City of Broken Magic

by Mirah Bolender

  Clae, on the other hand, didn’t have a polite bone in his body. “Didn’t I say we weren’t coming for a baptism?”

  “Of course!” the priest laughed. “But still, you may want to keep the stars in mind.”

  * * *

  On the way back to the Sweeper shop, Okane remained quiet. That wasn’t unusual in and of itself, but his pinched face showed he was mulling over something not quite happy, turning it over and contemplating it in a way that reminded Laura of Morgan taste-testing her cooking. No, that’s not quite it … maybe if I add more salt? No. Definitely not that either. She didn’t interrupt him, and neither did Clae. Laura instead pondered the possibilities of Immortalist books in the city library. She was sure there was a connection between that statue and the Gin amulets somehow, and she wanted to track that down.

  The thought followed her all the way back to the shop (they took the long way, as there were a bunch of men transporting pipes for a new main line to the interior), and it only left her mind when they found the police chief waiting for them. Albright leaned against the doorway, perusing a newspaper as she took up the space. When they approached, her eyes looked up from the print, and she watched with a blank expression as they grew closer.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Clae, disgruntled by the roadblock.

  Albright tucked the paper under her arm before pulling a comb from her pocket. “We found an unregistered amulet with a small infestation during a search today.”

  Clae took it and looked the object over before nodding. “You could’ve brought this to the Amuletory.”

  “I had some questions for you, too.”

  Clae exhaled slowly, but invited Albright inside. They filtered through the door and scattered to their respective haunts, taking up their seats on the stools. Just as he had with Mary, Clae sat opposite Albright, behind the counter but in a spot with less Kin than the rest so they could clearly see each other. Laura sat to the side and leaned on the counter with every intention of eavesdropping. Albright didn’t seem bothered by it. She focused her glare on Clae, even while Okane shuffled in restless half circles at the other end of the counter.

  “What kind of questions did you have?” Clae asked.

  “One in particular,” said Albright. “I’ve read up on Sweepers and monsters, but none of the information we have on file explains the increase in infestations. It’s happened in the past that we have a lull of several years, even decades with few infestations, and then the discovery rate and damage caused skyrockets. The time length and intensity of the outbreak varies, but it seems an inevitability since the founding of Amicae. What is it that controls this phenomenon?”

  Laura blinked and mentally backtracked. It was true: even during the short time she’d been an apprentice, infestations had been cropping up more and more frequently. It hadn’t registered as a citywide problem for her, though. She’d been more under the impression that Clae was simply taking her along to the big jobs as she improved, and the city had covered up any others. Maybe that was why this latest test threw her for a loop?

  “So you’ve finally realized I’m not setting these up?” Clae mocked her.

  Albright scowled. “Don’t try to sass me, Sinclair. I’m being civil today.”

  “Has someone called you out on that temper?”

  “If anyone needs calling out, it’s you.”

  “And yet you are the civil party here.”

  “Someone has to be.”

  Children, Laura wanted to sigh, but Clae rolled his eyes and got back to business.

  “You can blame Rex for the infestations.”

  “Rex?” Albright’s brow furrowed still further. “You think they’re planting infestations in Amicae?”

  “No, they’re triggering the problem.”

  “How so?”

  Clae leaned further on the counter as he replied, “You do know about their goal to reach human potential, don’t you? Well, their normal forces attack other cities to prove their worth, but then they have their prized Sweeper program. That’s got to prove its superiority somehow too, doesn’t it? They have miniature crusades that go down south, with the intention of tracking down and destroying the hive mind itself. Every time they do, they rile that thing up and provoke it into retaliation, resulting in stronger, spreading infestations. Once they’re sufficiently mauled the Rex forces will pull back, but even without them in the immediate area the hive mind can stay riled for years. That’s what the increase is: we’re getting more intensity because Rex is pulling that stunt again.”

  “How have they not been wiped out yet?” Albright grumbled. “If they mutilate their Sweeper forces, what do they have to even protect their city?”

  “A hell of a lot more Sweepers. Rex’s breeding program means they have the largest number of Sweepers out of any of the cities in Orien, more than enough to spare. And of course, pissing off the hive mind and making more infestations means cities with lesser Sweepers get hit hard, and if we fail, well, that means we weren’t capable or worthy of reaching human potential and should be wiped out anyway.” Clae looked resentful and Laura didn’t blame him; if they were really the smallest Sweeper force, they were most likely to be wiped out, weren’t they?

  “Can you handle the increase?” asked Albright.

  “You’ll notice that I’ve worked through two of these spikes before, and that was mostly solo,” Clae pointed out. His eyes flicked over to Laura. “We’ll be able to handle this one too.”

  Laura felt stupidly proud. She fisted her hands and tried not to smile too big, though—best not let that get to his head.

  Albright nodded at his certainty. She frowned at her newspaper awhile, then looked up again. “This is a bit more for my own curiosity, but you are familiar with the appearance of Rex spies two days ago?”

  “Sweepers, if the descriptions were right.”

