Afraid of the answer, Moth asked, “Who’s Merceron?”
“A friend. A wizard. He knows about Esme. By now he’s figured out how to help her.” He licked his dried lips. “Yes, surely by now. Otherwise she’ll be like this forever….”
Out on the balcony, Lady Esme had fallen back asleep, paying them no attention at all. It seemed to Moth that the bird had more sense than its master.
“Esme looks fine to me, Leroux. She’s happy! Why don’t we just leave her the way she is? She’s gets everything she needs. Gumdrops…”
“No! I promised her I’d save her, Moth. She’s been like that so long she’s probably forgotten what it’s like to be real! You have to help her.”
“But how? If you couldn’t do it, how can I? Maybe it’s better this way, really.”
“But there is a way,” said Leroux carefully. “My gift to you. It will help you find Merceron. I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure it out. Now you must try, Moth.”
“I thought this story was your gift. Now there’s another? Where is it?”
Leroux grimaced. “I can’t tell you. But it’s yours, Moth. I’m giving it to you.”
Finally Moth was too frustrated to hear any more. “All right,” he said firmly, “I get it. I understand. Thanks.”
“Will you help Lady Esme?” asked Leroux. “Promise me you will, Moth. You must promise me.”
“I will, Leroux, I promise. I’ll help Lady Esme. I’ll figure out the gift and I’ll go find the wizard Moralon.”
“Merceron, Moth. His name is Merceron.”
“Merceron. Right. I won’t forget.” Moth stood up, taking Leroux’s frail hand. “But I can’t do this if I’m tired. It’ll be a lot of work. I have to get some sleep first.”
Leroux nodded. “Yes, yes. All right.”
“You sleep too,” said Moth, directing the old man back to his bedroom. “We’ll talk all about it in the morning.”
Leroux stopped at the doorway of his room. “I can’t tell you any more,” he said. “My story is finished now.”
Moth was past caring. “Fine. I got it all anyway. I’ll take care of everything.” He turned away, desperate to get back to sleep. “Good night.”
There was no sound as Leroux went back into his bedroom. Finally, everything was quiet.
Morning came too quickly for Moth. Bright sunlight poured in from the balcony, beckoning him awake. He turned his face away with a groan. As his brain came to life, he remembered the ridiculous conversation he’d had with Leroux just hours ago. He stirred, angry about what had happened but worried, too.
“Dr. Trik,” he moaned to himself, hoping the doctor could help him. Moth doubted he could go through the whole thing again tonight. He sat up, listening for Leroux. “Leroux?”
Lady Esme flapped overhead suddenly, startling him. The kestrel landed at his feet, calling madly in her high-pitched shriek.
“Quiet!” Moth snapped, cupping his ears.
The bird’s beak pulled at his pant leg. Moth shook free and shooed her away. Esme leapt up in a storm of feathers, cawing loudly and dashing toward Leroux’s bedroom. There she waited at the open door, dark eyes staring strangely at Moth.
Moth stood up slowly. Something in the kestrel’s eyes told him what had happened. Without words, he simply knew it. His heartbeat galloped, yet he could barely move at all, forcing himself toward Leroux’s bedroom. His shuffling feet brushed Esme away as he peered inside.
On the bed lay Leroux. He had stopped snoring.
GOVERNMENT MEN
OLD AGE WAS TO BLAME for Leroux’s death. Moth didn’t need Dr. Trik to tell him that. The years had piled onto Leroux’s back until he simply couldn’t bear them any longer. And it wasn’t a shock to Moth either. Instead, it felt like there was a great hole inside him. He had sat at the edge of Leroux’s bed for a time, watching his lifeless face before fetching the doctor. Mostly he wanted to thank Leroux.
By the time Dr. Trik had finished, the whole building knew what had happened. Mrs. Jilla arrived with her cat in her arms, instantly concerned about Moth. Moth had expected the old lady to dissolve into tears but she did not. She was strong for him instead, insisting he come back to her own apartment while Dr. Trik and his helpers took away Leroux’s body.
“That’s nothing you should see,” she told Moth, taking his hand. Other neighbors, some of whom had been at Moth’s party the night before, nodded in agreement, urging Moth to go.
Lady Esme was in her usual spot on the balcony, sulking in her nest. The bird barely acknowledged Moth as he left with Mrs. Jilla. She seemed lost in the same fog that had engulfed Moth himself, a haze of disbelief and loneliness. Up in Mrs. Jilla’s apartment, Moth let the kindly lady feed him and speak gently about the cycles of life and death, but the food had no taste and the words were meaningless to him. He was afraid to go back to Leroux’s apartment until the old knight’s body was removed. Where would he go now that Leroux was dead? He couldn’t pay for the apartment himself. He had no family and no savings either, just the meager wages he made at the aerodrome.
Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes and lay on her sofa, not realizing how tired he was until he awoke two hours later. Eager to see what was happening back at home, he thanked Mrs. Jilla, promised he would return soon, and headed down the flights of outdoor stairs toward home.
As he reached the tiny landing outside Leroux’s apartment he noticed the door swinging open on its hinges.
“Dr. Trik?” he called “You here?”
Moth took one step inside the apartment and gasped. A handful of men in dark suits swarmed through the place. With crowbars and axes they had opened the walls and ceiling, cut into the floor and the furniture, and overturned Moth’s books and papers, tossing them everywhere. Noticing Moth in the doorway, they stopped and turned on him.
“What’re you doing?” Moth cried.
The man nearest to Moth lowered his axe, looking like a well-dressed thug. For a moment he stared, unsure what to do. “You live here?” he asked.
“Yeah, I live here. Who are you?” Moth demanded.
The other men drew closer. The first man put up a hand to stop them. “Don’t,” he directed. Then he called out, “Governor? The kid’s back.”
Moth thought of running, then of screaming for help. The door to the balcony was wide open. Lady Esme was gone. Moth backed up a single step, but froze when he saw a man emerge from Leroux’s bedroom. Unlike the others, this was a man he knew.
Governor Rendor was unmistakable with his salt and pepper beard and stately attire. The towering figure had to stoop to get through the bedroom door, then rose up high like a cobra when he saw Moth.
“Good day, boy,” he pronounced.
Moth was dumbstruck. “What…?”
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Fiona’s grandfather. He glided casually across the debris-strewn floor toward Moth. “Your friend Leroux is dead. This apartment belongs to the government now.”
“But my things…” sputtered Moth.
“Confiscated. For now.”
Moth glanced nervously around the room, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Where’s Leroux? Did Dr. Trik take him?”
The Governor replied, “He’ll be buried like an Eldrin Knight. I’ll see to that myself. Your friend Leroux was a great man. People forget what the Eldrin Knights did for this country. Now…” He squatted down to get closer to Moth. “Can you tell me where the bird is?”
“Bird?” asked Moth. “What bird?”
Rendor’s smile was as tight as a bowstring. “It would be a help if you told me.”
“A help for who? What are you doing here? What are you looking for?”
“The bird, boy. Where is she?”