by C. A. Pack
Jackson wiped his hands off on his jeans. “Nice hat! Where’d you get those threads?”
“Weren’t you aware that the College of Overseers appointed me Chancellor of the Exchequer for all realms?”
“The title sounds familiar, but that’s it. I guess it’s been kind of busy around here lately. So, you write checks?”
“No. I receive the checks. Or the taxes, to be more precise.”
“We have to pay you taxes?”
“It’s more to allow me to travel to all the realms and listen in on their rumors and innuendoes.”
Jackson smiled. “You’re the gossip guy? You could have fooled me. I think you look more like a college professor from some fancy-schmancy school.”
Mal grew serious. “Who saw Nero 51?”
“Ava did. There was some kind of explosion that knocked her out, so she’s sleeping now. But Mom made sure she came to first, and that’s when she said she saw Nero 51 take Odyon away in the time machine.”
Mal nodded. “I’d like to talk to your sister.”
“Mom probably won’t let you until morning,” Jackson said. “But considering it’s almost morning already, you probably won’t have long to wait.” He handed the decimator to Chris. “You have the watch.” He grabbed Mal’s arm and turned him toward the cupola stairs. “While we wait, we can have some really good pastries from room service, unless,” he raised his voice, “Chris ate them all.”
The Terrorian soldiers stared into the back window of the Juvenile library. A beam of moonlight glinted off something on the floor and Perog 2 said, “I see one of the weapons.” He tried to hoist himself up through the window but couldn’t.
“What’s the matter?” Mope 98 asked.
“There seems to be some kind of force field where the window used to be. It’s preventing me from entering.”
“Here, let me give it a try.” Mope 98 snaked his tentacles up along the building to grab hold of a higher windowsill and pulled himself up but was not able to enter the library. “Now what?”
“Wait here. I’m going to see if I can enter through the front door. Don’t do anything. Don’t make any noise. You don’t want to call attention to yourself. Wait for me here.”
Perog 2 crept around the building, even though he knew he was in danger of being discovered because the sky was growing lighter. He pushed the front door and gained entry to the front vestibule. But he could not gain further access into the library.
Through the glass, he saw the light from a torch across the way and saw two boys walking together. They didn’t appear to have a flame-thrower, or any other weapon, but he still plastered himself against the wall, hoping they wouldn’t notice him. He could clearly hear their voices and they seemed to be getting louder.
Out back, Mope 98 felt shivers run along his tentacles when he heard a twig crack. It sounded like someone was sneaking up behind him. Slowly, he snaked his tentacles up the tree behind the library and hoped the branches were strong enough to support his weight. He felt for two sturdy boughs and grasped them, shortening his tentacles to pull himself up into the tree. It was hard to find a comfortable position, but he couldn’t afford to make any noise, so he held himself uncomfortably still, praying Perog 2 would soon return—with a weapon.
As Mope 98 hung on for several long moments, he felt his body cramping and shifted his position. A branch cracked. He hoped there was no one around to hear it, but then he heard another twig snap and he knew someone was in the woods behind the library.
—LOI—
8
Jackson led Mal to the George V room.
“It’s very important that I speak to Ava as soon as possible,” Mal stressed, “before she starts to forget details.”
“You’ve got to convince Mom,” Jackson replied.
When they arrived at the suite, they found the lights dimmed. “I don’t hear anyone,” Johanna whispered. “Your mother probably went back to sleep after jumping through hoops trying to find donuts.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Jackson picked up the phone and dialed room service. “Bonjour, this is Mr. Oswald-Fitzpatrick of New York. I’d like three orders of your Paris-Brest pastries with coffee for three, please. … Very good. Thank you.”
Mal narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Oswald-Fitzpatrick of New York?”
Johanna shook her head. “Don’t ask.”
“What’s going on?” A very sleepy Ava in an oversized T-shirt walked into the living room.
“Just the young lady I want to speak with,” Mal said, smiling.
Ava stared at his hat.
Jackson followed her line of sight. “I told you that hat is a show-stopper,” he said, picking up the phone. “You want coffee?” he asked his sister.
“Tea. And French toast with strawberries.”
“Got it.” Jackson added her choices to their order and pulled out a chair for her at the table.
She looked at Mal. “You want to know about the octopus, don’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Every little detail. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how minor it seems.”
Ava rubbed her eyes. “I was running up the stairs when I saw a crystal fall onto one of the top steps. I reached out to pick it up, but a tentacle snaked down from the cupola and snatched it. I had the gun slung around my back, so I grabbed it and pulled it forward. That’s when I saw a huge bubble sitting in the cupola. I aimed the decimator, but then a man appeared inside the bubble with the octopus. I didn’t know who he was, or if I should shoot, and before I could figure it out they were gone.”
Mal leaned forward. “Describe the man who appeared in the bubble.”
“He looked like he owned a company or something. He looked like he had money. I thought I saw him pull his hand off, but then Jackson said it was a glove.”
Mal looked up. “You told her it was a glove?”
“No,” Jackson corrected them. “I asked her if he was wearing gloves, and she said yes.”
