He had no idea where to go.
Finally, catching sight of a quiet street, he reeled onto it, scarcely seeing
the great stone houses along it as he drove, just relieved to be able to slow
a little. He had a city map somewhere in the car but not a clue anywhere why
he should go one direction instead of another. He drove aimlessly a bit,
peering at street signs, smelling an oddly pungent scent of leaves from a park
running along one side of the street. A broad road, lined with trees and very
quiet, veered unexpectedly into the park. Pierce followed it eagerly, wanting
only to find a place to park the car in the sudden peace and sit until he
stopped trembling. Then he would look for his map and pretend he knew what he
was doing.
He had followed the road’s long curves deeper into the park, looking for a
place to pull over, when he passed a little hut with heraldic devices painted
on all four sides of it. Someone without a face popped instantly into his
rearview mirror. A line of metal teeth rose out of the tarmac, pointed, with
lethal intent, at the Metro’s tires. He shouted wildly, shaking again, and
braked hard; the car slewed to a stop inches from the teeth.
A loud metallic voice said, “Step out of the vehicle.” He managed to find
the latch, tried to get out; his seat belt pulled him back. He cursed, heard
the eerie voice again, and finally fumbled himself loose. He pushed himself
upright, wondering wearily what he had done wrong, what ruthless laws he had
broken just trying to find a place to sit among the huge old trees.
Two humanoids in black leather and full-facial visors that made them resemble
giant, eyeless ants walked briskly to either side of the Metro. They each held
something that lit up a strand of air between them and hummed. They passed the
line of light fore and aft over the car, let it hover for a moment across the
pack in the backseat. They reached the front bumper; the light vanished. Dark
head consulted head, soundlessly to Pierce’s ears. Then one walked back
toward the little hut, and the other raised his visor, revealing a young,
tanned, expressionless face.
“You have a knife in your baggage.”
“I do?” Pierce said, and then remembered. “Oh. I do. The kitchen knife.”
The guard murmured something into his chin, listened a moment. Behind him, the
malevolent teeth slowly sank into the tarmac. The young man looked at Pierce
again.
“You need to continue on, take the next right, then the immediate left. You
took the wrong entrance.”
“Oh.”
“After you go left, the entrance will be on your right.”
“Ah—”
The guard held up a hand, listened. “They’re expecting you.”
“Could I—like—just turn around?” Pierce pleaded.
“No. This really is the shortest way from here. You can drive on now.”
Wordless, Pierce slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine. “Right,
then left, then right again,” the guard reminded him as he crawled over the
hidden teeth. Pierce saw him watching, visor down again, from the middle of
the road. He swallowed, his mouth dust dry, and gave up any thought of peace
in that demented city.
He followed directions carefully to avoid another yawning gape of vicious road
teeth. An entrance of some sort into something loomed beyond another tiny
guardhouse. As he took the second right turn, he saw the guard watching him,
commenting to someone invisible about Pierce’s passing. The end of that brief
drive was a parking lot filled with vehicles of every kind. Pierce pulled in
among them, not knowing what else to do. He wondered what would happen if he
just took his pack and snuck into the trees surrounding the parking lot. Then
he saw the vast stone wall running endlessly behind the trees.
There was a thump on the Metro roof; he started, expecting the insect-men to
reappear. A girl in a black tunic and trousers, her hair bundled into a net,
peered at him. She gave him a crooked, cheerful smile as he rolled down the
window.
“At least I’m not the only one who’s late. Walk in with me?” She added, as
he stepped mutely out of the car, “Don’t forget your stuff.”
“Ah,” he said tentatively. “I’m not sure— Is this the right—?”
“The royal kitchens, back entrance. They needed so many extras for the king’
s Assembly that you’ll probably meet everyone you know here. Come on.”
Dumbfounded, he grabbed his pack and hurried after her.
He caught up with her as she pulled open a door into what looked like an
enormous cave filled with dimly moving figures. A cloud of steam smelling of
bread, chocolate, onions, roasting meat blew around them and out.
“You’re late,” a voice grumbled amid the cloud. A lean, black-haired man
carrying a clipboard took shape, scanned their faces and his list. “Marcia
Holmes. You know your station.”