Clarity gave him a small smile. “Thank you for that.”
Cass somehow suspected she would continue with her plan even if he had said he was going to report her, even though she probably had more to lose than he did. His mother would never abandon him, he knew, and Clarity didn’t have anyone but the paladins to call family. Yet she would sacrifice everything for people she barely knew, though they rejected everything she stood for. She’s right. That’s what being a paladin means. So I guess I have to decide if it’s more important to be a paladin in name or in practice.
Chapter 11
After an uneventful tech support hour, Clarity muttered something about needing to order a dress, and Cass had a course of action. She hadn’t had much to say during their hour of answering calls and responding to drop-bys. Knowing her, she was giving him the time he needed to consider her proposition. Not that I do know her all that well, I guess.
His growling stomach told him he should use his lunch hour to eat something, but his mind was too occupied with Clarity’s request eating at him. It should be an easy choice, he thought as he roamed around the Citadel grounds. I should want to help. Or should I? The laws exist for a reason, and I can’t do anyone any good if I’m out on the street. Clarity seemed to have decided to help instantaneously, consequences be damned, but he didn’t know that for sure. Maybe she’d spent ages---or at least hours---trying to figure out what to do about the situation. Somehow, he didn’t think so, though. In the couple of days in which he’d bothered to get to know her at all, he’d formed a mental image of her as the perfect warrior paladin with no doubts. Like my father. But then, not like my father, because he wouldn’t lift a finger to help people who rejected paladin rule.
When Cass reached the small building known as the chapel, despite having nothing to do with religion, he hesitated a moment before ringing the chime. In the two minutes before the metal door swished open, he gazed up at the blocky building and considered turning and leaving, but in the end, he stayed. He needed guidance, and the chapel was the best place to get it.
When the door did open, a young woman with frizzy, red-blond hair and a puzzled expression stood on the other side. “Cass Hughes? What are you doing here?”
Cass needed a moment to place her, but then he remembered. “It’s Hope, right? Clarity’s friend?”
“Right, Clarity’s friend. Or, as is probably more relevant at the present moment, the future Visionary.” Her voice held a bit of spice.
Cass cringed. “Right, I’m sorry. I just came from talking to Clarity, and well… You know what? It’s not important. I wanted to talk to the Visionary.”
Hope wrinkled her nose. “You know, most people schedule an appointment through the app before showing up.”
Cass wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve her attitude. From what he gathered, she was usually a sweet person. “How do you know I don’t have an appointment?”
She looked at him as if he were stupid. “I keep her calendar. Even if she were inclined to see you immediately, which I doubt, she’s still at lunch for another half hour.”
Right, of course. He knew in a vague sense the future Visionary basically acted as an assistant to the current Visionary. He guessed he hadn’t really paid attention to the role in the past, since she’d never asked anyone to fix her future-seeing device. Come to think of it, I don’t have the foggiest idea how that thing works. Also, do I really think of everything in terms of my job? “Well, can I come in and make an appointment while I’m here.”
Hope stepped to the side and gestured him inside. Cass had never been in the chapel before. The inside didn’t look any more like a place for prayers than the outside---no nave or altar or statues or pews. It looked more like the therapist’s office his mother had made him visit after he told too many “lies” about his brother’s behavior. The room’s walls were a bright, cheery yellow, and ambient music played in the background.
Hope walked around behind her desk and sat down. She pressed the flat screen, and what looked like a very packed calendar hovered in electric blue over the surface. “Looks like her next available appointment is in three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” Cass blinked a few times, certain he’d heard that wrong. “I can’t wait three weeks! Can’t she fit me in tomorrow?” He almost told Hope dying children were involved, but he didn’t want her asking questions. Clarity had said she didn’t want her friends to know about her recent extracurricular activities.
Hope seemed more amused than anything else. “The Visionary is a very busy woman. The only reason she has an appointment that soon is because she had a cancellation.”
Cass threw his arms up in the air. “This is an emergency!”
“Cass.” Unperturbed by his theatrics, Hope gave him a level look. “I’m sure you think you have an emergency, but the Visionary only makes exceptions for issues that affect all of the order. Honestly, I’ve seen her tell Council members to wait their turns more often than not. The only person she never says no to is---”
“My father.”
“Exactly.” Hope considered him a moment before continuing. “And if I might be so bold, perhaps the fact that you think your choice is so important is an answer in and of itself. If you have a time limit to decide, and the absence of determination is untenable, maybe you already know what to do.”
Cass stared at the future Visionary, who was barely more than a girl, and thought she might have a point. Making the choice to do nothing was the same as the decision to wait for the Visionary. He didn’t know how someone so young could be so wise, but he supposed that was why she had been chosen to select future paladins.
“Do you want me to put you down for the appointment in three weeks then?” Hope asked.
