I was in the midst of a nap on my bed-sized platform when a deafening noise, somewhere between a bell and a sharp whistle, startled me awake. The man in black had returned. He stood in the hall as before, arms crossed, watching me through narrowed, leonine eyes.
“Look who it is,” I said, stretching. “Supper wasn’t half-bad, by the way, but if you’d care to improve your recipe, I’ve got a few ideas.”
“How did you gain access to the valley?” he said, the rumbling question exactly the same as the last time I’d heard it.
“You’re pretty rude, you know that?” I was annoyed at having my sleep interrupted and about being snuck up on generally. My fourth wall had been opaque when I began my repose, but it seemed when it came to privacy around here, I wasn’t the final authority. “And you talk funny.”
His response: the same question. “How did you gain access to the valley?”
“Why don’t you come on in here and ask? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
I thought I saw something then, a twitch at the edge of his mouth, like he was considering it. And then he said, “How did you gain access to the valley?”
“Fine, fine,” I said, disgusted. “Here’s how I got into your goddamn valley: I walked. Satisfied? There was a break in the ridge, and I just climbed on down.”
His only reaction was to go on looking at me in the same way. As he did not immediately repeat himself, I considered this a small victory, until he happened on a new line of questioning. “Why was there a break in the ridge?” he asked.
“How the hell should I know?” I shouted. I felt like I was dealing with an obstinate child.
“Did you cause the break in the ridge?”
“Of course I didn’t! What are you, crazy?”
“I do not believe you.”
“Well, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you believe. I’m telling you the truth.”
“I will discover the answer, whether you tell me or not,” the voice said, the floor vibrating with the bass of it. “This is your final opportunity to cooperate. Tell me how the ridge was broken.”
I crossed my arms, mimicking his pose, and stared at him, pointedly quiet. He nodded, as if understanding my meaning, and came toward me. I had the impression he intended to take me up on the invitation to come into my cell and chat, but then he raised his hand, pressing one finger to the invisible wall. He said something, but the sound had gone out of my cell, and I couldn’t hear what, and, anyway, it was plain he wasn’t speaking to me because his eyes were focused on the air between us, like a mirror had appeared there, and he was addressing his reflection. As he finished his speech, the space beneath his fingers rippled, and thick tendrils of cloudy red began to spread toward me, twisting and curling like blood poured into water.
I backed away, quite sure I did not want those red clouds to touch me, but my steps took me farther than the distance so few strides should have covered. I found myself on my bench, rolling over to go back to sleep. Then I was up and about, experimenting with my metamorphosing cell, eating a bowl of orangey gruel. In a moment the man in black was standing before me again, only now it was our very first meeting.
Somehow, I was being taken backward through my life, pulled rapidly through one experience after the next. Soon I would be returned to the Valley of Endless Summer, standing before that armored giant, and climbing back up the Ridge, and riding with the scouts, in reverse, to New Absalom. That was what he wanted, the man in black: to see how I had gotten into the valley. But if he saw that, he would see Naomi. He would see the scouts. He could find New Absalom, if he chose, and Mama and Baby Adam and all my family and friends. I did not want to think what he would do then.
I clawed at the visions around me, thrashing the way a person might at a nightmare. Time slowed, grinding with the awful heat of dry gears, and stopped, leaving me in the darkened woods, looking up at the brazier-faced giant.
“It will be unpleasant for you if you resist,” said the voice of the man in black, and for a blink I was in my cell again, inky red tentacles swirling all around.
“I reckon it’s going to be unpleasant, then,” I said.
And then I was back in the forest, only now the flow of time was hot enough to burn, straining to push past as I struggled to hold it back, until all at once the whole world tore away.
And suddenly I am standing in an icy field, snow falling, hearing my sister’s terrified voice through the trees . . .
And I am fourteen, slumped on a mound of grass, holding my side as hot blood pulses through my fingers, certain I am going to die . . .
And I am eleven, screaming for help as Leafcoat raiders ride my father down . . .
And I am six, choking on briny water as the tumbling ocean current carries me out, out, out . . .
The sea was all around me, forcing its way into my nostrils just as it had all those years ago, when all at once the water evaporated, and I was in my cell once again. I lay curled on the floor, a little puddle of vomit beside me, which I supposed I’d have to take credit for, there being no one else around who could have supplied it.
From somewhere overhead, that voice rumbled down. “You were warned. I advise you to cooperate from now on. It will be dangerous for you otherwise.”
Leaning against the invisible wall, I climbed shakily to my feet, so that I could look into the bespectacled eyes of the man in black. When I had a good view of his face, I spat in it. Spitting is not one of my particular talents—in contests held among the scouts, I regularly place fifth and below—but on this occasion I found a moment of virtuosity: a great gooey gob laced with bile and bits of my supper. Had there been no barrier between us, it would have struck him squarely in the face. As it was, the wad landed with a satisfying splat and oozed obscenely for several inches before something in the wall caused it to bubble and crackle and finally disappear. I decided I had made my position clear enough: I would not allow him one more moment of my past. If he wanted Naomi and Mama and Baby and the rest, he would have to break me first.
