Read Online The Boundless by Kenneth Oppel - Free Book Online Page B

smells soap and bleach as he passes a laundry.
    Damp with sweat, he’s brought up short by a formidable door that says: TO SECOND-CLASS ACCOMMODATION . Eagerly he grasps the brass handle, but it won’t turn. He tries again, looks about for a catch. A crisply dressed steward appears from a vestibule, pen in hand.
    â€œCan I help you, sir?”
    â€œI’d like to go through, please,” Will says.
    â€œIt’s second class through there, sir.”
    â€œYes. There’s someone I want to talk to.”
    The steward tries to smile patiently. “Do you have a second-class ticket, sir?”
    â€œNo.”
    As if he’s trying to explain something to a small child, the steward says, “Then you can’t enter the second-class carriages. The doors do stay locked. It’s more comfortable for everyone that way.”
    Will sees the ring of keys clipped to the steward’s belt. “The circus man went through, didn’t he?”
    â€œAh yes, he did, sir. But that was by special arrangement.”
    â€œI have something I need to ask him.”
    The attendant nods sympathetically. “It’s train policy, sir. The doors between the classes stay locked.”
    For a brief moment Will wants to tell him who his father is and demand the door be opened, but he can’t quite do it.
    â€œIf there’s a message,” says the steward, “I’d be happy to send it back.”
    â€œIt’s all right. Thank you.”
    What on earth would he write anyway? He shakes his head as he imagines it.
    I would like my tooth back, please.
    P.S. I’ve wanted to talk to you for three years. You did a tightrope walk. Then you disappeared. You are the most remarkable person I’ve ever met.
    A complete idiot
    Unsteadily he walks back toward the front, feeling the train’s shake and shudder, and wondering how long it will take to get used to.
    At the Terrace car he climbs the stairs and lets himself out. Though the deck is at the back of the car, and protected from the wind, he shivers in the cold night. A number of other passengers stand, taking in the view. Will tilts his head and is awed by the intensity of the stars. Constellations he’s seen only in books are suddenly blazing above his head—every star in Orion’s belt and cudgel! It’s like a whole new world, only now visible to him.
    He looks back along the Boundless, the long endless dark line of it. Green lamps illuminate its flanks. Far away he sees the lighted windows of the second-class dome car, not nearly as big and grand as theirs. A figure stands silhouetted before the bright windows and is joined by a much taller one wearing a top hat. They seem to be facing him.
    The shorter figure raises a hand and waves, and Will instinctively waves back.
    *   *   *
    When Will returns to the stateroom, his father is wrapped in his robe, smoking a cigar and reading some papers in a pool of amber light.
    â€œDid you get to ask your question?” he asks, looking up.
    Will shakes his head. “They were already in second class; the steward wouldn’t let me through.”
    Will’s father nods. “Strict train policy. What did you want to ask him?”
    â€œAbout the disappearing act,” Will says. He doesn’t want to tell him about the girl; he doesn’t know how to explain his urgent desire to talk to her. It would just embarrass him.
    On the desk he sees the key Mr. Dorian spirited from his father’s pocket. It’s unusually thick, with a great many notches. Instinctively he knows what it does.
    â€œIt’s for Mr. Van Horne’s funeral car, isn’t it?”
    His father’s lips compress in a moment of hesitation, but then he answers, “Yes, and I rather wish Mr. Dorian hadn’t drawn attention to it.”
    â€œWell, no one could know what it’s for, could they?”
    â€œ You did.”
    â€œIt was the way you looked when