The Immortal of Degoskirke

by Michael Green

  Andy felt his stomach sink. His choices had stolen the hope of these people.

  “There are a few Eldermer who downplay Caspian, in favor of the forms of the deep past. Before Caspian, the Seers and their orders were more permanent, and, according to these elders, more dignified. There were many thousands of them, wielding the Argument, and training, much like you do. They held kingdoms and protected their people. They were the heroes and politicians of the ancient world. They called Caspian the Usurper, because he somehow became Voice and reserved an overwhelming amount of the Argument for his undertakings. It’s no coincidence that after thousands of years of warfare that the Seers, and their influence, faded almost completely after Caspian’s second or third wave of incarnations. He always excused it by saying that the ryle had become too efficient at culling young Seers, and that a new method was needed. Many of those who followed the Argument left the faith. The mer always stayed true; they even redoubled their commitment. I am proof of that.” She hung her head at the last, and sighed.

  “Why are you proof of that?”

  “I am married to you, of course. Or, to what you might be—I’m not sure. No one knew anything like this could happen.” She paused at Andy’s incredulous expression, “Let me explain: It was known that Caspian had a weakness for beautiful women. He wasn’t shy about it, and a disguised ryle seductress once ended his life. Our branch of faith was devoted to giving him everything he needed to succeed. One of those goals was to find the most enchanting woman alive, and raise her to love him, so she could never kill him. The Eldermer gave the most beautiful girls the choice of taking your vows. We live for you. We memorize your sagas, sing your songs, sew clothes for you. Young men come from across the scape to try and tempt us away; we’re that renowned,” she said, clearly pained.

  “Instead of Caspian, you end up sitting next to me. I cried on you and crawled on the floor.” Andy laughed.

  “I thought you disapproved of me. I was going to get my replacement.”

  Andy laughed even harder.

  “I’ll only say this once, because it will ruin me to say it twice, but, you are painfully beautiful,” Andy said, feeling like an idiot.

  She laughed and twisted her hair, leaning back into the couch. Her face blushed, and she pulled a pillow over her eyes. Andy joined her in laughter and started to relax.

  She’s not so bad.

  She finally put the pillow down and cocked her head at him. “Are you sure he’s not—that sounds like something he’d say. He was a breaker of hearts.”

  Andy felt a twinge of doubt. He listened carefully to his thoughts, searching for signs of the Usurper.

  Andy shivered, but was forced out of his thoughts as Ithmene put an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt himself start to melt. A warm flush rose across his face, and he leaned back on the couch.

  Worst, or best day of my life?

  He grinned like a fool.

  But what about Letty? Would she even care? She always hated me, until the end. She even slapped me when I came to get her. No, she punched me!

  “What did that painting look like? The one you saw in the Juncture, the one with the long story written on it?”

  “Oh,” Andy sputtered, “It looked like a large page covered in glowing Seer script.”

  She reached out and brushed a hand across his face. “No, I mean, what did it look like underneath? You said you made an image—”

  “Took a picture.”

  “Took a picture, then.”

  “Well,” Andy tried to remember the details. “It was a modern piece. Shapes and alternating complimentary colors. It wasn’t bad for something like that.”

  She yawned. Andy looked over at his alarm clock and realized that he should have been in bed hours ago.

  “When you were telling your story, I remembered, there is something like that. We have the Greylapse near the Panforum. It’s like the gallery you described. It has a painting similar to the one you saw in the Juncture. I saw it a few years ago. We can go in the morning. It would be good for you to get out.”

  Andy felt himself clench.

  “What?” she said, sensing his response. “You don’t want to be seen with me? I have other clothes, you know.”

  “Do ryle own the gallery?”

  She chuckled. “It is said so, rather often, but how could anyone know?”

  That’s it. That’s my plan. I go find the other ryle and warn them about Ziesqe. Maybe together we can stop his invasion. Ziesqe told me they were hesitant. Maybe I can convince them, let them know what he actually has planned. They’ll just think I’m Caspian, like everyone else! But maybe—they must know that the Cogito is still in place, that I haven’t taken it. Maybe they’ll work with me.

  Andy sighed.

  “What is it?”

  “A ryle army is preparing to invade the city.”

  She shot up, her eyes wide.

  “I think I might have a plan to save the city.”

  Shame it’s such a terrible plan.

  Chapter 6

  Twice Truant

  Letty rolled her eyes for the tenth time in under an hour. The float rocked gently as it took them down another grand avenue. People leaned out of their windows to wave and cheer. The guards, circling their float, were also tired of the fanfare; hafted weapons flagged against shoulders.

  “Three days. I’m going to murder Quill. Three days of parades, parties, and wasted time. And not once could I get away. And these clothes! I’d rather be wearing the brutox armor,” Letty whispered to Staza.

  Letty pressed down on her puffy orange dress; it refused to flatten. The float creaked as they were pulled over a bump in the road. The brutons were goaded to pull gently, which took extra effort from their handlers. Other, more legitimate, road goers had piled up behind the float, and, thanks to the heavy guard presence, were only grumbling about the delay.

