A Legend of Starfire

by Marissa Burt

  “You’re going outside the city walls?” Vulcan wiped his mouth and stared. “What’s out there, anyway?”

  Simon was finished eating and watching Auspex carefully. Wren imagined he was taking mental notes while he listened.

  Auspex smiled at them and shrugged. “Come see for yourselves.” He leaned forward with a very serious expression on his face. “I must be honest. The Outsiders are not friendly toward the city dwellers, even less toward the Alchemists.” He smoothed down his beard with one hand. “But if they hear that you also want to end Boggen’s twisted research . . .” He trailed off, hopeful.

  “Agreed,” Wren said, but she didn’t smile at Auspex. She trusted him as much as she had to trust anyone in this strange world, but that didn’t mean she thought they were going to be friends. She had a sneaking suspicion that whatever he was saying, he wasn’t being 100 percent truthful. The whole thing made her uncomfortable, including the part about going outside the walls. She hadn’t been in Nod for very long, but it had been long enough to convince her that the world beyond the city wasn’t safe. But then again, Robin was somehow connected with the Outsiders. Perhaps going with Auspex would help Wren find out what had happened to her. “When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow.” Auspex explained that he had been gathering information about the nightmares inflicting the city. “We are concerned about what they signify.”

  “There was a plague,” Winter began, but then stopped when she saw Wren’s face. “But I see you know about that.”

  “But not anything about the nightmares,” Simon said expectantly.

  “Or why people are so worried about the plague returning. The whole city is in an uproar,” Wren said, adding what the old man had said about the Crooked Man’s star being in retrograde. She glanced at Vulcan, who was watching her, and shifted her gaze quickly back to Auspex. “Do you believe the Legend as well?”

  Auspex sighed. “It has long been foretold that the Crooked Man will destroy Nod with starfire. All the signs indicate that this day is now approaching. We should have given up the foul stardust long ago.” He turned to Wren and Simon. “We Outsiders don’t believe in the use of stardust. We prefer to live naturally.” He made a reverential gesture—somewhere between crossing himself and bowing. “We’ve seen the cost of using magic. The plague, for instance. One of the first symptoms was the nightmares, and now they have returned. After that came the insanity. Nod would have been better off if we had stopped using stardust long ago.”

  Winter cleared her throat. “Some of us are not as uncompromising as the Outsiders.” She ignored Auspex’s accusatory look. “While we do not shun the use of magic completely, we believe in better education. And, more important, in the abolition of the caste system and the ending of Boggen’s forced research on unwilling subjects.” She poured Auspex another cup of tea, almost as a peace offering. “On those things we can be united. We hope to work together to reform Nod.”

  They talked long into the night. Even after Auspex and Winter left to make preparations, Simon, Wren, and Vulcan continued the conversation. At first they talked about what they had seen and learned, what they thought might be beyond the walls, and what the nightmares meant. And then once Vulcan had nodded off to sleep, Wren and Simon talked about what might be happening on Earth and when they might see it again. And then their conversation dwindled to a halt, with sentences coming sparser and sparser, heavy quiet filling the space between them, until Wren’s own head began to nod and she gave in to the undeniable desire to sleep.

  Wren woke into one of the nightmares. The thick fog that had accompanied the tidal wave poured from the ceiling and crept down the walls to cover the ground around her. She wasn’t in the room by the fire anymore. This time she found herself in the underground catacombs, where she watched from a very great distance as a group of Magicians tried to manipulate stardust. A voice came through the fog, almost as though a narrator in a movie was speaking over the scene.

  “The use of stardust is a dangerous choice,” the voice said. “And one that the unwise will pursue at great cost.”

  The memorial on the wall that described the consequences of the plague of magic flared with a dark light. The engraved letters began to wiggle, jostling against one another. As Wren watched, the letters became bugs, small winged roaches that began to creep down the monument. The trickle became a swarm as the places where the letters used to be transformed into holes that poured forth more and more insects.

