by Sean Platt
Kindred had stopped struggling. Meyer met his eyes and slowly nodded, their shared mind collecting the undertones.
“For five years, we’ve lived in peace. And for five years, we’ve believed a lie.”
Jabari raised her hand, beckoning at Meyer. Feeling the uncertainty and latent, assumed hostility in the crowd, he came. The crowd must have recognized him before he spoke because murmurs multiplied, a slow gasp permeating the group.
“I’d like to introduce you all to Meyer Dempsey,” she said.
Noise increased. Heads turned, fear percolating to join the uncertainty, freshly stirred hatred for the past.
Jabari raised her hand, now summoning Kindred.
“And to the viceroy of Heaven’s Veil,” she said.
The people looked from one man to the other as they approached the stage’s front edge. Images from close up were rebroadcast on screens around the square, same as to the other capitals — still with communications curiously uncut.
One supposedly dead and deposed Meyer Dempsey.
And another supposedly dead and deposed Meyer Dempsey, standing right beside him.
Composure broke. The babble of a thousand simultaneous conversations was almost deafening, but it quieted in seconds as Meyer raised a hand and delivered the two sentences they’d rehearsed, exactly as written.
“All you’ve been told about the capital governments and your Ark is a lie. The truth is much simpler.” Meyer held his eyes to the crowd, waiting for curiosity to force their quiet. Then he said, “The Astrals destroyed Heaven’s Veil just to hear you scream.”
CHAPTER 50
The screen mounted to Kamal’s office wall came on, showing a blue background and a seal that Peers hadn’t seen around but that obviously represented Ember Flats. One eye ticked to the kid, Ravi, but he hadn’t flinched. If there was hesitation, Peers had already decided he’d try for the gun.
“Sit,” Ravi said. “In those chairs there.”
Peers looked down, decided that righting the spilled chairs before attempting to sit would be allowed, and did so. Jeanine sat first, but she was watching Ravi same as Peers, waiting for her moment. But Ravi would offer none.
The kid came the rest of the way into the office, peeked out into the hallway, then closed the door. He watched the screen, gun still rock-steady leveled at his two prisoners. The room was plenty large enough for him to control them without restraints; if either came at him or threw something, he’d have more than enough time, from where he was standing, to pull the trigger. And if the boy was who he said, there would be no hesitation. The Mullah were usually peaceful, but when important matters were at stake, there was no latitude. And this little incident concerned the most important matter of all.
Ravi watched the screen. Jabari approached a lectern and spoke. The volume was low, barely high enough to hear. Ravi didn’t turn it up. Instead, he looked past Jeanine to the window. But Kamal’s office faced the wrong way; he’d need to be in another room to see the Ark, and what Cameron would do when Meyer’s and Kindred’s faces took Jabari’s place.
“Is she alive?”
Peers turned his head and saw a challenging stare on Jeanine Coffey’s smooth features.
“The Lightborn?” Ravi asked, barely taking his eyes from the screen.
“Her name is Clara.”
Now Ravi turned. He couldn’t be much older than Peers just after his exile, and possibly younger.
“I imagine she’s fine.”
“Just tell us,” Peers said.
Ravi fixed his gaze on Peers, more curious than acrimonious. Perhaps he’d taken Peers for a potted plant, and was shocked he’d spoken.
“Why would they hurt her? Like I said, I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Why?” Jeanine said. “You took her as ransom!”
“I didn’t take her at all,” Ravi replied, speaking as precisely as an Oxford grad; the Mullah prided themselves on infiltration, and infiltration required education. “Maybe you should check your assumptions before casting accusations like dice.”
“You — !” Jeanine began, but Ravi cut her off.
“I,” he said, emphasizing the word by putting his free hand on his chest, “am merely keeping you here until this is over.”
Peers looked at the screen then back at Ravi.
“Then what?”
“Then it will no longer matter what I do with you.”
