by Ben Farthing
"This place is amazing," he said, running his hand along a shelf built into the wall. "This looks like original materials. Where'd they find all this in such great condition?"
"I assume it was built here. They started work on the Hall before Washington died."
This was amazing. Sometimes you could find a piece this old in pretty good condition, but that meant that someone a hundred years ago had found it and decided to care for it. This was a massive foyer of original colonial carpentry. Everard wanted to inspect every inch of it, and then start down the hallways.
"Are they keeping it magically maintained, or what?" asked Everard.
"I have no idea," said Loretta. "Not really my area of expertise."
He snapped out of his fascination with the construction. "You're after the bounty, too?"
"Relax. Not to turn you in as a prisoner—just to talk to them. The Burgesses post rewards for people who bring them useful benters. Usually too cheap for my skillset. But you've got a rare bent. You're a rebellist."
"I'm not a... that thing."
"Rebel-yist," she said. "And maybe not. But I think you are, if you were telling the truth about denying the idea of the flame."
"If I am, how much do you get?"
She ignored his question. "This way. You said you want to talk to Bill Bill, right?"
Everard followed, admiring the room.
The Burgesses made a wide path for Loretta. Everard nodded hello. Most ignored him. They went down an arched hallway, portraits and candle lamps lining the walls.
Out of all the bizarre shit he'd seen tonight, they all thought he was some uber bizarre "rebellist." Everard had to admit, that was pretty amusing. Maybe he could use it to get everyone to leave him alone.
Everard followed Loretta through a doorway, into an office filled with bookshelves, maps, whiteboards, and a hoard of knick-knacks. His neighbor sat behind a desk at the center of the room.
"What took you so long?" proclaimed Bill Bill.
Chapter Thirteen
"Bill Bill," said Everard.
The overalls and dirty white t-shirt were gone, replaced by britches and a baggy, 1700s blouse, although they were equally dirty, maintaining his disheveled look. The wild, white, Einstein-meets-Doc-Brown hair didn't help. Several coloring books were spread across the desk, along with an assortment of Crayola crayons.
"You've got about two seconds to explain what the hell..." started Everard. "Are you coloring?"
"Wait, how'd you say you know him?" asked Loretta. She leaned on the wall next to a bookshelf filled with maps of the city.
"Adult coloring books," said Bill Bill. "All the rage right now. Has George eaten?"
"Yeah, he ate my sandwich," said Everard. The nursery rhyme illustrations on Bill Bill's desk were definitely not aimed at adults.
"Have you let him out to make his business?"
"No, I-"
"Better take of that," said Bill Bill.
"Just right here on the floor?"
"He knows where his box is."
Everard set down the carrier, opened it, and George ran out of the room, claws tapping on the hardwood floor. Everard almost felt sad watching him go.
"How do you two know each other?" demanded Loretta.
"Bill Bill's my neighbor," said Everard. "He tricked me into coming down here."
"We watch baseball games together," said Bill Bill.
Loretta rubbed her forehead. "So that means you already knew about him being a rebellist. And you convinced him to come to the Periphery. I should have realized that."
"That's right," said Bill Bill. "No bounty for you."
"He almost got himself killed in the Black Sheep. Picked a fight with the CFO."
Bill Bill chuckled. "Sounds like a rebellist, all right."
"I saved him," said Loretta. "Inc would have taken him. I brought him to you."
"Hey," said Everard. "Talking to them was your idea. And why's there a bounty on my head, Bill Bill?"
"There's not." Bill Bill switched from a green to a yellow crayon. "What would I do with your head? Might kill you, if someone brought me your head."
"Why's there a bounty on me, then?"
"Because I put one on you."
Everard wanted to strangle him. "Why?"
"You're a rebellist. I mentioned that during the last 'Nats game."
"No, you didn't. You spent the whole time yelling at the TV to let Bryce Harper pitch."
"He's got a mean curveball."
"He's an outfielder!"
