Soulstar

by C. L. Polk

  Miles was still by Zelind’s side, and I gasped to see how wasted, how bony Zelind had become. It was worse than kher underfed frame at the asylum, and Miles held kher hand, still trickling strength into kher.

  “Khe’s in a medically enhanced sleep. I’ll have to heal kher daily to help speed recovery, but khe’s better than khe looks.”

  I gazed down at Zelind’s sleeping, bony face. “How long do you need to keep kher?”

  “Weeks,” Miles said. “I’ll see if I can get the Amaranthine healer to assist me. But you’re going to be in with those burns, so you can stay with each other.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sit here. I want to look at you.”

  I reared back. “You have to save your energy for Zelind.”

  “Tell you what,” Miles said, the soulstars glimmering around his head. “You can have a nurse clean and tend the other burns, but let me heal your face.”

  Now I crept closer. “I haven’t looked at it.”

  “You have blisters. Your eyebrows are gone. But I can take care of all that without scarring.”

  Miles beckoned me to a chair, and I waited for him to wash his hands to the elbows with red carbolic soap and dry them with a clean hemp towel.

  “It’s going to hurt,” he said. “Swear all you like.”

  “Go ahead,” I said, and then gasped as every nerve on my forehead screeched in pain.

  “It’ll be about like that the whole time.”

  “How long?” I asked.

  “Ten minutes.”

  “What did you do with Severin?”

  “He’s here and sedated,” Miles said. “He’s going to be drowsy until you’re ready to deal with him again.”

  I sucked in a hissing breath as the pain bloomed over my cheeks, but another sensation like snowflakes landing on my skin didn’t hurt at all. I held onto it, gritting my teeth.

  “Thank you,” I said. “What I did to him was cruel.”

  “Yes. But he’s not allowed to flinch away from his legacy.”

  “But I terrorized him into abdication,” I said. “I have his crown. But—”

  “But he’s alive,” Miles said, drawing back when I flinched at his fingertips on my neck. “You could have killed him instead. And then gone to war with whatever Mountrose sprouted up to win back the crown.”

  “I know that it was expedient.” I sighed and lifted my chin to let him heal me. “I know that killing him would have been worse, and that it was life or death in there. I still feel—”

  “Guilty,” Miles said. “I understand. And I don’t want to tell you that you shouldn’t.”

  “Good,” I said. “Because I should feel this guilt. I did something wrong, and it got me what I wanted. I don’t want to forget that.”

  “Let me see.” Gentle strokes, more soothing snow than painful flames, followed the path of his touch on my face. “You’re going to be a hard leader to follow. I hope you know that.”

  “I hope whoever follows me has an easier time of it,” I said.

  “I’m sure they will. Here.”

  Miles handed me a mirror. My eyebrows were gone, but my face was smooth. My skin was the same dark umber brown I knew in the mirror, the same as I had looked before this mess began.

  “I should probably find Grace.”

  “She was coordinating the prison guards last I saw her. Are you going to heal her face?”

  “I want to see if she’s all right,” Miles promised. “Do you want to stay the night with Zelind?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Miles helped me slide into bed next to Zelind, who curled around me and sighed. Miles drew the blankets up to our shoulders and raised the guardrails on the sides of the bed before dialing down the gaslight and leaving us to sleep.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The Last King of Aeland

  Ghosts crowded between the seats of the chambers where the Elected Members of Parliament stood waiting for the meeting to start. Down on the center of the floor, Grace stood in the black robes and starched lace collar of the formal dress of a servant of government, directly between a small lectern and a prisoner’s dock. She looked to me, and I settled down in the uncomfortable seat Grace had once occupied. The House soon followed.

  “You are called to witness the dissolution of the royal line of Aeland,” I called. “Severin Philip Mountrose is king no more, and is welcome to return home to his family’s holdings in Red Hawk as a free citizen.”

  Severin stared at the pen in his hand. He pressed his lips together and stared at the parchment for a long moment before he signed it. His signature was the final act of his rule. Scribes took the writ away to register and copy, to distribute for announcement. We were a kingdom no more.

  I touched the hundred ghosts in the chamber, thanking them for their help. “You may go, Mr. Mountrose.”

  Severin rose from his desk and buttoned the top button of his jacket. He stared up at me, his eyes shadowed by violet, and let the federal guards remove him from the chamber. He took two steps before the first person clapped their hands. Others took it up, applauding as Severin Mountrose, the last King of Aeland, walked out of the House of Members and into his new life.

  Without the purpose of haunting Severin the ghosts drifted a little, but few of them actually left. Grace waited for the members to settle down and turn their attention to her and to the old man who sat in the copper-chased mahogany cage. Once she had them, she spoke, her magic amplifying her voice to fill the room.

  “The first task of the House of Members is unusual, but not difficult,” she said. “The man in the dock is Sir Christopher Leland Hensley, and I ask you to consider the documents presented when you decide his fate.

  “On the behalf of the people, I accuse him of treason against Aeland. I accuse him of murder. I accuse him of conspiracy, of fraud, of obstruction of justice—but most of all, I accuse him of enacting a fraudulent law in order to enslave Aelander citizens and force them to commit the most horrible acts, including destroying the souls of our ancestors.”

