Page 7 of In an Absent Dream

The Archivist pursed her lips. “You’ll learn soon enough, little girl. When someone offers you something free of charge—as I’m doing now—you follow rule four. You take it, and you be grateful, because something that is free for you may be very expensive for someone else. People will remember if you’re not grateful. People will stop offering.”

Lundy nodded slowly. “All right.”

“There is one more rule you must follow. It won’t seem very important to you right now, but you need to mind it anyway, for it’s the rule that can do you true and lasting harm if you’re not careful.” The Archivist leaned forward. “Do you remember what it was? Did you see it in the passage?”

“Um . . . ‘remember the curfew,’” said Lundy, dutiful and dubious at the same time.

“Yes,” said the Archivist. “There is a curfew, Lundy, and it comes for all of us. It’s not the kind of curfew you may know. It doesn’t mean ‘all good little children come inside at sundown.’ It means we must be sure no one is trapped here against their will. It means we want all those who crave citizenship in our admittedly unusual land to have chosen their way with care. The doors have found you now. They will open for you again and again, and you can take them or you can walk away, until the day you turn eighteen. On that day, arbitrary as it might seem, the doors will close. If you’ve kept fair value in mind, when you turn eighteen, you’ll be allowed to choose which side of the door you stand on. If you haven’t—if you’re too deeply in debt to one person or another—you won’t be allowed to stand on the side of the door you come from. It may seem unfair, but it’s necessary. Fair value says we don’t steal what isn’t ours. It also says that what we own, we keep.”

“I don’t understand,” said Lundy.

“Understanding is something that comes with time, I’m afraid, no matter how clearly we try to explain,” said the Archivist. “There are many good things here, Lundy. Many wonderful things. You could be happy here, if you wanted to be. But you don’t have forever to decide, and you must follow the rules, or you’ll surely pay the price.”

Lundy frowned. “Does this mean I don’t get to go home?” she asked, finally.

“You must not betooattached to your home, or you would never have found us in the first place,” said the Archivist. “But no. That isn’t what this means. You’ll be here for a time, and then you’ll find a door, and you’ll be able to return to the world you left. No one stays forever on their first visit. How could they? One visit isn’t long enough to be sure. The rules mean—only—that once your eighteenth birthday comes, there will be no more doors. For now, you have the freedom of the Market. Remember the rules. Try not to break them, unless you feel like paying the price. Enjoy yourself. There are many good things in the world, and each of them happens for the first time only once, and never again. Do you understand?”

Lundy, who didn’t understand, but who had long since learned that adults were happier when they thought she needed no more guidance, nodded. “Can I come back here when you’re not teaching me?” she asked. “Only, you havesomany books, and I love to read.”

Adults also loved a scholarly child. The Archivist blinked once before she smiled, warm and suddenly accepting. “I would be happy to let you read my books, and the only price I would ask is that you treat them kindly, and tell me what you think of their contents.”

Book reports were something Lundy had a great deal of experience with. “That seems like, um, fair value,” she said.

The Archivist’s smile broadened. “You’re getting it already,” she said. “Run along and play now. Moon can show you the places children like to go, and I’ll let some of the others know that you’ve come. The rules apply from the moment you arrive, but we can choose to interpret them as generously as possible during your first visit, to make it easier for you to make a second one. Run along, now. See what the Goblin Market can offer you.”

Lundy, who was not a fool, jumped off her rickety chair and dipped an impulsive curtsey before running to the door and out, into the clear, smoke-scented air. A raucous chorus of screams and warbles greeted her as the birds in the surrounding branches cried out, marking her arrival. She stopped to frown at one big pied crow.

“Nobody gets to sneak around here, do they?” she asked.

“Some of us do,” said a voice at her shoulder.

Lundy shouted and jumped into the air, spinning around to find Moon standing behind her. The other girl had a small, smug smile on her lips, and her odd orange eyes were half closed, making her look sleepy and overly pleased with herself.

“The birds don’t scream when they see me,” she said. “Theyremember. You all done with the Archivist? Did she teach you everything you need to know?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to ask questions,” said Lundy.

“You asked a question just a few seconds ago,” said Moon. “Some questions are okay. You can’t have people without questions. People are too curious for that, they’d get all gummed up and stop working right if you didn’t let them have questions once in a while. But there’s a big difference between asking for things and only asking. ‘Do you think there will be grapes sometime this week’ isn’t the same as ‘can I have some of those grapes.’ Do you understand?”

“No,” said Lundy sullenly.

“Then I guess you’ll have to do like the rest of us do, and figure it out as you go along.” Moon suddenly, impulsively seized her hands, orange eyes wide and bright. “I can help. I can take three debts for you, if you promise you’ll take them back from me if I ever need you to.”

“What?”

“Debts. When you don’t give fair value, you get debts. But you’re a first-timer, you don’t know how careful feels yet. So I can go with you, and if you get any debts, I can take three of them on your behalf. That’s allowed. Then, if I ever need it, you’ll agree to take them back, right? Once you know what you’re doing.”

“That seems fair,” said Lundy slowly. She wasn’t actually certain that it did, but she couldn’t see a way around it that wasn’t cruel to the other girl.

“Shake on it.” Moon stuck out one long-fingered hand. “Come on. Shake.”

Lundy shook. Moon beamed.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you the Market.” She took off running and Lundy, not knowing what else to do, followed.

***

THEY RANthrough the golden afternoon like dandelion seeds dancing on the wind, two little girls with all the world in front of them, a priceless treasure ready to be pillaged. Moon was fast and light on her feet, sometimes looping back to circle around Lundy as they both ran, laughing at her companion’s slowness. Lundy tensed the first time she heard that laughter, but relaxed as she realized there was no meanness in it, no cruelty; Moon wasplayingwith her.

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