Napier's Bones (23 page)

Dom felt Billy
arch his eyebrow. If anything, that was an understatement. No longer were the
blasts of rain feeling random, but instead it was a constant roar, slapping
against the car in a perpetual horizontal waterfall. The wind now rarely took
the time to slow down enough to allow the car to settle back down, and outside
the windows was a running drab watercolour, green and grey smeared together
seemingly forever.

There was a
thump against the back of the car, and Jenna let out a small squeak as Dom spun
in his seat, trying to see out the back window what had made the noise. Nothing
was there that he could see, which of course meant nothing right now.

The noise came
again, and the car shook a little.

“Probably a
sheep, found itself a nice place to hide from the wind and rain,” said Dom,
hoping his voice sounded more certain to Jenna than it did to him.

Both back doors
flew open and just as quickly closed again, but not before the inside of the
car was turned into a cold shower. As soon as the doors were closed Arithmos
was sitting there. “Drive again,” said the numbers.

“Why the hell
did you need to open the doors?” Dom got the car back in gear and pulled out
onto the road, hoping to hell he could tell where the road ended and the sky
began.

“They just
opened in response to us,” replied Arithmos. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

Dom leaned
forward and tried to force his eyes to see through the weather. “Can I use some
numbers to clear the way?”

“No,” said
Arithmos. While Jenna reached into the back and found a t-shirt that was still
dry enough to wipe things down, the numbers continued: “The Napier adjunct is
close. We sent up the weather to try and slow them down, but it will only hold
for so long. But we should have a safe haven soon enough, as long as you can
get there in time.” Dom picked up the speed a bit. “Don’t worry about traffic,”
said Arithmos. “There will be no one else on the road here.”

The
feeling of the road soon changed, the sound of pavement giving over to the pops
and bumps of gravel. “Drive forward another fifteen seconds at this speed and
then stop,” said the numbers, leaning over Dom’s shoulder.

Dom
counted down from fifteen and then stopped the car, skidding briefly through
loose gravel. The wind promptly stopped, and although the rain continued to
fall, it came from above rather than the side, and no longer sounded so angry and
powerful.

With the car
shut off, the only sounds were the rain drumming on the roof of the car, the
wind gusting enough to frequently rock the car back and forth, and the
breathing of Dom and Jenna. Outside, Dom thought he heard something other than
the weather, and after a few seconds he could see some hints of shape and
movement in the grey atmospheric blur that surrounded them. He gripped the
steering wheel, looking for numbers he could call down if this went all wrong.

Then, out of the
mist of the low lying cloud, stepped a small herd of sheep. Dom chuckled at his
nervousness. “Is this the spot?” he asked.

“Yes.” They
opened the doors and climbed out, and before they had their doors closed again
their hair was plastered to their heads and water was running down their faces
in tiny persistent rivers.

The sheep slowly
ambled away up the hill, stopping now and again to crop at the wet grass. In
the distance stood an old lighthouse, and nearby was a trail leading along near
the edge of tall cliffs. “The lighthouse was designed by numerates,” said
Arithmos, almost shouting to be heard over the wind and rain. “The father and
uncle of Robert Louis Stevenson, who, they were unhappy to discover, had no
numerate ability himself. The structure itself serves as a sentinel, keeping
watch much as the trees of the hazelwood and the kirk of the island did.”

“So the next
package is nearby?” asked Jenna. She was leaning into Dom to keep the wind away
from her face.

“Up the hill,
yes,” said the numbers, and they proceeded to move in that direction. The sheep
scattered as Dom and Jenna followed.

“You still have
the original package, we know,” said Arithmos. “You are carrying the others
that you have retrieved since arriving in Scotland?”

Dom tapped his
pocket and nodded.

“Excellent. Then
listen carefully. This will be the last bundle. When you get it you will likely
have but moments before Napier is able to find you.”

“What the fuck?”
Dom turned on Arithmos, but the numerical creature was still heading up the
hill, and he had to step lively to catch up.

