“I didn't want to find out what would happen if Cole...”
“I know.”
“And I couldn't burn a letter straight away.”
“I know.”
“Is that all you're going to say?”
“It's a good thing that the Constabulary wants to keep this hushed up. They don't want to panic the populace.”
I frowned, absorbing the implications behind that statement. “Are there more Unwrittens scattered about?”
“They aren't saying, but they didn't ask a lot of the questions I thought that they ought to. While this benefits us in this moment, it holds certain ominous overtones regarding what secrets they are keeping from everyone else.”
The snap of the fire filled the silence while I considered things. “Mordon, what happened?”
He swallowed and blinked, then rubbed his eyes. They were bloodshot, I now noticed. “Why don't we start with you first?”
“Think we're being listened in to?” I asked, jerking my head towards the door.
“Undoubtedly, but don't concern yourself over it.”
He seemed serious, so I told him about my adventures. He struggled to stay awake throughout the narration. When it came his turn to explain, he tried to sit straight and in the end gave up and spoke from his prone position.
“You should have stayed in the house. Found a room and set up Francis' Barricade.” He stopped, his brow wrinkled, then he stroked his hairless chin. “Do you know that one?”
“We haven't done that one, no.”
“I'm being negligent as your tutor, then. I forget sometimes that you haven't taken a linear progression in your education. No matter, it is too late to think on what we should have done. No more skipping evening classes.” He cleared his throat. “When we broke through the husks, which were not very well prepared, many of them weren't even finished, we made it to the house. We found it newly abandoned and in quite the state. Apparently it hadn't been safe for anyone, so they'd all gone before we arrived. We lost your trail but were on it again when we received a ransom note.”
“A ransom note?” I repeated. “That was clever of him to do.”
“I thought so as well,” Mordon said.
“Why do I hear a 'but?' ”
“Because there is one. But, Valerin and Julius and the vast majority of the Selestiani thought that it was in earnest. There was also a mere fifteen minutes to meet his demands.”
I groaned. “Very, very few people can think properly under that level of strain. What were Cole's demands?”
“An exchange. You and the baby for who else but me.”
“You?” I repeated, staring at him. He nodded, eyes closed. I rubbed my temples and let out a long breath. “What did you do, if you knew or strongly suspected that he didn't actually have me?”
“The Selestiani wanted me to make the exchange, so naturally, I argued with them. Why would he want me when he had two prizes which he valued over my own hide? You he has a personal vendetta against, and Anna he has been trying to get his hands on for years. Why give both of you up for me? Not merely that, but I know you are slippery as an oiled otter. You were somewhere and would be in contact soon. Perhaps Kragdomen would have heard me out, but in Selestiani I lost my argument and gained a moniker. Mordon the Ice-Heart.”
I raised a brow, both at how fast that had escalated and at the nickname itself. Ice-Heart? It must be more lyrical in the Selestiani accent.
He continued, “Valerin was prepared to save you. And proceeded to offer himself in my place, but Cole rejected him.”
“That much is good,” I said. “But how badly does this end?”
“He accepted Julius Septimus.”
This news slapped me across the face. I sagged against the wall and thought of the promise I'd made to Josephina and how hard I had been trying to get Josephina to Julius—and now I had her, I no longer had Julius. And it was all because I didn't have the basic know-how of flaming a stupid piece of paper.
“Surely the Selestiani must have realized that there was something strange about the deal when Cole didn't produce either Anna or me?”
“You underestimate how distressed they were. They were willing to take any risk on the hope that he might uphold his end of the promise.”
“What does this mean?” I asked. “Why did they want Josephina, why do they now want Julius? What is so important about them to go through all this hassle?”
“I haven't given any thought to it. I've been too busy convincing myself that I was right and you weren't in Cole's hands.”
I grabbed Mordon's arm firmly. “You were right to believe in me. We will never get through this if we don't have faith in the other's competence.”
Guilt crushed my chest and made my heart heavy. What I'd felt for the way I'd treated my parents was nothing on how this squeezed in on my mind and body. Perhaps it wasn't my fault, but I shouldn't have neglected the studies I didn't like for the ones I already did well in. I should have taught myself this Francis' Barricade which Mordon referenced. I should have devoted time to mastering fire. It was my choices which had led up to this.
“So now what do we do?” I asked myself, thinking that Mordon's steady breathing meant he was off in dreamland.
“Now I leave myself in your hands while I recover. It's been a very trying time.” He entwined his fingers in my own and added, “Your Romeo can wait a few hours. It's my turn.”
Then he sank into the oblivion of sleep, managing to take up even more space than he had previously. I watched the rise and fall of his chest for some time, initially a little annoyed that he'd effectively blocked me into the cramped corner. Once I settled into my new position, however, I realized this was time for clear reflection.
