Midnight Law

by Geanna Culbertson

  “Why?”

  Mauvrey paused. Her hands were folded and she fidgeted her fingers. She took a deep breath. “As you know, most of my memories from the final days leading up to being separated from Tara are either blurry or missing altogether. However, this one came back to me all of a sudden in the ice tunnel and was as painful to remember as it is for me to talk about now because . . . I am quite distraught by it. I had a memory about Kai on the day of the Vicennalia Aurora.”

  “I can understand why that would upset you. The Tara version of you gave an order to kill Kai when we were in the Portalscape. That must be a jarring memory to rediscover.”

  Mauvrey shook her head. “No, it was not that. I recovered that memory a couple of weeks ago. Today I regained a memory of Kai and Tara in a forest in Camelot prior to their exchange in the Portalscape. In the memory, Kai is talking to me—well, to Tara. The details are vague, but from what my memory could muster, they were talking about sacrifice, and trust, and Crisa. I am not sure what it all adds up to, but the general takeaway is obvious.”

  I felt a mantle of unease settle on my shoulders. “Kai met Tara before the Portalscape,” I thought aloud.

  Mauvrey nodded.

  I stared out at the gardens.

  “SJ, what does that mean?” Mauvrey asked.

  I continued to stare off and my voice sounded distant. “I do not know.”

  At dinner, I could tell Daniel felt a little uncomfortable surrounded by so many girls of different ages. I kind of loved that. He was so stern and stoic most of the time. It was probably good for him to feel off-balance now and then. Some of the ladies treated him like any other soldier. Others whispered while staring at him, giggling occasionally.

  I, on the other hand, felt completely at ease. Manners, poise, and diplomacy were the bread and butter of my princess training. It was a tad sad to feel so proud of being a perfect dinner guest, but this may well be the only time on this adventure that my teammates looked to me to set an example. The second we went back into action mode it was in everyone’s best interest that I let Daniel take the lead.

  Like Debbie so eloquently put it, I was dynamic and not dangerous. In other words, I had power, but it was power with parameters and therefore predictable. What made my friends truly formidable and heroic were their abilities to adapt and persevere in situations where they had zero experience. I did not know if I could do the same. I had never been in a perilous position on my own. In the greatest of heroic trials, I always had one or more of my friends by my side to make a call, take the lead, and fill in for my hesitation.

  “SJ?” Kai said from across the dining table. I turned to her. “Are you okay? You look kind of worried.”

  “I have a lot to worry about, Kai,” I replied, keeping my voice light. “We all do.” I stood and picked up a few plates to take into the kitchen. I had not decided what to do with the information Mauvrey had shared with me, but I did know I needed to think about my next move carefully—plan, prepare, and approach with caution.

  Hm. I frowned at my predictable train of thought. ‘Plan, prepare, and approach with caution’ may as well be my motto.

  Mauvrey had not returned since taking her plates in. I glanced around the busy kitchen but did not see her. “Excuse me,” I said to one of the Mount Aborra girls by the sinks. “Do you know what happened to my friend Mauvrey?”

  “Our healer came to speak with her,” the girl responded. “They went out that way.” She gestured at a screen door then took my plates from my hands.

  I would go find her shortly. First though, I had another duty.

  “May I help?” I asked the same Mount Aborra girl. She was part of a lineup of women methodically washing, rinsing, drying, and putting away the dinner dishes.

  “Do you have long fingernails?” asked another girl with a ponytail. “We could always use more assistance scraping stubborn crust on pots.”

  I tried to conceal my grimace. “No, but if you will allow me, I can offer assistance in another way.” I trotted to the big windows by the sinks and pushed them open. Then I cleared my throat and sang. It was a haunting melody that I had perfected during my Singing with Nature course at Lady Agnue’s.

  The women in the kitchen turned to me, entranced by the song. As I sang, a few red-crested birds, several bats, two cranes, and a dozen shockingly large crickets with glittering antenna and sparkly bellies came to rest by the windowsill, drawn to the beckoning call. They looked at me expectantly.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said gently. “Please assist where you can.”

