A short sample from the opening Introduction:
The guard waited under the moss-caked shelter, hands twitching. Moments earlier, he’d ascended all fifteen flights of the tower’s mildewed staircase in a nervous daze. Now, as he peered out across the vast, sprawling city of Kaway Mahay, he wondered what the boy he’d once been would say if he could see himself now.
The rain’s soft and persistent patter provided no answer. In the distance, he could hear the creaks and groans of the pulley-car slithering down the wet rope towards him. Without thinking, he pressed his hand against his navy overcoat. The vial was there, he could feel it under his fingers, but some part of him still needed to ensure it was real.
Realness.
Had he ever done anything so real? The guard thought about this as he tracked the slow arrival of the pulley-car across the moon-studded sky. The car was descending from Thunderdip, Kaway Mahay’s most notorious prison. Like a jagged and opaque cloud, it floated high above the city’s tallest buildings. In other parts of the Lush Heap, one might burn at the stake or perhaps discover the darkness of a shallow grave, but in Kaway Mahay one went straight ‘to the dip’.
That was all the justice that Kaway Mahay offered.
The pulley-car would take him there, its sluggish groans twisting along with his stomach as it edged ever closer. The guard took a full second to savor his last moments and take in the entire scene.
Anointing the evening sky above with their strange energy were nine many-colored moons. Every denizen in the Lush Heap knew what their presence meant: a moonsneeze would soon be here. The nine moons were simply waiting for their last brethren to arrive.
A grating thud resounded when the pulley-car slammed up against the stone edge of the tower’s platform. Its wicker gate slid open. Rain poured down from its roof. A trio of guards, now off-duty, streamed out and nodded a swift greeting before hurrying away.
Before he entered the pulley-car, another exiting guard, Dorf Lundy, made the motions of giving him an exceedingly thorough pat down – not that he could blame Dorf. The guard on duty would be the one punished if any contraband slipped through. Unfortunately for Dorf, there was a beloved Mrs. Lundy waiting back home for him. She would remain unharmed as long as he cooperated.
Dorf’s shaking hand patted the guard’s chest, lingering only for a moment before coming away. Teeth chattering, he whispered, “Please proceed.”
The guard with the vial made no comment and entered the pulley-car. Dorf followed in behind him and closed the gate. The pulley-car swayed.
“I need this,” he whispered to himself as Dorf rang the bronze bell at the back of the pulley-car.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The car shuddered backwards, opening up a large gap between the wicker gate and the tower’s stone platform. Looking down, the guard made out the dense palm fronds that yawned across nearly every street of the rag-tag metropolis. Beneath their swaying dark green leaves dashed throngs of people carrying out final errands before the arrival of moonsneeze.
“Hurry, hurry little ants,” he whispered. There were things far more dangerous than moonsneeze to worry about.
The guard looked upward as the massive rope guiding the pulley-car groaned ominously. Way up here, far above the city’s streets, was the kind of silence that pointed a stray finger towards eternity. A powerful breeze suddenly gripped the pulley-car, shattering the peaceful silence when it tossed the car sideways like an errant leaf. A scream rose in the guard’s throat, but he regained his composure as the wind’s daring burst subsided.
Dorf stared at him and he quickly shifted his eyes away.
This wasn’t his first pulley-car ride. He’d been hit by gusts far worse, yet tonight was different — everything was coming to a head. A shiver coursed through his body and loose strands of his black hair slapped against his forehead. He cinched his overcoat against his neck. Even winter came for the tropics.
Seeing the opposite platform draw near, he steeled himself and reflected on the task he’d been entrusted with. If caught, it would cost him his life — and yet it was entirely worth it.
His hand pressed against his overcoat once again in anticipation. The grunting of the convicts were audible now. Night and day, a team of twenty manned the length of rope thicker than his fist. A shout from an irascible guard preceded a whipcrack. Working the rope cut down on the length of sentences, but the work was brutal. Tonight, their hands would be covered in blisters just the same as if they’d gripped a scalding pan.
After a few more back-breaking pulls, the pulley-car nudged up against the upper platform. Ignoring Dorf, the guard opened the wicker gate and stepped onto the winding pathway that lead to Thunderdip. It was a marvel the jail still stood. Like wind-blown reeds, off-kilter towers and faintly-glowing buildings sprouted off from its central octagonal base, which always struck the guard as a trunk of a felled tree.
This would be his final trip.
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