“But Clara … ”
Ravi shifted, turning his affable (if gun-toting) manner on Jeanine. “The Mullah are very interested in the Lightborn. But there are none among us. All came from the sites of first encounters, though they’ve wandered since. Some among us say they are a kind of X factor: those who were affected from youth, with a new kind of mind. Past epochs created messiahs and seers, but this is different. With your girl in the house, wandering right into their midst, practically offering herself to the group without the need to so much as show our hand, it was too great an opportunity to deny. Believe me, harming her is the last thing they’d do.”
“But the note … ”
“I left the note.”
“Why?”
“As I said, it’s too great an opportunity to pass up.”
“You … you defied the others,” Peers said.
“‘Defied’ is so uncouth a word. I was decisive.” His big eyebrows rose then fell. He smiled like someone with a secret. “Come now, Peers. You of all people understand the impetuosness and arrogance of youth.”
Jeanine looked between the two. “What’s he talking about?”
Peers shook his head, brushing it away.
“It’s interesting,” Ravi said, watching Jabari speak to the crowd on the office screen. “We infiltrated Ember Flats to have our hands inside the human government. We took great pains. I was only ten when I came here with my father, and I remember the sense of it all: ‘We will hide in their underbelly. We will make them itch with things that need scratching.’ I’ve always considered the viceroy my enemy, or at least one to watch. But look at this.” He pointed at the screen. “Now her plan for subversion has meshed with ours. Sharing a side, in the end.”
“You want the Ark opened.”
“This epoch has run its course. It is time to rip off the bandage so we can try again from a new beginning. There are many among us who believe the Horsemen were called early. They say humanity might have had a chance if protocol had been observed, but it was not. Another hundred years, maybe three, perhaps a millennium … the species might have been worth saving then. But even among those who believe we might have been judged worthy if given more time, all agree that we are not worthy yet — and will be judged as such. For seven years we’ve been in limbo because those who can end it refuse to act. Half my life spent in waiting.” He shook his head, biting his cheek, watching the screen. “I’m tired of waiting. If my eternal reward is coming, I am prepared to meet it now.”
“And the rest of the Mullah?”
“You know how they are, Peers Basara,” Ravi said, his statement raising Jeanine’s eyebrows. “They’re like monks. They will fight terribly for what they feel is right or predestined, but it takes so long to decide on what those things are. They’d have taken the key from you, had you given them a chance, had the key not seemed so stubbornly determined to stay by Bannister’s side. But if they’d taken it, they’d have placed it on an altar. It’s all patience with them — seeing what will happen, and only forcing things so far. Eventually they decided to stop chasing you, to let Cameron decide for himself what to do with the key. That’s when I started to think I’d have to wait forever and that my own action might be required. Because without a nudge, he’d never have chosen to open the Ark and trigger the process of judgment.”
“Cameron kept his end of the deal,” Peers said. “Now take us to Clara.”
“He hasn’t done it yet,” Ravi shook his head, his eyes on the subtle unease crossing the faces on-screen.
“Please,” Jeanine said, and Peers reali
zed he may never have heard the word on the woman’s lips. “If we get her now, maybe we can protect her.”
“Nothing can protect her. Nothing can protect any of us.”
“You have to let us try.”
“You aren’t listening,” Ravi said, his tone suddenly sharp. “We’re on the eve of the apocalypse. On the eve of extermination. You cannot simply run. They will not follow us one by one, pointing guns as I’m doing now. The Horsemen have done this many times before, and they know how to do it well. When judgment is over, only a handful will remain. Our history will be eradicated. After a few generations, the marvels of these times will be lost to history and remain only as legends. Like the mythical flying machines from the ancient past, so they will talk of our airplanes. Like the lost desert cities, so will they speak of our New York, Beijing, and Berlin.”
“We could be part of that handful!” Peers blurted. “Jesus, we were just trying to save a girl who’s been taken!”
