by Frank Hurt
6
Miss By-The-Book
Spring 2010
Ember knew she shouldn’t do it. The payoff would be minimal and the risks would be great if she was caught using magic in public, in plain view of NonDruw folk. That she was even entertaining the notion of doing this underscored just how irritated she was.
The now all-too-familiar vodka-laced voice invaded once again. "It's a generational thing, I tell ya. Your generation just doesn't know how good they have it. Civilization is collapsing and all you kids want to do is take yourself some selfies and put them on your my-facebook-space.”
Ember nodded and kept the fake smile affixed to her lips. She had given up on attempting to participate in the conversation a half hour ago. The progressively inebriated woman beside her had no trouble maintaining a conversation solo.
“I know because my grandkids are the worst of them all. I flew all the way to Indianapolis to see them, and you think they cared to talk with lil’ ol’ Granny? Not even long enough to look up from their phones and their my-facebook-space, no they didn’t! The Rudest Generation, that’s what these kids are!"
The source of Ember’s irritation: an older woman who had been pontificating since they boarded the plane in Minneapolis. The lady wore heavy makeup and an increasingly slurring tongue to augment her cynical outlook. To this woman’s perspective, the whole world was “going to hell in a handbasket”—whatever that meant. The shortest leg of Ember’s exhausting intercontinental flight was proving to be the most tedious, thanks to this one person.
Ember made the mistake of acknowledging her seatmate after they boarded. Somewhere between the second and third cocktail, the stranger began to interpret Ember’s smiles as proof of a receptive audience. Never mind Ember’s polite attempts to excuse herself from the conversation. This lady was undeterred. I’m beginning to understand why some Druws refer to NonDruws as “Mundanes.” This one is a specimen of “Mundane” if ever there was.
Ember chastised herself for even thinking such ugly, prejudicial thoughts. Still, she had never met a person who had driven her patience to such limits that she actually was contemplating bending the rules. Until now, that is. Emberly Wright, Miss By-The-Book; that’s what her sister Cynthia teasingly used to call her.
She looked around the crowded Delta flight. The persistent hum of the jetliner’s turbines whined softly in the background. Everyone else was either napping, reading, or watching TV, headphones isolating them from their surroundings. The closest flight attendant was talking with a passenger toward the front of the small plane. It would be so easy to end this headache right now, and nobody would possibly notice.
“Are you even listening to me, young lady?” The older woman’s shrill voice bit into her thoughts.
Ember reacted without even thinking. She brought her palms together to form a quiet clap. The heat of mana rose instantaneously from her viscera and flowed through her in a pulse. At just the right moment, Ember reached out for the old woman’s wrist, touching it lightly as she whispered, “Sleep.”
The old woman’s glassy eyes lost their focus, and her eyelids dropped closed. Her head fell back against the soft headrest, and she immediately began snoring lightly, her mouth agape. Ember barely managed to catch the half-empty cocktail glass before the fingers wrapped around it released.
Oh bloody hell, what did I just do?
The Sleep Spell she learned from her mentor twelve years ago was just as effective on belligerent polar bears as it was on incorrigible old ladies. The woman would wake feeling rested and probably even halfway sober. No harm, no foul—so long as Ember didn’t get caught. Miss By-The-Book indeed.
Ember was just starting to feel pleased with herself for the ensuing peace she conjured by putting her seatmate to sleep. That is until the man across the aisle spoke up.
“Oh, thank God. I thought she would never shut up!”
Ember’s eyes grew wide and she whipped her head around to meet the man’s gaze. Her gold locks were still settling against her shoulders when she said, “Excuse me?”
The portly man wore a dark goatee and a business-casual sports jacket. He was grinning. “The old nag. I’ve been wishing she would pass out ever since she started talking. I guess her drinks finally caught up with her metabolism. Oh, I’m sorry—she’s not your grandmother, I hope?”
Not missing a beat, Ember said, “Yes. Yes, she is my dear old Grandmum. She’s the sweetest little lady, you see. I’d thank you to not be so insulting.”
The man’s cheeks turned red and he started to apologize. As he was stumbling over his words, Ember allowed her lips to form a smirk and she winked at the man.