“It made more sense that way,” Ava continued, “because he showed the octopus his hand, and he has that same design Jackson has on his palm.”
“Like this?” Mal asked, showing her his left hand.
“Am I the only one who doesn’t have one of those?” Ava whined. “Although, maybe I don’t want one considering the octopus had one on his tentacle.”
“Are you sure?” Mal asked quietly.
“Yes, I’m sure. And then everything went bright white and…I woke up when Mom held one of those smelly things under my nose. One of those ampoules.” She exaggerated her pronunciation of the word, making it sound ridiculous.
“Do you remember anything else?”
Before she could answer, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Room service wheeled in breakfast. After they were settled, Mal continued his questions. “Did you hear anything?”
“No.” She stopped. “Except the octopus sounded like he was having an asthma attack.”
Jackson sucked out some of the cream from the center of his pastry. “I think Mal means the explosion.”
“I didn’t hear any explosion. There was just a bright light. That was it.”
“Did you hear the man and the octopus speak to each other?” Mal asked.
Ava stopped chewing. “I think they spoke. I saw the man’s lips moving. But I couldn’t hear anything they were saying.”
“I thought I heard people out here.” Mrs. Roth took a seat at the table. Before she could say another word, Jackson was on the phone ordering toast and tea for her breakfast.
“We get to feast on rich pastries,” Mal said, laughing, “and all your mother gets is toast and tea?”
“That’s all she ever eats,” Jackson replied.
“It’s true,” Ava added.
Mrs. Roth smiled. “My children know me well.”
Jackson turned back to Ava. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear the explosion. There was a loud boom.”
“No,” Ava said. “I just sa
w a flash of light, and that was it.”
Mal still had questions for Ava. “Are you sure you saw an Illumini constellation on the creature’s tentacle? Maybe you dreamt it when you fell asleep after the explosion.”
Ava popped the last piece of French toast in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “No. It was real. I would bet my life on it.”
The following morning, a council of elders met on Mysteriose. Both males and females had been encouraged to attend. Their discussion centered on Terroria’s new attempt to invade its neighbors, as well as the “tax” to pay for war preparations. The Mysterians knew they would have to have a unified front before they spoke to Proteus Bligh, or anyone else the College of Overseers chose to send their way.
Val Dvir, a priest from the village of Mecox asked, “How do we know the Terrorians initiated an attack? Maybe the overseers only made the claim as an excuse to assess taxes.”
“I trust Proteus Bligh,” Sean of Oster replied. “He wished to provide us with weapons to ward off the attack.”
“So that we’d feel compelled to pay for them,” Val Dvir said. “It makes the transition to taxes that much easier for them.”
“We have our own weapons,” a high priestess replied. “Why would we use theirs?”
PB:♆Because the weapons we are prepared to give you were designed by the Terrorians. You would be fighting them with their own technology.
Sean of Oster bowed his head in reverence to the overseer. “We welcome you, Proteus Bligh. We are not convinced the need to wage war against the Terrorians is warranted.”
PB:♆ Some might feel you prefer to fight with them.
Anger flashed in Val Dvir’s eyes. “You lie to incite us,” he shouted.
PB:♆ No, Proteus Bligh answered. PB:♆ Every realm is being given the same weapons. We know there are brave citizens on each realm who will do what they must to protect their homes and liberty. We offer you weapons because we’ve offered everyone else weapons. Whether you use them against the Terrorians or residents of other realms, the College of Overseers feels satisfied knowing all aggressors are evenly matched.
“What is this tax you want to collect from us?”
PB:♆ It is a small amount we believe all your residents should pay to help you keep up with the necessary expenses of war. Homes may be damaged and need to be rebuilt. Supplies may be destroyed and may need to be replaced. Your taxes will not leave this realm. Malcolm Trees, the Chancellor of the Exchequer will see to that. He will make sure your politicians do not squander it. Your taxes will only be used to make quick reparations for whatever items you lose during battle.
Usterice, a high priestess, rose to her feet, and everyone around her quieted. “How much is this tax and when is it due?”
PB:♆ You must decide on the amount as a group. You know what your homes and possessions are worth. You must decide on an amount that will cover their replacement and fairly apportion an amount for each to pay.
“What if we choose to have no taxes?” Usterice asked. “What if each of us wants to be responsible for our own losses?”
PB:♆ That would be very generous of you, especially if you alone lost everything and had to pay to replace it all, while your neighbors lost nothing. Think how you would feel, after putting your life on the line to protect them and their possessions. Wouldn’t you consider it an unfair burden upon yourself? Taxes help even out that inequity regardless of who bears the loss.
“I’m surprised your tax collector isn’t with you today.”
PB:♆ Our Chancellor of the Exchequer is busy on another realm. But I will ask him to return, if you wish to discuss ways in which to make the payment of taxes easier.
A few hours later, the glade behind the Romantican library filled with dozens of women of varying ages.
“Many, you have recruited,” Furst said. “What you are already doing, perhaps you could show us.”
The original members of Natalia Dalura’s nature walkers demonstrated their abilities with bow and arrow, stick fighting, and bodily maneuvers to evade physical punches and blows. When they were done, Furst gave the group a demonstration of how the Terrorian decimator worked.