  “Correct. We have the two in custody now, and we’ve been interrogating them.” She paused. “One of our men, during the questioning, brought up the idea, or threat, of having a Sweeper-to-Sweeper chat. No one was supposed to have mentioned the Sinclair Sweepers during the proceedings, but the minute your name was brought in they clammed up. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were afraid of you.”

  “So you want to know how to spook a Rexian.”

  “You could put it that way.”

  Clae leaned back now, crossing his arms and glancing up at the ceiling and the wind chime, as if this was a real bother to answer.

  “I’ve had run-ins with them before. Once while traveling on the same train, one wilds infestation, and another when they infiltrated Amicae about … hell, twelve years ago?”

  The newspaper crinkled under Albright’s grip. “You’ve what?” she hissed.

  “The train encounter was peaceful, but I told them off,” Clae went on, ignoring her reaction. “During the wilds infestation we ended up working together. That’s how I learned that they’re all idiots, and when they took an interest. And then the last one they decided that whatever secret I was hiding, they wanted it. They snuck into Amicae and tried to break in here and I shot their leader in the kneecaps.”

  “You shot him in the kneecaps,” Laura repeated, stunned.

  “Yes.”

  “The kneecaps.”

  “Got the job done, didn’t it?”

  “Was this reported?” Albright demanded.

  “I called the police after I chased them off.” He shrugged. “If it wasn’t noted somewhere, that’s an error on your end. Of course, that last chief didn’t like me much anyway. Said I had a bad attitude.”

  “It seems that bad attitude is fated to stay.”

  The only one in the room who didn’t seem exasperated with Clae was Okane, who was too busy searching for something under the counter. He pulled out a necklace with shaky hands and put it on the corner to stare at.

  “What did you mean by secret?”

  Laura’s attention returned to Albright.

  “Hm?”
<
br />   “You just said Rex was after some kind of secret here.”

  “Amicae was once the greatest Sweeper city. Even when we’re almost wiped out, we keep our trade secrets,” said Clae.

  “If you keep them, then how does Rex know about them?” Albright challenged.

  Clae fixed her with the blankest of blank stares. “Look back over that data. Think how much I’ve managed to get through, how young I was when I took the job. Most people wouldn’t be able to get through half of that. Rex decided I must have something to carry me through it. They’d want something like that to strengthen their crusades.”

  “Do you have something like that?”

  “No. I have a long family history of Sweepers who’ve left resources and knowledge, nothing other cities don’t have. So maybe I’m more efficient when it comes to getting things done. That’s their own fault for being second best.” He muttered something like “Human potential, my ass,” under his breath.

  Albright didn’t look completely satisfied with the answer, but “trade secrets” was something she didn’t seem willing to dig into. She probably wouldn’t understand the details anyway. She stood, tucking the paper under her arm again, and Clae watched her progress.

  “You want me to try interrogating those prisoners?”

  “The one who brought that up was an idiot,” Albright huffed. “I don’t want those two anywhere near you, even if you do scare them. I’ve heard more than enough horror stories about Rexians playing dumb until their target gets close.”

  Clae hummed, propping up his chin with one hand. “Sounds good.”

  “I appreciate the information,” said Albright. “Hopefully we can cooperate like this in the future.” It sounded more like an order than a suggestion.

  “Doubtful,” Clae drawled.

  Albright showed no sign of irritation at that, but no humor either. “It would benefit you, especially with the claims being filed against Sweepers. I’m far from the only one who finds you suspicious. In any case, I will look over the information again. Good day.”

  She left. In the short time the door was open a breeze sifted in to tug at the chimes, producing a few soft sounds before falling mute once more. Clae stared at the door, even more intensely than Okane was staring at what must’ve been an infected amulet.

  “Something wrong?” said Laura.

  Clae’s pointer finger tapped against his cheek, and he replied, “Keep a sharp eye out.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She said there were two Rex Sweepers in custody. In my experience they move in odd numbers, typically multiples of three. If she’s only got two, that means number three is either dead or at large. It wouldn’t surprise me if number three ran for it, but that’s the smart thing to do. They’ve proven to be stubborn as canir in the past.”

  A chill shot down Laura’s spine and Okane finally looked up, eyes wide.

  “What do we do if we run into them?” he asked.

  “There’s no outrunning them,” said Clae. “Stand your ground, make a hell of a lot of noise, and if you get the chance bash their head in, Egg or no Egg.”

  “Great,” Laura murmured.

  She never thought she’d ever wish death on anybody, but right then she really, really hoped that “number three” was dead. Dead or running away with his tail between his legs. That would’ve been wonderful.

  12

  KAIBUTSU

  Two weeks after the “temple test,” Laura woke to a noise at the door. She stirred, wondering dimly what was going on. It couldn’t be later than four in the morning. Shuffling. Door opening.

  “Hello?”

  Aunt Morgan had answered the door. Good for her. She could take care of it. Laura buried her face in her pillow and began to drift off again. Another noise came from much closer, and she squinted to the side. Morgan leaned against the doorjamb, looking exhausted.

  “Hey, Laura.” The sleepy drawl slurred her words. “The office got a call for you from Mr. Sinclair. There’s something going on. Says you’re going to help him sometime today for something or other.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why’d he call now, though?”