  They came upon a plaza and the two debaters on stage, a woman wearing a red doublet, and a goblin carrying a mouse on his head, paused their lively back and forth to bow as the float trundled past.

  We don’t even get to listen to the debates.

  Letty sat back in her ornate throne and slumped.

  The deacon Silius had assigned to them on the first day tapped her on the shoulder. “Sit up straight, please! It’s the least we can do.”

  “Why does anyone even care that we’re from Caspia? What does it matter?” Letty complained.

  Quill and Staza paused their pained waving and looked over.

  “Why do Emma and Dean get to do fun things, while we have to go on these parades?” Letty asked.

  “Because you three are the most presentable, and also the most likely to cause trouble. Now perk up. The Daughters of the Secular Revolution are hosting a gala lunch and cultural dialogue for us. We should be there in half an hour.”

  Cultural dialogue! What does that even mean?

  Letty slumped further in her throne and when the deacon came to nudge her, she stared daggers his way. He relented.

  She took an agonized breath before sliding even further down her chair and watching the faces roll by.

  Wow, look at her.

  Letty sat up and stared at a young woman with teal skin and, what looked like golden eyes.

  She’s gorgeous.

  The woman waved, and nudged a hooded figure who stood nearby. The figure lowered his hood.

  No way—

  Letty’s eyes shot open as far as they could.

  Andy!

  She shook her head and pinched her cheeks. A moment later, they were gone.

  That’s it.

  Letty stood and approached the float driver.

  The deacon laid a hand on her shoulder. She stared at the hand and looked over to Quill and Staza. “Hold onto something.”

  “Excuse me, young lady—” the deacon stammered.

  Quill and Staza grinned, expectantly.

  “I’m sorry, you’ve been very good to us, but
this isn’t what we agreed to,” Letty said, before throwing the deacon off the float and into the crowd. She grabbed the lash from the driver, pushed him overboard, and then yelled at the brutons, “Heyah! Go, go!”

  They looked back at her, unimpressed.

  “Damn it!” Letty yelled, before Staza took the lash and cracked it angrily. The brutons took the hint and picked up their pace.

  Quill yelled, nearly flying overboard at the burst of speed.

  Staza laughed at the top of her lungs, and held on to her throne, which was luckily nailed down.

  The guards scattered and people screamed as the brutons charged down the busy street.

  “Get out of the way! Watch out! Oh, sorry!” Letty yelled at the passersby, the last of which took a mean tumble into a pile of vegetable refuse.

  The open spaces of the Panforum loomed ahead.

  We need to get off the float and duck down a side street.

  Letty looked at her friends. “We’re going to leap off in a moment; hopefully they’ll keep chasing the float. Get ready to run.”

  “We’ll break our legs!” Quill yelled.

  Letty looked out for a way to avoid breaking bones.

  “Like this!” Staza yelled. “Do what I do!”

  Letty was only a little surprised when Staza leaped from the charging float and, with her right arm outstretched, grabbed onto a lamp post. Her arm tightened, and the forward momentum transformed into rotation. She spun down and around the post before stopping on the ground and then chasing after them.

  “I don’t think I can do that!” Letty yelled.

  “Come on!” Quill replied, before following Staza’s example. Though his dismount involved slamming into a surprised ychorite, who changed colors a dozen times in his trip to the floor. Quill spun about his post and came to a stop.

  Letty took a deep breath and jumped. She grabbed a lamp post and swirled down exactly as Staza had. Her arm was instantly sore from the violent stretch, but otherwise she was unharmed, if not the focus of a few dozen surprised pedestrians.

  Staza and Quill caught up to her, and they turned down the first alley they could find. There were no guards in sight, and the sounds of the rampaging brutons and the rogue float could still be heard minutes later.

  “What’s the plan, Letty?” Staza asked, as they paused for a moment in an enclosed trash area behind a tavern.

  “That was—the plan,” Letty said, catching her breath.

  “Damn good plan,” Quill replied. “The last few days have been hell. I’ll take the trash over another inane party.”

  “Why’d you suddenly decide to do that?” Staza asked.

  “I just—” she paused, remembering what she saw, “my guilty conscience is getting to me. I thought I saw Andy for a second back there. I just couldn’t waste any more time,” Letty said, glaring at the absurd orange dress they had her in.

  “Of course, but what do we do now?” Quill asked, chafing in his high collared doublet.

  They heard a noise and looked up at a goblin with a bag of garbage.

  “No squatters in trash area please! Wait—you’s the Caspiards, aint ya?” the goblin asked, suddenly excited.

  “No, we aren’t. We just look like them,” Quill said.

  “Ah, well, might you like to come inside the ‘stablishment and take drinks with the mates. We—”

  “They’re over here!” A small voice called out.

  They looked up and saw a few mice deftly bounding across the bricks of the buildings. Another mouse appeared from a window and raced across a clothesline.

  “They’re here! We found them!”

  The goblin looked up at the noise. “Talky vermins, only drink thimble fulls.”

