The Veiled Diplomat

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "I don't know," said Vin. "This was my best idea. If the rigging doesn't work, then the play is toast. And I was watching the audience from the back. They looked bored."

  Zayn could see that Vin's confidence had been shot. He'd have to work on that before the next practice or it'd bring everyone down.

  "Keelan, can you help Vin with the rigging? Maybe you can find something magical that can do the trick, rather than this slide and pulley system," said Zayn.

  His cousin nodded thoughtfully. "I'll do that."

  "Great, thanks." Zayn turned to Vin, who was squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Don't beat yourself up, Vin. We got the play on stage, and we learned some things."

  "But nobody liked it," he said.

  "Maybe they're the wrong audience. I bet the maetrie will like it," said Zayn.

  "But how do we get them to come if no one cares about the play?" asked Vin.

  "One thing at a time," said Zayn. "And I've got some ideas that might help next time, to ensure a larger audience."

  "That might not be a good idea," said Vin.

  Zayn didn't bother responding, but put his arm around Vin's shoulder. The problem with the play would have to wait a few days. There was another problem he wanted to solve first, which would require a slight detour on his way back to the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tenth Ward, March 2016

  A job for an old friend

  The bodega smelled like grape-seed oil and antiseptic. Zayn let the door slip shut behind him, rattling the little bell on a string. The place hadn't changed much in the last two years. The black, green, and gold cross flag was still plastered to the wall behind the counter, which appeared currently empty.

  From the middle aisle, a smooth voice softly sang a Bob Marley tune. Zayn peeked down the aisle to find Uncle Larice working a mop in big circles along to the beat of the music which seemed to be playing in his head.

  "Uncle Larice, how are you, man?" asked Zayn, feeling the cadence of the Jamaican patois return.

  "Hey, if it isn't my old friend, Zayn," said Uncle Larice, his grin turning his wrinkles into deep valleys.

  They clasped hands and shared a hug. When Larice pulled back, his hazy eyes studied Zayn, while his mouth skewed to the side.

  "I see you survived another few years," said Uncle Larice.

  "I have," said Zayn, finding it was hard not to grin.

  Coming back to the bodega after a few years felt like visiting a high school teacher after graduation to show them how he'd succeeded.

  "I'd tell you some stories, but I don't think we're supposed to," said Zayn.

  Uncle Larice glanced towards the door. "Hey man, it's good to see you, but you know you're not supposed to be coming back around here. Carron likes to use this bodega every few years after everyone's forgotten the last relative. If they see you around, it's going to ruin the game."

  Zayn had forgotten that Instructor Allgood paid Uncle Larice to let the Academy students imbed in his bodega. He didn't take on dangerous mages in his store for charity, but to help make ends meet.

  "I wouldn't come by if it weren't important," said Zayn, reaching to his wallet. "And I'll compensate you for the help."

  "Now you speaking my language," said Uncle Larice with a wink as he accepted the handful of bills.

  "The little callolo, Marley," said Zayn. "Does he come around here anymore?"

  "Aye, Marley, he does, but not lately," said Uncle Larice.

  "Do you know where he lives?" asked Zayn.

  Uncle Larice nodded. "I've seen him climbing the apartment building across the street. Maybe he lives on the roof, or with a family."

  "Thanks, Uncle Larice," said Zayn. "I appreciate it."

  The old man held up the bills. "If you're bringing this, you can come back anytime."

  Zayn went straight to the apartment building, climbing up the emergency scaffolding in back as quietly as he could. While the callolo had come to his rescue at the warehouse, it'd been a few years since he'd seen him and he didn't know if he'd remember him.

  Pulling himself onto the roof, Zayn surveyed the area for potential nests. A brick maintenance building resisted his attempts to examine the inside, so he hopped onto the roof to find no sign of alternate entry. He was about to get down when he noticed the edge of the roofing material had been cut, and could be peeled back. When he looked inside, he saw a cozy bed of shredded blankets, chocolate bar wrappers, coins, and other baubles.