  Wren tried to cry out, tried to warn the unsuspecting Magicians, but her voice was stoppered, and no sound came out. The insects clambered on top of one another, burying themselves several bodies thick as what looked like a carpet of moving bugs began to wash through the catacombs. Soon, the Magicians were overcome by it, the walls and tombs of the catacombs unrecognizable beneath a flood of the unstoppable black insects.

  Wren tried her old tactics, the ones that caused the dream to shift back on Earth, but her efforts were fruitless. She was stuck fast, and there was no escape.

  “Death and destruction will be the end of all who seek to use magic,” the voice said, and the words were heavy with the threat. “Take heed.”

  As the voice spoke, the horde of bugs turned toward Wren, and it was like her earlier dream, except that instead of the wall of water, a wave of squirming roaches was cresting toward her. Wren tried to move, tried to scream, tried to cry out, but there was nothing she could do. “Take heed,” the voice echoed again. Wren shut her eyes tight to brace against the first feathery touch of the bugs.

  She awoke with a jolt and shot out of her armchair, her skin crawling with the memory of the bugs. “They were on me!” she yelped.

  “Huh?” Simon sat bolt upright in his chair, woken by her squealing.

  Vulcan mumbled and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

  “The bugs! In the dream!” Wren scrubbed at her forearms as though she could cleanse herself. Her scalp itched, her back crawled, and the rub of her skirt against her calves felt like the wings of an insect.

  Simon patted his coat pockets and then pulled out a green notebook, the one in which he usually cataloged new animal life. “Interesting,” he said, jotting something down.

  “Interesting?” Wren squealed. “What are you talking about?”

  “We had the same dream. At the same time.” Simon was scribbling without looking up.

  “Me, too,” Vulcan said with a yawn.

  “Yes”—Simon chewed on his pencil eraser—“it’s almost as though someone wants to communicate with us.”

  Wren stopped squirming. “You mean Boggen? But this was different. It wasn’t Boggen’s voice. And my neck . . .” She trailed off. “I can feel it when it’s Boggen. This isn’t him.” She stole a glance at Vulcan to see if he looked horrified, but he merely appeared thoughtful.

  “Lots of Magicians are Dreamers, and with the Crooked Man’s star so close, I bet even more are open to it now.” He explained how certain times of the month were better for meeting in dreams. “Usually, you need a cartoglobe, a special compass for communicating in dreams.” He rubbed his chin. “But the same dream to multiple people at once? Even those who aren’t Dreamers? That’s new to me.”

  Wren moved closer and saw that Simon was sketching one of the horrible bugs she had just seen.

  “What if those people were right?” she said slowly. “What if the plague is returning and the nightmares are a side effect?”

  “Could be,” Simon said, adding just the right amount of shading on the wing.

  Wren peered closer. “That’s really quite good.”

  “It’s a German cockroach,” he said matter-of-factly. “Must have come over here with the earliest Magicians. We have the same species on Earth.”

  “Ah,” Wren said, but her mind was still working out what the dream itself might mean.

  “Was someone talking in your dream?” she asked, as her skin stopped itching and she could actually process what she had heard.

  Simon shook h
is head, laying his pencil flat to shade in the bug’s body. “No. Just the bugs themselves. They were all over the horse carriages, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to stop them.”

  “Wait,” said Wren. “You weren’t in the catacombs?”

  Simon stopped scribbling. “No.” Neither was Vulcan. He had seen the bugs and heard the warning, but had been in the basement of the Nest.

  Wren told them what she had dreamed. “Someone is manipulating the dreams, but each is personalized in some way. The voice in mine said that using stardust was dangerous.”

  Simon chewed on his eraser. “My dream was silent. But I did have a sense of foreboding, as if using the magic would be a Very Bad Thing.”

