by Gin Hollan
// Chapter 30 //
ARABETH FLIPPED to the index of each book, hoping one of the formulae would stand out. Not knowing what she was even looking for made it harder. Failing to identify one, she went through them again, and threw the last book to the ground in frustration.
Having an audience of one didn’t help, especially when it was her father. She needed to concentrate without finger-snapping being a possibility.
She closed her eyes and rubbed the strain away. The sun was almost set, leaving her standing in the glow of the crystals. Their power would do nothing but diminish between now and dawn. She sat down on her heels, wrapping her arms around her knees. It was a wild thought to use the crystals, she reminded herself. She was ill-prepared.
She felt a tremor start and shut her eyes again.
“Do something!” her father yelled.
Irritated, Arabeth stood and faced him. What she saw took her aback. He was surrounded by the spores the crystals put out, even though he stood nowhere near the field.
Instinctively, Arabeth snapped up one of the Sage books and opened it. She ran her finger along a formula titled ‘Transform.’ It was a long one, making her skin tingle and ache. Suddenly, she remembered Gregor telling her to use 'Sense Touch.'
Too late.
She reached out to the spores surrounding her father and carefully called them back to her before turning to the one other place on her mind: the mountains. With a thought that they should go repair the damage to the mountains and the ground deep below it, she released her hold on the spores.
They shot through the air like northern lights, spreading out as they went.
Arabeth turned back to see her father staring with his head tilted to one side. Such scrutiny was to be expected. She’d just performed what Blastborn people referred to as magic. With the power of the crystals down to a bare glow, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Kennen burst into the yard along with three foxes. Marble and the kits ran immediately to her, but it took a minute for Kennen to determine where she was. Running over, he stopped with a skid.
“What did you do?” he whispered.
Arabeth’s knees went weak and she crouched down again, petting her worried foxes.
“See to my father, please. Get him some tea. I’ll join you both inside shortly,” she replied.
He turned, squinting. “The man on the steps?”
“Yes, him. Please, now. Don’t let him take my crates, either.”
The formula stayed under her skin, itching and moving. Rubbing her arms, she stood and watched the two go inside. This was a useful formula, but dangerous. If it worked, she’d keep it, provided she could learn to deal with the itching sensation. The discomfort was probably by design. If someone could tolerate a formula this powerful, it would never make it back into the book.
Could she make a copy? There were copies of the books, after all. What was involved with that process?
Not currently relevant, she reminded herself. She needed to get out to see if the mountains were fixed, or being fixed, or if anything was going on at all. Also, how did she neutralize the chemicals, or would they be depleted or absorbed by the mountain? Would she need to repeat how she sent out the crystal’s chemicals in order for full repair to happen? What if sending every colour was the wrong choice?
No, she had to spare her father from their side effects. Besides, it was weird how they had only circled him, rather than touching him like they did with everyone else. It was like he repelled them somehow.
“Too many questions!” she said, growling as she stood again.
She couldn’t go into the house right now. She had to get to the mountains. Without a horse or buggy, that would take an hour. Wait, she thought. Her father never walked anywhere if he could help it. That meant she could unhitch one of his horses and ride out. Running out before her father could stop her, she told the coachman she’d be right back and unhitched the horse she recognized, named Rosy.
She didn’t get far before seeing her plan hadn’t gone as she’d hoped. The tremors had stopped, but even in the twilight of nightfall, she could see the mountain range was gone. Rolling hills extended out as far as she could see. What had happened to those in the prison, she couldn’t guess.
Tampering with things she didn’t understand until she did understand them—that was her specialty, according to her grandfather. She slowed Rosy to a walk, thinking about the trust she’d been given. That now would erode to nothing. Her father, Sam, Harbertrope. . . . All the people of Blastborn who knew she stood as a vigilant guard for justice would call her a fraud.
She wondered how Rorigard fit into the mix, and then remembered the prisoners. Buried alive. If the lyar was active, nothing changed. If it wasn’t, she had a whole new problem. She turned toward where the lyar ought to be.
At the edge, she slid off the horse's back, wrapping the end of the reins around a high branch. If Rosy got loose, she’d wander off to graze or go home, so Arabeth didn’t worry about her.
Suddenly it struck Arabeth as odd that the mountain was gone, but the trees were still there, all crowding together as they competed for ground.
The entrance to the lyar glade was narrow, and she anticipated there would be little room around the pedestal. Voices ahead of her slowed her step. She recognized Tamden and Howard, each yelling at the other.
The voices went suddenly quiet and there was a sickening thud that was all too familiar to Arabeth. Running forward, she knew someone had just been hit on the head. You could hit every other part of the body and still not make that sound.
She pulled a wrist restraint out of her satchel, not sure who her target would be yet. She’d aim for the one that wasn’t in a crumpled heap on the ground.
She cleared the trees and saw there were actually four people, and it was in fact Howard who had been struck and was now holding his head and bleeding. The other two were the scientists from the university.
“Everyone calm down! Tamden, why is your first answer always a knock on the head? You make me sick,” Martin snapped.
The conversation cut off and they all turned and looked at Arabeth as she slid to a stop.
