by Martha Carr
Mattie blinked and sat back with a small laugh. “You didn’t even pretend to think about it.”
“I had time to put my thoughts together.”
All lies. But it might explain some of the questions I’m about to ask her, and maybe she won’t freak out as much.
Chapter Nine
“The reservations, huh?” Mattie took a deep breath and glanced at the blank wall beside the armchairs in thought. She puffed up her cheeks and exhaled again. “Simply put, Cheyenne, the reservations are pockets of safety for magicals who’ve crossed the border.”
“‘Pockets of safety’ doesn’t tell me anything.”
“I keep forgetting I have to work from scratch with you.” Mattie chuckled and shook her head. “Think of them as sanctuary cities, more or less. A little more advanced than anything calling itself a sanctuary city for humans on this side. Less well-funded and stocked than what magicals leave behind when they cross the border.”
Cheyenne frowned. “Refugees seek sanctuary somewhere else when they’re leaving worse conditions behind them.”
“True. And some of them are. I’d like to say most of them, but I have a feeling that would be inaccurate.” The professor folded her hands in her lap. “The reservations serve a dual purpose. They were put up as self-sustaining communities on this side. Magicals cross the Border with whatever they can carry. You can’t hop in a car and flash a passport at a Border Patrol window to get over here. It’s more complicated. So, most magicals cross over with a bag or two and the clothes on their backs. It’s been like that for as long as I’ve known, and I doubt the process has become any easier since I made the trip.”
“When was that?”
“Hmm, let’s see.” The professor tapped her fingers on her lips, then pointed at the halfling. “Exactly none-of-your-business years ago, if I remember correctly.”
Cheyenne widened her eyes.
“And I’m very happy with my decision, so I prefer not to go into the details of a past I left on the other side. Got it?”
“Loud and clear.” I bet I’ll be able to get that out of her too. Eventually.
“Good.”
“Okay, so we have magicals coming over to this side as refugees. They want sanctuary from what?”
“The usual. Political scandal. Familial disgraces. War, sometimes.” Mattie dipped her head and rolled her eyes. “Okay, it’s frequently from war. A lot of magicals brave the process of border control and immigration because they want a little adventure. Things back home got stale or impossible, or they’ve exhausted all their options and want a fresh start. It’s pretty easy to do that in a place where most of the inhabitants don’t know you exist.”
“What about the rest?”
“The rest of what?”
The halfling pressed her lips together and studied her professor’s open, curious expression.
I’m gonna have to give a little away if I want more details. Time for some give and take.
“I told you my friend got shot last week.”
“You might’ve mentioned it.” Mattie frowned. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Trust me, I know the feeling better than I want to admit.”
Well, that didn’t take long.
Cheyenne shrugged. “Thanks. I’m okay. I’m not so sure about my friend.”
“Are they having a hard time processing what happened?”
“Well, yeah. Seeing as she still hasn’t spoken, although she woke up briefly.”
“Oh.” The professor blinked. “She’ll pull through.”
“I know. What I was trying to get to, though, is that before the shooting happened…” Cheyenne puffed out a breath and tried not to spend too much time on the memory. I sound like an idiot. If that’s how I get my answers… “My friend was with a group of magicals arguing about stuff I don’t understand. I think one of them was going around hitting up a bunch of businesses run by other magicals for extortion money. This friend of mine was one of those standing up to this guy, but it didn’t sound like any of them were surprised it was happening. What about the rest of the magicals who try to strong-arm people for whatever? Magicals running around shooting other magicals.”
“I see.” Mattie crossed one ankle over her other knee beneath the daisy-printed skirt and nodded. “That’s what I meant when I said I’m not sure most of the immigrant magicals are refugees these days.”
Cheyenne’s eyes narrowed. “They’re criminals.”
“Well, not necessarily. Trust me, Cheyenne, Ambar’ogúl has its own way of dealing with violence, theft, or any type of criminal activity. We wouldn’t ship our worst across the Border to let humans deal with them.”
The halfling stared at her professor and couldn’t keep the grin from breaking free. “Ambar’ogúl?”
The word felt foreign and familiar on her tongue. Somehow, it felt right.
Mattie nodded. “That’s what we call our world. That’s where I come from. That’s where your father came from. As far as I know, there isn’t any other realm to confuse it with, so it’s Earth and Ambar’ogúl.”
Cheyenne smiled at her lap and turned the name over in her mind.
“I’ve armed you with some powerful knowledge, kid. You need to know that.”
The halfling glanced at her professor and raised her eyebrows.
“We don’t mention that name unless it’s an important distinction to make.” Mattie licked her lips and collected her thoughts. “Words have power, Cheyenne. More than you might guess. That power’s a lot greater on the other side than it is here, but it still exists in this realm. I’m not talking figuratively, either. If you put enough focus and intention into a word, especially into a name, that word can literally become a weapon. And no, I won’t show you how to make that happen, so don’t ask.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
The older magical pointed at her student. “I can see the wheels turning in there, halfling. Don’t think I can’t.”
