by Jamie Davis
“Can’t you do some digging and ask your sources at the Department headquarters?” Morgan asked.
“That’s the problem with this promotion, Morgan. It actually makes it harder for me to do that kind of investigation. I’m at a level now where people notice if I’m nosing around or asking questions in places where I don’t belong. They’ll start wondering what I’m doing and why I’m there. I can’t afford that kind of attention if we want to help Winnie directly.”
“So what do we do?” Morgan asked. “I suppose I can be more diligent in scanning communications coming in from my new position in dispatch and research.”
“That’s a good idea, but be careful. Don’t leave any trail in the system that could lead back to you if you go beyond reading incoming mail and other intercepts. Kane’s no idiot. He surely knows that Winnie has some sort of contact in the department — you’ll be suspected of collusion no matter what I can do to cover for you.”
“Director Kane thinks he knows where I stand and that I always toe the company line regarding chanters and the Sable trade.”
Victor winced, remembering when Morgan had realized what the Harvester was doing. Kane had chosen that moment to congratulate her loyalty. It was a chilling point in her life and had transformed her belief in what she’d been doing up to that point.
Victor changed the subject. “Can I drop you at the communications center on my way in?”
“Aren’t you coming into City Headquarters?”
“I have a meeting first. I’ll be back at HQ later in the morning.”
“What’s your meeting about?”
“Boring policy with some stuffy administrators. Nothing exciting.”
Victor didn’t want Morgan to know out about his multiple trips to the crater each week. He found the visits restorative. They helped him organize his thoughts and prepare for the subterfuge of his days trying to undermine the department’s work from the top down.
Morgan waved off Victor’s comment, grabbed the plates, and put them in the sink. “Pull the car around from the garage and I’ll meet you downstairs. I just have to put my face on.”
“Sounds good,” Victor agreed. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
It was time for another day of living more than one lie.
CHAPTER 7
Victor dropped Morgan off at the Red Legs building, then pulled into traffic and started towards the city’s northeast corner. He could feel the crater’s pull, tugging at him in some intangible way. He believed he might be able to find his way there even if he was blindfolded. The sensation was wondrous and strange. It intensified as he drew closer, until it was a tiny buzzing in the center of his chest, like it always was when he pulled into the steel mill’s abandoned lot.
He killed the engine and savored the sensation. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, more was like the feeling of glorious anticipation and exhilaration he’d felt before jumping from a high-dive platform as a child.
Victor drew a deep breath and got out of the car. He noticed the differences immediately. The sidewalk was now cracked and broken from below, crumbling at the parking lot’s edge. Wildflowers bloomed from the cracks amid lush tufts of brilliant green grass. The sky was clear and blue, no sign of the orange dust permitting the rest of the heavens.
Victor could smell the fragrant blossoms as he approached the main building, growing stronger by the step. Despite the outside changes, he was unprepared for what he found inside.
Previously, the door led to a catwalk surrounding a large central factory floor. There was a crater in the room’s center, containing the magical entrance to the other world. The Fae crater hadn’t expanded, at least not exactly. It was better to say it had outgrown its borders. The factory floor was now covered in lush grass. There were vines and even entire trees growing in past the catwalk and stairs leading down to the floor. He could see the flitting lights and tiny shapes hinting at the winged fairies he’d seen so many times before. But now, they weren’t staying in the crater; they were flitting all about around the cavernous room.
Victor stood, taking in the tableau unfolding below, smiling at its impossible beauty. Before he knew it, Victor found his feet wandering across the catwalk to the stairs.
A tiny voice sounded to his left. “Hello, Victor. I missed you.”
He turned and saw the tiny girl hovering next to his head, tiny wings like a dragonfly buzzing in the air behind her.
“Hello, Seelie. I missed you, too.”
“I’ve been watching. I see that you’ve discovered your talent.”
“That was your voice I heard when I removed the magic from that charm? You startled me.”
“I’m sorry. We are tied together and I can sometimes see what you are doing. I don’t mean to pry, but I’m curious about the world beyond this place.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be kind to one such as you. I’m sorry.”
“The Lady had told us to keep to our work here. Someday, we can freely travel the world as we used to.”
Victor turned, looked to the clear blue pool in the crater’s center. “Is the Lady here now? I would talk with her again, if so.”
Seelie giggled, flipped around in the air, then hovered to a stop before him. She tapped the side of her head. “She talks to us here. And besides, talking to humans is hard for her. It has been, ever since our magic was stolen.”
“Magic was stolen from you? Who took it, Seelie? Tell me and I’ll find the thief. Then maybe I can to return it to you.”
The tiny fairy giggled again and pointed to Victor. “You all stole the magic, many years ago. The Lady has told us all the story.”
“I would love to hear about it, Seelie. Will you share it with me?”
“I guess so.” The tiny Fae shrugged. “Come. The others will want to be there. We love this story because we are part of the ending!”
Seelie turned and flitted over the balcony railing, now overgrown with deep green ivy, flying down towards the crater.
