Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [271]
Wataru’s ears felt numb in the cold. “Jozo,” he said, “are there any paths down from Undoor Highland that can be walked?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“It’s been covered with glaciers forever, I hear,” Kee Keema said.
“That’s true—but when I came here last time, the buildings in the forest weren’t frozen, I’m sure of it. I saw flowers blooming, and I even saw people walking around.”
Near the northeast section of the city stood a hall with a wide, flat roof. Jozo picked this as his landing spot. “Ooh! That’s frigid!” he snorted as he touched down and folded his wings. “I’m about ready to start sneezing myself. What will you do, Wataru? Try going inside?”
“I guess so,” Wataru said, sliding from Jozo’s back onto the roof. “Can you stay here? You won’t freeze, will you?”
“I can breathe every now and then to warm myself up, no problem. Still, I wouldn’t want to stay here any longer than I have to. Can’t imagine it would be all that good for you, either.”
“Right. We’ll come back as soon as we can.”
Getting from the roof of the hall to the ground proved an arduous task, and searching the city proved to be exhausting. The ground was so slick with ice it was difficult to walk straight. Still, they made slow progress, each taking turns slipping on the ice, catching each other, then falling themselves, over and over. In other circumstances, it might have been comical, but no one was laughing.
Everything was quiet and cold. Wataru found himself wondering whether anything could truly live in a place like this—it felt as though his very heart might freeze in his chest. Maybe during the time it’d taken for them to get here, the man who had asked for help through the mirror had already frozen to death.
“Is anyone there?”
“Oy! We’ve come to help!”
The city was silent, swallowing their voices whole. Or maybe it was that their words were freezing in the air as soon as they left their lips.
Several years before, Wataru’s mother had taken him to a children’s play based on Greek mythology. The main character was the son of Pegasus. The play itself hadn’t been terribly interesting to Wataru at the time, but he remembered being enchanted by the beautiful stage design. There had been a great temple of marble surrounded by a deep forest made of painted papier mâche.
The city of Dela Rubesi reminded Wataru of that set. Some of the buildings had gently sloping stairs that led up to tall doors carved with images of flowers, birds, and angelic figures. Great windows were hung with carved roses, and pillars stood by doors, topped with glaring guard dogs of stone.
Everywhere the scale was epic. Every house was a mansion, with large flat roofs and angled eaves, each carved with fantastic designs. There were sages and heroes, sorcerers and knights, and beautiful women standing in stone. There was even an amphitheater opened to the air with a half-dome arcing above it.
It was like a city from some Greek myth. A city of the gods.
Though it looked like a model reproduction of some fantasy city, it didn’t seem strange to Wataru at all. Was this the ideal city according to followers of the Old God? Wataru thought back on the towns and villages he had visited in Vision so far, where the Goddess reigned, and he realized that, for the most part, their buildings and layout were determined by the daily work of the people who lived there. That sense of daily life was completely lacking here. Maybe that was why it reminded him of a set for a play.
I wonder what that amphitheater is for? Who were the statues made to honor? Who wanted to build a city like this in the first place?
Wataru found himself wondering what the people here labored for, what made them laugh, what made them sad. Even if every surface in the city hadn’t been covered with ice, Wataru thought it would still feel cold and lifeless.
“Say, Kee Keema,” Wataru asked. “Have you ever seen another city like this in Vision?”
Kee Keema shivered in the cold. “Not me. I doubt any place is