Free The Boundless by Kenneth Oppel Page A

porter said you can put in your ears. But Will doesn’t want to block out the sound of the train. He likes it. The endless motion.
    Through the night his sleep is filled with whistles, long and short—and the image of a black horse galloping along the tracks, always just ahead of him.
    His dreams bound after it.

THE JUNCTION
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    It’s not until after lunch that the Boundless nears the Junction. Will feels the train slow, and rushes to the Terrace car for a better view. Outside on the deck he realizes it’s much colder now that they’ve swung farther north. Pine trees grow close against the tracks. He can see no sign of a town or station yet.
    Back in the stateroom he finds his father packing himself a small valise. He’s dressed simply in shirt, trousers and vest, and an engineer’s cap. He seems leaner and younger somehow, more like the man Will met in Craigellachie three years ago. Will can tell he’s excited.
    â€œShe’s quite a train to drive,” his father says.
    Will is still angry with him, for his stern words last night and for leaving him alone while he has another adventure. He says nothing.
    â€œYou’ll mind yourself while I’m away,” says his father. “If you need anything, ask Beecham.”
    Will grunts. The train gives several short blasts and slows even more. Beyond the windows the trees draw back from the gravel shoulders of the tracks. He sees a few stalls and vendors, and then more stalls, and small tents, and then larger canvas buildings, and yet more stalls and people crammed amongst them, so many people, waving at the train as it slowly trundles past.
    â€œIt springs up whenever a train makes a stop,” his father says. “They put it up overnight and take it down after the train leaves. It’s mostly for the colonists. There’s no meal service on their cars, so they have to lay in provisions for the journey.”
    Will feels a restless pulse of excitement as he watches all the merchants calling out and waving up at the train, grinning. It feels like a carnival—and a gigantic one at that, for it stretches on and on, all the way to the edge of the station platform.
    When the Boundless finally comes to a halt, Will’s father picks up his valise and they leave the stateroom together. Stairs have been lowered from the front of their car, and Will steps down onto the platform. His body feels as though it’s still in motion, and he sways like a sailor just come ashore. As the gentlemen and ladies disembark, tastefully dressed merchants offer flutes of sparkling wine, oranges from a wicker basket, silk scarves.
    â€œI’ll see you in Lionsgate City, then,” his father says.
    Will nods, unwilling to let his father know he’s hurt. “How long is the stop here? I’d like to have a look around.”
    â€œJust make sure to be back aboard by six. That’s when we leave. And watch out for pickpockets.”
    Will glances at his watch. He has a good four hours. Plenty of time to find Maren. He hurriedly pats his jacket pocket to make sure he has his sketchbook and a few pencils.
    Lots of other passengers from first class have stepped out by now. They saunter about, taking the air. A crowd is already knotted around the funeral carriage, and Will pauses to get a good look. It is night black, with ornamental metal plumes spiking high at each corner. The carriage is the size of a boxcar and gives an impression of immense thickness and strength. He can easily believe it was welded together from battleship steel. It even looks like something dredged from the ocean deeps, for its sides are festooned with intricate decorations, like barnacles.
    â€œHave a good look, Ladies and Gents,” the guard says from the other side of a velvet cordon. He has a meaty square face and looks strong enough, but his belly makes too tight a bulge against his jacket. “Keep your distance, please, or you’ll get a