Blood, Ink & Fire

by Ashley Mansour

  A little snort and a laugh escape Ros. Her expression is skeptical. “Same side? You don’t know anything about it.”

  I take a step toward her to show I’m not afraid. If they were going to hurt any of us, they would have done it by now. A lot of talk and no action.

  “Listen,” I say. “We are all from the Sovereigns. Like it or not, that is the same side. It’s Fell we should be worried about. Not each other.”

  Ros looks at me bitterly. “Don’t you think I know that?” She reaches into her shirt and pulls out a chain with a flat rectangular pendant. I glance quickly at the rusty face, engraved with a single word: “Peacekeeper.” I look at her without indicating my understanding.

  “Know what this says? Hell, course you don’t. It says ‘Peacekeeper’ I’ll have you know. That’s my job.”

  “But I don’t understand. Back there, you said, ‘No peace.’”

  “Because that’s the truth. Peace doesn’t exist. It can’t exist. As long as there’s Fell and Sovereigns and boolos, there will never be peace for anyone. The word means nothing.”

  My grandfather comes to my side. “Enough arguing. Please, just take us to G. She will remember.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, old man. She remembers everything too well. And that’s exactly why we’re not on your side. Ardenia doesn’t have a side. We’re neutral ground.”

  “But you’re a Sovereign,” I protest. “Surely that must mean . . .”

  “It means nothing! Just like the word I’m supposed to stand for. But, shoot, you don’t have to take my word for it. Let’s go.”

  “So you’ll take us to G?”

  “Mmhmm. Then you’ll see for yourself.”

  We walk in silence, trampling through the underbrush. The ground is mossy and overgrown, the way thick with hanging branches and vines, but Ros navigates the woods effortlessly, like she spends most of her time in the wilderness of Ardenia.

  After about an hour of walking, the trees begin to thin out. They open into a clearing. Beyond it, I spy a vast encampment that somehow looks both provisional and long-standing at the same time. We wander through makeshift tents to the sound of quiet voices. We pass many small campfires surrounded by groups of locals. Their wary stares and nods meet us as we traipse through their turf. Despite their looks, I don’t feel out of place here. In fact, if it weren’t for Ros and her men, I’d almost feel welcome.

  Behind the encampment, a large paddock of grazing deer catches my eye. Their heads hang low under an umbrella of purplish smoke. Nearby I spot a dwelling built into the side of a tree. Inside, a woman hangs bundles of herbs on a drying rack, filling the interior from floor to ceiling.

  We approach the largest tent of all. A swirl of smoke dances into the air above its wide, sprawling roof. The tent flap opens, and heavily perfumed vapors waft out in our direction. Ros stops us and goes inside.

  Beyond the curtain we hear her say, “Grandma G? Some people here to see you.”

  In moments, a hand tugs aside the curtain. Grandma G isn’t at all what I expected. The warmth of pure joy fills out her caramel cheeks and lights up her eyes. Her mouth forms the kind of smile that renders me incapable of frowning. She’s dressed in a long burlap dress, tied loosely at the waist. Her earlobes hold two of the biggest earrings I’ve ever seen. Her eyes stare past me into the night. It takes me a moment to realize she is looking at my grandfather with the wonder of recognition.

  “Well, hell on human Earth! If it isn’t a ghost from days gone by!”

  Grandpa goes to take her hand, but she pulls him in close, wrapping him to her breast.

  “It’s good to see you, Ganymede.”

  “William Hartley, you old devil. I go by G now,” she whispers.

  He takes her hand as she hobbles out to inspect us. “Well, what are y’all doin’ out here? Come inside, come inside!” Grandma G points to the three men in Ros’s posse. “Y’all get along now. Go on!” She waves them off with her hand like she’s shooing a child. “Get yourselves on home now.”

  The men disperse. Ros looks crestfallen. Ledger and I follow Grandpa inside the tent. I have to blink several times to believe what I’m seeing. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of miniature bulbs glow softly from the walls and ceiling. The whole interior of the tent is illuminated by tiny lights! My ears perk up as the soft chirp of insects flickers like a cacophony all around us.

