Nightfall by Jake Halpern Page A

western sky. Marin walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Several men were descending to the pier via a spiderweb of ropes secured to the cliff face. Nearby, a series of makeshift wooden cranes had begun lowering loads of crates. Down below, several dozen ships with bright yellow sails were moored along Bliss’s docks.
    â€œLOOK FOR YOUR FLAGS!” yelled a burly, gray-haired okrana. He wore a leather vest and the dark green clothing of a woodcutter. He spoke through a large, cone-shaped speaking trumpet. “CALMLY WALK TO YOUR FLAGS!”
    â€œWhich way is Glimmer Glen?” a woman called out, her long white hair escaping in strings from her shawl. She was cradling a suitcase to her chest.
    â€œALL THE WAY AT THE END,” boomed the man through his speaking trumpet.
    Cloth banners were tied to the end of slender flagpoles, which were stuck in the ground at regular intervals throughout the staging area. Next to each pole stood an okrana with a bound codex in hand.
    â€œWhere’s our flag?” asked Kana.
    â€œNight Fire is down this way,” replied their father, pointing to a distant blue flag with two red swirling lines. “They always put it down there.”
    Where is Line?
Marin looked around anxiously for any sign of him, or of the okrana who had been searching for him. “Excuse me,” said Marin, tapping a gray-haired okrana on the shoulder. “Have they found Line—the boy who went missing?” The man just stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign tongue. It was maddening. If Line’s parents were alive, they would be raising hell.
    She grabbed her father’s arm. “I don’t see Line—I’m going to go look around.”
    â€œNo,” replied Anton firmly. “Wait until we get to the flag, and then we’ll make inquiries.”
    It took several more minutes before Marin and her family arrived at the grassy knoll where their flag was fluttering. Standing rigidly next to the flagpole was one of the okrana’s youngest members, a thin teenage boy with kinky black hair and crooked teeth. The boy nodded at Marin’s parents solemnly, then opened up his codex and began flipping through pages of vellum until he found what he was looking for.
    â€œFour of you?” asked the boy. He frowned. “It says here there are three.”
    â€œNo—it’s four,” their mother quickly replied. She glared at the young okrana boy.
    â€œShadow House?”
    â€œOf course,” she replied, glancing at Anton. They exchanged a look that Marin found hard to decipher. Fear, anger, annoyance, fatigue, sixteen years of marriage—perhaps all of it at once.
    â€œThat’s your luggage?” asked the boy. He frowned again.
    â€œYes.”
    The boy paused. “You may have to leave some behind.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI have no further information—these are my instructions. Please be patient,” he replied. The words coming from his mouth sounded dutifully rehearsed.
    Their neighbors, young parents with a sleeping baby, approached the knoll, and the young okrana turned to them. Marin’s mother moved several feet away and collapsed to the ground with an exhausted sigh. She called to Marin and Kana but was interrupted by the sound of shouting.
    â€œThey’re coming!” someone yelled. “The furriers have climbed up from the cliffs.”
    Similar shouts rang out along the cliffs.
    â€œStand up!” hollered the teenage okrana who stood by their flag. “On your feet now!”

CHAPTER 15
    All around them, townspeople were rising to their feet and shouldering their bags. A group of furriers had arrived and were stalking through the crowd. They were fierce-looking men, with sunburned faces, chiseled jaws, and eyes the color of shallow water. Several of them brandished rifles with gleaming bayonets. It was odd to see the furriers so well armed. Nobody in Bliss had guns