  "That's definitely Marley's home," said Zayn, hopping down, only to find the callolo a dozen paces away, staring at him intently.

  The chubby orange tabby's paws had morphed into hands, whether in greeting or readying for an attack, Zayn couldn't tell.

  "Hey, Marley. It's me, Zayn. I never got to say thank you for what you did a few years ago. I hope you enjoyed the chocolates at Uncle Larice's."

  Marley ambled forward, crossing the short distance and leaping upward. Zayn had a brief moment of panic but once the callolo was purring in his arms, Zayn knew Marley had missed him too. As Zayn scratched Marley's back, the callolo kneaded his arm with his tiny hands.

  "Thanks, buddy," said Zayn.

  After a few minutes of petting, Marley jumped down, moved back a few paces, and sat on his haunches. The complete attentiveness would have looked strange if Marley were a cat, so it gave Zayn a little visual dislocation, but he knew the creature's supernatural capability.

  "Do you like your home here?" asked Zayn.

  Marley tilted his head to the side.

  "Interested? I need your help with something, and I would provide home and food in return," said Zayn.

  A little bark came out of Marley's feline mouth, which startled Zayn because it wasn't the noise he was expecting from the callolo. But as he thought about it, he realized he'd never heard the creature make a noise before.

  "Is that a yes?"

  Marley strolled forward and placed his front paws—having changed back from the tiny hands—on Zayn's leg.

  They climbed down the emergency exit scaffolding. Marley moved like a monkey at points, and a cat at others.

  When they made the street, Zayn asked, "Would you like to walk or ride on my shoulders?"

  Marley scampered up his side, taking residence on his shoulders. The callolo's whiskers tickled Zayn's ear, and the light purring soothed him on the journey back to the house in the seventh ward.

  Petri was in the living room when he got back, wearing a handkerchief skirt and a crop top. He opened his mouth to say hello to her, but she blew past him before he could get a word out.

  Standing in the doorway with Marley on his shoulders, a sudden unexpected rage took hold, and if it weren't for his good mood, he might have said some things he'd have regretted. A ghost taxi pulled up and she slipped into the back. By the time she was out of sight, his anger had dissipated.

  "That was weird," he said, closing the door behind him. It was nice not having to rebuild the wards every time he returned home. Since they'd chased Instructor Minoan into the lower tunnels, he'd stopped bothering them.

  The marionette rigging from the play sat broken and tangled in the corner, which was better than the dumpster out back, where Zayn thought it would have ended up after the play. At least Vin hadn't smashed it to bits in frustration.

  Portia came out of the kitchen, nodding her head to the music in her earbuds with a bowl of dill dip and a bag of salty chips in her hands. She nearly dropped them when she saw Marley.

  "A cat!" she shouted, throwing her stuff onto the table and rushing up to Zayn.

  Marley leapt into her arms, purring right away. Portia buried her face in the callolo's fur.

  "He's so soft," she said, still shouting because she had her earbuds in and music at full volume.

  "Do you remember him? He's the callolo that helped you guys find me our first year," said Zayn.

  "Aww..."

  Portia melted around Marley, rocking him like a baby and making cooing noise
s to him. Zayn was a little surprised that the callolo didn't leap out of her arms from the smothering. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Zayn leaned over and popped her earbuds out, right as his teammates came downstairs.

  "What's this I heard about a cat?" said Keelan, who was the first to arrive. "Hey, kitty. I always wanted a pet, but you know how my mom was allergic."

  "His name is Marley, and he's a callolo." Vin and Skylar came down at that moment, saving him from having to explain again. "He's also not a pet, but a guest. Think of him as our seventh housemate."

  Everyone crowded around Portia and smothered Marley with attention, and he seemed to be soaking it up. He was purring so loud it sounded like a lawnmower.

  Bringing Marley back to the house had an immediate effect on everyone's mood, which had been down after the disastrous first play.

  After a few minutes, Marley leapt out of Portia's arms and climbed onto the back of the couch.

  Vin moved in front of the callolo and made gestures that Zayn interpreted as sign language.