  “Thank God we found you,” Blue’s voice called out from on high. The familiar mouse climbed straight down the side of the building before alighting on the goblin. He didn’t look right; his fur was painted white, and he wore a robe concealing his face.

  “No God talk in my ‘stablisment, damn red robes will put me outa businesses!”

  Blue ignored the goblin. “We didn’t know you were going to make a move. It took you long enough!”

  “You could have warned us that this would happen!” Letty complained, confused by his appearance.

  “How was I supposed to know you’d tell them that you were all from Caspia? The two cities have only hated each other for decades!”

  “Fine,” Letty said. “But why did you paint yourself?”

  “It’s my own business, girl! Don’t mention it again,” he insisted, casting glances at the humans.

  There was a long and angry silence.

  “So—drinks?” the goblin asked, gesturing to his rickety tavern. “Ten percentages off the thimble-brau, for the miceys!”

  “To hell with your thimble-brau!” Blue snapped, before gesturing to his mice.

  A pair of mice lowered a silver coin on a string in front of the goblin.

  “Err, for your silence, sir,” Blue said, in a grudging, apologetic way, before turning to Letty and the Caspians. “Let’s go! We need to get you dressed properly.”

  “Thank God,” Letty blurted out, as Blue climbed up her shoulder.

  “This way. We can get you to a nearby safe house and have the clothes delivered there,” he said, tugging on Letty’s ear to get her to turn, like she was a giant horse.

  Letty swatted him away. “Directions only, please,” she sniped.

  “Right, right, it’s just rather dangerous for us at the moment—stop back up!”

  Letty did as she was told and bumped into Quill and Staza. Blue gestured up to his mice, who were following along on the sides of the buildings.

  Letty and her friends crouched behind a pile of crates as a single armored guardsman came into view. He was breathing heavily and looking down every alleyway. He turned towards their alley and stepped closer.

  Letty grasped the Argument but doubted that she could hurt a human.

  Blue saw what Letty was about to do and pointed out a team of mice as they climbed across a wall and descended to knock a trash can over behind the guardsman.

  The guard turned about and rushed towards the noise.

  “Now!” Blue whispered.

  They rose and sneaked by, turning down another side lane, before rushing away.

  Blue led them through Degoskirke, always favoring side streets and alleys, where they were available. However, they were forced onto a busy main street by a fallen building. Letty, distracted by the debates on a nearby stage, bumped into an ychorite carrying a basket of clean laundry.

  “Excuse me,” Letty said.

  “You’re fine—” the ychorite replied, only to awkwardly pause, face to face with Letty.

  Letty blinked and took a step back, surprised by the ychorite’s sudden stare.

  “Well step aside then!” Blue yelled from Letty’s shoulder.

  The ychorite dropped the basket of laundry and pushed violently through the crowd.

  “What’s his problem?” Quill asked.

  Blue yanked on Letty’s hair. “Ow!”

  “Look at me, damn it!”

  Letty turned her gaze to the mouse on her shoulder.

  “Your damn eyes! They’ll get us killed!”

  Letty felt her stomach sink; she had been rolled out of bed by the diplomatic committee so early this morning, she forgot her carrot.

  “Well don’t just stand there! Get moving!” Blue demanded.

  Letty nearly tripped over the fallen laundry. Pushing down the street, she looked over her shoulder and spotted a handful of people in torn, filthy robes investigating the fallen laundry and looking through the crowd.

  Despite their clothing, Letty could see the healthy, strong forms of the bodies beneath, and she remembered Onya of the Heart, and her threats.

  Commanded by Blue, she and the Caspians turned down a side street. Blue led them on a circuitous route, which finally terminated at a dingy coffee shop.

  An old woman sat t
hem in a corner at Blue’s request. As they were arranging the rickety chairs, Letty realized that the woman was blind. Letty took a deep breath and felt herself relax.

  “What are we doing?” Staza whispered.

  “Sitting silently and enjoying our coffee,” Blue whispered, his ears flat and his brow furrowed to the point that no one dared utter another question.

  Minutes later, a team of Blue’s associate mice entered the shop wordlessly, scampering along the baseboards.

  “I have seats for builders in the window boxes.” The mice winced at being noticed. “Or I can set this up for you.” The old woman paused, reached behind the counter, and produced a tray covered in mouse sized tables and chairs, all somehow affixed. “You can sit at the large table if you have business with my other guests, which I think you do, as you’re headed right to them,” the old woman said.

  The lead mouse of the team gulped, but Blue spoke up from their table. “The tray will be fine, miss.”

  The old woman smiled and expertly moved their dishes, making room for the tray. She produced a miniature samovar and cabinet, and hung a tablecloth from underneath the tray, allowing the cloth to fall down to the floor.

  The mice scurried up the cloth and found appropriately sized cups and plates within the miniature cabinet.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have someone your size available to serve you—I hope all the dishes are in good shape, my fingers are too foolish to sort them,” she said sheepishly, bearing her hands which shook with a slight tremor. “I trust my guests to help keep them in order for me.”