Revisionary

by Jim C. Hines

  Established in 1947, Article 9 prohibits Japan from maintaining an armed military, stating in part, “The Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes.”

  This historic vote follows weeks of increasing tension after China used a nuclear weapon against an alleged magical threat within its own borders. A statement from China’s Ministry of Defense claimed the nuclear strike was only authorized as a last resort. “The threat posed by these magical rebels is equivalent to an active terrorist organization with nuclear capabilities. No nation would willingly allow such a threat within their borders.”

  Japan’s Prime Minister rejected that explanation. “The world cannot tolerate a policy of nuclear aggression against potential magical threats. Nor do we believe the world could survive such a policy. We call upon all nations to condemn this attack, and we offer refuge and aid to those targeted by this act of war.”

  According to Article 96 of Japan’s Constitution, an amendment to Article 9 requires a 2/3 supermajority vote by the legislature as well as an affirmative vote by the people. A special election has been scheduled for one week from today.

  “What are you?”

  “I’ll need you to be a little more specific, Isaac.”

  “Are you alive?”

  “That’s an interesting question. It’s also a difficult one to answer with any accuracy. I’d say I’m as alive and self-aware as Smudge or Lena.”

  “Both of whom nearly lost their minds when they were brought from their books into the real world. Based on everything we know, shouldn’t you be insane?”

  “Where does such madness arise? Is it the shock of finding oneself in another world? I spent more than five centuries in your world. Is it the shortcoming of text, the inability to truly capture a complete mind in print? But then, a book written by a libriomancer is more than mere text. Particularly a book written by me, if I say so myself.”

  “Particularly if you’re borrowing techniques from the Students of Bi Sheng.”

  “You noticed that, did you?”

  “Are you a ghost?”

  “The Porters have been shamefully sloppy with their classification of ‘ghosts.’ When a vampire uses their power to speak with the dead, are they truly contacting a ghost? The mental and spiritual energy I used to guide my automatons, do those tattered remnants of humanity qualify as ghosts? Or Meridiana’s so-called ghost army? Those poor souls had little in common with their living counterparts.”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “I have no answer for you, Isaac. I simply am.”

  I WIPED WATER FROM my eyes and searched for Lena among the wreckage of the Nemo. I couldn’t see her, and there was no trace of her magic in the waves. I tried to fly in their direction, but my fading, waterlogged wings could barely keep us afloat. I switched tactics, looking around for any surviving sirens. If they knew we’d come to help them, they might be willing to return the favor.

  Deb pounded my arm and pointed. I screamed in pain. A bullet had torn a line along my forearm. I clasped my other hand around the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. Old horror stories about sharks flashed through my head. Right now, I didn’t have the strength to fight off an angry goldfish, let alone Jaws.

  Once my eyes stopped watering, I looked to see what Deb was pointing at. A motorboat cut through the waves behind us. I counted eight people on board, most of them armed. One man scanned the water with a small but powerful spotlight. They paused to gather another unconscious siren, then circled toward us.

  I wasn’t sure I could stop them without killing myself in the process. Not with the amount of magic I’d burned through in the past hour. Nor did I want to hurt them. Whatever was happening, it didn’t make all of these people villains. Most were simply doing their jobs.

  I took the printout of the Kagan’s orders and shoved it into one of the plastic bags I’d used to protect my books.

  Deb pointed to the water and pantomimed swimming.

  I shook my head. We had no boat. Even if we could evade the Coast Guard, neither of us were in any shape to swim to shore.

  Nor was I willing to leave. Lena might have survived. I couldn’t abandon her to drown, or to be rounded up with the sirens.

  Deb’s face twisted with anger and disgust. She shoved away from me and dove into the ocean.

  The boat pulled alongside. One man fired a spray of bullets at the water where Deb had vanished. Rough hands hauled me in and tossed me down beside the unconscious siren, making me cry out again. I cradled my arm against my body. Three other guns pointed toward my chest.