“You know the legends, Mr. Basara,” Ravi said, again drawing a confused look from Jeanine. “You know how it always unfolds. The end days come. The Seven reveal themselves: The Warrior. The King. The Fool. The Innocent. The Villain. The Magician. And the Sage. The followers are chosen at random, as if by lottery. You will not increase your odds of survival by taking her to flee now. If Clara has any chance, it’s here with the Mullah, who at least have reason to understand her. And maybe her kind is an X factor; it is for the elders and not one like me or you to know. So tell me: How does handing her off to you assist anything? How could you possibly escape the city, surrounded as it is by tribes?”
Peers looked up, a thought dawning. “The tunnels. There used to be tunnels all over, deep down. Far under the sand, restored by the Mullah.”
“How do you know that?” Jeanine asked.
Peers rushed on, ignoring her.
“I know, Ravi. The Mullah say they must be here when judgment comes, when the Ark is opened. But I can take her away. I of all people. I can take them all away, any who remain in the house. Even Dempsey if he returns. Especially Dempsey! You must see the signs; you know at least part of this has to be true. The King, Ravi! ‘Out of two, one.’ Meyer Dempsey and his clone, together, must be the King the scrolls speak of! The Mullah won’t show him the old tunnels, but they’re the only way out. He must escape. You know it! So how, if not with my help?”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Peers?” Jeanine said.
Peers was shaking his head, walking forward, all the old Mullah legends coming back like he’d read them yesterday.
“Let me take them, Ravi. You’re serving destiny by forcing the Ark to open. So let me serve it next. Meyer and Kindred did all of this for Clara; they won’t leave without the girl, so we need to find her before he returns. The scrolls say the King survives! Put the puzzle together, will you?”
Ravi looked uncertain. The gun lowered a little but not nearly far enough to leap for and grab. Jeanine was still staring as Peers let his Mullah all hang out. Still he pressed on, imploring the kid with hard eyes.
On the screen, Jabari stepped down. Meyer, with his blue tie, appeared in her place, and in Peers’s higher mind, the entire human race seemed to sigh.
“You can’t know he’ll be chosen as the King,” Ravi said.
But Peers knew he had him; the kid was on the ropes.
“I was young and stupid once. I did something nearly as dumb as you’re doing right now. It lost me my family and friends, all of whom turned away and cast me out. I know you think you’re doing what’s right, and that nobody else will do it if you don’t step in. What’s done is done, for better or worse. But don’t make it worse. Tell me where to find Clara. Tell me where the other Mullah have her.”
“You … ” Ravi stuttered. “The tunnels out of the city. You won’t be able to open them without an elder ring.”
“I’ve opened those locks before. You just need three points of conductive metal and … ”
“What locks? When? Where?” Now Ravi was unraveling. He was only a teenager, and now, as Peers kicked the bedrock out from under him, his panicked youth was showing.
“Here! In the palace!”
“The tunnel locks are ancient.”
“And years ago! Twenty years ago, on the most ancient locks of all, in the temple!”
Ravi’s frenzied expression gave way to one of study, of uncertainty.
“You opened a lock in the temple? Beyond the elders?”
“Yes! And I can get them through the tunnels if you’ll just make up your goddamned mind to—”
Ravi was shaking his head slowly, in disbelief. “No.”
“Don’t be an idiot! Let us go, Ravi! It’s done!” He jabbed a finger at the screen, where one Meyer Dempsey had joined another. The feeling of anticipation and warning in the air was like static, raising the hair on his arms. “You feel it, don’t you? Cameron will put the key in the Ark any second. You won, okay? You got what you wanted. None of this matters anymore. Now let us go!” Peers nudged Kamal with his foot. With any luck, the man would die before he awoke, the lucky bastard.
But Ravi was just repeating that one word, his eyes wide. He wasn’t denying Peers’s request. He was simply refusing to believe the dawning realization.
“No. No.”
“Ravi! Think!”
He went to the door. He opened it.
