Sand and stone give way to leafy-green orchards of pistachio and olive trees, to fields of onions, tomatoes, and cucumbers. This is the farmland that feeds Dawrtaine, so it’ll be just another hour—a little less, a little more—before Hallon can search for the source of the Calamity in earnest. Assuming that it’s not another dead end, of course. Oh, how she hopes it’s not another dead end.
She sighs when the train slows for no apparent reason. “What now?”
Milo looks out the window. “There’s a station ahead.”
Squat and square, the station doesn’t fit in with the date palms surrounding it. A group of soldiers waits on the platform, soldiers without baggage.
Milo frowns. “The probability that they’re passengers is slim. Just 11.23 percent.”
Hallon sighs again. “It’s likely a border crossing or checkpoint of some kind.”
Milo nods. “That would fit the model of this place. Are you going to fight them?”
“Not if I can help it.” She takes the picnic basket and rummages inside for the silverware. “I’m thinking good old-fashioned bribery is the way to go. I only wish I knew how much these people value silver. They might get suspicious if we offer too little or too much.”
“Hallon, look at us. How much more suspicious can we be?”
She laughs. “Good point. I’ll bring out the pieces one by one. Their eyes will tell me when it’s enough.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Milo asks.
“Out the window and we run for the trees.”
Milo opens the window and sits back to wait. Hallon readies herself too. Her inner resources are dangerously depleted, and she reaches for fire to make up the difference. If she needs to act, she’ll be ready.
The train pulls into the station with a gust of steam, and a whistle. There’s a commotion as the soldiers split to board the train from both ends, working their way through the carriages, knocking on compartment doors and asking for papers.
Hallon fingers one of the silver spoons. She notes that it’s small enough to fit easily in a soldier’s pocket. Footsteps sound in the corridor. “Right, here we go,” she says.
The door opens, but instead of a soldier, it’s Dana. Her eyes dart between Milo, Hallon, and the picnic basket in Hallon’s hands. “I knew it!”
Hallon drops the basket and grabs the young girl, spinning her round and clamping a hand over her mouth. Dana flails her arms and legs, but Hallon has her firmly in hand before pulling her into the compartment.
Milo hurriedly checks the corridor. “No one else.”
Of course. Of course. Even the complicated things can’t be simple. Hallon nearly growls with frustration. What are they going to do now? There’s no way they’ll be able to bribe a soldier with this girl tied up in the corner. Oh, don’t mind her, Officer. She’s just been too nosy for her own good. Here, let me interest you in this silver spoon. The girl struggles to get free—wriggling like an earthworm on a hot stone.
“Settle down, settle down. We’re not going to hurt you,” Hallon says, “but we can’t have you making a scene either.”
The girl suddenly stops. Hallon feels her trying to turn for a better look at her captors. Can they somehow gain her cooperation? That would be so much more convenient than dumping her out the window. Hallon takes a chance and lets the girl speak.
Dana doesn’t scream. If anything, her eyes are bright and curious. “Are you poachers? Bandits? I knew I recognized you. You threw a rock to scare us away. And now—oh, maybe you’re train robbers. Why else would you be here?”
“Technically,” Milo says, adjusting his spectacles, “we are bandits, but we’ve never robbed a train. At least I haven’t. Although things do tend to happen quickly around Hallon, so that could change.”
“We’re not robbing the train, Milo.”
Milo sighs in relief. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure.”
“Listen,” Hallon says, trying to head off any more confusion, “we’re not train robbers, we’re—”
Dana stops her. “Your names are Hallon and Milo. I got that, but don’t tell me anything else. I want to work out the answers for myself, otherwise it’s no fun at all.” She smiles. “Rashid is going to be so jealous. He’s going to die when he hears that I got to meet you.”
“But what are you doing here?” Hallon asks. “Shouldn’t you be with your family?”
“It was easy to slip away,” Dana says, “and I knew it was going to be my only chance to find you. Khem’s been watching us like a hawk after Rashid’s little adventure outside the train. Really, that boy. I wonder about him some days. But that’s enough about him.” She sits and pulls Hallon down beside her. “You two are so very interesting. From your accents, you’re clearly not from Dawrtaine. But from where? Your names sound Alfian, and your clothing is peculiar. It was nice at one point, but now it's scuffed and dirty. You’ve fallen on hard times, just barely surviving. That would explain the poaching and banditry. Are you sure you’re not going to rob the train?”