  Something swoops past my head, and I duck low to miss it.

  Grandma G releases a hearty laugh. “Pesky things, aren’t they? But they won’t hurtcha.”

  “What are they?”

  “These little guys? Why they’re lightning bugs,” she replies. “They wouldn’t stop showing up here. I guess they like the incense. I figured if they were going to stick around, they might as well make themselves useful.”

  Grandma G waddles toward the back of the tent where the ceiling is low. I’m grateful there seem to be only a few lightning bugs in here.

  “Now, everybody have a seat in the parlor. I want us to get acquainted.”

  Ledger and I look at each other. The parlor is just a circle of floor pillows. At the center is a little candle with an open flame and a stick of incense burning in a small clay dish. It’s pretty clear which seat is Grandma G’s. A large turquoise pillow that looks like a chair is backed up against the outer edge of the circle. At one side is a copper cup and saucer. On the other is an ancient-looking device with a circular black disk in the center. Grandma G lifts up the arm of the device and plops it down on the black disk, which I now see is spinning. Music wriggles through it into the air, scratchy at first, then a little bit clearer. A man’s voice starts singing, and I jump. I’ve never heard music like this, outside of Verity.

  Grandma G starts swaying side to side. “You can’t replace the sound. Ros, why don’t you fetch us some chamomile tea?”

  Ros stands with her mouth agape. “But I gotta be somewhere!”

  “Don’t sass me now, child.” Grandma G smiles. “We have company.”

  Ros narrows her eyes bitterly. “Yes, ma’am.” She plunks off, disappearing behind a beaded curtain. Grandma G turns up the music, drowning out the sounds of Ros banging around in the kitchen. The device sings with the sound of a man’s smooth, honeyed voice. “Mmmm, that’s better,” Grandma G says. She takes my grandfather’s hand. “Now, how did you wind up all the way out here in Ardenia?”

  Grandpa nods politely. “Well, it wasn’t easy. We had a little trouble in the forest.”

  “Mmhmm. She’s a good girl, my Ros, but doesn’t like to listen. Got the spirit all strung up inside her. We need to flush it out somehow, help her make peace inside. But that girl is all bunged up like a belly full of bricks. You know how it is, don’tcha, William?”

  My grandfather nods. “You know why we’re here of course.”

  “Well, I’d be foolish to try and guess after all these years. How long has it been?”

  “Forty-five years? Sixty? I can’t remember.”

  “Well, let me think now. Last time I saw you, you were just a punk teenager. Mmhmm, that’s right. Hair all shaved at the sides. Short. Rebel-like. You had those glasses with the crazy-colored lenses that changed depending on the sky. You used to match your ties to the weather. Everyone thought you were crazy.”

  My grandfather smiles boyishly. “Yeah, I was pretty crazy all right. That was before I cleaned up my act and started teaching.”

  “And you sure did clean up fine. But now just look atcha! William Hartley. Brother, I don’t mind telling you this. You got OLD!” Grandma G wipes her eyes as little tears of laughter drip down her cheeks. “Whooo! Never did see such an old man in all my life! Now tell me, how old are you, William? You’ve got to be pushing a hundred by now!”

  My grandfather chuckles smugly. “Well, however old I am, just remember you’re ten years older!” Grandpa slaps his leg and cracks up as G stops and blinks wide-eyed into the distance.

  “Say, that’s right. You know I’ve
been wondering where the hell all this gray hair on my head came from. Well, now I know! I’m even older than you are, William Hartley!”

  “Damn near ancient!”

  “Shoot! And here I thought I was doing all right! Well, hell, I must be counting backward!”

  Their laughter fills the tent as Grandpa and Grandma G hold each other in hysterics. I look at Ledger, and both of us burst out laughing, too. We laugh until our faces hurt, enjoying the strange release of feeling momentarily happy.

  We all stop and look up as Ros enters with a tray of tea. She pauses in her tracks. “Incense burning, Grandma?”

  “What, Ros? Oh yeah. Been burning all night, child.”

  “Thought so.” Ros shakes her head disapprovingly.

