pounding with anticipation. When at last the ship juddered to a halt, floating above a stretch of land just to the east of Undertown, and the hatch in the ceiling opened up, spilling light into the hold, two fettleleggers appeared on the steps, each wearing the same distinctive uniform. They wore crushed funnel-hats of dark red, and their steel breastplates were covered in leaves—both embossed leaf patterns and actual leaves plucked from many different kinds of trees—surrounding an elaborate blue symbol…the humped, round-snouted, snaggle-toothed head of a borella. And both fettleleggers were pointing loaded crossbows at Flett's chest.
The one on the left strode over to Flett, keeping the crossbow primed, and removed the shackles. The other gestured for Flett to follow them, and he did so, arms raised above his head, doing his best to look innocent and unthreatening.
Once they had emerged onto the deck of the sky galleon, Flett gazed in the direction of the Stone Gardens. There were, he saw, three distinct bulges in the earth where new Sanctaphrax rocks seemed to be growing, and each one was being used for a different purpose. The nearest one was covered in elaborate wooden domes and greenhouses, and the one next to it featured many short, simple buildings that were similar to those nestled amongst the trees in Undertown. The third seemed to be a jumble of shipyards and cradles, though in the center stood a spectacular tower. Sleek sky ships outfitted with weaponry were arriving and departing from platforms protruding from all levels of the great structure.
A third uniformed individual, this one a squat, blond fourthling, came dashing up the stairs and across the gangplank, coming to a stop on the deck, in front of the two fettleleggers, "It's all been taken care of," he panted. "The woodtroll refugee is being sent to the Dormitory Towers as we speak. No improvement in his condition, but we haven't lost hope."
"And this?" said one of the fettleleggers, gesturing at Flett.
"Don't ask me why, Tholver, but the High Senator herself has asked to interrogate him," said the fourthling.
A knot tightened in Flett's stomach.
"So what do we do with him?"
"He is to be taken to Pirate Landing."
As soon as the fourthling turned and left, the fettleleggers gestured to the hooded stone pilot, who inserted a pair of metal cooling rods into the porous surface of the flight rock. With a hiss, the flight rock pulled upward, causing the ship to rise, and as the cloddertrog at the helm adjusted the flight-levers, the sky ship began to head for the third cluster of buildings. In another minute, they had arrived on one of the lower platforms of the great tower, and Flett found himself being shunted off the ship and towards an open door.
The inside of the tower was taken up by a single great chamber, ringed with walkways on every floor. The people in here wore greatcoats of a rich, deep blue, and Flett understood that these were the Pirates Academic. In the center, a cluster of elevators whizzed up and down. They seemed to have been made from hollowed-out flight-rocks, ascending as the lift operators inserted cooling-rods, descending as they fanned the flight-burners. Flett had never seen anything like it before.
A solitary stone elevator hovered on their level, and one of the fettleleggers flanking Flett waved to the mobgnome inside, who nodded back. "Ground floor," he said as they stepped inside.
The mobgnome began pumping a set of bellows, and instantly the interior of the elevator grew hot. The capsule shot downwards, past level after level of walkways, the people walking across them blurred, the streaks of other stone elevators whooshing past as the chilled material whistled.
As it turned out, the chamber they were in did not take up the entire tower. The ground floor was its own room, a large circular hall ringed with fluted columns. Pirates Academic were striding this way and that, but the instant they caught sight of Flett, they came to a halt, glaring at him. Flett felt as though he had physically shrunken upon his arrival in the room.
Fortunately, it was over quickly. Flett was shepherded into a plain side chamber containing nothing except two plain blackwood chairs and an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. Without another word, the fettleleggers withdrew, locking the door behind them.
Flett sat in one of the chairs, staring around at his nondescript surroundings with mounting fear. He had no friends here. There was no one to stick up for him. Peatwood was off in another part of Omniphrax, in no fit state to talk to anyone.
And then, the lock clicked, and the door opened once more, and a familiar elderly fourthling strode in. She sat down in the other chair and faced Flett sternly.
There were a few moments of silence. And then, she said, "Do you know who I am?"
Flett did not respond.
"My name is Eudoxia Prade. I am the founder and High Senator of Omniphrax."
Flett nodded. He felt deeply humbled by the woman before him, and even though he had done nothing wrong, could not suppress a tide of shame and guilt welling up inside him.
"Do you have a name?" inquired Eudoxia coldly. "Or perhaps a number? Given the Empire's attitude, I can't be sure."
"Flett Grayle," he replied softly.
Eudoxia raised her eyebrows. "Grayle, did you say? A long time ago, my father employed someone with that name. Grint Grayle, he was called…"
"My great-grandfather," said Flett. "I don't know anything about him, though…"
Eudoxia's lips were pursed. "I had a…well, I mean, my…"
To Flett's surprise, the High Senator turned away suddenly, her eyes watery. She took a few deep breaths, and fixed Flett with a stern gaze once more.
"There was an acquaintance of mine who reported to him. Grint Grayle murdered that acquaintance's father, and tried to kill him. He also stole dozens of crates of phraxcrystals, sold them on the black market, and kept the profits for himself. What do you think of that, Flett Grayle?"
Flett swallowed. "It…it sounds like he was a terrible man."
"And yet you enlisted in the Great Glade Military," said Eudoxia. "How are you any better?"
"Please…" whispered Flett desperately. "This is all a big misunderstanding. I swear. You don't understand."
Eudoxia leaned back in her chair, and crossed her legs. "Then by all means," she said, "enlighten me."
Flett began to tell the High Senator everything that had happened since that day, long ago, when he left his condominium in a fever of nationalism. He described his experience in the Great Glade Military—the atrocities he had seen and the atrocities that he had been expected to commit. He told her of how he had met Peatwood, of their harrowing escape from Great Glade, and of their trek eastward. He left out no details, determined to paint for Eudoxia a vivid and accurate picture of who he was…desperate for her to believe in his innocent desire to start afresh in Omniphrax.
Eudoxia stared at him for a long time after he had finished speaking. Her expression was no longer one of contempt, but of pity.
"I am sorry," she said at last, "but I cannot accept your word on faith."
"But…please, you must believe me!" cried Flett desperately.
"I do believe you," said Eudoxia. "I believe your heart is good. But without real proof, without anyone else to corroborate your story, I cannot allow you to go free. You must understand."
Deep down, Flett did understand. But it didn't do anything for his anger and frustration.
"We are a merciful society," said Eudoxia. "We would never banish you from Omniphrax. To do so would be a death sentence. But we must detain you, at least until such time as we can glean more information on the matter. Farewell, Flett Grayle."
Eudoxia rose to her feet, opened the door, and muttered to the guards on the other side. The next thing Flett knew, he was being dragged away by the fettleleggers again.
Please, Peatwood, he thought desperately. Please get better. I need you…