  The creatures got to work instantly. The crickets moved rags with their legs and started to dry dishes. The birds grabbed sponges with their beaks and feet for scrubbing pots and pans. Bats and cranes used their strong claws and bills to carry plates over to the cupboards to be put away. Birds used their tails to dust crumbs from countertops.

  The ladies in the kitchen were startled at first, but after a moment they began working alongside the animal helpers, delighted by the quirky aids.

  The girl with the ponytail grinned at me. “You are very skilled.”

  “At certain things,” I responded with a half-smile.

  I let myself outside, knowing my animal friends would return to the forest when the kitchen was clean. Sunlight had long left the sky, but lanterns decorated the trees providing plenty of illumination. As I strode across the garden, I spotted green glowing eyes and pulled up short, reaching for my slingshot before realizing it was the Bixie and Tianlu, walking side by side. I relaxed. They looked so much more mystical at night. Aside from the glowing eyes, their wings glistened with gold dust much like my Griffin’s did.

  They paused in front of me. I was not sure what to do at first but elected to crouch down and peacefully offer my hands to the creatures. I held still. After a moment, they extended their heads to meet my hands and nuzzled against my palms. Their big pink tongues lolled out and hit the floor.

  “Amazing,” Yunru marveled.

  I glanced behind me. “You snuck up on me again.”

  “Apologies. I had to get a closer look. Ray and Whisper—our Bixie and Tianlu—do not easily warm to new students. These creatures embody bravery, rejection of evil, dignity, and authoritative power. They can judge those same qualities in others, and for that reason, they select the right warriors to enter into battle when special missions arise. Ray and Whisper must naturally detect those qualities in you to respond to you so well.”

  I looked at the fierce and fluffy immortal beings.

  Do you see something I do not?

  The creatures moved their heads as if nodding in response, though that was probably a coincidence. Then they lapped up their tongues, turned away, and continued on their night walk.

  “They have the right idea,” Yunru said. “I was at the end of my walk. Care to finish it with me? I could show you something you may find interesting.”

  “It may end up being a long walk,” I commented, standing. “I find everything around here quite interesting. Though I was going to search for Mauvrey.”

  “Oh, she is with our healer. Your friend gave off some strange energy readings while you all were unconscious earlier. Our healer wanted to have a closer look.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  “Is that in your nature?”

  I blinked, surprised. Yunru chuckled. “Come. Walk with me.”

  We proceeded in silence through the sweet-smelling night, crossing over a bridge entwined with vines of honeysuckle. In the river below, glowing carp swam happily. Their shine gave the water an enchanted radiance.

  “In China, carp symbolize several things,” Yunru said as we paused to lean on the railing. “But they are strongly associated with perseverance.”

  “I have a few friends I characterize the same way,” I commented. “Your warrior pupils would like them. They are heroic and formidable like the women trained here.”

  Yunru observed me with compassion. “SJ, you know that you do not hav
e to be a conventional combat warrior to be seen as heroic and formidable. There is more than one kind of hero, just as there is more than one kind of fish.”

  “But no matter what a fish does, it will always be a fish,” I responded. “It can never be a hawk.”

  Yunru shrugged. “True, but there are flying fish.”

  I gave her a look.

  “SJ, I do not know you well, but being a part of this school means learning to understand people and heroism in new lights. You should not worry about measuring up to your friends in the same ways, nor should you dread taking the helm in situations that are not traditionally your forte. Test yourself. Push yourself. Trust yourself. How can you know what you could be if you always limit yourself to the familiar? No one ever became a hero by compartmentalizing their character.”

  I swallowed and gazed steadily at Yunru. Then a loud bell rang, echoing across the property and through my bones. People could likely hear it from miles away. Yunru looked at her watch. “It’s eight o’clock. We must head back. It is curfew.”

  “I suppose abiding by a curfew is part of your disciplinary training?” I asked as she began moving at a much faster pace than before.