  “Well, don’t just stand there judging me! I’m an old lady. A really old lady! Bring us that tea already. My mouth is as dry as an old fart’s brain. Sakes alive!”

  Ros passes out the little copper cups. She hands one to me. “It’s chamomile,” she says, briskly.

  “Thanks.” I take the little warm cup in my hands.

  Ros settles down near the door and kicks the tent flap aside. “That shit will mess with your head,” she says, leaning out.

  “Watch your tongue, young lady!”

  “Why should I? You don’t.”

  “Cursing is a right of the very old. The very, very old.” Grandma G nods to my grandfather. “William and I, we’re allowed to say words like that. We’ve earned the right.”

  Ros pulls off her boots and extends her long legs over them, one at a time. “Oh yeah? How old?”

  “Many years, child. Many years of heartache, and trouble, and . . . and . . .”

  “Oh no. Here it comes,” Ros mumbles.

  “Many years of struggle. That’s what it was. Struggle. And hardship. And struggling some more. We never rested. We wouldn’t let ourselves rest. Had to save as many as we could. Over and over. So many libraries and museums. They all started to look the same in the end. Even the books themselves. There were so many, I lost count after ’while.”

  Grandma G’s smile disappears. The light in her eyes fades. “And then you see the casualties. Your friends get hit and go down. Or worse, get dragged off by Fell. You know you’ll never see them again. That’s what did it for me. Losing all those people. It just stopped making sense one day . . .” She looks up at us now, her face crumpling into a picture of sadness and regret. “I’m just thankful I stuck around until the end. It was the right thing to do. That final haul from the Huntington. Had to be done. Had to be! For Prospero. For Hamlet. They needed it to be done. Of course, none of us knew why at the time.” Grandma G sits upright, hardening her eyes at Ros. “Burning a little Forgetsum never hurt anyone.”

  I turn back to Ros, who’s furiously flapping fresh air into the tent. “Might as well be smoking it. That stuff’s so thick in here I can hardly breathe!”

  “You just settle down now,” Grandma G huffs. “Nobody wants to hear your caterwaulin’.”

  My grandfather places a hand on G’s arm. “We need your help,” he says calmly. “Fell is after us.”

  “Fell?” Ros says, sitting up suddenly. “You mean Verity tracked you here?”

  “You know about Verity?” I ask, turning to her.

  “Yeah. I know a lot of things.”

  “How?”

  “A friend,” she says, settling back.

  “Phooey, don’t listen to her,” Grandma G says. “She thinks the Rising’s returning and a whole other bunch of rubbish on top of it.”

  Ros kicks her boots off, lobbing them toward us. “That’s because it is, Grandma! You just don’t believe me.”

  “Now I told you, child, I do not want to hear about warfare here in my home. You wanna run with the wolves, go and do it, but don’t bring it in here.”

  “You brought it up!” Ros whines.

  “Quiet now. Settle down. Where were we? Ah, yes, you say you need my help, Will?”

  My grandfather looks hesitant. “She may be right,” he says, finally. “We have two volumes in our possession.”

  “We need yours, too,” I add.

  Ledger unzips the backpack and hands the books to me. Grandma G’s eyes grow wide with alarm. “No, no, no! I don’t want any part of this!”

  The lightning bugs flicker wildly, sensing her fury. The light dims as their chirping intensifies. “Ros may believe in the new Rising, but I’ve done my time. I’ve paid my dues. I was one of the Nine! Didn’t you hear? I was there at the Huntington. We knew what it was, a slaughter, but I didn’t run! What more do you want from me?”

  “Ganymede, wait. If you’ll just listen to us—” My grandfather tries.

  “No, Will.” Grandma G pulls up her dress, revealing a scar across her thigh that’s so deep, she looks disfigured. I realize it’s not the scar of a blade, but the scar of fire. “I’m not Ganymede anymore. Not again. Not ever! You see this?” she says, facing me. “Take a good look. This is what happens when you stand against Fell. And that’s not all of it. Burns over half my body. My friends dead. My children—gone! There will be no more war. No more fighting. No more torture and loss. This ends with my generation.”