  Grace turned and addressed her next statement to me.

  “I ask you to consider all the evidence before you, and once reviewed, I ask that you vote to approve or reject the sentence of execution by hanging.”

  The assembly shifted in their seats and glanced at one another, but some of them picked up the documents. The stacks of papers were intimidatingly large, but the top document was a table of contents and an overview of Sir Christopher’s crimes, with the relevant source material provided to each member.

  Grace had worked long into the night to make this happen, and she spoke into the silence once more. “I will do my best to answer any questions you have.”

  “Dame Grace,” one of the elected women called.

  “Miss Hensley, please,” Grace said. “What is your question?”

  The woman stood up. I glanced at my seating chart. Delora Smith pushed spectacles up her nose, and asked, “Miss Hensley, is it true that you are related to the accused?”

  “It is true,” Grace said. “He’s my father.”

  “And to be clear, you are denouncing him?”

  “I am,” Grace said. “Are you worried about my bias?”

  “That’s a consideration,” Member Smith said. “But you say that he’s responsible for the asylums?”

  “Yes,” Grace said. “He was a member of the Cabinet when my grandfather, Miles Douglas Hensley, used his position as Chancellor to King Nicholas to pass the Witchcraft Protection Act and the Railway Infrastructure Act. These two acts worked hand in hand to persecute common-born magicians and lock them away in what would soon become the power generators for Aeland’s national aether network.”

  “I have a question about the incorporation of Aeland Power and Lights,” another member said, standing up. Leden Wilson of the Endless Horizon, from the south coast. “How much money, in total, did the shareholding members see in profit from its years of operation?”

  “That exact figure i
s the top sheet of the financials report on Aeland Power and Lights, which includes the quarterly financial reports since the company’s incorporation,” Grace said. “I believe the figure was one hundred and seventy five million, two hundred thirty-six thousand marks.”

  Papers shushed and shuffled against each other as members sorted through documents to find that top sheet. Silence reigned as they stared at the figure, tried to imagine an unimaginable sum.

  “Miss Hensley.” Edith Powell stood, holding a document in her hands. “Can you explain the discrepancy in asylum populations? This document says that arrests and convictions fell by two hundred percent after the first five years of arrests, but the articles describing the population of witches released earlier this year don’t reflect the arrest numbers—”

  “That’s the asylum-born,” one of the members said.

  Edith Powell of Aeland East Norton blanched. “They let the inmates have children?”

  “They forced certain inmates to have children,” Grace said. “As the aether engines collected souls, those free witches with the ability to speak to and summon ghosts had no way of understanding their magical talent. As such, they ceased to be arrested. But the soul-engines depended on witches with those skills. The conspiracy’s solution was to breed more witches with the talent.”

  Edith stared at Grace, her eyes round behind thick spectacles. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and glared sharp rage at the man in the cage, who gazed up at the fresco of Queen Agnes and her Hundred Knights winning the battle of the Edaran Plains.

  “Hang him,” Edith said. “I’ve heard enough. Hang him.”

  The House rumbled in agreement.

  I rose, finally, and Grace used that voice-amplifying trick on me. “I ask the House of Members to decide—will you call Christopher Leland Hensley a traitor?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you call him the architect of the greatest abomination Aeland has ever seen?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you ask for his death by hanging at the next noon?”

  “Yes!”

  “It is done,” I said. “Christopher Leland Hensley is condemned to hang tomorrow. Take him away.”

  Guards wheeled the mahogany cage out of the chambers to the angry muttering of the members.

  “Thank you for attending this session of the House,” I said. “There is only one more item I wanted to put to you today. When we organized the shadow election, it was meant as a protest to prove that the will of Aeland was being ignored by the people who had a chokehold on the country’s power. Not many of you actually expected to be here today, but you are, and I thank you.”

  Members murmured in response, but I wasn’t done. “I acted on impulse when I jumped up on a box and declared myself prime minister. Now I want you all to tell me whether we should elect a new prime minister from our numbers, or if you’re willing to follow me for three more years while I lead the country through my plans to heal Aeland.”

  Pages brought in a ballot box and paper while the members questioned each other, asking if they knew I was going to ask for a confidence vote. Most people filled out their vote and stuffed it inside the box quickly, while others took a minute to gaze up at the fresco-painted ceiling and think. But all ballots were collected, and pages sat down to sort and count the votes.

  One pile of votes grew considerably faster than the others, and I stared at Grace, who still stood down on the floor. Could she see which was which? I had coerced Severin’s abdication; it would be more democratic for us to elect a prime minister than to keep me. That was the sensible thing to do, the fair thing, even if it would be expeditious to vote confidence in me and continue on course.

  A page stood up and cleared her throat, startling as the sound filled the room. Grace smiled, and the page spoke again.

  “By eighty-two votes against thirty-nine, the vote of confidence in Right Honorable Robin Thorpe of the Peaceful Waters has passed,” the page said.

  The house applauded. I tried to speak, but they wouldn’t stop. Leden Wilson stood up, and his neighbors followed his lead. I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinking to keep the tears at bay, as the Free Democracy party stood and applauded for me.