“Wait for me,” Victor called out, racing to catch up to Seelie. He didn’t want to miss a thing. This story seemed more than important, somehow significant, as if his quest were dependent on its telling.
He raced down the stairs, barely noticing that the lower landing had become a tiny hillock, covered with grass. The final flight of stairs was now a gentle slope downward. He focused on Seelie, unwilling to lose her. But Victor didn’t need to worry — Seelie stopped and waited at the crater’s edge, now a deep, grassy depression in the center of the room.
“Don’t worry, silly. I won’t start without you.” Seelie said when Victor caught up. “Come. This tale has more power when told at the water’s edge.”
“The story has power?”
“All stories do. A story can change history, make good people do terrible things, or turn evil on itself until it is good. The telling of a story in its proper place and time can gather and strengthen its power. You’ll see.”
Though the water’s edge was a small, clear blue pool from above, down here that pool became an endless lake, bounded by trees and mist on all sides.
“Please Victor, sit, and I will tell you the tale as it was told to me and my brethren.”
Seelie’s voice no longer had its childlike quality. Now it carried the weight of wisdom earned through the years.
“Long ago, before humans recorded the passing of time, the Fae tended to the natural world, maintaining balance between all things. Their magic was powerful and dwelt in all living things. Very early on, it was discovered that some humans had an affinity to manipulate the magic within them. These few became the bridge between worlds. We reached out to these humans, and with their help, we maintained the balance between light and dark. Only by keeping that balance could the world continue to thrive as intended.”
Victor heard the words, but he experienced them, too. He could see the peaceful interactions between the Fae and their human colleagues. He sensed the way balance was maintained by their actions. There were
times when one or more of the humans tried to upset that balance by taking more than their share of magic. But the Fae and other human protectors always worked to restore the balance.
Then Seelie arrived at an intersection in the story … a place where Victor could sense multiple possible conclusions.
“Then came the fall, a dark time for mankind. On the fringes of a crumbling empire, men struggled against dark agents to control the future. A man named for the hawk — Merlin, to his friends — approached the Lady and requested a great boon of the Fae. He wanted the talisman that controlled all the magic so that he might set his people and all humans back on the proper path, towards a future of machines. The Lady was reluctant. This was a dangerous request. As long as the Fae possessed the talisman, they could maintain the balance. By giving it to the humans, they would surrender this power until its return.”
Seelie paused, and Victor realized he was surrounded by hundreds of fairies, all gathered to hear the story. While they’d been reluctant to come close before, they were quite near him now. A tiny boy turned toward Victor, waving with a smile. Victor waved and smiled back. He felt a sense of belonging that he’d never experienced before. Seelie’s voice drew him back to the story, and he let his mind sink inside it.
“Merlin was persistent in his pleas. The Lady had grown fond of the human and finally relented, giving him the talisman in a form humans could understand. He was to hold it for one generation only, using it and his own magical power to help a young king forge a regional sanctuary of order and light amid the chaos and darkness. He was to return the talisman back to the Lady at the end of his reign, by his own hand, as such things must always be given freely, without coercion.”
Victor, in his mind’s eye, saw the Lady hand a gray-haired and bearded man a shining sword with a golden hilt. As she released the blade into his hands, she offered her final words of warning:
“Guard this talisman well, Merlin. Great woe will befall both the land and mankind in the years to come if it isn’t kept safe.”
“I will, my lady. The talisman will be encased in stone until the time when the once and true king should draw it forth. I shall guide and counsel him through his reign and ensure that he returns it to you when his work is complete.”
Victor sat for a time, hearing these words play over in his mind. Then he realized that Seelie had stopped talking and that the other fairies were starting to disperse.
“Wait, Seelie, what happened next? That can’t be the end of the story.”
The fairy shrugged. “No one knows the end. When the talisman was given over, we lost the ability to control our magic and to foretell what might be in the future. The Lady told that the time of magic and machine were never meant to intersect. So now the world is slowly dying, as machines leach magic from the world.”
Victor thought about the talisman, the sword handed to Merlin all those centuries before. It seemed somehow familiar. His brow furrowed.
Seelie misread his expression. “Don’t worry, Victor.” The fairy flew forward and laid a tiny hand on his cheek. “The time has come when things might be set right. That’s why you’re here. You’re the once and future queen’s protector. You will help her recover the talisman so she can restore the world and return it to us.”
“But what if I don’t know what to do?”
“You’ll know, Victor. That is why you were chosen, why all of the queen’s companions were chosen. You’ll know because it’s the right thing to do.”
Seelie’s final words echoed in Victor’s head — on his way to the car, inside the cabin, and every moment through the rest of his day, walking through a world that was never meant to be.
CHAPTER 8
Winnie was excited to exert her newfound power.
Several bosses had sworn their allegiance. She still held out hope that there might be a way for the bosses to show the middlings that chanters could live peacefully with their neighbors without lawmakers resorting to the sort of laws and crackdowns that had been put in place so far.