With another hidden smile, Cheyenne lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay. I won’t ask.”
“Excellent.”
“Next question.”
Mattie chuckled. “Go for it.”
“Who set up the reservations in the first place?”
“Ah. That’s an excellent question, and I have to tell you beforehand that I can’t answer it. I don’t know the answer.”
Cheyenne frowned. “So, a long time, then.”
“A very long time. Centuries. It’s one of those chicken-or-the-egg things.” Mattie opened one hand, then the other. “Did the magicals who came over create the reservations to integrate into this realm, or did humans on this side step in and establish something they felt they could manage? Simple answer? I don’t know. I’m not sure if anyone is alive on this side who does know.”
“You said something last week about the Native American reservations being modeled after the ones next to these portals. Or Borders. Those are the same thing, right?”
The professor nodded. “They are. Native American reservations were—and I use this word loosely—inspired by what we call reservations now. At one point, I’m sure they had individual names, but people took to calling them by numbers. Sometimes by the closest major human city.”
“All over the world?”
“All over the world.”
Cheyenne rubbed her palms on her baggy pant legs. “Native American reservations were designed to keep the tribes contained in one place, outside of federal or state jurisdiction.”
Mattie winked. “You doubling as a Native American Studies major?”
“No. I like to read.”
“What’s your favorite genre?”
“Everything.”
“Ha! Of course, it is.” Professor Bergmann ran her fingers through her dark hair and tucked some of it behind one ear. “I’m sorry. Go ahead. It sounded like you were setting up for another question.”
“You picked up on that, huh?” They both chuckled, and Cheyenne shook her head. “Magicals aren’t contained
to the Border reservations anymore, are they?”
“Yes and no.”
“Great. We have time for the long answer?”
Mattie glanced at her wristwatch and pulled her pursed lips to one side. “For as quick a long answer as I can pull off. Anything else will need to wait until tomorrow.”
“Let’s table that for next time, then.” Cheyenne leaned over in the armchair and ignored the protesting throb in her hip. “Tell me what the FRoE has to do with the Border reservations.”
Mattie’s lips tightened and she cocked her head. “That one’s more straightforward. Since the portals opened—and no, I can’t tell you when that was—the humans who’ve known about us also knew that magicals coming over were a heck of a lot more powerful. Because magic, right? And they had no idea how to seal the Borders when they couldn’t figure out how they’d opened in the first place. Maybe nobody knows. Instead, what few enlightened humans existed opted for an agreement with the magicals and formed the Accord. Envoys came across the Borders to make deals, and I’m assuming it took a long time for anything to get organized. At least, a long time for humans. We on the other side have significantly more time to spend on just about anything.
“The Accord was formed, and it laid the ground rules. First, no humans crossing over. That was as much for their protection as for ours. Second, the reservations would be used as sanctuary cities, where refugees or displaced magicals coming into this realm could make lives for themselves. The reservations became something more like assimilation centers for those magicals who wanted to move into the human realm and test their fates. They would be kept open for any magical who wanted to cross. The final agreement was that all this would continue as it had as long as the magicals hid their true identities and kept magic and the knowledge of it away from humans and out of the public realm. Forever. Which is a very long time for a very old Accord to hold up, if you ask me.”
Mattie glanced at her watch. “We’ve got ten minutes.”
“You didn’t say anything about the FRoE.” Cheyenne waited for her professor to look at her.
“Right.” Bergmann cleared her throat. “The Accords did what they were meant to do for the most part, but of course, you always have some bad magical eggs in the bunch. Those who crossed over started causing lots of problems here, disregarding the Accord, disregarding the safety of humans around them and putting other magicals in harm’s way. There’s a bit more to it than that, but I’ve been here too long to stay up-to-date on all the political chaos on the other side. Frankly, I stopped giving a damn a long time ago.”
“The FRoE, Mattie.”
“I’m getting there.” The woman rolled her eyes. “The wayward magicals over here got out of control, and the humans decided they needed to do something about it because the reservations clearly wouldn’t. The FRoE was started in 2000, like I told you, because those problem magicals needed to be dealt with. Those in power on the other side where I come from have no preference as to how magicals are dealt with and punished. Humans could toss us back to our own world, and nobody would have a problem with it. Which is something I’ve come to have a problem with—call it a grudge. Either the leadership in Ambar’ogúl couldn’t care less, or they have too many of their own issues running an entire realm. The FRoE does cleanup duty on this side. For the last few decades, they’ve been doing okay, I guess.”
Cheyenne considered the best way to use what little time she had left before Mattie called it on her office hours since the woman didn’t do overtime. “So, the FRoE was started as a human-run organization?”
“Probably.”
“Then why do they have a bunch of non-humans on the payroll?”
Chapter Ten
Mattie blinked at her student, swallowed, and glanced at her watch. “Four o’clock on the nose, kid. I should’ve been packing up my crap three minutes ago.”
“Mattie.”
Professor Bergmann stood and spun on her heel toward her desk. She crammed all her loose papers and random folders into the briefcase on wheels with its perpetually extended metal handle, although she did it with a lot less care and organization this time.