Loretta interjected. "You've let him get you off track again. You have to direct the conversation when he's like this."
"You mean there's times he's not like this?" muttered Everard. "Bill Bill, put down the crayon and tell me why you brought me here."
"Oh I didn't bring you," said Bill Bill. "Gotta be your own choice. Otherwise, what's the point, right?"
Everard exhaled. "Tell me what's going on. Why'd you drag me into this place? I've been attacked three times now."
"You started the last one," said Bill Bill.
"Either way," said Everard. "Half these weirdos know my name, and the other half think I'm some guy called the 'Ailuromancer.'"
Bill Bill turned the page and started coloring Mother Goose reading to a circle of children. "I remember that. I did it. You look kinda like him, so I denied the aspects of your face that don't look like him. It's worn off now. Back to your boring face. You should grow a beard."
Loretta explained. "He must have done it to protect you. A lot of thugs will go after someone whose obviously factionless. But nobody wants to mess with the Ailuromancer."
"Undone Duncan's lackeys did."
"Almost nobody."
Everard leaned over the desk to take Bill Bill's crayon. "Why am I here? What's a rebellist?"
"You can deny what you don't like," said Bill Bill.
"Like with Bowman's lighter," said Loretta.
Everard mulled that over. He'd also made the Perforated Woman drop her awl, and made the skinning machine stutter. "I say no, and reality changes?"
"It's more complicated than that," said Bill Bill, "but that's about all I can say."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a rebellist, too. I tell you what to do, all of a sudden I'm the bossman, and your bent goes dead. Less authority, more power. More authority, less power. Can't be a rebellist if someone can tell you what to do. Can't be a good one, anyways." Bill Bill held out his arms like he was presenting Everard to Loretta. "But you! No boss, no parents, no wife. Even Uncle Sam can't give you orders if he doesn't know you exist."
"How'd you know about that?" asked Everard. "Or that I'm a rebellist? Wait, how'd you find me to start with?"
"You worked on my nephew's house. You've got that rebellist scent to you."
"What's that mean?"
"Benters can sometimes sense other benters," said Loretta. "Like how you could probably tell another carpenter by looking at him."
"I looked you up," said Bill Bill, "realized I couldn't look you up—good work, by the way—and thought, now there's a man who has issues with authority."
Everard shrugged. That was true enough. "Why now? I never did anything like this before this evening."
"Who knows," said Bill Bill. "My first time was when I was sixteen. Mr. President came out of the womb denying his mother was out of milk. That's why he's so fat."
Mr. President was even more frail than Bill Bill.
"And then there's you, and that makes all the rebellists we know about in the last century."
"You're telling me there's only three people like me?"
Loretta nodded. "There are a few with similar abilities, but only you three with your identical bent."
"And that makes me some kind of big shot in the Periphery? That's why Undone Duncan and Inc want me regardless of any bounty?"
"They couldn't pass up on the opportunity," said Bill Bill.
The chugging and grinding sound of the machine came back to Ev
erard, along with the scent of engine oil and burning meat. He pushed it away. "So what are you getting out of this? What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," said Bill Bill, offended. "This is about helping you."
"And securing the Burgesses political authority," offered Loretta.
"I don't get it," said Everard. "Why does me being a rebellist help anybody? What are you hoping I'll do?"
"That's up to you," said Bill Bill.
"Which means you don't have to do anything," said Loretta. "So maybe consider not doing a thing. Because being a rebellist requires giving up your whole life. You don't see Bill Bill spending time with loved ones."
"Don't be so dramatic," said Bill Bill. "And how would you know, anyways?"
"I'm not interested in being a rebellist, or ever coming back to the Periphery at all." Everard pulled the ripped wanted flyer out of his pocket to inspect the photocopied picture of his face, and the text of half his name.
-erard
-rrison
And then handwritten but still photocopied:
other
"What's 'other' mean?" asked Everard.