There was something about all of this that I was missing. I'd likely seen and observed what clues there were to be found, but they weren't going together in a way which made sense. It was there, in my memory, itching to be let out.
This had all started with Josephina coming to me for protection from the Immortal. The Immortal stood against everything Death stood for. That included dying and the after-life. Then there were the Unwrittens I'd found scattered about.
No, I was missing it. Were Josephina and Julius wanted because they were powerful? Because that was Mordon's biggest strength, that and having two forms. The Phoenixes had two forms as well. But then why reject Valerin, other than because he wasn't powerful enough?
Like Moron said, Cole and the Immortal both had personal dealings with me, so why they'd want me was obvious. Anna was obvious, too, since she had been in their hands before and now they would want her back.
For an instant, I entertained the notion that if Cole had managed to lay hands on Mordon, he might use Mordon as leverage against me to bring Anna back. But in the next instant I realized he was just as happy with Julius in his care, so that couldn't be right.
Wearied by the day and lulled by the warm fire, I brought Anna into my lap and fed her from one of the bottles the constable had provided for her. I began to doze, half-dreaming, half-thinking about people shifting from magnificent birds to dragons and horses and even the white rabbit from Wonderland. They'd become human again, but this time they were all infants.
I stirred, stretching my arms and realizing that Anna was asleep as well as Mordon. She'd doubtless been the inspiration behind my daydreams.
And then I knew what I was missing. I bolted upright, wincing as it revealed that my leg was numb from hip down on account of how I'd been sitting. Though I wanted to tell Mordon what it was I'd thought of, how this all clicked together, I saw how peaceful he was. When he woke up, all this would be gone. It wouldn't be him and Anna and me ever again.
One of us would be missing and it would be my decision as to who that would be.
When Mordon tossed an arm clumsy with sleep about my waist and curled me against him, I let him do it, but my mind was far from being content with him. It was thinking of how I would stop what I now knew the Immortal w
as planning to do. I stroked a blond-red strand out of the corner of his mouth, caressed his cheek.
“I bit a spellcaster in half,” Mordon said, mumbling his words just a little.
Shocked, I stared at him. “What?”
Mordon snored in reply and left me wondering if I dared to ask him again when he was awake.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The details of returning to Selestiani didn't matter. There was a little paperwork, a lot of solemn stares and half-whispered comments, and one vivid memory of Anna spewing milk on the new constable while he patted her back. But for the most part it was Valerin sticking close to my elbow, an annoyance rather than a source of charm. It was getting to the point I couldn't wait to be rid of him. He seemed to be of the opinion that I desperately needed rescuing from Mordon the Ice-Heart. By evening we were all installed once again in the cloud city of Selestiani. I'd been kept apart from my coven who were in the guest quarters while Valerin seated me deep in the heart of the local residences.
The necessity of additional helpers was all that kept my coven nearby, and Mordon was the most questioned helper. I discovered all this by eavesdropping when I went to the pub to eat and drink. Valerin and I took a place outside, so I could watch the sun set over a rare steak and a mug of brew. Mordon had been outside first. He sat in the corner farthest from the pub, too still and quiet to be calm, the harsh pre-dusk light striking red glints from his hair. When he noticed me, he lifted a finger in silent greetings. Otherwise he made no attempt to begin a conversation with me nor with anyone else. An uneasy feeling started in my gut and I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
Without consulting me, Valerin abruptly stood and went to Mordon. I didn't like the looming body language. I sat upright, prepared to push back my chair, but I wasn't fast enough.
“How dare you come here?” Valerin demanded
Mordon fell to the side as Valerin took a swing. While Valerin was off-balance from the missed punch, Mordon hooked his opponent's leg. Mordon's hand came up. Valerin twisted, trying to block it. Instead this ended with Valerin on the floor with Mordon's hand encircling his throat. Only those in the nearest tables even realized what had happened by the time I was scowling.
“Meadows, that will do,” I said from my chair. The set of Mordon's shoulders very clearly stated that he was in the mood for a longer brawl than the one his opponent had provided. I couldn't see Valerin but I refused to get up to know his reaction.
Everyone outside watched in anticipation. The last thing I wanted to do was turn this into a public spectacle, which is what would happen if I asked what the fight had been about.
Mordon gathered his feet under him and stepped away from Valerin. Usually Mordon would extend a hand to help his fellow up, but not this time. Nor did Mordon meet my gaze, instead examining everything else and slowly uncoiling a fist. Valerin rubbed his throat and bolted to his feet as soon as he knew Mordon was gone. I thought for a second that Valerin would launch at Mordon and renew the fist fight, but he didn't.
“Go for a hard flight, Meadows, and report back to me when you're done,” I said.
“Milady,” Mordon said and gave a stiff bow.