Cass was about to tell her not to bother when a door slid open off to Cass’s right. He and Hope both turned to see the Visionary emerge. Her pale skin bore a few signs of age, but her hair was still a robust auburn, and her eyes a piercing gray. She was younger than Cass’s parents, as she’d been in the position since shortly after she graduated school. Cass had heard that was often the case with Visionaries---they selected their apprentices just in time to train them. He wondered if it worried her that Hope had graduated.
“Hope, can you tell me what---?” The Visionary broke off as she took in Cass’s face. “Perspicacity.”
Cass stood up straight, giving the proper respect to the woman who was, by some estimation, the most powerful member of the order. “Ma’am.”
Hope stood up and straightened her uniform. “I apologize for the noise, ma’am. I was just telling Cass that your next appointment is in---”
The Visionary held up a hand, and Hope fell silent. The older woman looked Cass up and down. Her gaze stopped on his metallic left arm with what might have been a pained expression, though why his disability should hurt her, he didn’t know. “I have some time. I will see him now.”
“Really?” Cass asked, as Hope blinked several times. “I mean, of course, Visionary. I am honored.” The Visionary arched an eyebrow, then turned and went back through the door she had come from. He followed her into what he assumed was her office, a small room with tranquil blue walls and a carpet of almost the exact same color.
The Visionary sat behind a metallic copper desk with no computer screen embedded in it and folded her hands atop it. “Perspicacity.” She said his full name again, though she must have known his nickname. Hope had just used it, after all. He supposed since she had named him, she had a right to call him whatever she wanted. “Your father hated that I gave you that name. He thought a son graced by what he perceived as a lesser virtue could never hold an important role in the order. I’m curious what you think.”
Cass hesitated before moving forward and sitting in the armless chair in front of the desk. “I think all paladins are important. Not everyone needs to be a leader. Some of us can just sit in dark offices and b
uild AIs. But you’re right. My father doesn’t see it that way.”
The Visionary nodded. “My role is an interesting one. Most people think I choose who the paladins are, and to some extent I do. I am guided, though, by a very old technology that allows me to see glimpses of who a child will become, should they accept the mantle. My interference begins and ends with that selection. I do not have any say, for example, in who becomes Grand Conductor.”
Cass could think of a number of ways to interpret her statements, but he zeroed in on the one least relevant to his current predicament. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have chosen my father as Grand Conductor.”
The Visionary smiled. “Certainly I would never be so foolish as to say such a thing. And before you interpret that as a dislike of your father, I would not say so anyway. The Council at the time chose Steadfastness because he had qualities that were desirable for their vision of leadership. Whether those same values will always inform the selection procedure remains to be seen.”
“If you don’t mind my saying, you do still have power over paladin adults. It’s not like you just sit in this office waiting for your annual journey, or for babies to be born to the Families. There’s a three week waiting list just to see you.”
She gave a short laugh. “People seek me out because they think I can see the future for them, like some carnival fortune teller.”
“Well, can’t you?”
“No, I cannot.” She sighed. “The rules around what I can use the foresight technology for are very strict. The future is fluid, you see, and spending too much time in it can lead to madness. I can only use the device to look at children and see their paths, and then specifically their paths as paladins. Any more would lead to ruin.”
Cass thought of walking away then, wondering what use she could be to him, but he suspected she had more to tell him, even if it wasn’t what he had come to hear. “People come to you for advice anyway, so you must have useful knowledge from those glimpses you do see.”
“Indeed, I do,” she said. “In fact, it might be said that I shape the paladin order into my vision of what I believe it should be. I make choices. Current paladins may not understand how or why I let certain things come to pass, and future generations may judge me as a failed Visionary. But everything I have done has had a purpose, and of all my choices, I regret only one. And even that was only the illusion of a choice.”
Cass met her even gaze. “You don’t tell everyone this, do you?”
She shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “I tell some people some of it, and some other parts. Most of them do not understand or choose not to listen. I feel like you might take it to heart.”
“Is that why you agreed to see me?”
She folded her hands again, higher this time, so she could lean her chin on them. “I agreed to see you because I owe you an apology, Perspicacity. I did not realize the role you had to play in the events that would unfold until it was too late, or perhaps I would have given you a different name. But perhaps not. The one you have has served you well.”
“That is extremely cryptic. I don’t suppose you will tell me what any of these events are, will you?”
“Let me tell you about you, Perspicacity. You were named for your attention to detail, which has aided you in your role as a tech worker, though it may assist you in other capacities in the future. You have the kind of arrogance that can only come from being a genius in your field and the privilege of being from one of the Families, but you carry with you a bitterness that you must let go of if you wish to follow your true heart.”
Cass held up his index finger and gestured in her direction. “See, this is why people think you’re a fortune teller. Also, you’re one to go on about privilege. Aren’t you from one of the Families?” Cass was aware in some part of his mind that he should show the Visionary more respect, but she seemed so open. Besides, she had called him arrogant and bitter.