  Marley's eyes went wide, and then the callolo raised his front "hands," which had been paws only moments before, making a fist and nodding it forward.

  "I asked him if he knew sign language, and he said yes," said Vin, face split wide with a grin.

  "How do you know it?" asked Keelan.

  "My high school used interpreters for the kids that needed it. I got interested in learning what the crazy movements meant, so I started asking questions," said Vin.

  Marley sat up straight like a meerkat, and when his little furry arms went through a series of more complex movements, Vin snorted out laughter before replying while his arms shook with mirth.

  "What did he say?" asked Keelan, forehead scrunched.

  "There's quite a bit of slang involved, and I couldn't make out all the gestures since it appears he's out of practice, but basically he asked: when am I gonna get some chocolate in this furry belly, fam?"

  Skylar retrieved some chocolate from her stash and broke off a piece for the callolo, who shoved it in his mouth with both hands. When he was finished, he held out greedy hands like a raccoon asking for more.

  While Skylar fed him little chocolate squares, Keelan asked, "So why did you bring Marley here?"

  "Instructor Minoan," said Zayn. "I think Marley could help us track him."

  "But don't callolo only track shapeshifters?" asked Portia.

  "Minoan seems like more than your ordinary instructor. He seems like a trickster of some sort, and they're often shapeshifters," said Zayn.

  Vin snapped his fingers. "That's it. I knew that seemed familiar from my high school mythology classes. Minoan Crete was a home to many ancient gods, including Dionysus."

  "I don't get the connection," said Skylar as she handed another piece to Marley, who had bits of chocolate stuck in the fur around his mouth.

  "Dony. Dionysus," said Vin with his hands wide. "Get it?"

  "Wait a sec," said Keelan. "Are you suggesting our instructor is a god?"

  "I don't think there are gods, like in the religious sense," said Vin. "I think they're just old powerful beings that people probably treated like gods because they didn't know how else to deal with them. Probably an immigrant from another realm."

  "I mean, we are supposed to be the hall tasked with protecting Invictus from other realms," said Zayn. "I wouldn't put it past Priyanka to enlist supernatural help. Instructor Pennywhistle is a doppelganger, after all."

  "I still don't understand," said Portia. "Who is Dionysus?"

  "Are there trickster gods in Mexican culture?" asked Zayn.

  "Huehuecóyotl is one," said Portia. "His name means very old coyote. So Dionysus is like him? Si, I understand."

  "We're not going now, are we?" asked Vin, shoulders pinched.

  "No," said Zayn. "Let's give Marley some time to settle in, plus I think he's going to need a nap after all that chocolate."

  Marley looked up from his chocolate feast and signed his agreement.

  "But we'll go soon enough," said Zayn. "I want to get this behind us so we can focus on the play."

  "What about classes?" asked Vin.

  "Those too, of course," said Zayn, but to him, the play was more important at the moment because it was their way into the embassy. After the discussion with Katie, he suspected it might be the only important thing going. Which was why he wanted to get this Instructor Minoan thing put behind them.

  His teammates filtered back to their previous activities. Skylar was going to take Marley on a tour, but Zayn asked her to stay back. There was another distraction that seemed to be lingering, and he wanted to discuss it with her.

  "What's up?" asked Skylar, crossing her arms.

  "Have you noticed anything different with Petri lately?"

  The exasperated eye roll said everything that Zayn needed to know.

  "It's like she's in her terrible twos," said Skylar. "She came up to my room earlier and asked if I wanted to go out. I told her I was busy, but suggested I could go tomorrow night when I had some free time. She made a huffy breath and stormed past me as if I'd done something wrong. The worst part was that it made me snap and I yelled at her. I don't know what came over me, but it felt awful."

  "I don't know what that means, but it worries me. I had the same reaction when she went past me on the way out. Her aunt is a powerful witch, so maybe she's coming into her own powers?"

  "My reaction was primal, and she didn't cast any spells," said Skylar.

  "Maybe she's got supernatural blood, or something," he said, shaking his head. "Can you help me keep an eye on her?"