She looked at her friends sitting in the back of her shop. Cait was sharpening a knife she’d produced from somewhere in her leather outfit. Tris was sitting with her nose in a book. Danny was playing cards with Cricket, losing, judging by his expression.
Things had progressed well following their mission to land Colten Sico’s loyalty. Winnie had received overtures from other bosses in the Midwest and on the West Coast asking for meetings to coordinate efforts. It wasn’t the same as the formal ties of her allegiance with the East Coast bosses, but it was a solid start. She glanced at the latest email from Diego Chavez, the San Angeles boss. It was time to try another part of her plan.
Winnie broke the silence. “Now that we have more bosses coming on board, we can push back against the Red Legs.”
Tris looked up from her book. The diminutive Sable tech had fire in her eyes. “We could orchestrate simultaneous attacks on Red Leg Precincts across the country.”
“No, Tris,” Winnie countered. “I’m talking about organizing peaceful demonstrations. We organize with some of the community outreach organizations in each city, groups like the Chanter Benevolence Fund. The CBF has chapters in every major city, and they’re known for their charitable focus. We want to organize without threatening the middlings any more than we have to. The Assembly has led us out onto this ledge, but we can turn around and walk the other way.”
“Winnie, after all they’ve done to us … ” Tris stood. “You of all people should know we can’t back down. If we could reason with the Assembly, then we’d have never had to face the Harvester. Have you forgotten what that thing did to you? To us?”
Winnie shook her head. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. But I don’t think we can fight them head-on. We’ll lose if we try. The Red Legs and Kane aren’t the Assembly. They can be reasoned with, if we prove that we’re reasonable.”
“I agree with Winnie.” Cait said. “If this comes to a war in the streets, everyone loses. We don’t have the manpower or the resources to go toe-to-toe with the Red Legs, not even with all the bosses on our side. This might be our best option to avoid any sort of armed conflict.”
“You’re all fools!” Tris picked up her book, shoved it in her bag, and marched out of the office toward the front door. “Your plan will backfire. Maybe then you’ll come to see things my way.”
Winnie watched her go.
The room was silent until Danny finally spoke. “When did she become the radical anarchist? She’s barely the same person.”
Winnie turned to Danny. “It’s been hard on her. All of the techs are exhausted, pushed to the breaking point. None of them want a repeat of Boston so they work until they collapse, then they take a nap and get right back to work.”
“There’s no way they can continue at that pace for much longer.” Cricket shook his head. “Something’s gotta break. Tris knows it and doesn’t want it to be her fellow techs. I can’t help but think she’s right.”
“That’s all the more reason to buy us time,” Winnie said. “It’s why I have to find others like me who can work to fix the problem, not just hold off the system’s inevitable failure.”
“You really think there are more chanters who can do what you can?” Cait asked. “You were only able to do that after the Harvester broke and surged all that energy through you.”
“I think it made me stronger, but I don’t think it changed my basic ability. Remember, I was doing things others said I couldn’t do before we faced that machine.”
Danny stood and dropped the deck of cards into his pocket. “I’m the odd one out here. But even if I can’t use magic, I do know something about how middling leaders think. They haven’t trusted chanters for a long time. If you do something, especially on a large scale, you’d best be careful. Anything goes wrong and that will only prove their fears were right, and justify their actions against you.”
“The kid’s right,” Cricket said, winking at Danny. “Even if he’s lousy at car
ds. We can try some sort of peaceful demonstration to voice our concerns, and using the CBF as a front is an excellent idea. They’re peaceful, and a charity. No one will feel threatened.”
Winnie nodded, feeling an internal sense of urgency. They had to find others like her before things spiraled out of control. There was a rising tension in the community; things had been heating up for more than a year, and now they were rolling to a boil. It was time to defuse the situation.
“Let’s get started,” she said. “We have to make this work.”
———
“Red Legs must go!” the crowd chanted as they marched through the streets.
The original group of a hundred or so demonstrators outside the CBF hall had grown to more than a thousand as the march progressed. Now, other voices were shouting in unison over the organizers, calling out for more radical outcomes.
Winnie watched from the front seat of Danny’s car. She picked up her phone and tapped to place a call.
“Cricket,” she said when the phone on the other end picked up. “What’s going on up there in New Amsterdam? Things are getting out of hand here in Baltimore.”
“People are starting to throw rocks and smash things,” Cricket answered from the other side. “The Red Legs and conventional police have formed a riot line ahead of the marchers, who’ve stopped about a hundred yards away from the. I think you need to head back to the apartment and check the TV coverage. If your marchers are getting rowdy, too, then the news stations are not going to be kind to us. We need to know what is going on elsewhere in the country.”
“Good idea. I’m hoping the CBF leaders can keep things from getting that bad here, but I’m not sure.” Winnie hung up the call and turned to Danny. “Take us out of the Enclave and head home. We need to get a handle on what is going on everywhere.”
“Done,” Danny replied. He gunned the engine of the sports car and pulled away from the curb. “It doesn’t sound like the demonstrators are playing nice in New Amsterdam.”