  “There was a woman on that boat,” I shouted. They couldn’t hear me. I gestured at the wreckage, searching for a way to make them understand. Given Lena’s size and the wood growing along her skeleton, her body should float. If we reached her quickly enough, if I could get her back to her oak tree—

  I got a kick to the side of the head for my trouble. They probably thought I was trying to do magic.

  One man tugged off my shoes. Without my weight to worry about, they promptly flew off into the darkness.

  I spat blood and tried to control my shivering. Lena knew how to swim, and she was tough enough to survive a gunshot or two, but those deck guns were a much higher caliber than anything she’d faced. I squinted up at the closest man. “My friend was on board.” I exaggerated each word, willing him to understand. “We have to find her. Please.”

  Had Lena had time to grab Smudge’s cage? He’d survived falling into a river back home, but that water had been far calmer and warmer than the Atlantic.

  The boat turned about.

  “No!” I tried to sit up. “She’s still out there!”

  A hand twisted into my hair and threw me back down. I rolled onto my side, trying not to vomit. The captive siren lay inches away. Blood dripped from her ears. The explosions could have easily burst her eardrums. Someone had fastened a thick strip of woven nylon around her neck, like a dog collar tugged so tight it dug into the skin. It had been ratcheted into place, and I saw no way to unlatch it.

  I focused my attention on the siren’s magic. It was faint, but legible. Unlike Deb or Lena, sirens weren’t book-born creatures. They had evolved naturally, and that made it harder for me to parse their magic. Harder, but not impossible.

  I blinked, trying to focus. Everyone on board was protected against the sirens’ song. I’d have to manipulate the power of that song directly, to fashion the longing and despair into a weapon and thrust it through each and every one of my captors before they realized what I was doing.

  It was a flip of a coin whether my mind would snap first, or if one of them would put a bullet through me. It was also the only way I could possibly get back to search for Lena.

  The boat jolted like a car hitting a pothole. One man aimed the spotlight into the water beside us, while another covered the same spot with his weapon.

  A second jolt followed, and a wooden spike punched through the side of the hull to stab the gunner’s leg.

  Lena. Thank God. I sagged backward in relief.

  Bullets riddled the water. The motor sputtered and died. A man near the back grabbed what looked like an oversized smart phone and began tapping out a message, probably alerting the Kagan that they were under attack. I rolled along the floor and kicked the phone out of his hand, sending it overboard.

  He kicked me in the ribs, but like the rest of the crew, he appeared to be more concerned with Lena’s assault. The wooden spike continued to grow. Branches twined around legs, feet, anything they could reach. They ignored me and the siren. When this was over, I’d have to ask how she could see or sense who to entangle.

  One man pulled a knife and sawed at the branches, which were now coming through both sides of the boat. Was Lena directly beneath us? It would protect her from gunshots, since they couldn’t shoot her without sinking us, but how could she breathe?

  Another branch took co
ntrol of the wheel. That was enough for the crew. They turned their full attention to cutting and breaking themselves free. One jumped overboard. I slowly slid a hand into my jacket and pulled out an orange plastic squirt gun. While the others struggled with Lena’s attack, I leaned out and shot the swimming man in the back of the head with a squirt of water from the river Lethe. It was a diluted dose, and should be just enough to wipe their memories of the past day. Maybe two.

  Lena appeared inclined to let them go. The branches loosened, and people dove away almost too fast for me to tag them all with the squirt gun.

  Soon, only a single man remained, bound like a wooden statue. I crawled to the wheel, restarted the engine, and did my best to steer us away from the cutters as Lena pulled herself on board.

  “Smudge?” I shouted.

  She pointed toward the remains of the Nemo.

  I brought us around one-handed. Water was seeping through the holes she’d punched in the hull, though the branches mostly sealed them.

  She brought her face to mine. “Are you all right?” she mouthed.

