As the shrill siren pierced the early-morning silence of the Detention Tower, Flett sprinted down passage after passage. He hadn't yet run into any librarians-at-arms, but knew his luck wouldn't hold out forever.
Whenever he passed by a cellblock, the other prisoners roared. Some of them—no doubt Omniphrax-born, guilty only of small misdemeanors, and as steadfastly loyal to the city as any beyond the walls of the prison—cursed him and hurled insults and shouted for the librarians-at-arms to come and catch this autocratic, freedom-hating stooge of the Empire. Others—obviously spies and soldiers who had come to Omniphrax with intentions far less pure than Flett's—gave sickening cheers and urged him on, or else demanded that Flett spring them from their incarceration so that they might do the work of the Glorious Leader together.
And then, two librarians-at-arms rounded a corner and charged at Flett. They were a pair of muscular flathead goblins, and they were armed not with crossbows but phraxpistols.
Flett dived forwards in a tumbling somersault, and miraculously passed right underneath the hairy legs of the flathead on the right, merely brushing the inside of the guard's thigh in passing. Temporarily stunned by the move, the goblins took a second to turn around and fire their weapons, by which time Flett had already dashed down a flight of stairs to the left.
He burst out into the large circular atrium on the ground floor of the tower. And there, on the other side of the room, was the exit. Refusing to allow the librarians-at-arms another chance to cut him off, he tore across the atrium and positively flew through the doors.
Down the winding dirt roads Flett ran, past ornamental weeping-willoak groves and across covered bridges. The rising sun was only just beginning to cast light upon his surroundings. He had lost his pursuers…but not for long. Sergeant Twentell was sure to have worked out where he was heading. He'd have to be a fool not to work it out.
As Flett ran, he pulled off his red jacket and threw it aside. It would be a dead giveaway to passersby…best to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
He turned onto a wide cobbled thoroughfare lined with brownstones. Already early-morning pedestrians were bustling this way and that. Heads turned to stare at the sprinting youth, but he didn't slow down. He could never run all the way through the Stone Gardens without being caught…but perhaps if he used the public transportation system, he would have time to make his move.
After several minutes of desperate searching, Flett found what he was looking for. A small jetty branched off of the path, projecting over the Edgewater River, and many sky ferries hovered expectantly, waiting for passengers.
Flett leaped up the steps to the top of the jetty and sprang into the nearest one. "Errr…where to, young master?" inquired the pilot, a small, sharp-chinned barkelf, clearly bemused by Flett's demeanor.
"Dormitory Towers," gasped Flett, panting heavily.
The little sky ferry rose, turned, and darted off towards the tall, boxy buildings in the Stone Gardens. Flett didn't pay too much attention to his surroundings during the trip. He was too busy dreading the next step of the journey. Sky ships of all sizes and shapes were arriving and departing from a landing at the base of the towers. Any one of them could be carrying Sergeant Twentell, who would place the security forces on high alert.
And unfortunately, the moment the sky ferry arrived that the landing, Flett realized that the librarians-at-arms were expecting him.
The startled barkelf cried out in alarm as a group of guards charged towards his sky ferry, the blue borella heads bobbing up and down as they ran. Flett leaped down onto the landing and tore away.
Crossbow bolts and leadwood bullets whooshed past him as he sprinted on, weaving erratically to present a harder target. He cried out as a bullet grazed his forearm, more in surprise than in pain. His adrenaline was pumping too hard for him to know how badly he had been hurt, but he was able to move his arm, so it didn't seem serious.
Flett dashed behind a building, the librarians-at-arms in hot pursuit. Without thinking, Flett hurled himself through an empty doorframe and stood with his back pressed to the wall of the dark room he found himself in. If one of the librarians-at-arms decided to check the doorway, he'd be done for. But they all dashed past without a glance at the opening. A minute later, he cautiously crept back outside and started down the back alleys of the Dormitory Towers.
Although Flett had no idea which tower Peatwood was being kept in, but had a feeling it would be relatively obvious. Sure enough, as he peered around one of the buildings, he saw no fewer than twenty librarians-at-arms standing sentry outside the main doors of a tower across the street.
Making his way along the empty side streets, Flett soon found himself standing before the rear wall of the building. Just as he had hoped, there was a means of climbing up—a narrow gutter that extended from roof to ground.
Quietly and cautiously, Flett began his ascent. The going was painfully slow, and soon the muscles in Flett's injured arm were screaming in protest. Whenever possible, he planted his feet on a windowsill and rested for several seconds. He was terrified that he might be spotted from another tower, or else that the resident of a nearby room would notice his foot. No shocked shouts came, however, and Flett slowly but surely drew nearer to the top.
