by Brian Olsen
“What do you want to do, Chris?” Zane asks.
“We do what we came here to do.” I shade my eyes and peer in through the window of the bookshop. “One way or another, we’re not leaving without them.”
Thirteen
The man who imprisoned us sits on the edge of the window display, facing into the store, his back to us. Bookshelves run wall to wall, floor to ceiling, just past the counter, blocking the back of the shop.
I step away from the window and try the door. It’s locked. The sign has been turned around to read “Closed.”
The man jumps when he hears the handle jiggle. He sees us and gasps.
I wave. “Hi! Can we talk a little before you try to kill us this time?”
Nate smacks his forehead. “Dude.”
“What?” I wave and smile at the man again. “I’m making friends.”
“Genevieve!” That’s Mrs. Wollard’s first name. He’s calling for help. “Genevieve!” He’s got an accent, either Indian or Pakistani, I think. He backs up against the outside of his prison.
“Zane,” I say, “can you gag him? So he can’t say his word?”
“And that’s making friends how exactly?”
I shrug. “Can’t make friends from inside a magic prison.”
Zane comes to the door next to me and peers in. “Shadow.”
A mask of shadow covers the man’s mouth. He pulls at it, but it doesn’t move. He pounds on the bookshelves, knocking books to the floor.
Alisa murmurs to me, “He could cancel the prison spell and let her out without saying his word.”
“Yeah,” I respond, “but I don’t think he knows that. If he had experience with his logomancy, he would have brought Mrs. Wollard out as soon as he saw us, instead of yelling for her.” I look through the window again. “Hey! It’s Ihsan, right, that’s what she called you? We’re not going to hurt you, I promise. No magic. We just want to talk.”
He furrows his brow angrily and taps his shadow gag.
“Yeah, sorry. If we take it off, will you promise not to send us into your prison before you hear us out?”
Nate, behind me, says to someone passing by, “Hey! What’s up? Nothing to see, just some American tourists being crazy!” He hisses at me, “Dude! Getting some weird looks here!”
I tap on the glass. “Ihsan, what do you say? Truce?”
He narrows his eyes, then nods slowly.
“Go ahead, Zane.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. We need to trust each other. One of us has to make the first gesture.”
Zane waves his hand and the gag disappears. “I know this guy. I’m sure I know him.”
“I’m pretty sure he was one of the logomancers who created the Moment,” I say.
“How do you know that?”
The door opens before I can answer. Ihsan backs away quickly as we step into the shop. Nate closes the door behind us.
“Thank you—” I start.
“Imprison.”
“Aw, come on!” Nate yells.
But we stay where we are. Instead, the bookcases behind Ihsan shake and retract into the floor. The store returns to its original configuration, revealing a very large, very angry wolf reared back on her haunches, ready to spring, teeth bared.
“Mrs. Wollard!” Alisa jumps in front of me. “We’re not here to hurt you. We have a plan to rescue all the magical creatures you care about, and we can’t do it without your help. I promise I’m telling you the truth.”
I’m not sure if she’s using her magic or not, but her words have some effect. The wolf holds her threatening pose for a moment more, then stops snarling and stands up straight. Her form blurs and stretches and she’s suddenly a kindly old lady again. Well, maybe not so kindly.
“Ihsan.” She comes to her friend’s side, watching us closely. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
He shakes his head. “I am unharmed, Genevieve. Confused, but unharmed. The blond boy, this is him? This is the Common King?”
“Indeed it is.” She growls at me, then quickly covers her mouth with her hand. “I beg your pardon. It’s hard to restrain my lupine tendencies when I’m emotional.”
“I’m not the Common King anymore. It’s hard to explain but—”
She pinches her fingers and thumb together at me. “Hsst!”
I shut up.
“You, dear.” She lifts her glasses to her eyes and peers at Alisa. “Explain why you’ve returned and why we should help you. I don’t want to hear a word from him.”
“The Common King has been split into two people,” Alisa answers. “Chris only has the memories of this world, our world. The Common King has…well, he’s the same genocidal maniac you remember from the world before.”