“The Fool,” he hissed.
Then he ran, leaving Peers and Jeanine alone with a snoring Kamal.
CHAPTER 51
It began as a whisper. Then it came at him like a wave.
Cameron held the key above the round indentation, recalling his grandfather’s ancient record player. Time to drop a platter, put the needle in the groove — then dance until the world ended.
But then he heard someone in the corner of his mind. It seemed to echo, doubled on itself as if shouted into a cavernous space, the reverberated shout then dialed down to barely audible. He remembered the monolith repeaters, remembered the way walking between lines of similar stones seven years ago had first connected Piper’s mind to his.
It was the broadcast. Meyer and Kindred had told the city about Heaven’s Veil, and the Astrals hadn’t cut it off. They’d let it go out.
It meant that the twin Dempseys hadn’t just told Ember Flats about the alien treachery, about the way viceroys had been replaced, about annihilating an entire capital to generate an emotional outcry that would let them triangulate on the Ark’s hidden location.
It meant they’d told every capital all of those things.
The whispered shout doubled in Cameron’s mind. It tripled. It felt suddenly like his hair was being lifted by a gentle breeze, though no wind was stirring. And still he looked toward the square with the key still mostly steady and held high, squinting into that invisible wind. It wasn’t just a breeze. It was the sigh preceding a storm: a forecast of something much stronger on the way.
Then it hit him: all the fear. All the anger. All the betrayal and grief and anguish. All the dredged-up memories. The breaking of trust, shattered like china on the floor. A million voices spoke at once, all in reaction, trying to make sense of something insensible, lost and floating, no longer able to find the ground below them.
But the thoughts and whispers weren’t for Cameron. They were for the Ark.
He could almost see it streaking past him now: faint veins of light soaring through the air — many in a gentle arc from the square; some from the sky itself, from half a planet away. They stirred Cameron’s hair in their passage and dove into the chest, building its energy. Building its indignation and fright and anger.
Still the key hovered, held above the keyhole by Cameron’s hands. He’d begun to shake, but he didn’t pull the key away. Some deep part of himself held his limbs in place like an iron fist. He’d been here before; he’d run once, when things had gone bad, and yet here he was again. If he ran this time, a small part of him felt sure he’d spend more years wandering, chased and fleeing, o
nly to end up in the same place a decade older, no more sure than he was now.
Take a leap of faith.
But it wasn’t really Cameron’s voice. It was his father’s. And not the voice of the Pall in masquerade but of Benjamin Bannister himself.
It’s the wrong choice, Cameron thought, the key still unmoving, six inches from the platter-like keyhole.
Maybe it’s neither right nor wrong. Maybe it is what it is.
It’s the wrong choice!
A wave of incoming emotion jolted him. He almost dropped the key then nearly wished he had. But did it matter? If this was destiny, the key could never break. It’d grip his hands, holding on until the deed was done.
The jolt rattled Cameron’s brain in his skull. Something clattered at his neck, and then there was a loose thing dangling just below his vision, tugging minutely at him.
Cameron looked down. It was the coin on the lanyard his father had given him: the thing Mara Jabari had called a mau.
And Benjamin’s voice inside his head — a voice from something above, something Cameron might have thought came from the realm of souls if he’d believed — said, Are you absolutely sure it’s the wrong choice?
He waited for something to happen as the world screamed around him. As the indignation and torment from the capital buzzed by, making the Ark glow and shake as if in fury. He waited for an unseen hand to grip the key, tug it into its slot, and force the unlocking. He waited for a blast of air to unseat him again, tossing the key away to shatter. But nothing happened. Cameron’s arms were sure as they held the thing, neither urging him to mate key and hole nor pressing him away.
It was his decision alone.
The Ark was practically vibrating, reminding Cameron of furious hornets.
But he didn’t quite want to run. He didn’t want to leave. He was terrified out of his mind yet frozen in place, in the no man’s land between this and that.