by May Peterson
Rosalina raised a brow. “I sense a ‘but’ in your voice.”
Then Tibario looked at me. I understood without thought. It would rend him in two if his mother died as the last line of defense against an inevitable fate.
“The ‘but’ is this.” Tibario seemed ready to vomit. “We agree Mamma is right about what matters, but she might be right about more. She could really have an answer to Casilio. His invulnerability is what’s bringing all this together. We have the same two choices we’ve always had: see it as hopeless, and make what we can of the time we have left, which means persuading Mamma not to risk it. Or we imagine there’s a possibility of victory, which I think means this—we help her. If she has even the faintest hope of defeating Casilio, we can’t let her try it alone.” His eyes drifted to the floor again for a moment. “I can’t.”
That was the crux of the problem. We should act radically differently depending on how we believed reality itself worked. Perhaps I hadn’t doomed us all, but an ending was being written all the same. If we had any influence over it, we must act. If we had none, then acting meant needless suffering.
I touched his chin. He turned his gaze to me, potential tears gathering light in it, and he looked catastrophically young and vulnerable.
“Violetta. I need you.” Tibario swallowed audibly. “I need your advice. She came to you. You understand the prophecy best. You said you’d help her, and she wants me to stay put. But...”
I nodded. “You hope there’s still a chance with her.”
“It’s not that!” He laughed without mirth. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I just don’t want her to die alone. That’s it. If she dies at Casilio’s feet, she...won’t have anyone to so much as hear her last thoughts. You have to understand, I was born in communion with this woman’s mind. She’s part of me, who I am inside. I’m part of her. It sounds completely irrational, but I’ve always been ready to receive her spirit when she dies.”
Weifan ran fingers through her hair, took a theatrically intense breath, and settled next to Tibario. “It doesn’t sound that irrational. If the prophecy is inevitable, then the gift is to choose how we go out. That counts for more than it may seem. But a part of me still thinks it may not be inevitable. I’m not sure I’m convinced anything is truly inevitable, and I like the idea that if everyone here who has tried to turn Casilio into a corpse—me, cat boy, Mamma sorcerer—joins forces, we may actually stand a chance. But I also think it comes down to you.” Her attention on me was weightless, yet infinitely heavy. “You’ve guided us this far, Honored Maiden. If we all try and fail, it could be exactly the crisis you were afraid of. Lachrysinthe may not help if almost none of us are left to use it.”
That it wouldn’t. “Or if I have no loved ones left to carry on for. That’s what I’m afraid of. This will be what triggers the end of the story. The trouble is I can’t say what we should do. Advice is what I’m for—why else does a seer exist? But the closer we get to the decision, the less certain I am. We just have to act by how we feel. I don’t have a map for you. That’s what it comes down to for me. I never wanted to decide anyone’s fate. Except maybe my own.”
Life itself was backward. I could see the outcome, but not the meaning. I was as powerless as I was powerful, each condition causing the other.
I covered my face with one hand. “She wanted me to convince you, but I won’t. You have to do what you feel you must, all of you.”
Silence. Then, quietly, Rosalina piped in. “Here’s a thought. It isn’t a choice between abandoning Serafina or going to stand with her. Tibario’s a cat-soul. Why not simply transport yourself to her location, grab her and transport her back? She won’t like it, but look at the state we’re in. There isn’t much to like.”
My head shot up, and Tibario and I glanced at her and then each other in harmony. He growled faintly. “That is a thought indeed.”
It was decided. Tibario dressed, arranging details for communication with Weifan and me. We agreed he’d cat-step from the Rose, and bring Serafina directly back here. If removing her from Father’s clutches was the only goal, it could be done swiftly. My heart sunk into my belly, misgivings hammering in my blood, but I was as torn as he was. The path between extremes once again seemed the only way, if we could just find it.
Alone in our room, Tibario and I kissed and held each other one last time before he left.
“This time I mean it.” He stroked my cheek. “I am coming back for you, flower girl. Look for me.”