  I shook my head. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a glass vial encased in wood. She must have grown an oak shell to protect it. She removed the top and placed a single drop on my tongue. The burning and throbbing in my arm vanished, as did the other pains I’d acquired.

  Lena turned away and reached into the water. A moment later, she was hauling Deb on board.

  I spotted an angry red flare bobbing atop one of the larger chunks of the Nemo, a section of deck and hull about the size of a small car. Lena must have gotten Smudge out of his cage before swimming out to intercept us.

  Lena pulled one of the branches free and extended it toward Smudge. The wood grew, stretching until it touched the wreckage. Smudge scrambled onto the end of the branch, a pillar of steam and flame and fury. He raced onto the top of Lena’s head and clung there like a crown of fire. Lena grimaced, but Smudge’s flames were mostly on the top of his body, and her hair was wet enough to keep it from igniting.

  Another boat was closing in on us, but they held their fire. They wouldn’t risk hitting one of their own. I opened up the engines and steered toward land. Lena untangled our imprisoned guardsman. Once she’d checked to make sure he was uninjured, she grabbed him by the waist and collar and lifted him over her head. I twisted around and squirted him just before Lena hurled him into the waves, directly in the path of the other boat.

  They slowed down, more concerned with rescuing their colleague than with catching us.

  I grabbed Deb and pointed to the wheel. She took over, allowing me to examine the siren. Lena crouched beside me. Smudge darted from Lena’s head onto my shoulder.

  Lena formed another branch into a thin, short-bladed knife, and used it to cut away the collar. The siren was awake now, her eyes round as she watched. Her face tightened in pain as Lena pulled the collar free.

  I started to swear in five different languages. The inside of the collar was barbed. Each metal spike was a quarter of an inch long, and left bloody, pencil-sized holes in the siren’s throat. Six were concentrated in the front, with four more spaced around the sides and back of the neck.

  My own healing cordial had shattered during the fighting. Lena offered a drop from hers, but the siren refused, squirming away. Without a word, she pulled herself over the edge and vanished into the ocean.

  Lena’s mouth was a tight-pressed line. She moved over to relieve Deb. A moment later, the boat’s lights switched off.

  It didn’t look like anyone was pursuing us. Between the sirens, the ice, and their own amnesiac crewmen, they had more than enough to worry about.

  Which made this an ideal time for me to pass the hell out.

  The next several hours were about as much fun as pulling out your own spleen. Through your urethra. Magic could heal physical injuries. It did nothing to help my mind and body recover from the amount of power I’d channeled tonight.

  I remembered coming to on the boat, and Deb holding my collar while I leaned over the inflated rim and heaved everything I’d eaten in the past twenty-four hours into the ocean. When my consciousness finally managed a hard reboot, I found myself on my back in the sand, staring up at the cloudy night sky. I was wrapped in a damp blanket and shivering hard. Sweat covered my skin, and my muscles felt like melted rubber.

  Smudge sat atop my chest, glowing like a tiny space heater. I brought my numb hands over his back.

  “Oh, look. Mount St. Helens is awake,” said Deb. “Please tell me you’re done erupting.”

  I didn’t have the strength to flip her off. “You look like you’re feeling better,” I croaked.

  “I’ve been munching on minnows. And you look like hastily resurrected shit.”

  “Don’t worry, I look better than I feel.” I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Where’s Lena?”

  “She went back out to dispose of the boat, in case the Coast Guard had a way to track it. She’ll be back soon with the car.” She leaned over and grinned, displaying what I assumed was a bit of fin stuck between her teeth. “Still think Vanguard is overreacting?”

  Someone had replaced my glasses on my face. The lenses were so badly streaked they made my vision worse, and the right hinge was bent. I tried to clean them, but my ocean-soaked clothes were useless. “What time is it?”

  “About one in the morning.”

  “Great. Wake me up when the clock hits January.”

  “What happened to you back there?”

  “Too much magic.” Back when I’d been a traditional libriomancer, magic used to make me lose my appetite. It hadn’t made me lose the contents of my stomach.