  “Thank you,” I said, when the rain of clapping stopped. “Let’s meet again on Firstday. I have some motions I’d like you to consider before then, including my plan to manufacture wind-powered aether turbines as our first priority. It will be a long day, so bring a cushion.”

  The members laughed and gathered their papers. Grace left the floor to stand by me. “Don’t you hate that chair?”

  “I want to burn it,” I said. “You sat in this thing?”

  “And considered it an honor,” Grace said.

  “I think I’ll have it replaced,” I said. “I’m going to sit in it for three years.”

  “I would too,” Grace said. “You’re going to be a great prime minister. I hope you know that.”

  “I know that I’m going to do my best,” I said, “and I’m going to need good people around me, people who will keep me informed and honest. How would you like to keep your office in Government House? I need a policy advisor.”

  Grace tilted her head and regarded me with a warm expression. “I think you should take my office in Government House, and I should move into something smaller. But I accept the position, Right Honorable. Thank you.”

  * * *

  My first Parliamentary scrum went by in a blur, but I smiled to see Avia Jessup, out of hiding and right in the thick of it, throwing elbows and taking pictures. I let her have the first question, and she skipped right over the subject of Christopher Hensley’s conviction to ask about wind turbines.

  “We’re moving at the speed of government at the moment, but we’re committed to getting the lights back on as fast as we can. I have reports that local craftsmasters are building turbines as we speak, and the first homes will have wind-powered aether within the next few days. Please tell the people that Johnson and Garrett and Kingston Wind and Power are hiring staff as fast as they can train them, with wages starting at fifty marks a week. They’re looking for everyone from floor sweepers to accountants, so please apply.”

  I answered questions until the bailey rang the bell. I strode back into the halls of Government House, where James, Grace’s former under-typist, waited for me with a clipboard and pen, ready to take notes.

  “Plans for the second Free Election have been written,” James said, walking beside me as I turned corners and poked my head into various offices. Few people had given up their positions within the bureaucracy, a fact that made me sigh in relief every time I remembered it. “We’ll have a Senate in forty-five days.”

  “Just in time. We should be done putting out fires by the time they’re on board.” Everything had happened so fast, but it couldn’t be helped. “How has the quest for diplomats fared?”

  “I’ve gathered about a hundred people on the list.”

  “I guess I had better get reading. Did anyone give you fuss about my not taking appointments?”

  “Yes,” James said, and we turned the last corner before arriving at my office. “Him.”

  Jarom Bay, dressed in his gleaming, expensive coat and tidy hairlocks, stood beside my office door.

  “I need to see Zelind,” he said.

  “Do you ever stop?” I asked. “Khe’s recovering. I don’t think upsetting kher is a good idea—”

  “I know who betrayed kher to the examiners,” Jarom said. “Khe told me I had to find out the truth. I did. Please, khe deserves to know.”

  “Khe didn’t talk to you when khe was back in Bayview?”

  “Khe never uttered a word to us,” Jarom said. “Khe would speak to the servants, but not to us. I had forgotten how stubborn khe is.”

  “But you think khe will talk now? What do you expect will happen, Jarom?”

  He patted his breast pocket. “Once khe knows the truth, I’ll leave if khe wants me to. Khe probably will. We don’t deserve for
giveness.”

  I tilted my head. “Who betrayed Zelind, then?”

  “I’ll tell Zelind. In person. Zelind can decide if you need to know.”

  I couldn’t make the call to keep this information from Zelind. “I’ll take you to the infirmary. But if khe doesn’t want to talk to you, you leave, and you don’t come back until you’re invited. Fair?”

  “Fair. And—I’m sorry,” Jarom said. “Why didn’t you fight the scrutineers at the election?”

  I shrugged, and started toward the palace infirmary. “Like I said. It wasn’t the important election.”

  “You were right.” Jarom walked beside me, his heels clicking on the heart pine. “But I was ready to concede. Albert Jessup bribed those scrutineers.”

  I looked at his profile. “What did he want from you?”

  “Another puppet in the Lower House,” Jarom said. “My vote, whenever he needed it.”

  “It’s too bad I can’t run him into a hearing based on that. It would be petty to persecute him for a nullified election.”

  “If you want to nail him for corruption, you probably can,” Jarom said. “He held his seat in Birdland for years. I know he bought and sold favors as an Elected Member. I’ve bribed him myself. You just need a clever accountant.”

  “And one who hasn’t been enjoying supplemental income to not notice irregularities,” I said. “That’s useful, Jarom. Thank you. Wait here.”

  I left him at the door to the infirmary. Zelind lay in kher bed, listening to Miles reading a popular novel by kher bedside. Khe smiled as I drew near, and Miles tucked a bookmark between the pages.

  “Saria is prowling the parapet looking for the Ghost of Redcliff Hall,” Zelind said. “How are you? Still prime minister?”

  “They decided to keep me,” I said. “Jarom is here.”

  Zelind’s smile faded. “Why?”

  “He knows who betrayed you. He’s just outside the door, and he’s agreed to stay away until you’re ready to—”