by Lou Aronica
“There are absolutely no dragons in Tamarisk. Gigantic birds, yes. Fish the size of apartment buildings, yes. Sentient globules, even. But there are no dragons.”
Chris saw Becky chuckle out of the corner of his eye. He nearly smiled himself, but held his gaze on his ex-wife.
“Gigantic birds but no dragons,” Polly said slowly.
“Absolutely zero dragons.”
Polly tilted her head to the right. If she tilted her head to the left, that meant she was going to offer empathy or sympathy. When she tilted her head to the right, the exact opposite was coming. “Have you been to Tamarisk, Chris?”
Chris tilted his head involuntarily for a moment and then shifted it back. “Sadly, no, Polly. I haven’t been that lucky.”
Polly grinned humorlessly. “But you’re saying you believe that Becky has actually been there—to this imaginary world you made up.”
Chris flashed a glance at Becky. She was watching him with anticipation. No pressure here. Really, though, there wasn’t any pressure. Becky had convinced him. Hadn’t he told himself exactly that this morning? The last thing he was going to do was betray his daughter to stay out of trouble with his ex-wife. “Yeah, I believe Becky has been there. I’m sure of it.”
Polly’s shoulders sagged, but her gaze remained lasered to his. “Are you serious?”
Polly’s controlled intensity suddenly seemed funny to him. He laughed dryly. “As serious as I can be, Polly.”
He wanted to see how Becky was reacting to this, but he didn’t want to implicate her by glancing in that direction. Polly took a step back, looked skyward again, and then swept a look of derision over both of them. “I’m not sure what the two of you think you’re doing, but if you think I’m going to play along, you’re sorely mistaken. Becky, if you continue to hallucinate this way, we’re going to need to seek professional help.” She looked down at the ground, shook her head, and then locked in on Chris again. “And if you continue to participate in these delusions, I’ll call my lawyer.”
This was the first time Polly had threatened to take him to court in years. As such, it should have had a more significant effect Chris. The threat had surprisingly little power, though. He knew instinctively that she wouldn’t try to take Becky away from him. Not now.
Interestingly, Polly didn’t wait for a response from him. As soon as she finished speaking, she stalked back into the house, leaving Becky behind. Chris closed the ten feet between him and his daughter and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s gonna be ugly in there tonight, huh?”
Becky looked toward the front door and shrugged. “Nah, once we’re alone, she’ll let up. She’s really pissed at you, though.”
“How would you know the difference?”
Becky smiled. Then she put her arms around his waist and tugged. “Thanks for everything today, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Beck. Sure you don’t want to crash at my place tonight?”
“Yeah, that would go over really well.” She hugged him again. “I’d better get inside.”
Chris kissed the top of her head and let her go. As Becky got to the door, she waved to him and mouthed, “Bye.” It immediately sent him back to the day he drove away for the first time.
There was a huge difference, though. This time, Becky’s eyes were bright.
14
Polly was still livid about her argument with Chris the next morning. She hated getting that heated in front of Becky, but Chris had pressed every single one of her buttons. Why was she always at her worst with him? Dozens of times since the divorce she’d convinced herself that a more cordial and open relationship with her ex-husband would be best for everyone. When she saw him, though—or even talked to him on the phone—something grated and made it impossible to make even the slightest overture to him.
Now this Tamarisk thing was really beyond the pale. It had been very cute when Becky was little, and Becky and Chris certainly seemed to have a great deal of fun with it. Polly knew it distracted Becky from her illness in the early days, and for that, Polly was genuinely grateful. However, the idea of Chris using such a childish thing to try to get back into Becky’s good graces was just appalling. Equally appalling was that it actually seemed to be working—enough to get Becky to fabricate stories about “traveling” to Tamarisk to show her that they had a new bond. How had Chris pulled that off? Was it possible that Polly had truly missed the signs that Becky needed more from her dad? Until a few weeks ago, she’d given every indication that just the opposite was the case.
If Chris’s intention was to drive a wedge between Polly and Becky, he’d had at least temporary success. Becky had been moody and withdrawn from her the remainder of Sunday, and said very little to her before she went to school this morning.
That put a dark cast on the day, causing her to relive her battle with Chris multiple times. Meanwhile, Polly was stuck in the house waiting for the electrician to show up. She hated waiting for service people. Last night, an outlet had blown out in the family room, probably overloaded by all of Al’s toys there. After that, they couldn’t run the computer and the big-screen TV at the same time, and Al begged her to get it fixed before tonight’s baseball game. So she was sequestered at home—doing a little seething to pass the time—until Gary arrived.
He finally showed up at a quarter to noon. Gary had done repairs on the house numerous times since Polly owned it, and she’d hoped he would have gotten there sooner. Obviously long-term customers didn’t get preferential treatment from this guy, though. He went into the family room, said, “Ouch, bad one” when he saw the outlet, and then went to the basement to noodle around on the circuit breaker for a while. He finally turned the power off in the family room and came up to work on the outlet.
“Did you see that show on the Discovery Channel last night?” Gary said while he explored the damage with a little flashlight.