Ihsan looks me up and down. “I remember very little. Fragments only. But Genevieve has told me of his horrible crimes.”
“He’s trying to restore the world before the Moment.” Alisa rests her hand on the spot under her blouse where the tree medallion rests. “He’s going to release all the magical creatures from the artifacts that imprison them. All at the same time.”
“Artifacts?” Mrs. Wollard frowns. “What artifacts?”
“Like the painting you sold us,” Nate answers. “All the fairies were inside it.”
“They were?” She drops her glasses. “My little painting had real fairies inside?”
Ihsan stares out the window. “Artifacts…yes…something is familiar. Is there a book? Is one of these artifacts a book?”
“Yes.” I bite my lip, but Mrs. Wollard is still marveling over the idea of her magic painting and doesn’t shut me up. “But it’s not an artifact itself. It’s the key to all the others. And the Common King has it.”
“When he releases them,” Alisa says, “that much magic shown to the world at once will be too much for people to ignore or forget. It’ll break the Moment and change everything back to the way it was.”
“Forgive me, my dear.” Mrs. Wollard smooths her cardigan. “But I’m having trouble seeing why that’s a bad thing. All the magical creatures released, and a return to a world that remembers them? It sounds ideal.”
“Do you really think the Common King is releasing them back into the world for their benefit?” Alisa asks. “He wants chaos and bloodshed. A war between humans and magical creatures. Do you want that?”
Nate leans an elbow on the counter. “Not to mention, rolling back the Moment means people who didn’t exist before it, people like me, will die. That’s a couple billion people. You okay with that?”
“Of course not!” Mrs. Wollard fusses with the ends of her sleeves. “Of course not. But what can we do? I’m not saying we’ll help, mind you. But what can we do?”
“We’re going to cast a spell,” Alisa answers. “To strengthen the Moment.”
Mrs. Wollard raises an eyebrow. “Strengthen it?”
“So that releasing all the magical creatures won’t break it. And then the Common King will have no reason to release them, and we’ll be able to free them safely. On our terms.”
“And theirs,” I add.
“That…yes.” The old lady coughs. “Yes, that sounds…acceptable. You believe we could help you cast this spell?”
“I think we can’t do it without you,” I say. “Both of you.”
Ihsan looks surprised. “Me? Did you know I was here?”
“No. But it can’t be a coincidence that you are. If you’re who I think you are.”
He smiles wryly. “I don’t even know if I’m who I think I am. Until a few weeks ago, I would have told you that I am Ihsan Hyderi. I live in Ilford with my wife and daughter. I work in sales and distribution for a company which makes board games. I’ve been taking a stand-up comedy class which I enjoy very much even though I am very bad at it and everyone else in the class is very young.”
“Until a few weeks ago?” I ask. “What happened then?”
He smiles at Mrs. Wollard. “I saw her. On the news. She did magic and f
ought a flying man on fire. It stirred memories in me.” He shivers. “The man on fire stirred memories, too. I wanted to fight him. Felt like I had to kill him, right away. I smashed our television. My wife thought I’d lost my mind.” He sits back down on the edge of the window display. “Perhaps I had. Everyone else forgot about the wolves on the Millennium Bridge. But I could not. I kept seeing images of another man, a man who had my face but was not me. And I heard a word, ringing in my head.”
“Imprison.”
He nods. “I needed help. I had to understand what it all meant. So I sought out the woman who started it all.”
“I had forgotten again,” Mrs. Wollard says. “Not everything. I didn’t go back to how I was before. But my memories dulled. Ihsan and I have been helping each other remember.”
“I can give you those memories back,” Alisa says. “If you want me to. I can help you remember. It’s part of my magic.”
“No.” Mrs. Wollard purses her lips. “No. I’ll remember on my own terms, or not at all. I don’t want you mucking about in my head.”
“I don’t want to forget who I am,” Ihsan says. “I am curious about this other life, but I will not lose the one I have to satisfy that curiosity.”