I believe he got the message. He allowed me one long look, brimming with contempt, then he was gone.
TWENTY-ONE
RAE
I remained there, glaring at the empty wall, and counted to one thousand in my head to be sure the man in black was really gone before I allowed myself to collapse into bed. I do not know how long I slept, but when I woke, my only company was a new bowl of orange gruel. When that was emptied, there was nothing to do but look at the ceiling and wonder about my coda, and when I did that, my cell would start to shrink; all the air went out of it, and I had the impulse to throw myself at the walls, screaming to be set free. Which, I reasoned, was just what the man in black wanted: for me to know I could just sit here and rot for all he cared. So, instead of thinking, I did push-ups and knee bends until I was too tired to stand, then I ate more gruel and slept. When I couldn’t sleep any more, I reprised my exercise routine, adding in jumping jacks.
Sometime later—I wasn’t sure how much later, days at the least—I was lying on the floor, working myself up for another round of knee tucks, when a low hum sounded above my head. It was the same variety of sound as the water drip that heralded my food or the shrieking whistle that announced the man in black, and I waited for something to happen, but the hum only came again, and a few seconds after, once more.
Finally, someone said, “Hello? Are you awake in there?” It was a real voice—no menacing rumble but a man’s low, rich tones. “You just have to touch the wall there,” it said.
I got up and did as the voice asked, partly curious, partly annoyed that its owner believed I hadn’t worked out this simple trick.
This new man was taller than the first but slimmer and not so martial in appearance, which made him seem younger, though I suspected the two were around the same age. He had on a suit much like that of his predecessor, black and neatly cut, with a s
ilver-trimmed collar. The low light lent his brown skin a dim luster, his handsome features set in a questioning frown. “Is this a bad time?” he said. “I thought we might have a little chat, but I can come back later if you’re busy.”
The faint grin he mustered then led me to believe this was meant as humor. I had assumed a look of steely defiance in preparation for the first man in black and decided it would serve just as well for this second visitor. I was determined to give up nothing about myself or my people, but I knew if this fellow wanted to talk, there was nothing I could do to stop him. I went and sat on my bench to wait him out.
Apparently taking my actions as an invitation, he summoned up a chair from the empty floor and sat, as if we were engaged in a pleasant social call. “I hope you’ll forgive our accommodations,” he said. “We’re somewhat overextended at present, and to be honest, people around here aren’t terribly concerned with your comfort, since they believe you’re a tribal shaman or warrior priestess intent on conquering our city.”
As he was speaking, he produced a small package from his pocket, which he now unwrapped to reveal a sandwich. The ordinariness of it took me by surprise. I had expected some new manner of infernal device. “Would you like to share?” he asked, when he saw me staring. “I doubt I’ll finish more than half. It’s fluffernutter,” he added, plainly considering this nonsense word compelling enticement.
Mama’s old lessons in etiquette rose up to betray me, and quite automatically I said, “No, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” He took a bite, chewed. “You’re not, are you? A shaman or priestess, or planning to overthrow our city? It would help if we could straighten that out right away.”
“No, I am not.”
“Good, great,” he said, smiling as if this were indeed good and great. “For the record, I never thought you were, but you’ve got quite a few people convinced you’re a rather serious threat.” He bit again into his sandwich, using his food as a rhetorical pause while he watched for my reaction.
“We’ve been having some trouble lately, you see,” he went on, when he had finished chewing. “The valley where you and I are now is quite isolated from the rest of the world. The mountain range surrounding us on all sides typically discourages any visitors. Some time ago, however, a number of uninvited guests found a way through. Initially, they were considered a mere nuisance, nothing worth worrying over, but it has recently come to our attention that they may have access to a very dangerous sort of power and, well, people around here are concerned.”
Again he bit and chewed contemplatively at his sandwich, and this time I took the chance to speak up. “And what does any of that have to do with me?”
“You,” he said, after chewing rather longer than seemed necessary, “are in a unique position to tell us how worried we ought to be about this power, since you were observed actually using it.”
As I was thinking about that, he took a pocket watch from his coat. “I’ve got to go,” he said, folding up the remainder of his sandwich, “but let’s talk again soon. You’ll have questions. And you’ll probably want a bath. I see you’ve been exercising.”
My white clothes had become stiff and yellowed with sweat, and I assumed he meant impoliteness until he pointed to one of my walls and said, “You just have to touch that part there to get the tub. Run your finger along the side to adjust the water. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“So,” I said as he turned to leave, “you must be Good Cop, then.” He regarded me quizzically, brows furrowed. “It’s a saying we have,” I explained. “Good Cop, Bad Cop. One person comes at you acting the part of marauder and bully, then another turns up friendly as you please, so you’ll start trusting and spilling all your darkest secrets.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Vinneas will do,” he said. “Bad Cop’s name is Imway.”