“The power kept blowing out in this room, so we didn’t see much of anything.”
“Amazing stuff. All about alternate planes of existence.”
Polly winced. “What?”
“You know, parallel worlds, different versions of Earth, alien planets, that kind of thing.”
“Why would I watch a show about that?”
“It was on the Discovery Channel.”
Polly rubbed her forehead, feeling a potential migraine coming on. “As I said, it was hard to watch television last night.”
“Open-mindedness leads to enrichment.”
Polly leaned toward the electrician. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”
“New worlds embellish existing worlds, leading to an increase in potential.”
Polly was beginning to wonder if Gary had electrocuted himself. Maybe he was having some kind of stroke or something. His speech seemed different.
“Your acknowledgement can help soothe the others,” the electrician said, “make solutions possible. You have a role.”
Polly felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. How quickly could the paramedics get here if she needed them? “Gary, is there a point to these aphorisms you’re spouting?”
The electrician didn’t respond, simply concentrated on his work. Twice, though, he said the phrase “Acknowledgement enriches” in that phantom voice. Polly felt the need to sit down. She’d never seen someone have a psychotic experience before. She would have left the room, but she wasn’t sure it was safe to leave Gary alone.
Again, Gary said, “Acknowledgement enriches.” Then he reconnected a wire, clicked off his flashlight, and screwed in the faceplate. He stood, turned to her, nodded, and said, “Let’s give it a try.” He said it just like normal-Gary.
Gary walked right past her with minimal eye contact, went down to the basement, switched the power back on, and then returned to the family room and plugged in the television. With a flick of the remote, the TV popped on.
“You’re all set,” Gary said.
Polly turned off the television. “Th
anks.”
Gary acknowledged her with a nod and then gathered his tools.
“Gary, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I feel fine. Why?”
“What was that thing about a show on the Discovery Channel?”
Gary looked at her as though he didn’t understand the question for a moment and then brightened with recognition. “Oh, right, that show about alternate planes of existence. I was channel surfing last night and I stopped on it. I don’t know why; I never watch that stuff. What a crock. It made me laugh out loud. I just wondered if you saw it.”
“What about the other stuff?”
“Other stuff?”
“That other stuff you were saying about being open-minded and enrichment and that kind of thing.”
Polly could see from Gary’s reaction that he had no idea what she meant. “I’m not following you.”
She waved a hand. “Never mind.”
Gary picked up his bag and headed toward the door.
“I don’t believe any of that stuff about other worlds,” Polly said, following him.
Gary reached for the doorknob and turned to her. “Neither do I. That’s why that show made me laugh.” He paused for a moment and his expression changed. His eyes seemed deeper, more thoughtful. He looked at her carefully and his attention made Polly uncomfortable. Involuntarily, she took a step back.
Then, just as quickly, Gary’s old face was back. He grinned benignly and looked at the doorknob, as though he’d forgotten he’d put his hand there.
Did he really have no memory of what he’d said a few minutes earlier? He looked fine, but it was possible he really was having some kind of episode. “Do you think that maybe you should take the rest of the day off?”
His eyes narrowed and he said, “Huh?”
Polly was beginning to feel embarrassed. “Forget what I said. Just have a good day. Thanks for taking care of the outlet.”
“You got it. You know, you might want to take a little rest yourself.”
“Yeah, maybe I will. Now that you’ve fixed the television, maybe I’ll just relax in front of some mindless show for a little while.” She grinned embarrassedly. “Not the Discovery Channel, though.”
For the third time that afternoon, Miea felt like a portion of the conversation was eluding her. First, there had been the discussion with the vice chancellor of the Thorns when she confronted him about Rubus’s presence at a blighted Tamariskian field. She’d expected the vice chancellor to dissemble, but his reaction was entirely unexpected. He’d claimed that his son had gone missing and then had the nerve to suggest that Miea had him kidnapped.
Shortly after this, Becky had showed up in her chambers. Her eyes moved all around the room, as though she were looking for something she’d misplaced. She walked over to a window and gazed out for a long stretch, and then, when Miea made a passing reference to an upcoming briefing on the blight, Becky suddenly got very flustered and misty-eyed. Saying nothing more than, “I need to go back,” Becky disappeared, leaving Miea to wonder what had happened.
Now Dyson had showed up for his briefing, but he was offering no new information. What were the results of the vibration study of the soil in Jonrae? Inconclusive. Have we learned anything from the relative heartiness of the tongass grove in the midst of Eannes Meadow? It doesn’t appear so. What about my suggestion to deploy more analysts to Eannes? Minister Thuja wants to give this further consideration. Dyson delivered his answers briskly and without embellishment. It almost seemed as though he were making a conscious effort to say nothing.
“Was there an actual a point in your coming to make this report today?” Miea said, miffed.
For the briefest instant, Dyson’s expression showed a hint of consternation. Then just as quickly, he regained his professional demeanor, looking past her rather than at her.
“You’ve requested these briefings on a regular schedule, Your Majesty. Therefore, I come to brief you.”
