Anne Ursu - The Shadow Thieves

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I should have explained. This is the lake where dreams come from."

"Dreams?"

"Dreams," he nodded. "Night visions? You know. This park belongs to Hypnos; he's a big shot for Hades. Dreams and sleep are supposed to be his domain, but he's too busy now hiring and firing people and creating Divisions and the like. I watch over things for him, take care of the grass and the birds." A black bird burst from the lake and flew up into the sky. "Oooh, that one looked nasty." He shook his head. "The dreams fly up on their own, or else someone down here comes on in and conjures one up to send to somebody up there."

With a flash Charlotte remembered her dream-the ground cracking around her, the Footmen coming up to grab her. Had someone sent that to her? Why? To warn her? But who?

A rustling came from the towering tree next to Charlotte. She looked up. One of the shriveled brown fruits had begun to wiggle around just above her head. Then the fruit leaped from the branch into the air-no, it wasn't a fruit at all, but a bat, a horrid, sickly looking bat stretching out its wings. No, not a bat- the creature spread its wings out and, before Charlotte's eyes, transformed into a great, beautiful bird-like a mix between a swan and a peacock, but colored in pure gold. Its feathers gleamed. The bird let out a cry that sounded like the singing of a harp, and went off into the sun.

"So beautiful!" Charlotte said.

The man grunted. "No, it's not. That's the Elm Where False Dreams Cling. There's nothing beautiful about it. Remember that, mortal, it's the most beautiful dreams that are false."

"Oh," Charlotte said. She looked back at the lake. "Why can't I see myself?"

The man shook his head. "Supposedly, when mortals look into the lake, they see, well, not themselves, really.

But a dream of themselves. Something they want to be or something they are becoming. I would guess you don't know yet."

"Oh," Charlotte said. "Oh."

"It's okay," the man said. "I bet in a couple years you'll come back here and see something for sure."

Charlotte shuddered. One thing she knew, she was not coming back here.

"I have to go," she said. "I have to go."

"All right," he said. "Thanks for coming by."

Charlotte nodded at the old man and headed back toward the gate. She didn't see that as she turned, her reflection shone in the lake, clear and strong.

Stepping back into the City, Charlotte felt loneliness and exhaustion wash over her again. The rotting, moldy, smoky smell hit her with full force, darkness surrounded her, and cold seemed to seep into her veins. Unwittingly she felt tears spring to her eyes, and she shivered.

The park was behind her now, the Palace ahead. She was so close to being done; she would talk to Hades, and then he would stop Philonecron and free Zee, and they could go back home and leave this horrible place behind.

There was no bustling on the Palace grounds, and no bowler hats either. The Palace stood right in the center of the City, yet seemed strangely apart from it too. It stood six stories high and was made entirely of black marble. Three onion-shaped domes of various sizes reached up into the sky. The walls were perfectly plain, except for two stately columns (Ionic, Charlotte noted. Her art teacher would be so proud!), which framed the front door. All else was shiny, smooth blackness.

Surrounding the Palace was a great, three-story iron gate. Charlotte inhaled, then pushed on the gate, which squeaked like a very large bat. There was a long path paved in gold, and framing it were thin, bowing trees with small red fruit clinging to the branches.

Charlotte walked up to the massive black door, stood on her very tippy toes, and knocked.

No answer.

She tried again, louder, loud enough to wake the… Dead.

She stood back and studied the front door, arms crossed. It would be just her luck to come all this way and not be able to get in.

Stepping back, she cupped her hands to her mouth. "Helloooo?" she called. "Anyone there?"

Before her eyes one of the front columns seemed to stir. Two eyes popped open sleepily, then a mouth appeared, which let out a great yawn. Charlotte stared.

"Yeesssss?" the column asked in a rather dusty voice.

"Um, hi," Charlotte said.

"Hello," said the column. "May I help you?"

"Um, yes," Charlotte said, more squeakily than she would have liked. "I'm here to see Hades. It's extremely urgent-"

"You are? Really!" The column stared at her.

"Yes.."

"Most curious," he said. "Don't see your kind much here… don't see anyone, really. Well, I should get someone to open the door for you, shouldn't I?"

"That would be great, um… sir?"

"One moment, please," he said politely.

The eyes and mouth disappeared-Charlotte didn't want to think where to- and a few moments later reappeared.

"Someone will be right with you."

"Thank you," Charlotte said. "Um, I don't want to be rude, but are you, you know, trapped in there?" She'd read about people in Greek myths getting punished by being trapped in trees. Columns were another story, but…

The column laughed. "No, no. I'm a spell, lovey. An awfully good one, if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, no one gets to see it much these days. Not too many people come to the front door requesting an audience with the King, you know? It's my cross to bear. Well, anyway"-he yawned again-"I think it's time for a nap."

And with that, the eyes and mouth disappeared. A few moments later the enormous door creaked open, and Charlotte found herself staring at a man in a tailcoat, with stark white skin and no face at all. He bowed deeply.

"Mademoiselle," he said in a voice that sounded like smoke. "Come in."

"Um, okay," she whispered.

Before her was a long hallway, impossibly long, really, with an impossibly high ceiling. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all in black. Black doors lined the hall in perfect symmetry, candle sconces lit the walls, and an eternally long Persian rug rolled off into the distance.

"Wow," Charlotte whispered under her breath.

"It's hand knotted," said the butler rather ominously. Charlotte did not stop to wonder how he talked with no mouth.

"The Palace doesn't look this big from the outside…" she said faintly.

The butler laughed a knowing laugh. "No, it doesn't, does it? Come this way"

He led Charlotte through the hallway into a small sitting room, which looked like it belonged in that railroad baron's house she'd been to on many years' worth of field trips. Ornate furniture, rich fabrics, opulent art, and even some lace doilies dotted the room. The only sign that this was not an ordinary room in an ordinary manor was the size of the furniture – clearly built for those many feet taller than she.

"Wait here, please," the butler said, bowing. "I'll come get you when the King is ready to receive you."

Charlotte nodded, feeling a little like a dwarf.

"Would you like anything?" he continued. "Tea? Our chef makes an excellent scone. Light as air."

"No. Thank you," Charlotte said firmly.

"As you wish." The butler left. This all seemed surprisingly easy to Charlotte. She suspected that you couldn't just waltz into most palaces, ask for an audience, and be shown right to the king. Shouldn't Hades have a bit more security? This did not seem to bode well. Charlotte sat in the room, her legs swinging in the giant chair, hugging herself, thinking of all the things that did not bode well, and practicing what she would say to the King of the Underworld. Coup … army… shadows… danger. And when that was done and settled, when he had sent out his army to squash Philonecron, she could ask him why he didn't treat the Dead better. At least let them into the City! Not that the City was that great, but, you know, it's not nice not to let them in. It's the principle of the thing.