“Oh no, not you!” Tamden nearly shrieked.
He stooped down, scooped up a handful of rocks, and started pelting them in her direction.
In defense, Arabeth raised her arms. She could get two birds with one stone, she realized. Open the prison and put Tamden in there, and this might all come to an end.
“I'll try not to take that personally,” she said, raising her arms to start the motions that would open the prison. As she did, Tabatha placed the appropriate crystals on the pedestal.
The portal popped open and Howard rushed forward, ramming into Tamden and knocking him backwards into it. His momentum continued forward and he tumbled in as well.
“No,” Tabatha cried out, but Martin grabbed her arm as she lurched forward.
“Let him go,” he said softly. “He knows what he's done.”
“What in the blue blazes is going on here?” Arabeth asked, closing the portal.
Tabatha dropped her face into her hands, sobbing quietly.
“Howard is her husband,” he said.
“How is that possible? Who are you, really?”
“We are scientists, as we said. Our origin is not dissimilar from yours in that we also carry a biological code that gives us an interesting ability. Somehow our aging is linked to the people in the prison. Specific people. We’ve been looking for a way to break that connection, but it’s not worth it.”
Tabatha sobbed again, still covering her face. Martin put an arm around her shoulders.
“You’re the ones who invented that. You created this prison, didn’t you?” Arabeth realized with a flash of insight.
He nodded.
Arabeth stood, dumbstruck for a moment.
“Put me in.” Tabatha reached forward and took hold of Arabeth's arm. “You have to put me in too. I can’t stay out here with
out him. And you can’t let him out again without compromising the entire prison.”
“I am neither judge nor jury. I can’t put you in there,” Arabeth said.
“You have to. I’m going crazy out here. You remember that robot? I built that. I needed a way to get in there. Seventeen people died because of me. I think that’s a good enough reason to lock me up.”
“That was Howard. He talked through a second lyar.” Arabeth looked helplessly at Martin. His face was calmly neutral.
“He lied . . . to protect me. If it makes you feel better, you’ll be doing everyone a favour as well as stopping her suffering,” he said, then he leaned forward to whisper in Arabeth's ear. “You can always pull her out later.”
The look of hope and desperation on Tabatha’s face nearly broke Arabeth’s heart.
“I’ll do it, but this has to stay between us. I would be thrown in prison myself if anyone found out.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” he said. “I’ll explain that Tabatha went to work at a different lab.”
Arabeth raised her arms to open the prison again, then stopped. How did she know this wasn’t a clever ploy to let Tamden and Howard pull specific people out of the prison? She wasn’t going to be fooled again.
Her arms came down again. “Explain how this prison works, exactly.”
“Put me in and he’ll tell you anything you want to know. Right?” Tabatha looked over at Martin.
Again, he nodded. “Whatever I can explain, I will.”
“No one can come out unless you, as the creator of the portal, pulls them out. It's perfectly safe,” he said.
Arabeth decided to trust his words and Tabatha's expression. And if she was directly involved in the deaths of seventeen people, she needed to be put away. Who knew what she would try next?
Arabeth raised her hands and motioned for the portal to open. Tabatha hurried in without so much as a glance back. Arabeth snapped the portal shut.
The look of relief that washed over Martin was palpable.
“It is not an exaggeration to say that woman was going insane,” he said.
“And are you all right?” Arabeth asked.
“Are you kidding? I have almost limitless time to work on my theories. Most scientists would kill for that opportunity.” His face suddenly flushed red. “Well, maybe not kill.”
“I understand. I feel the same way about my work.”
Arabeth suddenly stopped. This was over. Everyone who had escaped the prison was back inside. Maybe the mountains being gone was all right, because with Vensay’s blessing, the capital had lifted the exile order. It was a new horizon . . . literally.
Ironically, she realized, getting the citizens of Blastborn to accept their new circumstances would be the toughest part of all of this. They were used to their exclusion from the world. Many of them even thought they preferred it. Having never travelled beyond, they didn’t really know. They did have history to guide them, though.
The present crisis resolved, Arabeth had other challenges ahead. Something about her father’s demeanour when she left had been unsettling.
Maybe she should move the crystal field, she thought. In fact, it was starting to feel like she should just get out of town. There was the abandoned hospital her brother-in-law had tinkered in; she could buy that and convert it to a proper workshop. She needed more room than her present workshop could provide. The lighter-than-air metal would also be better developed with a bit of privacy.
It wouldn’t be as comfortable or homey as her present conditions, but she wouldn’t sell her grandfather’s house. Maybe once Blastborn calmed down, she could move back.
It would probably be good for the fox kits to be a little further removed from the city as well, she knew.
“Hey, I’m not sure of your name,” Martin said.
Smiling, Arabeth looked at him and extended a hand. “Arabeth Barnes. Someday we should be formally introduced. I would like to learn more about these portals, and crystals, and all of the other strange and wonderful technologies you know about.”
He laughed. “Someday, then. Before too much time has passed. Let's say a year?”
She nodded. “It may take that long for Blastborn to calm down.”