HB:✠ I believe the best way to approach this is to divide by strengths. Everyone who believes they are strongest in archery, line up behind Natalia. Those who believe they excel at stick fighting, move to the other edge of the glade with Felicia, and those who would like to learn weaponry, move here behind Furst. Those remaining will be guided in hand-to-hand combat.
Most of the women gathered behind Natalia and Felicia. Few assembled behind Furst, and only one woman remained who was interested in physical grappling.
“Even out, we must,” Furst said. “Learn everything, everyone will. But, too lopsided, the groups are.”
Dame Erato and Horatio Blastoe divided the women into four platoons, and Natalia was reassigned to physical fighting while Arraba took over archery training. Each group anchored a corner of the glade, with the two more dangerous groups aiming their weapons away from the town proper and out toward the forest that divided the western edge of the capital city of Roma from the Wellendra Region.
Perog 2 was soon awash in sweat, caused by the fear of being spotted by the Juveniles walking in front of the Library of Illumination. Apparently, the teens were so wrapped up in their conversation, they didn’t notice the Terrorian hiding in the vestibule. The Terrorian waited for the Juveniles to disappear from sight and then waited some more. When he finally felt safe, he exited the vestibule and crept around the building but soon found himself again hiding from a Juvenile confab in the rear of the library.
He stood in the shadows of the building, working up the courage to peek around the corner in search of Mope 98. A quick scan did not reveal his countryman, and he wondered what hiding spot his fellow soldier might have found. He stayed hidden. How long can these kiddlets talk? He soon learned they could talk for a very long time about games, and weapons, and killing monsters. Why don’t they go home to their beds?
A few of the boys walked away, and the Terrorian relaxed, thinking they soon would be gone. But instead, the wanderers returned with twigs and branches and began to build a fire.
I cannot stay here, Perog 2 thought. I was better off hiding by the pond. Maybe that’s where Mope 98 has gone.
A drop of wetness dripped onto his forehead from above. He looked up into a tree to see Mope 98 hiding among its branches.
They had outrun the kiddlets once before and they could probably outrun them again. But there was always the possibility that the group with the flamethrowers would be waiting at the pond. They needed to get away from the library and secure a hiding place, but that wasn’t going to be possible as long as Mope 98 was stuck up a tree.
Mal, Johanna, and Jackson stood in the cupola talking about what Ava had seen.
“There’s not much you can do about it right now,” Mal said. “I’ll return to Lumi to tell Ryden Simmdry what happened and confirm Ava saw Nero 51 on Fantasia in possession of the time machine. I’m sure he’ll be interested to learn that Odyon and Nero 51 are traveling together.”
Jackson nodded once. “What should we do in the meantime?”
Mal rubbed his beard. “Aren’t you still in school?”
“Ye-ah,” Jackson said tentatively.
“Shouldn’t you show up for some classes?” Mal continued.
Jackson closed his eyes and grimaced. “Aww, Mal, why’d you have to say that? Besides, Johanna needs me here.”
“No I don’t,” she replied. “You graduate soon. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for finals or something?”
Jackson’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t even know what’s going on in school anymore.”
Johanna pushed him toward the cupola stairs. “Go call Logan. Tell him you need a refresher before you can take your finals. And while you’re at school, see Old Man Benson and tell him you’re sorry you haven’t been to all your classes, but you have family obligations that have preve
nted you from attending.”
Jackson perked right up. “I can’t believe you just called him ‘Old Man Benson.’”
Johanna’s jaw dropped. She thought back to what she had just said. There was no denying it. She punched Jackson in the arm. “Your bad habits are starting to rub off on me. We’re spending way too much time together. Go to school. And do not, I repeat, do not call him Old Man Benson, regardless of what I said. I was wrong.”
“I can’t wait to tell Logan you did that. He’s going to love it.” Jackson happily bounded down the cupola stairs, ready to catch up with his best friend.
“The two of you are usually so mature,” Mal said, “I sometimes forget Jackson is still a kid in many ways.”
“I don’t think I was ever that young, Mal. I don’t remember ever acting like a kid.”
“Running away from Peakie’s Foundling Home was something a kid would do.”
“I told you about that?”
Mal paused before answering. “I learned a lot about your background before we ever met. I had to know if you were the right choice for the Library of Illumination. So, I may know some things about you that you haven’t personally revealed. But I don’t know anything about you that I don’t accept wholeheartedly and that doesn’t make me proud to know you.”
Johanna fought tears as her nose prickled. “I’m surprised you were able to link me to Peakie’s.”
Mal smiled. “There was no Johanna Charette at Peakie’s. Just a bright, young girl named Josefina Charo who had completed her education and couldn’t wait to make her mark on the world.”
She sniffed. “Yeah.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “I wonder if there are any more of those French pastries left in the Roth’s suite? I think we could use a little pick-me-up right about now.”
“Uh!” Johanna gasped.
“What is it?”
“I just saw Nero 51 and the time machine make a flash appearance. Just for a split second.”