“But I expect you to say something during these briefings. It’s inconceivable that there is nothing new to report. Not under these circumstances.”
“I can only bring you the information that is available, Your Majesty.”
Did Dyson call her “Your Majesty” more often than anyone else in the kingdom did or did it just seem that way because the words still sounded so wrong coming from his lips? “I’m not entirely convinced that this is the case, Dyson.”
Dyson’s expression remained fixed. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I’m not sure what you mean by that.”
“I’m not entirely convinced that I’m getting all the information that is available. I believe Minister Thuja is giving me the information he thinks I need.”
“I don’t believe that to be true, Your Majesty.”
If he really didn’t believe it to be true, he hadn’t been paying attention when she and Thuja were in a room together. The minister’s overt attempts to appear respectful while at the same time making his distrust for her youth obvious were unmistakable. Thuja didn’t want to tell her everything, either because he feared she would overreact or because he wanted to control things to the point where she had virtually no decisions to make. Given the scale of this crisis, that was unacceptable.
“Does the minister take you into his confidence, Dyson?”
Dyson’s eyes shifted slightly. “Excuse me, Your Majesty?”
Miea leaned forward against her desk. “I’m wondering if you discuss information with the minister when it comes in from various sources. I’m wondering if Thuja tries out different scenarios on you.”
Dyson said nothing for a moment. When he spoke, he still did not look at her. “I am a member of the minister’s staff. He encourages us to exchange ideas. It is part of the working environment.”
“Is it safe to assume that some of the information exchanged in these conversations fails to come up in my briefings?”
“Nothing vital is left out of these briefings, Your Majesty.”
“Given the confounding nature of this blight, I would think it would be difficult to determine what information is vital and what isn’t. Perhaps you could let me know what some of your exchanges have been like over the past few days.”
For the first time since he walked into her office that day, Dyson looked directly into Miea’s eyes. “I will not be your spy, Your Majesty.”
Miea broke eye contact. “Dyson, you know how much I thrive on details.”
“I know that I share with you every piece of information I am authorized to share with you. If you truly believe Minister Thuja is holding things back, you should discuss this with him. You’re the queen. Order him if you think it is necessary.”
Miea stood up as though launched, feeling a volatile mix of anguish and frustration. “Do you understand what is at stake here? The kingdom I love is disintegrating and I can’t do anything about it. Maybe I could do something if I had access to all the raw data, if I were out in the fields, if I were working with the analysts. But we won’t know whether I could or not, because the Minister—and his vaunted aide—believe I am not equipped to deal with the information.”
While Miea felt her composure slip, she was amazed that Dyson was capable of maintaining his. His head tracked her movement, but his face remained calm. “Your Majesty, I again suggest that you take this subject up with Minister Thuja. If you truly believe that we are withholding anything vital, he is the only person who can assure you otherwise.”
Miea closed her eyes. For some reason, she recalled the look of desperation on Becky’s face when she said, “I need to go back.” Miea had no idea why, but the girl was extremely upset and even flustered. Miea certainly knew how that felt. Nothing was working. They were no closer to a solution to the blight—at least to her knowledge—than they had been when they first discovered it. Thuja all but openly challenged her authority, and Dyson skewered her with formality.
With her eyes still closed, Miea felt her knees sway slightly. She didn’t feel as though she was going to pa
ss out or even stumble, but for just a second, the ground seemed the shift under her. She opened her eyes, took a moment to collect herself, and sat back at her desk.
“Are you all right?” Dyson said in a tone that she was no longer accustomed to hearing.
Her eyes caught his and she recognized his concern. No, I’m not all right. I’m worried. I’m frustrated. I’m alone. I’m not positive I can handle this.
“Yes,” she said, nodding slowly. “I’m fine. I’m going to call for a little argo and maybe something to eat. I didn’t have time for lunch today.”
“But you’re okay?”
“Of course I’m okay.” What would happen if I said I wasn’t? What would you do then, Dyson? Would you help me through this? Could you do that even if you wanted to? “Thank you for this briefing.”
Dyson stood and, for just a moment, Miea couldn’t read his expression. He gathered himself quickly, though. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
He bowed slightly, turned, and left. Miea watched him go and continued watching for several seconds after he disappeared. Only Sorbus’s arrival in her doorway brought her back to the present.
“The contingent from the Festival Committee is here, Your Majesty.”
She took a deep breath and offered Sorbus a wan smile. “Send them in, please.”
As soon as Becky was back in her bed, she regretted leaving Tamarisk so abruptly. How had she even done that? All she’d said was, “I need to go back,” and she was home again. Was that all she had to do?
At the very least, she owed Miea an explanation for why she’d gotten so upset. For two days, she’d clung to the belief that the storytelling session she’d had with her father had cured the blight. When she’d traveled to Tamarisk again and learned that the crisis still existed, she’d felt like someone had knocked the air out of her. She’d felt like she was about to cry and, while she didn’t have any problem with the idea of crying in front of Miea, she didn’t know how to explain why she was so upset. At that moment, the only thing that seemed right was leaving.