His plan was to reach the roof, drop down a chimney or air shaft, and stealthily try to ascertain which room Peatwood was being held in before deciding his next move. He was sure there would be more guards stationed outside the woodtroll's door, so figuring out where he was being kept wouldn't be difficult. Avoiding detection would be considerably harder.
But then, just as he reached the third window from the top, and he placed his foot on the window ledge, his heart skipped a beat.
Peatwood was inside the room.
The young woodtroll was still asleep, tossing and turning fitfully. A thick bandage swathed his nose. From beyond the closed door, Flett could hear the murmurs of the librarians-at-arms beyond.
Flett stepped onto the ledge and quietly slid inside. He then peered back down at the ground instinctively…and felt his stomach drop. There were five figures standing there, looking up at him—Eudoxia Prade, Sergeant Twentell, and three librarians-at-arms. A few seconds later, they dashed off. Flett had very little time left.
He crossed the room, coming to a halt beside the bed where Peatwood lay. Prodding the woodtroll, he muttered, "Peatwood, it's me,"
Peatwood did not respond, but continued to thrash in agitation. Flett tried a few more times, but got no response. It wasn't until his sixth attempt to rouse his friend that he finally succeeded.
Peatwood's eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing. "Mother," he whispered. "Father…"
"No, Peatwood," said Flett. "They're gone."
Peatwood turned towards Flett, but didn't say anything. Flett had no idea whether Peatwood knew someone was there.
"We saw your parents die, Peatwood. Both of us," said Flett softly. "But you know what? They're proud of you. I know they are. They are looking down at you from open sky, and their hearts are bursting with happiness, because you managed to do what they could not. You reached Omniphrax. We reached Omniphrax. You and me, Peatwood. You and me."
The door banged open. Eudoxia Prade strode in, her green eyes blazing with anger, while Sergeant Twentell bounded along in her wake, looking very pleased with himself.
"So…" said Eudoxia, her voice low and seething, "it seems that my first impressions of you were correct."
"No…" Flett gasped.
"It gives me great pain to authorize this," said Eudoxia, "but you have proved to us that you will be a danger to Omniphrax. I cannot allow you to live. Twentell, if you please…"
Sergeant Twentell stepped forwards in triumph, taking aim with a phraxpistol. Flett squeezed his eyes shut, braced to die.
"Stop!"
Flett's eyes snapped open. Peatwood was standing between him and Sergeant Twentell, arms wide. "You can't kill him!" cried the woodtroll. "He saved my life, and my mind!"
Sergeant Twentell slowly lowered his phraxpistol, and gazed at Eudoxia for instruction. The High Senator didn't speak. She merely looked astonished.
Peatwood turned to Flett. Both of them were beaming. "How's your nose feeling?" said Flett.
"It's itchy," said Peatwood, gingerly scratching at his bandaging.
"That means it's healing," said Flett.
"What happened to your arm?" said Peatwood.
The moment Peatwood had spoken these words, Flett suddenly became aware of a dull throbbing pain. At last, fearfully, he raised his arm to take a look at the damage. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was nothing more than a livid purple bruise…ugly, painful, but not serious.
"It doesn't matter," said Flett. That frantic chase might as well have happened years ago. The two friends laughed and hugged, rejoicing at their reunion.
"So…" said Eudoxia slowly, starting to regain her composure, "You are vouching for Flett Grayle? His account of saving you from the Great Glade Military and traveling with you to Omniphrax is true?"
"Of course," said Peatwood firmly. "You've got to welcome him here, the same as me."
"Nevertheless, Flett Grayle's actions today have been inexcusable!" barked Sergeant Twentell. "He has assaulted a librarian officer!"
"What I don't understand," said Eudoxia, turning to Flett, "is why you did not simply plead your case to me once more. I would have certainly authorized you to visit Peatwood, and we could have circumvented all this ugliness."
"I tried!" said Flett fiercely. "Sergeant Twentell refused even to relay my request to you, High Senator. He said that if Peatwood truly needed me to help him, then 'both of us were condemned to live as we were, forever'!"
Slowly, Eudoxia turned to stare at the treetroll. "You did not tell me about that."
The triumph that Sergeant Twentell had shown upon entering the room was gone. He had turned white.
"We are presiding over a fair and democratic society, Twentell. We do not deny the least of our detainees due process of law. And you refused to allow Flett here to visit his friend without even consulting your superiors?"
"I…well…" spluttered the treetroll. "I felt that such matters were…beneath you, High Senator Prade. I did not want to trouble you with it."
"Well, you'll never have to trouble me with anything ever again," said Eudoxia with cold contempt. "You are relieved of duty. Now, get out of my sight!"
Sergeant Twentell looked stunned. Then, he wheeled around and stormed out of the room, muttering furiously.
Eudoxia then turned back to Flett, who saw that she was smiling. "Welcome to Omniphrax, Flett Grayle."