Before Hallon has a chance to answer, there’s a knock on the door. It opens to reveal a soldier. His uniform is smartly pressed, and he has a wide face and with an almost-as-wide mustache. The badge on his chest reads Cpl. Hassan. “Papers please.”
Everyone stops. They’d all forgotten about the checkpoint. Milo watches Hallon trying to read which way she’ll jump, but that will depend on how Dana reacts, and all she’s doing is looking curiously at Corporal Hassan.
She unhooks a stamped metal tile from her necklace and hands it over. “My name is Dananis Rahima Barmaki, of the House Barmaki, and these are my servants, Amelia and Elias.”
Corporal Hassan’s eyes flicker at the mention of Barmaki. “Your servants, Miss? Their clothing—”
“Is part of a game we’re playing,” Dana explains. “They’re scoundrels who’ve kidnapped me, and now we’re waiting for my father, Lord Barmaki, to rescue me.”
“I see,” the Corporal says. “And their papers?”
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“Don’t be silly,” Dana says. “Scoundrels don’t carry papers. That would break character. Don’t you go to the theater? Staying in character is everything.”
“No, Miss. We don’t have theater in the Army.” Corporal Hassan doesn’t seem perturbed by the loss. “I will need to see their papers though. It’s the law.”
Dana stamps her foot. “Do I need to repeat who I am? My father, Lord Barmaki, won’t like it when he hears you’ve disturbed my game.”
Corporal Hassan holds his ground. “From what I’ve heard, Miss, Lord Barmaki is a man of the law, and I am only following the law. Perhaps their papers are elsewhere on the train? We can go get them.”
“No,” Dana says. “I threw them out along with their real clothes.”
There’s real shock on the Corporal’s face. “You threw the papers out?”
Hallon plays along and gives him an embarrassed half smile. Milo is terrified, which given their supposed situation, is in character.
“Miss, I don’t know what to say.” Corporal Hassan looks at Hallon and Milo with concern. “You’ve put your servants in serious jeopardy. They’ll have to be detained until they can be re-tested and their records called up from the Ministry of Civil Order.”
Dana is as crestfallen as only an eleven-year old can be. “Is that right? Oh no. My father, Lord Barmaki, will be so upset. He wouldn’t want me to do anything to interfere with the Army’s important work.” She looks down at her hands, chagrined. “It’s clear that I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I apologize. I promise to pay any fines and have new papers issued when we get home. Thank you for helping me to understand. I’ll be sure to tell my father, Lord Barmaki, that Corporal Hassan of the—”
“Tenth Border Patrol, the Fighting Sand Devils, Miss.”
“That Corporal Hassan of the Tenth Border Patrol was of great assistance.” Dana folds her hands on her lap and waits patiently for his gratitude.
Corporal Hassan licks his lips. He addresses Hallon. “Will she do this? She’ll have new papers for you, and you won’t be further mistreated?”
Hallon reassures him. “The Miss is willful but has an honest heart.”
The Corporal turns to Dana. “You promise, Miss?”
She looks at him with her most innocent eyes. “I promise, and a Barmaki always keeps their promises.”
“Very well,” Corporal Hassan says. “On your word as a Barmaki then.” He takes one last look at Hallon and Milo and shuts the door behind him.
None of them say anything until his steps fade away.
“Now then,” Dana says, pleased with herself, “let’s see what else I can puzzle out about the two of you.”
###
Dana throws off words like sparks, the equations of her face constantly active. Milo watches carefully to catch all the nuances, but the mathematical model he uses to parse human behavior isn’t quick enough to process her expressions in real time. He’ll need to review the conversation later, once things slow down. If they slow down.
The content of her words is easier to understand. Rashid is her twin brother, and between them, they own five horses, two falcons, and three cats. Their House also supports twenty-seven servants, and Dana doesn’t foresee any problems adding two more to the collection. All she needs to do is petition her mother.
Dana is confident that her mother can be swayed, especially once Hallon and Milo’s unfortunate circumstances are explained. As soon as Dana figures them out, that is. Milo doesn’t know how the girl will manage it. He’s not had any luck figuring things out at all.
The train is headed towards the Free City of Dawrtaine, which is ruled by two bodies, the High and Low Councils. They appoint a Prime Minister, who in turn selects the heads of the various ministries. House Barmaki has a seat on the Low Council. They used to have a seat on the High Council but lost it a century ago. The girl doesn’t elaborate why.