  Ponce de Leon once told me true sorcerers used wands and staves to channel their magic, allowing all that power to damage their tools rather than their bodies. Unfortunately, he’d disappeared again before explaining exactly how to perform magic with such tools. It was one more thing I intended to research, if I ever got the opportunity.

  I looked around, trying to figure out where we were. Through the ink-like smears across my vision, I saw empty docks stretched out to either side. This time of year, people would be starting to bring their recreational boats in for the season, though I spotted a docked pontoon boat and a pair of sailboats a little ways off.

  A car door slammed nearby. Lena hurried toward us through knee-high grass, a single wooden sword ready in one hand. “Isaac?”

  “I’m alive. Mostly.”

  “Glad to hear it. Can you walk?”

  “Have I mastered the skill? Yes. Can I demonstrate it at this particular moment? I’m not sure.”

  She scooped up Smudge and set him on her shoulder. His flames died down. Either Lena’s presence made him feel safer—understandably so—or else he’d been burning entirely for my sake, trying to keep me warm.

  She took hold of my arm and pulled me slowly to my feet. The ground wobbled a bit. “They’re talking about this on the news. The radio called it a terrorist attack against Coast Guard vessels. There hasn’t been an official statement yet.”

  “They’ll need time to get their story straight.” Deb paused to snatch something small from the sand, probably a crab or crawfish or some such. She popped it into her mouth before I could make out the details. “I don’t think anyone got a good look at me, but Isaac here’s another story. Once they hauled Mr. Bigshot Television Star into their rescue boat, it was all over.”

  “They shouldn’t remember any of it. I hit them all with a shot of Lethe water.”

  “That’s dangerous stuff to be carrying around,” Deb said.

  “So are you.”

  Lena helped me into the car. “Were you able to get what you needed?”

  “I hope so.” I reached into my jacket and retrieved the slightly damp and crumpled printout, turned on the interior light, and began to read. Half a minute later, I began to swear.

  “The orders are straight from Thomas M. Hayes. The Commandant of the U. S. Coast Guard. They called it Operat
ion Ocean Song.”

  “Where are they taking the sirens?” demanded Deb.

  “The Virginia facility, whatever that is. I put a tracker on one of them.” I kept reading. “There’s an entire paragraph about assessing the effectiveness of the vampires’ assault, and of the Coast Guard’s anti-inhuman weaponry. They were told to expect resistance, and to use whatever means necessary to execute hostile vampires.”

  “And you let them,” Deb said quietly. “You stood there and watched while they burned those vampires to ash. You could have sent all three of those ships to the bottom of the ocean.”

  I was too tired to be angry. “Yah, I could have killed a few hundred people and lost our shot at finding out what the hell is going on.”

  “So what now? Shall we sit around some more while those assholes dissect their prisoners to find out how sirens work? Just like the Porters used to do.” Deb twisted around in her seat. “We saw children floating on those waves, Isaac. Every siren who died, every one who gets cut open, enslaved, or crippled by those monsters, that’s on you. You and your damned Porters.”

  Lena frowned at that. “The Porters?”

  “The commander of that ship had a JG-367,” I said. “There’s a good chance it came from one of us. A leak from the Porters would explain how they were so well equipped to deal with the vampires and the sirens.”

  “So what the fuck are you going to do about it?” Deb demanded.

  I held up the stolen orders. “We’re going to start by rescuing those sirens.”

  Lena started the car and pulled onto the road. “It’s about five hundred miles to Virginia. We get on 95 heading north, and Isaac can catch up on his beauty rest. I’ll wake him up when we reach the state border, and he can pinpoint exactly where they’re going.”

  “Can’t he track them now?”

  I held up one hand, noting the faint ashen pallor of my fingertips. The more I manipulated so much raw magic, the more I’d char my own body in addition to the books. “Only if you want me to puke on you again. We know where they’re going. I just need a little time to recover.”