// Chapter 31 //
ARABETH SAT AT Rorigard’s bedside, thinking. She had all the parts of his serenthex at the new workshop, but didn’t have the understanding needed to repair it. He was the only one she knew who did.
“Miss Barnes, visiting hours are over,” a young nurse said from the doorway.
Arabeth ignored the pity on her face and nodded. She’d become used to that expression. She’d been here daily for five months and there had been no change in his condition.
Her routine was now hard and fast. She woke late in the day, then came and sat in Rorigard’s room, journaling or sketching new design ideas as she did. Now she would go home and work on her day’s ideas, or other ongoing projects.
Home was now miles away, in the former hospital that sat on the other side of the river that bordered Blastborn’s western edge. As she’d expected, she bore the full weight of recent events, and Blastborn was not forgiving.
“Time to go, dears,” she said, going over to the foot of Rorigard’s bed to nudge the three foxes curled up there.
Her grandfather’s house, where she’d lived until recently, was boarded up, as was the large workshop. Melanie maintained the grimshaw at the downtown office, operating a busy communication business from there. Sam was courting Penny and seemed happy again. After the crystal incident, none of her family were in contact. She hadn't thought she’d miss being the even number for the Barnes dinner parties, but it had been nice to see her mother on her best behaviour in front of people she deemed significant in some way.
The foxes stretched and looked at her, and all but Doxie jumped down.
“Staying again?” Arabeth asked, stroking Doxie’s head.
In answer, the little fox walked up the bed to nestle at the side of Rorigard’s neck and shoulder. Arabeth had already refilled a pair of dishes with food and water earlier. Somehow Marble and Slate knew that was Doxie’s portion.
“All right, you two.” Arabeth looked at Marble and Slate. “We’d better go before we’re kicked out for good.”
A knock on the doorframe startled her.
“We’re going. Relax,” she sighed.
“Um, good. Chief Harbertrope wants a chat,” Kennen said from the doorway. It was still odd not seeing him in his friar’s robe, but he knew his way around a wardrobe. As he was her official runner and liaison with town officials, she’d given him the appropriate clothing allowance and introduced him to a couple reasonably priced but good tailors.
“Oh, he does, eh?” she said. “Well, it is dark out. I suppose the streets will be safe enough.”
He chuckled. “The streets are always safe here. I think you’re developing a persecution complex.”
“Right, like I have time to do that,” she joked back.
“Okay, maybe it’s a valid concern. I’ll walk you there.” The young man smiled.
Barely into his twenties, he showed remarkable intuition. Now that he’d left the friary, his four-year sentence for his crimes as a thief complete, he was floundering. Arabeth suspected he’d rejoin, of his own volition. He still cautiously claimed to get messages from God now and then. Until he decided what to do with his clever mind and idle hands, Arabeth was happy to have his help.
“Did he say what this was about?” she asked.
As they entered the night air outside, she looked around. Shops were closed, homes were lit. Blastborn was indeed quiet tonight.
“He said it was time for some closure. I’m not sure what he means by that. It’s made me pretty nervous, though.”
A carriage waited outside, ready to convey them. Arabeth opened the door and stopped.
“Sorry, I thought this was open,” she said to the person already seated in the shadows inside.
“It’s just me, silly,
” Melanie said, her voice floating out from the darkness. “Harbertrope wants to talk to both of us.”
Arabeth felt a sense of relief wash over her. She was a little high-strung lately, she thought. Melanie was welcome company. Why Harbertrope wanted to talk to her at the same time was a bit of a mystery, though.
“I’ll be on my way, then,” Kennen said. “A fellow named Bernie says he might have work for me.”
“Bernie!” Arabeth said. “You two will get on like fire and kerosene, I think. Try not to have too much fun. Remember I still need your help.”
He nodded and turned away, walking quickly down the sidewalk.
Settling into their seats, the two ladies suddenly broke out laughing.
“Bernie?” Melanie shook her head. “You’re right about the fire and kerosene.”
“Do you know what Harbertrope wants to talk about?” Arabeth asked.
“Probably just wants a discount on the Grimshaw usage.”
Arabeth hoped Melanie’s guess was right. “Did you hear about Sam and Penny?” she asked.
“It’ll never last. I think Sam’s confused after all we’ve been through lately. You and I got lucky. I found a profession that suits me, and you got to go back to being a gadgeteer, but making infinitely more amazing things,” Melanie replied.
He found work that suited him, helping Andun set up his National Policing Program only to be ousted by politics. If you ask me, seems to be a little adrift at this point,” she added, a little timidly.
Arabeth fell silent. She wasn’t sure what it meant to give their relationship a real go, but if she didn’t love him romantically now, she doubted it would happen later. It was only fair to set them free. She’d warned him several times that she didn’t feel the same way he did.
As the carriage pulled to a stop outside the police station, a Constable hurried to the door and opened it.
“Ladies, if you’ll come inside quickly, Chief Harbertrope is waiting for you.”
Once inside, they were led to separate rooms. Arabeth went to the Chief’s office, Melanie to the staff lounge. This small detail put Arabeth fully on guard. She and the Chief had not enjoyed a smooth relationship, often having her scowled at from behind his office window.