  “In part,” Yunru replied without slowing. “But it is mainly for protection. Our warriors are called upon to defend the villages from bandits or outlaws periodically. However, our greatest danger is Xēshēng. He is a creature that lives under Mount Aborra. His demons, known as the Núcái, prowl the night from nine o’clock to dawn. They search for people who have known great sacrifice and bring these victims back to Xēshēng, who feeds on their energy when he wakes at nightfall the following day. The entire island of Xanadu lives by this curfew as a result.”

  We walked a few more strides before I asked a logical, though dark question. “It is not my style to kill, but I must ask . . . With a school full of warriors, why not simply eliminate Xēshēng once and for all?”

  “Xēshēng cannot be killed. He is part spirit. He can only be weakened. When he is weakened, he must regenerate. While he regenerates, we reclaim the prisoners who were taken. It is an ongoing struggle, but life is as well. We teach our sisters to appreciate that. Life without struggle is empty, and people without struggle lack character.”

  We hastened inside the temple and I watched as girls closed windows, locked doors, and lowered shutters. Like in the kitchens, these students knew their duties and performed them like a well-oiled machine.

  “Would you like some Tuttletut tea?” Yunru asked. “It is chamomile mixed with milk of paradise, our name for the juice that comes from the Tuttletut melons that grow in the tall trees in this area. The tea does wonders for healing sore muscles and invigorating the body for another day’s fight.”

  “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

  Yunru led me through the building. We came across warriors lighting lanterns and enjoying their own cups of tea while playing cards. Groups of girls meditated or stretched in cozy dens. Others read in comfy alcoves. All was calm.

  We arrived in a room lined with shelves of tinctures and salves in glass bottles. It was an apothecary. Mauvrey sat on a cot near the back—being tended to by an older woman in floor-length robes with big, round glasses.

  “Good evening, Wang Shu,” Yunru said, bowing to the woman. I bowed as well. “SJ, this is our healer I spoke to you about. Wang Shu, meet Princess SJ.”

  Wang Shu bowed deeply in return. “Greetings. I am helping Princess Mauvrey with darkness that plagues her. I have made diagnosis. Now I find remedy.”

  Mauvrey looked to me, her face troubled. “Wang Shu says there is some kind of evil energy moving through me—an infection of sorts.”

  Wang Shu took Mauvrey’s hand and pointed at an area by one of her knuckles. “There,” she said.

  “A freckle?” I said.

  “A bite,” Wang Shu replied. “So small, most would never notice. Based on amount of dark energy inside the princess, and its erratic movement through bloodstream, I believe it is a Magic Mite.”

  “I have read about those,” Yunru said. “Witches use them to spread dark spells like disease.”

  My eyes widened. “Mauvrey, do you think this has anything to do with those magic suicidal episodes you have experienced?”

  “I told Wang Shu about the episodes and she believes it is the likely explanation.”

  “How would she have gotten bitten by a Magic Mite?” I asked the healer.

  “I cannot say,” Wang Shu replied, moving to gather ingredients from the shelves of the apothecary. “But if it is a Magic Mite, I have concoction that will make it come out the way it entered in twelve hours.”

  I looked to Mauvrey. “What about Merlin’s warning not to put any more potions inside of you?”

  “I asked Wang Shu about that, and explained my situation. She says I should be fine, as this potion is supposed to remove a dark enchantment inside of me; so it is more purifying than anything else. Even if that were not the case, if the alternative is continuing to exist with a malignant insect inside of me, I think this is a better option.”

  Fair point.

  Wang Shu continued to zip around the room. She uncorked a jar, gave it a sniff, and pulled out a single leaf—adding it to a mortar dish on the worktable in the center of the room. I approached the healer hesitantly and bowed again. “If I may be so bold, I have some experience in brewing potions and love to learn. May I please help or observe?”

  Wang Shu looked me up and down. “I would be honored by your assistance.”

  Yunru smiled. “I will leave you to it. Wang Shu, can you also make SJ some Tuttletut tea. I will return shortly to show our guests to their rooms.”