“You don’t have to get it all back.” Zane kneels next to him. “I was the same as you. I didn’t want to know everything. I didn’t want to lose myself. Alisa can give you just enough to help you understand.”
Was. He said he was the same. Does that mean he doesn’t feel that way anymore? Probably not the time to ask.
Ihsan stands back up. “Young lady, can you promise me I will still be myself after you have done this?”
“No.” Alisa flexes her fingers. “I won’t lie. Some people are changed greatly by remembering their former lives. Others find a balance. You won’t lose any of Ihsan Hyderi, but I can’t promise that regaining part of this other man won’t change you.”
“Ihsan.” Genevieve reaches out to him, just a bit, but then lets her hand fall. “Don’t.”
“I think I must, my friend.” He swallows. “I have told you that I feel as if I have some purpose that I have forgotten. Some greater calling. I cannot pass up the chance to learn what that might be. It would be irresponsible of me.” He nods at Alisa. “You may proceed.”
“We’ll start small, don’t worry. Just basic information about your former life.” She touches her fingers to his temple. “Truth.”
Ihsan’s eyes widen and his body tenses. Alisa steps away and he folds over, holding a bookshelf for support.
“Ihsan?” Mrs. Wollard grabs his elbow. “Ihsan, are you all right?” She snaps her head towards Alisa. Her eyes are gray. “What have you done to him?”
Ihsan puts his hand over hers. “It’s all right, Genevieve. I’m well.” He stands up and takes a deep breath. “That was…unsettling. But I am still myself.” He frowns. “Although I am even less certain now than before as to who ‘myself’ is.”
“What do you remember?” I ask.
“My name…” he says slowly. “My name was Quet. Quet Devbeernchild. I was…I am…a logomancer.” He smiles brightly and turns to Mrs. Wollard. “We were friends, Genevieve!”
She smiles back. “We were?”
“Yes!” He laughs. “You introduced me to my wife!” He claps his hands and jumps up and down. “My wife! My wife and daughter, they were there, too! Oh, that is a relief. That is a relief.”
Mrs. Wollard hugs herself. “Oh, how marvelous! I’m happy for you, Ihsan.”
“You helped with the spell,” I say. “The Moment. Didn’t you?”
He thinks for a moment, then answers, “Yes. Yes, I did. How did you know?”
“The books,” I explain. “In your prison. They were fake, and brittle, like the plants inside one of the prison worlds created by the Moment.”
Alisa gasps. “The artifacts. Creatures of Myth and Legend. They came from your word, your magic!”
“Yes.”
“Wait.” Nate jerks his thumb at Ihsan. “This guy? He’s the reason all those creatures are trapped? He’s why we keep losing Tannyl?”
Ihsan’s face turns solemn. “My part in the Moment was to create safe places for the species of magic, those who would not fit into the world’s new history. But the enormous complexity of the spell meant we had little direct control over its outcomes. I asked for what I wanted and trusted the Logos to take care of the details.”
“Details?” Nate shakes his head. “You messed it all up. Different types of creatures all lumped in together. Some of them in environments that don’t match the way they lived. The fairies were dying, dude!”
He shakes his head sadly. “I did my best. This was magic far beyond my abilities, only possible because so many of us worked together. To cast a spell so grand, the greatest act of logomancy ever attempted, with so little preparation was foolhardy. But we had no choice. There was no defeating the Common King. That much had become clear. To fight on would mean death.”
Zane tenses up. I try to catch his eye, to ask what’s wrong, but he avoids me.
“And my knowledge of magical creatures was far from encyclopedic,” Ihsan continues. “That was to be Genevieve’s contribution.”
“Mine?” Mrs. Wollard tilts her head. “Oh, yes…yes, that sounds familiar. I remember people asking for my help. But I wanted no part of it. The king was murdering all my friends and I was…oh, I suppose I was afraid. I ran. Ran and hid.”
“You were angry with me,” Ihsan says. “Angry with me for helping them lock away your friends. But I did not see another way.”
“How did you wind up here?” Alisa asks. “Everyone who helped cast the Moment wound up in Charlesville.”