“What you will
have will help you avoid Napier and his host, but it will also serve as
something of a beacon. Jenna will be unaffected, and will be able to move on to
a safe place near the Old Man of Stoer once you’re gone.”

“Gone?” Jenna
reached out and took Dom’s hand. “Do you mean he’s going to leave me?”

“It’s the only
way Napier—or rather, the numbers Napier sends—won’t stay around. We would
explain more thoroughly, but the moment approaches, and we would rather you
both be safe, rather than just one of you.”

“As opposed to
dead,” muttered Billy. Dom ignored him, and the wind made it likely that Jenna
hadn’t heard.

The hill was
steep, and dangerously slippery in the rain. Twice Jenna almost fell, but both
times Dom managed to steady her, which she did once for him as well. They
walked, heads down, Dom shivering as his thin jacket soaked right through, for
a good twenty minutes before they came to something that relieved the visual
monotony of green grass punctuated by the odd occurrence of sopping-wet sheep
droppings. It was a concrete pad, about the size of a large trailer, with three
abandoned and rusty chair frames somewhat artfully arranged on it. On the other
side of the pad there was a gravel track wide enough for a car, and further up
the hill sat more pads, along with more detritus that showed that people had
once lived here.

“Why don’t we
walk on the path?” asked Jenna as she slipped on the grass again.

“The fields and
forests are where you are safest,” replied Arithmos. “Not the roads. You’re
further from prying eyes as long as you’re amongst the green.”

Dom waved an arm
at the concrete. “What happened here? It looks like a giant came down and
plucked away all the houses.”

“People used to
live here, yes, but they were convinced to move on. When this hiding spot was
chosen it was a quiet hill, and already the tourists have been enough to cause
difficulties once or twice. Locals who actually lived here were even more
trouble; none could be bargained with as those down on Seil Island.” They were
near the top of the hill now, and Dom looked up ahead to see that several trees
stood along a ridge. There was something funny about them, but for the life of
him he wasn’t able to figure it out.

Jenna noticed as
well. “They’re flagging,” she said. “But in different directions.”

“What’s
flagging?” asked Billy. Dom wiped rain from his eyes, trying to see what she
meant.

She pointed.
“See how the branches all tend to lean in one direction? Trees that grow where
there is pretty much constant wind will do that. I learned about it in high
school, when we took a nature walk up a mountain for science class once. But
these ones are all wrong.”

Dom saw it now.
Every tree leaned over, stunted by the bad weather and probably pretty poor
soil, its branches reaching out in supplication in the same direction, one side
of each tree bare aside from the hunched shoulders of the branches as they
turned towards the other side. But some trees pointed in one direction, some in
another, which made no sense since it seemed that the wind would come quite
steadily from the ocean, in which case all of the trees should be leaning
inland, away from the water.

The rain let up
as they got to the trees, and he was finally able to see that they were
spilling small, secret numbers, all in binary.

And there was
his answer. Binary. The trees were flagging in binary. But try as he might, Dom
couldn’t make out the pattern or message they were giving off, aside from the
hints of the numbers which only barely whispered at him before fading up into
the grey above.

He reached out
and touched one of the trees as they walked past it, and immediately found
himself somewhere else, standing on a low rise, no trees, concrete pads or
Jenna around. But his hand was still out, and he could still feel the
now-unseen branch, gnarled and old beneath his fingers.

An invisible
hand lifted his off the branch, and he was back where he’d been. “No time,”
said Arithmos. “Please keep walking with us.”

Dom quickstepped
to catch up. “What is this place?”

“It’s where we
hid the last package in safety. After today it won’t be much use, though.”

“And what do the
trees do?” asked Billy. Obviously he couldn’t tell what the hard-to-see
patterns were for either.

“They were the
protection. The binary codes the flagging produces disguise this area, make it
impossible for ordinary people to not only see, but to visit. Flagging in the
direction of the wind is Open, flagging the other way is Closed, and that sets
up a numerical interference pattern that keeps this place invisible. Anyone who
comes to the border will end up on the other side without knowing they were
ever even close.”