He stopped mid-sentence and his face turned even more flush. “She’s not really your grandmother, then?”
Ember simply shook her head. “Indeed, not remotely someone I know or would wish to know. But seeing your reaction was worth the charade.”
“Dammit, you just about gave me a heart attack!” The man clutched his chest comedically. “You’re a dangerous woman, you know that?”
“So, I’ve been told.” Ember had never been told that she was dangerous. It was delicious to pretend otherwise.
The man extended his hand across the narrow aisle. “Cooper. Cooper Severson.”
Ember slid her hand into his much larger grip. She grasped it tightly, and instinctively allowed a tiny wisp of her mana to pass into and then over Cooper. It was a simple technique that any novice mage knew. For one who practiced regularly such as she did, the recipient would be none the wiser. Not that a NonDruw would even be capable of detecting mana, anyway.
As their conversation progressed, that tiny piece of mana would form a sheen around this man that would be visible only to Ember. By reading the sheen’s hues and shades, the opacity and brightness, Ember would be able to read the veracity of a NonDruw’s aura just about as well as she could that of a Druwish person’s.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Severson. I’m Ember Wright.” She smiled at the man.
“Oh, just Cooper, please. Or Coop, as some of my buddies call me.” He seemed mildly reluctant to release her hand. He gestured at the pamphlets on her lap. “Tourist, are you?”
Ember chuckled and brought the travel brochures to bear, pointing at the headline. “Minot, the Magic City. Marvelous, isn’t it?”
“I like to think so. Minot’s my hometown, born and raised. I’ve moved away but couldn’t stay away.”
“So…Coop. Why do they call Minot the Magic City?”
Cooper opened his mouth but no words immediately emerged. His brow furrowed. “You know…I hate to admit it, but I don’t really know. I mean, the high school sports teams are ‘the Magicians’, so many of the businesses like to call themselves ‘Magic City’ something-or-‘nother. I’ve lived there my whole life and I cannot honestly say why Minot’s got that nickname. Now that’s going to bother me until I find out.”
The glimmering sheen around Cooper’s aura told Ember that he wasn’t lying. This man was bemusedly troubled that he didn’t have an answer for the tourist.
“My innocent inquiry isn’t going to give you a coronary,” Ember flashed her smirk again. “Is it?”
The man shook his head, but Ember could see that he wasn’t as dismissive as he feigned. “No, it’s just that I’m not someone who likes to leave questions unanswered. I’m going to have to research this until I have an answer for you.”
“We’re not so different in that respect.”
“Oh yeah?” Cooper’s aura shifted suddenly. “Is that what brings an English woman to such a far-flung destination as North Dakota? Your accent is English, isn’t it?”
Ember took measure of the man’s aura and found genuine curiosity—no sense of malcontent. Still, he was a little too intuitive—much more than most people tended to be. She had to choose her words carefully. “Actually, I’m here for work; I’m a massage therapist. The Magic City Spa—one of those namesake entities in your hometown.”
“Tha
t’s a long way to travel for a massage therapy job, isn’t it?”
“Well, that job will be paying the bills while I’m visiting. In my spare time, I’ve been nominated by my family to track down relatives from lost branches of our family tree for a genealogy project.” The lie emerged so easily. Ember could see that Cooper bought it.
“Ah, in that case, if you really want a tour of the Magic City, I can show you all sorts of sights which you won’t find in the brochure.” Cooper gestured again at the papers in Ember’s hand. “Wait—that sounded kind of creepy, didn’t it?”
He put his hands up to show her his palms. “No strings attached, I just love my hometown. I’m actually a police officer. Not that that means I’m not a stranger. Or that you should necessarily trust me just because I happen to have a badge. I really should stop talking, shouldn’t I? Why am I still talking? Is it really warm in here?”
Ember couldn’t help but smile at Cooper as his face grew flush again. He was speaking the truth to her. If there was even a hint of insincerity in the man, she would be able to detect it, like any Malvern Investigator with any talent could—and even for her young age, Ember was particularly talented.