Valerin gaped, wide-eyed, as Mordon abruptly left the area and disappeared from sight. I approached Valerin, amazed at the unrivaled anger I felt searing through my body. Valerin said, “I couldn't believe that—”
I slapped him.
He jerked, startled.
“I did not ask for your report,” I said. “I used an open hand because that display didn't deserve anything to be proud of. I'm ashamed for all of you.”
Valerin touched his cheek, surprised by the gesture rather than physically hurt, and his brows pinched together in an angry furrow. “He would have left you to Cole,” Valerin said, “he has no privilege to be within your sight.”
From the way I was being observed by the others in the immediate area, this was the commonly upheld belief. If Valerin hadn't started it, one of the others likely would have. Valerin's position as being in care of my safety had exacerbated matters. But it was the wrong reaction to Mordon. Now, instead of incriminating Valerin or accepting his actions, I had to find a way to contest the very notion behind his motivation.
“Mordon and I have previously established our plans should things go awry. He was following in accordance with those plans. Does his obedience mean that he has no privilege to be within my sight?”
Valerin dropped his gaze to his fist, arguing with himself silently. His lips were even twitching. Then he lifted his eyes to mine and said, “Intelligent disobedience is preferred to ignorant obedience.”
“With respect to your intelligence, Mordon knows me—and Gregor Cole—better than you do, and if people had been willing to understand his perspective, we would now have both the infant and Julius Septimus. Nevertheless, I know how to get him back. Spread the word that we'll be gathering to discuss it. I definitely want Mordon and the other members of my coven present at the talk.”
And then I put on my invisibility ring, and I left without another word.
* * *
I didn't go far, just to the place with the bench overlooking the landscape below. Once there, I let myself tremble and feel positively shaken. I didn't know how long I'd been there before Mordon sniffed me out and draped an arm over my shoulders.
“I have news,” Mordon said.
***
The Selestiani gathered once Valerin released the word. Each of them knew about the dinnertime confrontation and what had been said, and they were willing to listen to what I had to say—however, that was tainted by my favoritism of the coven over the settlement. I examined the people staring at me and thought about the right words, wondering how I would say it. Suicide wasn't the right term, but how much did they value Julius?
“Julius Septimus has been captured,” I said. “Everyone here knows this is true. Before I continue with the details, I need you to think about how far your are willing to go to obtain his return.” There wasn't a response, but no one went away, so I continued, “Julius Septimus is being held in solitary confinement in the Merlyn's Market Council building. It is the first stages towards pursuing a death sentence. They claim he plotted assassination against Gregor Cole.”
A mutter spread through the people. Some of them scowled, angry at the very notion of killing their leader. Others shook their head. A few stared at me as if this was my fault, and still others were dazed at the news, not believing that it was possible they were understanding this correctly. It took me rapping on the benches to quiet them down.
“There are a few ways we could go about this which would be better in the long term, but it would be a protracted ordeal. Given the eagerness of the court in following Cole's every whim, I'm afraid it would take years to address a gross miscarriage of justice. I say it like that, because under the recent legislation, Septimus has no recourse to standard procedure. His justice will be expedited and it will not yield a happy result for him or us. At worst the judges will examine the evidence and declare him guilty. At best he will duel with his accused. He won't be allowed to win. And if Septimus dies which is what Cole wants, it's what he wanted from Josephina, it will go very badly for everyone else as well as us. Which is why I propose we break into the Council building and extract Septimus.”
“What recent legislation?” someone asked, skeptical of attacking the market. It'd sour relations for the obvious reasons.
“It sounds ridiculous,” I said. “That's because it is very paranoid. But the Council has something called a Black-Out Rank Bill. I wouldn't even know of its existence except for my association with Leif and Lilly. The Black-Out Rank Bill is not on public record, it's kept secret to maintain the confidentiality of the government. To keep spies and the sort from knowing delicate information. Part of the Official Body Wellfare's bill is the expedited and harsh prosecution of groups and individuals who pose a threat to the people who make the laws. It is not necessary to make these proceedings public rec
ord, either. Which makes you wonder how often events such as this really do happen. Not that it matters. What matters is that legal recourse and anything which abides by the law is out. Also out is anything which will take longer than eighteen hours to execute, because that is how long Julius Septimus has to live.”
There was stunned, perfect silence after this announcement.
Someone began to laugh. “They can't kill him. Death is temporary for a phoenix!”
“I believe that is why Josephina was captured. Far more preferable to watch a natural death-rebirth cycle than to risk upsetting it by forcibly inducing it.”
Mordon wasn't convinced of my theory, and that made me less eager to share it to a wider audience—not that it would do anything but confuse the settlement and take away time from what we needed to be doing. Getting Julius back was paramount, both for the settlement and in case my theory was correct.
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