“What about
people who fly overhead?” asked Jenna. “Don’t they see it?”

“Numbers are
numbers no matter how they show themselves,” said Arithmos. “Even with aerial
photography, the film or digital file just shows what is expected, not what’s
really here.”

Past the line of
trees, Dom could see that they were the front edge of an enclosure, a circle of
binary patterns that camouflaged an oval about forty by sixty metres in size.
They walked along the top of the hill almost to the far edge of the oval.
Looking down the other side of the hill was more pasture, and further down,
more trees and water. The rain had finally stopped, it seemed, and from up
close Dom could see how deep and rich purple the clumps of heather were, a
pleasant counterpoint to the persistent green of the ground and the drabness of
the sky.

Arithmos
stopped them at a large stack of rocks, giant slabs sticking out from the
ground at several different angles, accompanied by three man-sized boulders.
“The last of the set is here,” said the numbers.

Dom stuck his
hands in his pocket and frowned. “So does it come out to me, or do I have to
toss all these big frickin’ rocks to the side so I can get at it?”

“Be
patient,” muttered Billy.

Dom shook his
head. “Patient ain’t the word for it. If Napier’s gonna show up I’d rather we
just turned and walked away, but I know damn well that’ll only put it off for a
little while.” He stuck his hands in his pants pockets and looked around; the
rain had stopped, but the hard wind still blew in from the ocean. “So let’s do
it.”

Arithmos leaned
forward and the numbers that made up its body swarmed around the rocks, a thick
black layer of tiny figures and formulae performing functions too numerous and
too quick for Dom to follow. The three large boulders rolled towards them, fast
enough that Dom and Jenna had to jump out of the way for fear of having their
feet flattened. Once they had stopped, the slabs of rock parted, reminding Dom
of a set of bad teeth, all gaps and jagged edges pointed in varying directions.

Embedded
in a little hollow was another package. “Pick it up,” said Arithmos, now
reconstituted in human-like form.

Dom reached down
and grabbed it. “Do I open them now?”

“You do.”

Jenna grabbed
her shoulders and shivered. “Hurry, Dom. I’m not comfortable just standing
here.”

“We’re safe
while we’re in the circle of these trees, Jenna,” replied Billy.

“I’ll still
hurry,” said Dom. “I’m not too comfortable, either.”

He pulled
everything from his pockets and placed them on the slab that was closest to the
ground. The first package, the one that he’d received in Canada and that had
supplied the numbers that made Arithmos, he set directly in front of him. As
soon as the last package hit the stone, the first one opened itself, paper
unravelling in a strange simulation of aging in a stop-motion film.

Inside
was a small wooden box, about nine inches long, five wide, and three deep. It
was very plain, no paint or stain or carvings, just a simple light brown wood,
with a burnished brass latch and tiny iron padlock holding it closed, sanded
smooth.

Arithmos reached
forward and touched the padlock, which clicked open and fell away. The box
opened. Hand-written numbers were laid out on the underside of the lid, but the
body of the box was empty. “Open the others.”

Dom opened the
other packages and shook out their contents. Ten cylindrical rods fell to the
rock, and Dom quickly put down a hand to keep them from rolling off. Each rod
had numbers on it, each numbered at one end from 0 to 9. Other numbers were
etched into the rods, all around their circumference along with diagonal lines
to divide them, from top to bottom. All were a faded off-white, none of it
uniform, some portions stained darker, some closer to true white.

“You put them
in—” began Arithmos, but Dom waved off the creature. He could easily see the
pattern. The front of the box unlatched and tilted down, and then each cylinder
clicked into place before the front was closed again; the cylinders were now in
place, a little loose so they could spin freely, but not about to fall out now.
His hands shook from both nerves and excitement, but he managed to put it all
together in less than thirty seconds.

Jenna sat down
on the flat rock opposite Dom. “This is what the big deal is? What exactly is
it?”

Arithmos turned
its attention to her. “Have you heard of Napier’s Bones before?”