Cooper produced a simple business card, on which he scrawled a number with his clickable ballpoint pen before passing it to her. “That’s my cell phone number. When you get settled in, give me a call and I’ll have an answer for you as to why Minot is called the Magic City.”
She was charmed by his confidence and accepted the card, which declared Cooper Severson as a Detective in the Minot Police Department. “Oh, you are sure we will be talking to one another again?”
The man shrugged, “We pretty much have to. If I’m not able to answer your question it will drive me bonkers.”
“Bonkers, really?” Ember couldn’t help but laugh.
“Truly it would,” Cooper insisted. “And if you need help tracking down a long-lost relative, I might be able to run a check on our computer system for you. Maybe one or two—I’m not going to abuse my privileges too much, even for a pretty lady with an exotic accent.”
Ember raised an eyebrow. “Exotic, is it? Yet I am supposedly the dangerous one here?”
Cooper held up his hands again. He said, “Hey, I’m harmless!”
With that declaration, Ember detected Cooper’s first lie to her.
7
Not Rosie
The June sunset provided a captivating impression as the plane approached Minot International Airport. The last rays of sunlight were diffused against distant dust in the western prairie horizon, turning the fading light a burnt orange hue.
Ember would have appreciated the sunset better if she wouldn’t have been so exhausted. The conversation with Cooper helped whittle away the final leg of her journey, but it didn’t entirely compensate for the sheer length of the transcontinental flight. When the plane touched down, Ember felt the weight of those hours sink in. All she could think of was a hot shower and a soft bed.
Cooper offered—twice, in fact—to give her a ride into town, but Ember declined as she knew she had a fellow investigator from the embassy arriving to pick her up. She told him that it was a coworker from the Magic City Spa who would be waiting for her. It wasn’t entirely a lie, as the spa was a legitimate business—a legitimate business which formed the public front for the incognito Druwish colonial embassy.
“I think I see your chauffeur, my lady.” Cooper’s poor attempt at an English accent earned a tired chuckle from Ember.
Cooper pointed to a hand-lettered tagboard which read “E. Wright.” Holding the sign was a stout Malvern woman with a square jaw and short, spiked hair. Her unenthusiastic expression and bored, beady eyes scanned the crowd. Even the woman’s aura appeared unhealthy and dirty to Ember’s assessment. Or maybe I’m having mild hallucinations—chalk that up to jet lag.
Ember closed the distance and extended her hand, “Hello! I believe I’m the Wright you’re looking for. Ember, that is.”
The woman studied Ember and then looked expressionlessly at Cooper. Ember stood awkwardly, her hand extended and her carry-on bag biting into her shoulder. The woman finally accepted Ember’s hand with a firm, single pump. She said, “I’m Roseanne. Not Rose. Not Rosie. Not Anne. Roseanne. Get your stuff and follow me.”
Roseanne spun on her heel and began walking briskly to the luggage carousel.
Ember felt heat rise up her neck and her face reddened. So much for a happy welcome.
Cooper’s eyebrows were both raised. He extended his hand into the air and moved it up and down. “Hi, I’m Cooper, nice to meet you, Rosie.” Roseanne was already ten yards away and Cooper’s comedy was lost in the bustling crowd of weary fellow travelers. He looked at Ember and smiled. “She seems nice.”
A grin found its way onto Ember’s lips and she shook her head. “The unwelcoming committee has arrived.”
Cooper and Ember shook hands at the carousel and parted ways with their respective luggage. Cooper waved and shouted across the expanse. “I’ll have an answer for you when you call me.”
Ember smiled and waved back at Cooper, but said nothing. She pulled her wheeled Rimowa suitcase across the tile floor and followed Roseanne as quickly as she could; her coworker didn’t check her pace. She didn’t even glance back.
Roseanne escorted Ember wordlessly through the warm evening air of the brightly-lit parking lot. A gentle breeze tussled Ember’s hair. If she would have been by herself, Ember would have found a quiet place to stop, close her eyes, and drink in the spaciousness of the prairie. As it is, this friendly Roseanne would probably leave me here if I don’t catch up with her.