Only after he was gone did I notice my food had arrived; beside my usual bowl was the other half of his sandwich.
The bath worked exactly as promised, and I spent rather more time than necessary soaking, to make up for lost opportunity and also to test my theory that, no matter how long you sat, the water never got cold. Sure enough, my fingers and toes were prunes before I marked the slightest drop in temperature. A new set of clothes and a towel were waiting when I got up, my old wardrobe having likely walked off on its own.
The fluffernutter was better than I expected.
Vinneas returned a day later, as I judged the time required for two more meals, one long nap, and another very extended bath. For this visit he neglected to bring a lunch.
“You know,” he said, taking his seat outside my cell, “you never told me your name.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I’m asking now.”
“Rachel,” I said. “I go by Rae.”
He was silent a moment, as though testing my name for hidden weight and meaning.
“And now that we’ve been properly introduced,” I said, “I’d like to ask you a thing or two.”
“Of course,” he said. “I can’t promise all the answers, but I’m a good enough guesser when the situation calls for it.”
“You said I was seen using some kind of power. What did you mean?” I knew I was revealing something merely by asking, but it seemed a fair trade against what there was to learn.
“We call it ‘thelemity,’” he said, “the power, that is. ‘Force’ is probably a better word, like gravity or electromagnetism. It’s exceedingly complex—we’ve been studying thelemity for centuries, and we’re still only beginning to understand it. But what you should know is that it’s a kind of potential, one certain people can use to affect reality, to use it like an extension of themselves.”
“What sort of people?”
“People like you.” He shrugged, as if this were a matter of the utmost simplicity. “Our word is ‘revenni.’ It refers to people who can use thelemity to impose their will upon the world.”
“And you think I’m one of these—revenni?” I asked, slowly working over the unfamiliar vocabulary.
“Quite sure, yes. You demonstrated some very impressive talent with thelemity while our defense forces were trying to capture you. I’m sure you noticed your firearms were rather more potent than usual.”
I thought back to the woods, to the way my guns seemed to spew comets and stars rather than the bullets I had loaded. “A lot of good it did me.”
“You were still pretty thoroughly outgunned,” Vinneas said, “though from what I hear, you gave Imway quite a fight.”
“Wait,” I said, startled. “Are you telling me that thing was him?”
“Yes. Imway was in command of the detachment that brought you in. He’s an eques. It’s a type of warrior,” Vinneas added, reading my confusion at yet another strange term. “The closest word in your language is probably ‘knight.’”
Knights appeared here and there in Papa’s old stories, usually in opposition to all his monsters and dragons. The man in black was not so dissimilar in appearance from the knights I had imagined, though to continue the conceit any further would mean disregarding his character entirely.
“The closest thing in my language is probably ‘douche bag,’” I said. Now it was Vinneas’s turn to puzzle over my wording. I explained, “It means someone who acts like a jackass because he knows there’s no one to stop him from doing as he pleases.”
Vinneas’s expression made me think I wasn’t too far off, but he said, “Imway isn’t proud of injuring you. If it makes you feel better, you rather embarrassed him on his first official mission. And you damaged some extremely costly equipment while you were at it.”
That did make me feel better, though I wasn’t about to admit it. “So that thing was some suit of armor? He was inside of it?”
“Exactly. It’s called an ‘equus.’”
“And your valley,” I said, my tho
ughts gathering speed, “the reason it’s summer all the time—you change the weather with your thelemity?”
This question earned me another broad smile. I had become a prized student. “Our power typically doesn’t extend far enough into the atmosphere to affect weather patterns, so we can’t prevent rain, for example, but we can keep things warm at least.”
“Sounds like magic.”
“Yes, it does.”
“And it only works here, in the valley?”
“Most of the time that’s true. We have some control over where our thelemity goes, but generally we keep it here. We built the mountain wall to prevent strangers from stumbling upon it accidentally.”
“Why? Anyone gets close, all you have to do is squash them or explode them.”
I didn’t know how angry I was until the words came out, all harsh and snarling. Vinneas looked rather abashed, which was gratifying. “Of course, I should have started with that,” he said, like a man who has made a silly but pardonable mistake. “Not long after you entered the valley, there would have been a strange smell, ozone or phosphorous or something similar, accompanied by a feeling of uneasiness or elation, perhaps both.”
“And a second later, I got exploded to kingdom come,” I finished for him, my fury returning.
“Exactly. It happens to all revenni the first time you encounter thelemity. How familiar are you with electricity?”
The way he asked made me wonder how much of a savage he thought I was. “I know it well enough.”
“Think of yourself as an electric lamp. Before you arrived here, you’d never been plugged in. But then, suddenly, you get a rush of power, and it shorts you out. A power surge. So really, we didn’t explode you. You exploded yourself. You were never in any danger, though I expect it ruined your clothes. And it will only happen that one time.”
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