  Morgan shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “I’ll ask him about it when I go to work.”

  “Sure.”

  Morgan drifted away. The door didn’t close all the way behind her, but Laura was too tired to care. She closed her eyes and began to doze. She fell asleep again by the time the second noise came to the door. This knocking was much louder and more insistent, and Laura woke as soon as it began. Annoyed grumbling heralded Morgan’s shuffling feet. Cheryl made a loud, unhappy noise.

  Clae couldn’t be expecting her to go to the shop at this hour, could he? Laura frowned at the idea and buried her head under her pillow. Maybe she could drown out the sound of the door. The next thing she knew, the pillow was yanked away. She glared at the culprit, but the look faltered as she realized that it wasn’t Morgan.

  “Clae?” she spluttered, instantly awake. “What are you doing here?”

  “Picking you up,” he replied, “like I said on the phone.”

  “I don’t have a phone in here, you called the building phone! I didn’t get the message!” Laura snapped, sitting up and pulling her blanket closer about her.

  “Person who answered it said she’d go tell you.”

  “Well, she didn’t.”

  “You know now. So get out of bed and let’s go.”

  “Go where? It’s—” She scrambled for her pocket watch on the bedside table. “It’s four in the morning!”

  In reality it was four forty-five, but it was in the hour of four and she resented that.

  “The police are already out there, and they’re expecting us to arrive before five.”

  “Out where?”

  “The Sixth Quarter.”

  Laura had never physically been to the Sixth Quarter. Given the inhabitants, there were usually no amulets down there, and the few that did exist were with the military, so they were tightly regulated. No chance for infestation.

  “What’s going on in the Sixth Quarter?”

  “Stupidity, what do you think?” Clae scoffed. “Now get dressed and ready to go. I’ll be waiting outside.”

  He tossed the pillow back and left, shouldering past Morgan in the doorway. Her aunt sent her a frightened look but closed the door behind him. Laura stared at it for a bit, then sprang up in a burst of energy. She rushed around her room, grabbing her clothes and supplies as fast as she could. Once she was decent, she tied her hair back and left her room. The first thing she saw was Cheryl leaning out of her own room, looking tired and grumpy, but lingering out of some begrudging interest in the strangers in the living room. Morgan stood near the sofa with much the same expression though less angry, twisting the cuff of her nightgown in anxiety; she followed their guests with her eyes as if afraid they’d snatch everything up and run. Clae inspected something on the wall, ignoring her completely, while Okane hovered near the door.

  “Ready,” Laura called, and Morgan looked over in surprise.

  “For what? What’s going on?”

  “Just work.” Laura had to stifle a yawn.

  “At this time of the morning?”

  “Well, if someone wasn’t so impatient—”

  “Don’t accuse me, go after the cops if you’re so upset.” Clae turned away from the wall.

  “I’m sure she doesn’t mean it!” Morgan squeaked. “She’s just tired is all.”

  “No kidding,” Laura muttered.

  “Excuses. Come on. We’re going to be late already.”

  Grumbling fitfully, Laura followed them out. Morgan watched as they passed.

  “Good luck,” she called. “Don’t forget, call if you need anything.”

  Laura was about to retort that we don’t have a telephone, that’s why they surprised us to begin with, but realization dawned. She meant the police, in case these strangers tried anything funny.
Clae really did give off an awful impression.

  She closed the door and they walked down the hallway. Laura wove a bit but rubbed her eyes and tried to wake up faster.

  “Laura?”

  She looked up. Charlie stood by the stairs, a jumble of metal parts under his arms. Suspicious Morgan and her current nemesis? It was too early for this. What was he doing outside at nearly five in the morning?

  “What are you doing out this early?” Charlie glanced at Clae and Okane, brow furrowing in suspicion.

  “Going to work?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Out of the way, you’re blocking the stairs,” Clae grouched, using the briefcase to push him aside. Charlie gaped after him.

  “Sorry. See you later.” Laura hurried on Clae’s heels, silently thanking him for being so rude.

  But it wasn’t to be. After only some hesitation Charlie followed them down, jogging to keep level with Laura and juggling his load at the same time.

  “What kind of work needs a lady out at this hour?” he asked. “You understand what people might think, seeing you out with two strange men?”

  Laura barked out a bitter laugh. “Sorry, but it’s a little too early for me to worry about ruining my reputation.”

  “People talk.” He glanced at Clae’s back, as if torn between confrontation and fear.

  “Let them. All I’m doing is working. Besides, I’m not interested in that ‘perfect bride’ image anyway.”

  “That’s rather angelina of you to say.”

  That last line was muttered, not meant to be clearly heard, but he might as well have shouted it. Laura stopped so suddenly Okane almost ran into her. She didn’t notice. She glared at Charlie, hate curling in her stomach.

  “What did you just say?” she hissed.

  At first he looked confused, but it clicked quickly; Morgan Chandler, that angelina on the top floor.

  “I’m just saying that you’re taking it too lightly!” he defended. “You’re closing off your future. No one’s going to marry a woman they think is immoral.”

  “So I’ll end up like my aunt is what you’re saying?”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Really? Because that’s entirely what I heard.”