Roseanne unlocked the hatchback of a silver Subaru Forester. She crossed her bulging arms at her chest and waited impatiently for Ember to catch up. Ember was sure that the woman was moments away from tapping her foot.
“Terribly sorry, Roseanne. My bags weigh nearly as much as I do, I fear!”
Roseanne rolled her eyes and scoffed. She walked over to Ember, lifted the heavy suitcase as though it was filled with feathers, and hefted it into the back of the Subaru. Ember’s carry-on followed.
“You’re a strong one.” Ember winced at her own banal observation immediately after making it.
Roseanne was unaffected. “You’re not going to expect me to get the door for you, too, are you?”
Ember blinked. “Get the…no, no of course not.” She scurried to the right side of the car. Opposite of home, I’ll need to get used to that.
When they were both in the vehicle, Roseanne turned to Ember and said, “Who was that man—that Mundane? I don’t know how they do things at Malvern Hills, but here, relationships with Mundanes are discouraged.”
“Coop—I mean Cooper? He’s not anybody. He’s just a fellow passenger—a local who was friendly to me.” Ember was exhausted and was caught off-guard by the racist outburst. She was surprised and annoyed that she was being pushed to defensiveness by her coworker. She shifted in her seat and realized her shoes were sticking to the vinyl floor mat. Recently-spilled cola formed an adhesive bond beneath her soles, announcing itself whenever she lifted her foot from the tacky surface.
Roseanne rolled her eyes. “You will be filing with the Department of External Relations first thing in the morning, I presume?”
“I—well, I hadn’t expected to. I’m not exactly in any sort of relationship with Cooper. Really, Roseanne, we only just visited on the pl—”
Roseanne interrupted. “As ranking Associate Investigator, I will not hesitate to report any infractions I observe during your visit to Minot.”
Ember was flabbergasted and momentarily lost for words. Too much was riding on this mission for her to start having a conflict with the other Investigators literally on Day One. “Roseanne…if I said something to offend you, I sincerely apologize. I would really like to have a positive relationship with my coworkers while I perform my duty here. Can you tell me what’s bothering you?”
Roseanne didn’t hesitate. “Yeah
, I’ll tell you what bothers me. I know all about you, Ember Wright. You’ve just been promoted to Associate Investigator—the youngest ever to reach this rank, just ten years after you became a Novice Investigator, so I’ve heard. I know that you were sent here by the Druw High Council to audit our census records—like we quaint colonials aren’t capable of counting heads. Instead of serving as an assistant to a Senior Investigator, somehow you’ve managed to climb rank in half the usual time and then land this cushy solo job.”
Roseanne started the car but continued her lecture as she exited the airport parking lot. “I also know that you come from an old family—a noble family. Maybe that means something in Europe, but over here we have to earn our ranks—we can’t just inherit them. Not everyone can have a paid vacation given to them just because they have the right last name.”
Ember swallowed. The initial cold shock transformed into burning anger as Roseanne vented her litany of grievances. So much for a friendly start. Holiday, indeed.
Her first impulse was to lash out, to defend herself against this judgmental stranger. Sure, it was true that Ember was promoted sooner than any other Associate Investigator on record, but she had to pass the tests just like everyone else. Her family connections may have opened the door for her to meet The Legend, but he would not have offered his mentorship to her if she hadn’t demonstrated a natural talent for the profession. It was Ember’s career ambitions, her single-minded obsessiveness to pursue justice, and her deep belief in the Investigator’s Creed which got her to where she is. Wasn’t it?
The pursuit of justice. That is what she had to focus on here. She could defend herself, argue with this woman with the inexplicably ugly aura. But Ember could see that Roseanne’s mind was made up, and winning an argument with her—if that was even possible—would be fruitless.
Worse, unnecessary confrontation could derail her mission—the real reason Wallace hand-picked Ember to travel solo to the Minot colony. The census audit task was just one more cover story—another layer of lies. Just like the massage therapy job and genealogy research hobby were meant as public cover for NonDruw, Ember’s assignment as census auditor would get her closer to her real purpose. Much more was at stake than hurt feelings—especially her own.