"I didn't write that," said Bill Bill.
"Who did?"
"Not sure."
"What's it mean?"
"Probably better if Mr. President explains. He's the one who handled all that."
"Sounds like I need to talk to him, then. Where is he?"
"I like the sound of that," said Loretta. "Maybe he'll see it my way about paying the bounty."
"He's in a meeting," said Bill Bill. "Can't talk to him now."
"Come on, Everard," said Loretta. "Let's go interrupt some important people."
Everard followed her back into the hallway, Bill Bill following them both.
"Now hold on. The last time someone interrupted he yelled so much his face looked like a tomato." Bill Bill giggled. "Actually, I'll get a kick out of this. Let's go."
They passed a stairwell, which made Everard wonder again about the geography of this place. Which direction on those stairs was up? It didn't sound like the positioning of one nook had anything to do with another.
Ahead, the hallway stretched on as far as he could see. "How big is this place?"
"No idea," said Bill Bill. "I've only been about a mile down that way. After that, the floorboards get flimsy, and you bet your ass, you do not want to fall through there."
Fantastic. Even the nook with amazing carpentry was dangerous as hell.
Loretta threw open a door and walked through it. Everard and Bill Bill followed.
Chapter Fourteen
A vacant fireplace took up half of one wall. Black, reflective stone made up the back wall, writing carved into it but too small to read from where Everard stood.
Mr. President sat at the head of a table, with his attendant, Minnie, standing behind him. She leaned over the frail old man protectively, staring down Everard.
Seven other people sat around the table, only one dressed in the Burgesses' colonial style. Everard recognized Lucy, still wearing her red dress, and still looking nervous.
Everard flinched away from the man standing at the other end of the table. His sheer size made Everard think it was Undone Duncan, but this man had all his skin. He was built like those World's Strongest Man competitors: thick and solid, not bulbous and shiny like most gym rats. He wore a sleeveless shirt and jeans, making no effort to hide the shotgun holstered at his waist, or the ax strapped to his back.
He had the group's rapt attention, but lost it as Everard, Bill Bill, and Loretta came in.
"The barrier in east, uh, east..." he stopped. "Hey, Loretta."
"Hey, Howser." She nodded to him. "Do you mind if we interrupt for a second?"
Minnie scoffed. "Howser's briefing us on the Hunter's plan to put an end to the Boogeyman. You can't come barging in here like you're in charge. I don't care who you are."
Mr. President cleared his throat. "Minnie, do you not see Bill Bill? I'm sure he wouldn't disturb our meeting without a good reason."
"Eh," said Bill Bill. "I'm with these two."
The other Burgess—who looked half Mr. President's age, which still put him around 40—cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should control your party and actually act like a real leader."
The others around the table shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
Mr President set down his pen and rubbed his gray eyebrows. "Bill Bill, when's the last time you denied your... mind slipping?"
"Yesterday," said Bill Bill, too quickly.
"How long has it really been?"
Bill Bill played with a crayon while he thought. "Last month."
Everard felt a buzz, the air being pulled in every direction at once.
Bill Bill twitched like he'd been shocked. Everard grabbed him before he could fall.
Shaking his head like a dog shaking off water, Bill Bill yelled, "Don't do that! If my mind feels like slipping once in a while, what's the big deal? I've been on this earth seventy-eight years already."
"I can't have you senile," said Mr. President.
"Why the hell not?"
"Better we discuss this later." He glanced at the other Burgess, who addressed the rest of the table.
"I promise you we're dealing with these issues internally. We're presently reevaluating our leadership."
"The hell we are, Bermuda," said Minnie. "You don't have the votes."
Bermuda slammed his tri-cornered hat on the table.
"If I could interrupt for a moment," said Loretta, "I brought this new rebellist, I want the bounty."
Mr. President looked at Everard like he was noticing him for the first time.
"No. Bill Bill found him."
"Fine," said Loretta. "My fee for investigating the booms just went up twenty percent."