I touched my locket where it hung around his neck. “Keep this with you. You can call me with it if you need to. Not that there’s much I can do in response these days.”
“Aye.” His smile was as soft as rain.
After he’d gone, I sat in the room for several minutes before working up the courage to go and speak to Weifan.
She gave me a curious expression, and I spoke quickly before I could change my mind. “I said we have to do what we feel. Maybe this won’t help a damn thing, but I know what I feel. There’s something I’d ask of you, if you’re ready. I think we should do it now.”
Her eyes narrowed. She and Rosalina were in the kitchen in communal silence, and they traded glances before Rosalina nodded, as if granting permission. Weifan faced me squarely. “Anything, Vi.”
I trembled with gratitude, already afraid of what I was about to do. “I want you to go with me to find my mother.”
* * *
It was a night as sweet as spring water, perfumed with the mingled smells of Vermagna. If I let everything else drop to the back of my mind, I found a peculiar giddiness inside. A charge of excitement, the whisper of stars a promise of an evening of wonder.
Mother was out there.
Weifan and I made short work of the trip. Rosalina had kept me only briefly at the door, saying, “You keep an eye on my girl.”
Weifan always knew a fellow who knew a fellow. We exchanged words with a few pairs of elegantly suited acquaintances, mainly women wearing firearms who tipped their hats and passed on kind words. They all knew Liliana Benedetti. If I had been old enough to remember, I may have spotted the faces of some women who had fought by her side against hordes of immortal beasts.
In less than two hours, we arrived at a dive a few districts away, where gamblers and masschiacci met in a cellar. Weifan traded signals with a guard, and led me downstairs to a tobacco-scented bar.
My attention went to her almost immediately. In the dim corner at the back of the room, ringed with a trail of sweet smoke, a group of what appeared to be women sat at a table. All wearing impeccable suits, inspecting hands of cards and puffing on cigars. Mother had found her way in a masschiacci crowd, now that she could be herself without Father’s perverse influence.
Among them, a tall figure with short-cropped red hair was bowed over the table. She peered up as Weifan and I entered. Slate-blue suit, strong shoulders, a lily in her lapel, cigar dangling elegantly from her lips.
Mother.
Recognition was instant. The same face, same aura of familiar warmth, all reaching out to touch me even at this distance. I wore a purple gown specked with flower-shaped stars of pale pink. With my hair down, eyes colored, figure different, it seemed certain she wouldn’t recognize me. But she stood slowly, a cautious interest gaining intensity in her expression.
Weifan waved, and I thought she might gesture Mother over. Anxiety knotted in my chest. I hadn’t thought about what it would feel like to show her Violetta, show her my true self from under the veil.
But there wasn’t time to think. No buildup to an awkward explanation. In moments, her expression changed. Curiosity to shock, sorrow, excitement. “Are you—?” She shot from the table, taking the floor in the blink of an eye.
Then she was here, arms open, running toward me. I didn’t resist it. I stepped forward, let her take me in her arms. Tears shone on her face, and she sucked in vast breat
hs as if restraining sobs. “Oh, God, my God.” She panted, pulling me tight, hands rubbing my back. For a moment the world vanished into the sugar tang of cigars, the feel of her suit and her strong arms encircling me once again. In the next instant I was crying too, doing a decidedly worse job of holding it back.
“Oh my dear girl, my beautiful girl.” She shook as she spoke, repeating the same stream of affectionate epithets. Dear girl. It took her no time at all. I hadn’t even had to say a word. I stood in the middle of the bar’s floor and cried into her shoulder while she rocked me.
Weifan’s voice interjected gently between us. “Liliana. I would like to introduce you to your daughter, Violetta.”
Mother stepped back, holding my shoulders and studying me at arm’s length. She radiated a quality of happy wreckage, heartbroken but pulsing with joy. “Violetta. Fates, that is exactly the kind of name I might have given you. Violetta. Let me look at you. Violetta.”
This was worth it. If the end came tomorrow, I had the chance to hear my mother say my name. My real name, the name I had chosen. Say it with pleasure, with delight, as natural as breathing.