  My grandfather rises. “It won’t end, G. Not with us. Fell won’t stop. Not until every reader is gone, every book has been destroyed. If we don’t do something, it will all be lost. Your work, your suffering, all of it will have been for nothing.”

  G looks solemnly at him, her eyes sad but immovable. I can hardly believe this is the same woman I saw when we first arrived. The bitterness in her is like a brush, painting her face with ugliness. “Nothing?” Her voice drags with the gravel of the hard years behind her. “If that’s the case, then so be it.”

  NOELLE

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I tried to warn you,” Ros says, standing with us outside the text. “Once she gets like this, there is no convincing her. She doesn’t want anything to do with the Rising. You see how upset it makes her.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “She was one of the original Risers.”

  Ros nods. “You see this place, Ardenia? It’s a reaction to all of that. We’re not allowed to do anything here except abide by the peaceful laws Grandma G’s set out.”

  “So you don’t believe in her methods?” Ledger asks.

  “Why do you think I carry a gun?” Ros says. “I take the role of peacekeeper very seriously. So much so that I’ve come to hate what we stand for here. Because I sure as hell don’t believe you can have peace without sacrifice.” Ros sighs. “At the end of the day, somebody’s gotta keep everyone safe and looked after. That’s what me and the boys are out there for each night. You can’t be too careful. That’s why I say there is no peace. It’s just an illusion.”

  “How did you know about Verity? And the Rising?”

  “I told you, I have a friend. He keeps me informed.” I cross my arms and stare at Ros, not giving up.

  She lifts an eyebrow at me. “You don’t know him, okay? He lives farther south. He’s got connections.”

  “What kind of connections?” Ledger asks.

  Several people in tents nearby stop and look at us. A few of them point, and Ros waves to them and smiles. She turns to us. “Look, if we’re going to talk about this, we can’t do it here. I know a place.”

  Grandpa stays behind to look after G. We agree to meet at first light. Ledger and I follow Ros back through the encampment. Most of the tent flaps have been pulled down, closed like eyelids. Everything feels sleepy, except in my center, I’m wired. We stop and sit at the edge of the clearing, where a small campfire still burns low.

  “You have the volumes,” Ros says. “So the Winnow and Pedanta must trust you. Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

  “So you’ll help us?” I ask, hopefully.

  “On one condition.”

  Great, I knew there would be something. “What do you want?”

  “I want in. When the time comes. I want to be part of
the new Rising.”

  I look Ros in the eyes. “I don’t get it. Why would you want to be part of something you hate?”

  Ros blinks rapidly and passes her hand through her tight curls. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “The Risers wanted peace. How can you fight for something you don’t believe in?”

  “You better pull the cotton out of your ears,” she barks. “I said, ‘I hate that word.’ I never said I didn’t believe in it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Sovereigns. The people out there just sitting on their hands, letting Fell destroy all we got left! They call themselves boolos, but they don’t do anything to earn the title. They think just loving books is enough. But what good is feeling love if you don’t show it?”

  I feel an electric current in the air. The hair on my arms stands up instantly.

  “At least I’m out here every single day, trekking through the forest, keeping watch. Getting sharp. Mark my words, I’ve been practicing. I know what to do when Fell comes knocking. We’re ready here in Ardenia. We’re strong.” She bangs her fist against her chest two times. “That’s how I show my love for the books. Not sitting around, hiding away in some hole. Hell, no! I’m no simple boolo. I’m a warrior!”

  “All right!” I yell, breaking her flow. “It’s a deal.”

  Ros looks at me dumbfounded. “What?”

  “I said it’s a deal. You can join the new Rising.”

  Ledger rises to his feet. “Elle—”

  “No, it’s okay. We’re going to need people like Ros.” I set my hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to need warriors.”

  Ros’s eyes sparkle in the firelight. I can tell she’s happy, even though she’s trying not to show it. “I want a title. Nothing fancy. Just enough for folks to recognize me.”

  “Fine,” I say wearily. “What do you want to be called?”

  Ros lifts her chin into the air and expands her chest, then drags her hand through the air. “Rosalind the Brave.”

  Ledger smirks in my direction, and I can’t help it. I have to cover my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.