“I am not,” she said. “Visionaries rarely are. I don’t know if it is a cruelty to the Visionary or a kindness to the children that those who take new paladins away from their parents have faced the same plight.”
Cass thought about what Clarity had told him, about how a disagreement over one of those children had led to the creation of the Azure District. The whole premise was hard for him to grasp because he couldn’t imagine what his parents would have done had he or Valor not been chosen as paladins. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Steadfastness being anything but honored to give up his children for the good of the realm. The paladins did so much for Corinthium, yet apparently some parents saw paladins as nothing more than children thieves. “It’s not like we give those children a bad life,” Cass said. “They live in the most technologically advanced city in the nation and get a first class education. Most of the parents couldn’t provide anything like that kind of life for their children.”
“I’m not going to argue with you about the practice. It is as it is, and I have long since come to peace with it.” She held up her hand before Cass could argue. “And I have nattered on long enough about what is of interest to me. Tell me, why did you seek me out?”
Cass hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to say to her after her plethora of confessions. She wouldn’t have any special guidance short of what she had seen about him in a vision two and a half decades previously. “Would you believe I came because I realized I had no idea how your future-seeing technology worked, and I wanted to know?”
“I might,” the Visionary said. “You work for Tenacity, and she admires that kind of single-minded idiocy in her employees. But then, I also know other things that lead me to believe the timing of your curiosity would be extremely coincidental. And unlikely.”
The tightness in Cass’s chest eased up a bit. “So you already know why I’m here.”
The Visionary took a deep breath and steepled her fingers. “Not specifically, but I have some idea. I suppose I could talk around the subject for a long time. I do have a way of doing that when I can’t tell someone what to do. And I can’t tell you what to do. I can tell you that you may very well have a choice to make about what kind of person you want to be. Right now, you can hide in the shadow of your past and stay in that dark room for the rest of your life. No one would blame you for that, and it is perhaps safer there. Or you can take a chance and perhaps become something more than you are. But you know that is the choice you face, and I cannot make the decision for you. So my question, Perspicacity, is what do you want?”
“I want to be a paladin,” he said.
“And what is a paladin?” the Visionary asked.
Cass took a deep breath. “I thought I knew. But maybe I don’t.”
The Visionary nodded. “When you figure that out, you’ll know what to do.”
Cass stood up. “Thank you for your time, Visionary.” He turned and headed toward the door but turned back at the last minute. “Wait, I do have one last question.”
“Is it to see my technology? Because you know the answer to that is no.”
Cass shook his head. “No. I was just wondering. Did she come to see you?”
“And who is she?” The Visionary’s tone was bland enough for Cass to suspect she didn’t need to ask.
“Clarity. Did she come to see you?”
“I don’t usually reveal the details of my visits with others, but she did not. And you already knew that.”
Cass nodded, because she was right. He’d known Clarity wouldn’t need guidance from a Visionary to risk everything she had. He turned and strode out of the room. He could feel Hope staring at him on his way out, but he didn’t glance in her direction. He knew she would have questions about why the Visionary had chosen to see him, even if she didn’t ask them, and he didn’t have any answers for her. The Visionary seemed to think his choice mattered, that it was part of some larger plan even. She seemed to think he mattered, or at least could choose to matter. He
wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
He wandered back to his office, barely paying attention to his surroundings. He nearly ran into people twice, and the second one was some warrior who gave him a dirty look. He spent the afternoon failing to concentrate on work. Meg asked him at least five times why he wasn’t doing anything before Al told her to shut up, which was so out of character for the owl that the cat actually obeyed.
He left work on time for once and wanted to prowl around the Citadel waiting for inspiration to strike him. After the efforts of the previous day, though, he was far too exhausted. He went back to his room and stared up at the ceiling. After several hours, he glanced at the clock and realized it had been almost exactly twenty-four hours since Clarity had shown up at his door. Somehow that gave him the impetus to do what he needed to do. Ten minutes later, he rang the chime outside Clarity’s door. When she opened it, she was still fully clad in her bodysuit, almost as if she had been waiting for him.
“All right,” he said. “I’m in.”
Chapter 12
Clarity had every intention of shopping for a dress while she waited for Cass to make his decision. She felt like it was a little silly to focus on something as frivolous as a gala when children were dying, but her hands were tied until Cass made up his mind about helping. If she didn’t get an answer from him by the next day, she might consider some alternative, but she could at least afford to give him the afternoon. Given that, she figured she might as well do something else productive with her afternoon, even if it was shopping for a ridiculous dress.
She had made it as far as the bottom of the hill outside the Citadel when she noticed Grace coming up the walk back into the citadel. The spy wore her accustomed black leathers, but she strode up the walk in plain sight instead of engaging in any of the sneaky behavior from a few days ago. Clarity wondered if Grace was returning to the Citadel from the Azure District or if she’d had some other errand in town. Either way, Clarity realized she might have a better way to spend her afternoon than dress shopping: trying to forge another alliance.
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