The truth spilled out, nothing now to keep it locked where it was. “I was afraid to see you again.” I wiped tears from my eyes, “I didn’t know how to explain. It seemed like if I wasn’t around you anymore, maybe Father wouldn’t get to you.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Does this mean I can see you?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Weifan has done a heroic job of helping me see what happened. I agreed not to seek you out if that was what you wanted. But does this mean things have changed?”
“I—” Heavens, tears were welling up in me again, making it hard to speak. How could I possibly tell her?
Weifan touched my arm, nodded to the bar. “There’s a private room. We can run it all down there.”
Mother whistled and signaled to her friends at the table, and Weifan spoke with a proprietress who agreeably let us into a rather comfortable private chamber. A few sofas, a billiard table, a pianoforte, and a bottle of brandy Weifan ordered. It felt like both a whole night and a half second by the time we were done telling the story of my prophecy, Tibario’s resurrection, Casilio’s deeds, and Serafina’s grim heroism.
This all seemed to turn Mother in on herself, and she listened with closed eyes. She only opened her eyes when we spoke of Serafina’s choice to combat Father once and for all. Something nameless—halfway between contempt and fondness—lingered there.
When she finally replied, it was not before a deep drink of brandy and lighting a new cigar. “Well. I’ve been busy, but I haven’t been as busy as you. How many days do you say we have left?”
“One. Maybe two.” I poured myself a new glass.
“So it’s perfectly clear,” Mother began, “This is precisely the kind of shit Serafina would pull. ‘No, no, don’t worry yourself about me, I’ll carry this mountain on my own, thank you. Do you have one I could carry for you, in fact?’ She thinks she’s superhuman. Maybe she is.”
Weifan scoffed. I laughed weakly. “Tibario is going to stop her.”
“Unfortunately I doubt it will work.” Mother blew a cloud of smoke. “Serafina will thank him for his meddling by going right back to her fool purpose. If she’s decided something is to the death, believe me, it is.”
Weifan slid a cigar of her own out of a pocket and lit it against Liliana’s. “Then you think we run for the hills? Live out what time we have left with a bit of peace? Or charge in and see if we can change Serafina’s fool purpose into a wise one?”
Mother shook her head in exasperation, clicking her tongue. “It’s good to know that Serafina will still be brave when she needs to be.” Words no doubt laden with concealed meaning. “I don’t know about this apocalypse business yet. I need a minute to think.”
So she thought. Weifan pulled out a pack of cards and did a few quiet hands with me, and Mother thought. She got all the way to the end of the cigar and lit a third. It was pleasant. Sitting in peace, a slight aura of alcohol, the sound of Weifan humming as the cards rustled. And Mother thinking.
All these tiny moments I might never have had. It was all worth it, in the end.
I looked up from my hand of cards, and without thinking, said, “Maybe we can’t turn a foolish purpose into a wise one. But against the dragon-soul, a fool can act where a sage cannot.”
Mother squinted, mouth turning up as hearing a queer line of poetry. “Hm. Yes. I think that’s exactly it. The fool in me may have something of value here.”
She rose, scooted a chair over next to me, and put an arm across my shoulders. It was oddly reminiscent of Tibario doing the same gesture, and just as comforting. “I want you to understand.” Her voice was low and soft. “Your father never got a chance to lay a hand on me. He tried, but he didn’t know who he was dealing with. He never knew what he was dealing with, and I’m about to prove it. I’m going to show you something.”
So she had gotten out in time. I added that to my growing pile of inner treasures, but she was already moving. I felt like a young child again, ready for the next game my mother had to share.
She slipped a gun from her jacket and checked the chamber before handing it to Weifan. Weifan curled her lip. Mother took off her jacket, revealing a pale blue shirt with braces, then rolled up the sleeves. A pulse of delight shot through me. Father would be so satisfyingly displeased by this. His maschiaccio wife and mollyqueen daughter.
“All right.” Mother walked several paces away and held her hands up. “Weifan. I want you to shoot me.”