Cheyenne stood and moved toward her professor-turned-trainer, trying not to limp. “You realize not answering my question is a dead giveaway for not wanting to answer it, right?”
“I realize a lot of things, Cheyenne. I’m not obligated to explain them or list them for you.”
“Wait a minute. We were getting somewhere.” Cheyenne gestured to the armchairs. “A nice, relaxed, friendly conversation, right?”
“It was.” Mattie jammed the last file folder into her briefcase, zipped the thing up, and snatched the handle. “And you have to realize the kind of insinuations you’re making with a question like that.”
“I wasn’t insinuating anything about you.” Cheyenne took a step back when her professor jerked the briefcase behind her toward the office door.
“No, about you, halfling.” Mattie jerked her office door open and moved into the hall. “You’re right. I don’t want to know where you’ve been for the last few days.”
“Wait. Can you hold on a second?” Cheyenne grimaced as she grabbed her backpack off the floor and hurried after Mattie. “Please!”
She pulled the door shut, and the magical locking system activated. The office lights shut off, and the door locked with a click.
“Stop!”
Professor Bergmann turned and huffed out an indignant sigh through her nose. She bit her lower lip. “This isn’t anything new for you, Cheyenne. Office hours are over, and we can pick up our work tomorrow. If you bother stopping by.”
“I know what time it is.” The half-drow gripped the straps of her backpack tighter. “I think I hit a sore spot, and if you can’t tell me what it is or why, at least admit I’m right.”
“You’re right.” The woman didn’t hesitate. “You’re welcome to keep coming to see me. When you feel like it. But if your involvement with that organization is anything beyond pure curiosity, and I mean anything beyond that, I can’t keep answering these questions for you.”
“It’s a conversation—”
“And I told you—” Mattie gazed behind her down the empty hallway and lowered her voice. “I told you words have power. I’d love to help you with whatever you got yourself into over the weekend, and I’d be more than happy to if it didn’t involve those people. Whatever you’re doing, I don’t want to know. I can’t know. Thank you for not telling me anything else. Now, if I’ve given you enough of a vague and panicked explanation, I apologize. But my time’s up here, and I need to go stick my head in some fresh air before it explodes. Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ll be here.”
“Good. Whatever happened, make sure you get someone to take a look at that hip. And don’t insult me by saying you’re fine.” With that, Mattie headed down the hall, her strappy leather sandals whispering over the wood floor.
Cheyenne blinked after her and didn’t move.
I ruffled all her feathers. At least I didn’t have to tell her I crashed a FRoE operation, got abducted by their best, and got involuntarily volunteered as their drow secret weapon on call. Mattie’s had more interaction with those people than she’s letting on, or she wouldn’t be so terrified.
With a sigh, Cheyenne turned in the opposite direction toward the Computer Science building’s doors that led into the quad.
Guess I can handle the rest of this from home. On my own.
The first thing she did when she got back to her apartment was to take a shower. Going five days without one, especially when those five days were spent unconscious in a hospital bed not anywhere close to a hospital, made Cheyenne want to take two. Instead, she settled for half an hour under the hot water and two rounds with the body wash and shampoo.
Her hip was still sore and achy, but it did look like it was healing. She stood facing the bathroom mirror after she’d toweled off and tilted her head. “I guess scars are cool. Better than
no hip.” Better than Ember’s luck with a gunshot wound.
That thought made her grimace at herself in the mirror. You can be grateful, Cheyenne. But nobody likes a grateful asshole.
She slipped into a pair of black sweatpants and another black tank top, going for comfort more than anything else, and brushed out her towel-dried hair, then pulled it back in a loose ponytail. “Time to see if anyone’s found anything new for me.”
Not diving into the dark web for a five-day stretch wouldn’t have been considered a bad thing. Most people would say it was safer that way. But gu@rdi@n104 noticed me the minute I tapped into the Borderlands forum, and guess who’s been missing seeing my avatar handle around?
Cheyenne sat in her executive office chair behind the giant sturdy desk that served as her tiny living room’s sole furniture and powered up her computer. While the system booted, she checked to make sure everything worked the way it was supposed to. The last time she’d been on, someone else had caught onto her trail. They’d accessed the back door of her VPN and traced her to her desktop, where they’d seized control for about thirty seconds and threatened her to keep away from the powwow at the event center last Thursday. Whoever that someone was hadn’t wanted any competition in breaking up the party.
Fingers poised over her keyboard, Cheyenne froze. “What if they weren’t trying to keep potential competition off the grid?”
Knowing what she now did about that little operation—mainly that she’d blindly run into a FRoE sting they’d been working on for who knew how long—getting anonymous warnings to back off her search when she’d put all the details together last week didn’t seem like a mindless attempt to bully her into being afraid.
“What if they were trying to warn me away from what obviously wasn’t safe for anyone?” Cheyenne shrugged. “They don’t know that was me. It’s more likely they didn’t want some low-level street thug getting in the way. Extra paperwork and all that when they book more criminals than expected—if the FRoE handles paperwork.”