  “Yes, yes,” Wang Shu said with a wave, not looking up from the microscope she peered through.

  Yunru bowed again and departed. Wang Shu beckoned to both me and Mauvrey. I eagerly hurried forward. “Have look.” She gestured at the microscope. Mauvrey went first; then I did. I saw a blood sample with a tiny amount of weird black liquid snaking through it like someone had spilled a drop of living vinaigrette on the slide.

  “That is the blood sample Wang Shu took from me,” Mauvrey explained.

  I cringed. “I can see why she is concerned.”

  “The trick to brewing Magic Mite Removal is freshness.” Wang Shu had already moved on to the shelves and waved us over there now. “Ingredients must be used within two weeks of collecting them. The first item I put in mortar dish was a tomato leaf with six ridges on one side and five on the other.” She proceeded opening jars—taking out each ingredient and holding it up for me and Mauvrey to see before setting it on her worktable. “Ginger root,” she said. “The feather of a crow.” This continued as she gathered two ounces of turtle saliva, eight snake scales, the juice of a full lemon, a spoonful of honey, and three black cat whiskers.

  “You only need to trim six millimeters off each cat’s whisker to get what you need,” she explained. “Do not pull the whole whisker. It would be unkind to the cat.”

  She started mashing all the ingredients together. After a moment, she gestured for me to take the pestle. I began to use it, but Wang Shu grabbed my wrist. “No. Do not crush. It is too much like stabbing. Press and roll.”

  I nodded and did as she asked. She patted my back roughly in approval. Wang Shu then retrieved a blowtorch from a drawer and asked me and Mauvrey to step back. The healer charred the ingredients and scooped them into a tiny tea bag, which she sealed and placed in a cup. She then grabbed an already prepared tea bag from another jar and plopped that in a separate cup. Wang Shu opened a cooler, pulled out a glass bottle with lavender liquid labeled “Milk of Paradise” and poured that into the second cup as well.

  “You will forgive the crassness of this presentation,” Wang Shu said as she added hot water from a steaming pot into each cup. “I have more appointments this evening with sisters who are healing from injuries, so we do things quick way today.” Wang Shu handed each of us a cup of tea. “You are both great heroes and r
oyalty, and I feel shame for not presenting this to you as part of a more formal and traditional ceremony.”

  “Thank you,” Mauvrey said. “And do not worry about it. Formality is far less important than getting the job done. I appreciate your help.”

  “Our sincerest thanks,” I added.

  Wang Shu bowed. “I bid you goodnight.”

  We bowed back and the healer hastened out of the room. As I looked around for the best place to sit and wait for Yunru, Mauvrey placed her cup on the counter then pushed up on the counter with her hands so she could boost up and take a seat there—feet dangling over the floor.

  “I am continually surprised by you, Mauvrey,” I commented. “I know you are not Tara; however, I still remember you as a prim and proper princess. When you make a joke, or fight back, or do something so casual and unladylike like that, I must say it throws me off.”

  “Have you never sat on a countertop, SJ?” Mauvrey asked.

  “I am sure our faculty at Lady Agnue’s, as well as my mother, would not approve.”

  “Well, live a little.” Mauvrey shrugged. “I am constantly trying to figure out my personality in this body—trying things and saying things and then deciding if they feel right. I do not know which traits will stick, but you and your friends have taught me that I can be bold and not feel ashamed of my self-discovery.”

  “You are trying to find yourself,” I summarized.

  “I am trying to exist,” Mauvrey corrected. “It is hard feeling so out of place and weighed down by guilt and regret every day. But I strive for a future where I can be fully accepted by all of you, and myself, and not feel like I am wanting for character.”

  I paused. In this moment I felt the first true connection I had made with Mauvrey since she had woken up. “I can relate to that,” I said. With a sigh I put my cup on the counter and boosted myself up next to her. The two of us dangled our feet in silence as we drank our tea. The only sound was the ticking of the clock until footsteps echoed up the hall and Yunru entered.