“Charlesville?”
“Where we’re from. Where Chris is from.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, then nods and opens them again. “Yes. To guard against the Common King’s awakening, our new lives were to be entwined with his.” He crosses his arms. “But that would mean I would either be separated from my family, or they would be a part of the monster’s life as well. Neither option was acceptable, but I did not see a way out. Then, at the last instant, someone interfered…” He scratches his chin as he thinks. “Yes. The Common King’s allies, they interfered with the spell. Inserted themselves into his new life. I took advantage of their disruption and altered my new destiny.” He smiles. “I asked the Logos to find my family and myself a place of safety instead. I thought of my dear friend, who always fought so fiercely to protect her own, and asked to be near her.”
“You couldn’t have placed yourself a little nearer?” Mrs. Wollard sniffs. “I was hardly likely to venture out to Ilford, was I?”
He waggles his finger at her. “Don’t be a snob, Genevieve. Ilford is lovely.”
She puts her hands up. “I simply meant that you know I don’t like to travel.”
“Travel! It’s a stop on the Central line, not a horse and buggy to Timbuktu!”
Motion from the back of the store catches my eye. Mr. Liefer, followed by Andy, Mr. Montgomery, and Mrs. Green, charge down the aisle towards us.
“Step away from the children!” Mr. Montgomery shouts.
“Imprison!”
“No, no, don’t!” Nate yells.
Too late. The shop shakes and bookshelves spring up from the floor again. I catch a quick glimpse of Liefer’s surprised reaction before he’s blocked from our view.
“Oh, dude!” Nate thrusts his hands into his hair. “That was my dad! You put my dad in magic jail!”
“They startled me!” Ihsan says. “I’m sorry! I’ll let them out!”
“Wait!” Alisa touches the new bookshelves. “Not yet.”
“Alisa!” Nate grabs her shoulder. “Your mom’s in there, too!”
“And she’s safe. Right, Ihsan? They’re safe?”
“Oh, yes.” He knocks on one of the books. “Completely safe.” He closes his eyes. “I can hear them. They are very confused and worried about you. Oh!” His
eyes snap open. “I hear…other voices, too. So many.” He tilts his head. “They are coming from you, young lady. From…” He points at her chest.
She lifts the tree medallion out from under her blouse. “This is one of the artifacts you created. The elves are inside it. All the elves.”
His eyes widen. “Ah! Yes. Yes, I hear them. Oh, they are so…so sad. So sad, and so fearful.” He slumps. “I did this? I caused them this pain?”
“You can put it right.” She tucks the necklace away again. “If the Common King succeeds, they’ll be set loose. Imagine millions of elves freed at once in modern day London. Now imagine the same thing happening, with other species, all over the world. Imagine that pain and suffering.”
Ihsan’s anguish is obvious, but while everyone’s looking at him, I look at Mrs. Wollard. Her face is a mask of stoicism, but she’s grabbed the counter for support and her arm is shaking.
“If I go with you,” Ihsan asks, “will my family be safe?”
Alisa doesn’t answer.
Ihsan smiles sadly. “Thank you for not lying to me.”
“If you’re willing to tell them the truth,” she says, “I have a way they can contact me instantly if they need help.”
“Ihsan.” Mrs. Wollard reaches a shaking hand for her friend. “Don’t. Please. It’s too dangerous.”
“And if I let this disaster happen, Genevieve, how could I live with myself? No. I am not certain how much of me is Ihsan and how much of me is Quet, but I know neither is a man who could let such a tragedy happen if it was in his power to prevent it.” He takes her hand. “I do not think you are such a woman, either, my friend.”
She holds up her free hand, her burnt hand, and says to me, “I am very afraid of you, young man.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“That means little.” She swallows, then nods. “But my magical friends have suffered enough. I won’t be the cause of more. I will draw on Ihsan’s courage to bolster my own, and help you.”
“Thank you.”
She bares her teeth at me. “You will not take part in the spell. That is my one condition. I won’t allow the magical species to be subjected to your polluted logomancy.”