Weifan blinked. “I. What.”
My eyes widened. “I second that.”
Mother chortled. “I promise you it won’t harm me. That’s the point. Just take aim and fire. Careful not to hit the wall.”
Weifan exchanged an alarmed glance with me, then sighed. “Fuck. Go get us some flying pigs next, start rounding out the fuckery.” She stared at the gun for a moment, then cocked it, focused, and pulled the trigger.
Mother did nothing. Didn’t even lower her hands. The bullet hit exactly where it should—and then pinged harmlessly off Mother’s chest.
Before the bullet had the chance to clank to the floor, a gleam of violet licked up and down Mother’s frame. Within the next second, the light waxed brightly enough to pool flowery radiance at her feet.
My thoughts went still.
The calyx charm.
The proprietress slammed open the door. “Here, the fuck is going on?”
Mother giggled impishly. “Sorry, darling. Just showing off my trick again.”
Weifan was in the middle of it all, eyes bulging like dinner plates, the gun smoking in her hand.
The proprietress crossed her arms, emanating the impression of a restrained sigh. “Show it off outside next time. My heart can’t take it, Lil. My heart.” Then she shuffled back into the main room, door clicking pointedly.
Weifan gulped, lowered the gun shakily to a side table. “Your trick? Why haven’t I heard of this?”
“You have it too.” I covered my mouth, suddenly light in the head. “Father isn’t the only one. How?”
“That appears to be the question of the hour. I didn’t realize he had it.” Mother spun a chair around to sit so we were in a triangle, all facing each other. “I fancied this your blessing on me, Violetta. You did a damned sight more than keep me alive during the revolution. The Colombi feared me because you and I were an unstoppable team. Even after your powers stopped working, it came occasionally in bursts. I assumed this was you having moments of magical strength back, and using it for me. I didn’t know how to make sense of it. Nearly a month ago, it became stronger. The charm was on me all the time. One of my girls realized when we were horsing about for fun. I got disqualified from our wrestling matches because the calyx charm broke the rules.”
A spark of hope was gaining heat within me. “I promis
e I’m not doing it. Or if I am, I don’t know why. It isn’t a choice. I would be shielding you every chance I had if I could, but even during the revolution, it wasn’t that easy. I couldn’t simply bless people and ignore it.”
Mother searched my eyes. “Here’s what I think. We stole it from you.”
I’d thought of Father’s protection as stolen magic. But her linking them together with that we aroused anger in me. “You and Father have never behaved alike. If he’s found some way of siphoning my magic from me, it wouldn’t be to help you.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” She took another drink, sat back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know how to work through the rules of the magic. I’d need Serafina to think my way out of that bag. But you poured your strength on us, because it was our job to take care of you. It’s only logical. If you have magic that makes people invulnerable, you put it on those you rely on most. Now he’s the enemy and I’m as useless as a stuffed moose head. Yet he and I are the ones with the charm upon us, and not you. Something isn’t right.”
I had nothing to say to that. Many things weren’t right. The idea of blaming Mother and Father both, as if they had played similar roles, burned inside me. Father’s deeds went beyond parental negligence.
One thing was clear: magic had its own reason, its own mechanics, and they didn’t follow the logic of the head. Serafina was right. Magic wasn’t mental, it was physical. Instinctual. Like the sensations of the future in my belly, it had more in common with the infant self, trying to make sense of a vast world without names.
I stopped. Wait. That was it. Dragon-souls were magic. They might be as pure an expression of magic as was possible to exist. So my dragon-soul would be more like an infant, more primal, than like my intellect now.
I didn’t have to outthink the dragon-soul. I had to understand how she felt.
I rose, taking one of each of their hands in mine. “We don’t figure it out. That’s the answer. I keep trying to second-guess the future, but that leads us nowhere. We do what we’ve always done in this life. We decide what matters to us and act. And what matters to me now is that I am doing something for the people I love. I need to be ready for Tibario. If I can preserve him, I will. If I can’t...then I want to be there when it all ends.”