Minnie opened her mouth, but Mr. President raised a hand to silence her. He stared impassively at Loretta.
Everard knew this kind of silent negotiation. He'd been in the same position a hundred times. The client would throw something new at him, so he'd adjust the bid. Then they'd get angry Everard wouldn't do extra work for free, and the client would silently calculate how expensive it'd be to end the project and hire someone else, and how long that would delay the project, and whether he even knew someone else who could do as good a job as Everard.
"A fifteen percent bonus once you stop them," said Mr. President.
"Deal," said Loretta.
"Now if you would excuse us," said Mr. President, "your job isn't the only disaster the city's facing right now."
"Actually," said Bermuda, "I'm sure everyone would appreciate an update on Loretta's progress. The booms are, after all, increasing in frequency. You have to wonder if they're building up to something."
Minnie impatiently cleared her throat. "The Boogeyman is what's currently on the agenda."
"We'll come right back to it," said Mr. President. "Loretta?"
Loretta crossed her arms.
Mr. President answered for her. "We're quite positive that Undone Duncan is causing them, but have reason to suspect he's being bribed or threatened to do so."
"You mean by Inc," said Bermuda.
"Loretta is investigating multiple leads."
"Are any of them about the nature of the booms?" asked Bermuda. "What they actually do?"
"I can answer that," said Everard. First time he'd ever made a room full of people each raise an eyebrow. Except for Minnie. She rolled her eyes that he was taking the meeting even farther off track.
"This is Everard Harrison," said Mr. President. "Our newest rebellist."
That garnered instant respect. Or least rapt attention.
"I'm not anybody's newest anything, but I saw some shit. A couple of those carpet-faces-"
"Reskinned," said Mr. President.
"Whatever. They grabbed me. Took me to Undone Duncan's hangout. There was this machine, looked like a fifty-gallon drum surrounded by a tangle of wires and tubes."
"The Perforated W
oman's got all sorts of twisted machines," said Howser, the flooring creaking under his bulk.
"Anyways, when the Minutemen people showed up to break me out, one of the lackeys did something with the wires, and then a boom came from that barrel. Made me want to get away as fast possible. Forced the idea into my head."
"Are you sure you weren't just afraid?" Bermuda was unimpressed.
"Could have been the Perforated Woman's hypnosis," said a short plump woman at the table. "Not that I don't believe you."
Everard shook his head. "I've felt her do that, too. This was different. The Minutemen high tailed it toward the door, but I fought against the impulse. That's when someone let loose a hyena in my insides."
"There hasn't been a boom since this afternoon," said Mr. President.
"It was way down in that junk yard," said Everard. "But it was the same noise. Like a giant bass drum."
"That woman can twist your mind pretty bad," said Howser.
They didn't believe him. The respect dissolved. That's what he got for trying to be helpful.
"We'll ask Captain McIntosh, and Loretta will look into it," said Mr. President. "Mr. Howser, if you'd continue with what you were saying before the interruption."
Minnie raised her chin, satisfied.
Howser gave Everard a sympathetic shrug, an odd sight from the giant. "Like I was saying, the second ring of barriers will keep the Boogeyman trapped on the eastside."
Lucy cleared her throat, timidly cutting in. "That's where half the Folkmeisters live. I notice you're not forcing him into a wealthy part of town."
"Lucy, I promise you our choices are a hundred percent tactical," said Howser.
If these jerks were going to brush off what he said, then Everard would show them the same respect. He was only here for one reason, anyways. He balled up the wanted flyer and tossed it on the table.
Howser hesitated again.
"Throw him out," Minnie said through clenched teeth.
Mr. President took a breath, then said, "Mr. Harrison, I'm understanding how you've already earned the anger of half the Periphery."
Howser laughed, a deep, booming sound. "That's par for the course for a rebellist, isn't it?"
"Did you make those?" demanded Everard, pointing to the paper.