What Milo really wants to ask is if the girl is real, as if a hallucination can somehow confirm or deny its own existence. Hallon treats Dana like she’s real, but then Hallon is a question mark all on her own. A whole world of question marks.
The woefully incomplete calculations attempting to prove the existence of multiple universes rises up to block Milo’s view of Dananis Barmaki, but he pushes them down again. Now is not the time. There’s too much going on and too much to pay attention to.
The train slows, causing the equations around Dana’s face to shift into a frown. “That’s odd. We’re early.”
Outside, the sun is twenty degrees from the desert floor. A dirigible hovers one hundred twenty-one yards above the ground. The number is an estimate, but a confident one, based on a lifetime of being able to see the physics of the world at work; numbers, measurements, equations--all visible to his eyes.
A spotlight on board the dirigible flashes a sequence of long and short dashes, with the longs outnumbering the shorts in a ratio of 1.78 to 1. Milo forces himself to stop. It’s enough to recognize that the sequence is like Morse code, but not Morse code.
Dana reads the sequence. “The tracks ahead were sabotaged by the Silent.”
“Who are they?” Hallon asks. “We’ve heard them mentioned before.”
“Gloop rebels,” Dana says. “I better get back.” She takes one of Hallon’s hands and then Milo’s. “When we get to the station, go through the visitor’s gate and tell them you’re tourists. They’ll give you temporary papers, and you’ll just need to answer some questions and take a test. Once you’re done, I’ll meet you on the other side and take you to House Barmaki.”
Milo’s stomach sinks. “A test?”
“The Gloop test, but you don’t have to worry. You’re both Untainted, so you shouldn’t have any problems.”
“One more question,” Hallon says. “What happens if someone’s tainted by the Gloop but doesn’t have a tattoo?”
Dananis smiles. “It’s amazing the clues you get from the questions people ask. You really must be from far away.” She sobers. “When wild Gloop are caught, they’re taken to an education camp. If a city Gloop is caught without a tattoo, they’re arrested. It’s very, very serious, but that’s not something to be concerned about, is it? Now don’t forget—meet me as soon as you pass through Security. I’ll be waiting.” She leaves, closing the door behind her.
Hallon stares at the door, her numbers thinking. Milo’s not sure what, but there’s a point he wants to make before the next mad adventure starts.
“I don’t want to get her in trouble,” he says.
“And she will be,” Hallon says, “if the authorities connect her to us. We’ll have to find another way into the city.”
“It’ll be dark soon.”
“Yes,” Hallon says, “that’ll help, but we need to know more in order to plan well.”
“How do we do that?”
“I have my ways,” Hallon says, as she leans back and closes her eyes.
“Your way involves napping?” Milo asks.
“Shh… I’m thinking.”
Time passes as the train waits for the tracks to be repaired. Spotlights are set up to facilitate the work, and Milo watches as a bent steel beam is dumped to one side. A group of people, some of them giant in stature, lift its replacement into place.
An armored car drives past towards the rear of the train. Milo breathes a sigh of relief when it keeps going past the caboose. There’ll be no checking of papers again, at least not yet. He looks at his pocket watch. It’s been nineteen minutes thirteen seconds since Hallon closed her eyes. Would it be all right for him to do the same? There’s so much information to process. So many calculations in need of his attention.
Does Hallon intend to take the Barmaki girl’s job offer? Milo’s never worked as a servant before and isn’t sure he’d do well at it. Not unless it involves dropping and breaking things. Milo’s very good at that. A calculation arises in his mind’s eye—the mathematical model he built to predict her behavior estimates that there’s a 94.32 percent chance that Hallon won’t accept the offer. Is that a good or bad thing? It sounds like a calmer experience than what they’ve already been through so far.
His stomach rumbles. He’s so hungry and light-headed, the tips of his fingers tremble. He clutches his hands together to still them. If he can step away into the calculations, that’ll help dull the pain, but before he can, Hallon opens her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“We have to get off this train,” she says. “The security at the station is too tight. We’ll try one of the city gates instead.”
###
They wait until full night before leaving the train, cutting across a radish field. The air is earthy, green, and peppery. Behind her, Hallon hears Milo crunching on a radish. His long arms dip down to pull them from the ground as they walk.
Smart, she thinks and follows his example.
In the distance, city lights draw them onward.