  "How? She sleeps all day and goes out at night," said Skylar.

  "Then maybe we should join her," said Zayn. "We can try to figure out what's wrong."

  "It's probably nothing," said Skylar. "Maybe her aunt contacted her and said something that made her mad. Family has a way of doing that."

  "Yeah, let's hope it's something temporary." Zayn noticed Skylar's sudden expectant expression. "Yes, you can go play with Marley now."

  "Yay!" she said as she sprinted upstairs at faez speed.

  Zayn scratched the back of his head. Like Skylar, he hoped it was nothing, but he didn't think so. Petri's moods were getting stronger, not weaker, and the bleed-over effect on him and the others was not a good sign.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Varna, July 2015

  Trust issues

  A host of gnats hovered around Zayn, trying to get through his enchantments, but every time they flew near an invisible wind pushed them away. It had a secondary effect of providing a cool breeze across his skin, which was soothing in the blistering heat.

  He slammed the trowel down, dragging it across the soil, creating a little trough. The sandy soil spread easily but wasn't a great bed for seeds, so he scooped in fresh loamy soil afterwards.

  Ms. Gardenia watched from the shade of a nearby popup, dragging on her cigarette. He saw her suspicious gaze, but ignored it.

  Buford worked the row next to him, wiping his forehead off with the back of his hand, smearing dirt in the process. He eyed the gnats with an exhausted smile.

  "It sure is handy to have you around," said Buford. "I hate those damn things."

  Nods of agreement came from the other residents of the Castlewood trailer park, as they looked up from their parts of the community garden.

  "It still feels weird to be planting in the middle of July," said Buford.

  "That's the beauty of alchemy," said Zayn.

  Beneath the popup, sitting on a folding table someone had brought out, sat three large plastic jugs that contained a mixture that could help plants grow in any season, giving them resistance to bugs and the rough environment. The mixture had been expensive, and Zayn had no plans to tell them how much it cost.

  Zayn took a moment to check on everyone, cupping his hand over his face to block the sun. It didn't take his sensing imbuement to see that the brutal sun was wearing on them.r />
  "Let's take a break," he said.

  The others, about fifteen men and women, gathered in the shade of the popup while sucking down cold water and spilling it on their chests and faces.

  Though they probably didn't realize they were doing it, no one stood near him, except Buford.

  "It's really great of you to do this," said Buford, washing his face off with a wet rag.

  Before Zayn could respond, Ms. Gardenia cut in, "He's just doing it so he can spy on us."

  Her distrust hurt, but it wasn't unexpected either, especially since Keelan and his Aunt Lydia had taken up residence in the Gardens.

  "That's not fair," said Buford, squaring off. "He didn't have to do this. Everyone else that's ever gone to the Halls treats us like we don't exist anymore."

  "It's okay, Buford, I understand. She's just being cautious," said Zayn.

  "It still ain't right," he said.

  Ms. Gardenia put her cigarette to her mouth, keeping her gaze firmly planted on him as if she were expecting him to do something suspicious at any moment and she didn't want to miss it.

  "You know he went to her place last week." Ms. Gardenia's lips flattened. "Oh, that's right, honey, don't you think you can play both sides and for us little people not to know."

  Buford looked at Zayn as if he'd betrayed him.

  "Did you?"

  "I was invited...and curious," said Zayn, frowning.

  The Lady's challenge to him, that he either give up his quest to kill her or she would kill him and his family, sat heavily on his mind and made him regret the visit. Not that she wouldn't have found another way to deliver the message before he returned.

  "You met her?" asked Buford with equal parts awe and horror.

  "She wasn't what I thought, and maybe exactly what I expected," said Zayn, receiving nods of agreement from Buford even though it was clear he'd never been within a thousand feet of her.

  "I always thought she was," said Buford.

  "Shut up, Buford, you don't know shit," said Ms. Gardenia. "You're just sucking up to him to save your ass, just like your being a guard at the Gardens. You don't guard a damn thing. They just like to have you there so they have someone to look down on."