  Wren thought about that for a while. The fire was still crackling in the hearth, and she stared at the hot orange flames. Why had she heard the voice but Simon hadn’t? Who was using dreams to scare people? And was the warning against magic a prediction or a threat?

  They sat like that for some time until Auspex came back into the room with two packs over his shoulder. “Time to go,” he said.

  FIFTEEN

  Say, say, what shall I say?

  The cat came out, he wants to play.

  Do, do, what shall I do?

  The cat will bite him quite in two.

  Winter burst into the room while Auspex was still making preparations to leave. “We all are in danger.” She paused only a moment to catch her breath, but her sentences still came out in choppy bursts. “I just heard from my informants. Yesterday’s rally was reported. Boggen’s henchmen are on their way here even as we speak.” She looked at Wren before grabbing a stack of papers off a crowded desk in the corner and shoving them into a bag. “They have specific orders to take into custody a girl with your description.”

  Auspex looked at her curiously. “Boggen knows what you look like?”

  “He knows.” Wren shared a panicky glance with Simon. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Of course,” Auspex said, moving with fluid grace to gather his own pack. “Boggen’s men will not track us where we are going.”

  “Good,” Winter said, shutting her bag with a snap. “You take the children. I will remain here. Every neighborhood deserves to hear the truth about Boggen’s research no matter the cost. We must act now,” she said fervently. “Before Boggen can gather his strength and shut us down. If we can’t hold rallies, we’ll get the information out some other way.”

  “I’ll stay, too,” Vulcan said in a firm voice, and when Winter seemed about to protest, he cut her off. “I can help! The other Scavengers, too. We know every rooftop in the city and are welcomed by law in every marketplace. If you need to get information to people, we’re your crew.” He looked determined. “Most of us have had family members disappear in the last few years.” He clenched his jaw. “Now we know why.”

  There was a pounding on the door, and the sound of harsh voices demanding entrance.

  “They’re here!” Winter shot a wide-eyed glance at Auspex. “The back door!”

  But before they reached it, they could hear Boggen’s soldiers banging on it as well. Wren reached for Simon’s hand. They were trapped.

  “Is there a rooftop exit?” Vulcan asked, and no sooner had he said the words than Winter was leading the way up a crooked stairwell to a narrow area crowded with chimney pipes. From far below, they heard the sound of breaking glass as the soldiers began to force their way in.

  “We part ways here,” Auspex said, scanning the rooftops that sprawled in front of them. “The city wall is not far, and you two must go in the opposite direction. Courage and Honor.”

  “Courage and Honor,” Winter said to Auspex, and gave Wren and Simon a salute before turning to go. Vulcan paused in front of Wren, hesitating, but then Winter hissed at him over her shoulder. “If you’re coming with me, Scavenger, you come now.”

  And with a quick smile, Vulcan was gone. The tiny flash of disappointment Wren felt soon disappeared in the face of the daunting task of following Auspex over the rooftops. He was faster than any Scavenger, navigating gaps between buildings with ease and expecting Simon and Wren to follow suit. Soon, they had left the townhouse far behind, and, after pausing to listen carefully, Auspex pronounced that they were far enough away to return to the streets. “We need to cross the river before we reach the wall,” he explained, shimmying down a gas pipe like a monkey.

  It was early, and only a few people were out on the streets. Cleaning women on their way to assignments with brooms and mops over one shoulder. Magicians streaming toward the mills where scavenged goods were repurposed. Deliverymen on their rounds. But so far, no soldiers. Auspex set a steady pace. The ever-present rain made even the pearly morning light wet and damp. The smell of fresh-baked bread steamed out of storefronts, and the children who sold newspapers were already out with stacks of freshly printed paper tucked into their bags.

  “Boggen hunts for a crew wanted for crimes against the state,” the nearest urchin shouted, and the shrill pitch of his voice made Wren wince. “The Knave of Hearts and two Outsider escapees. Reward offered.”

  She and Simon pushed past, but Auspex stopped and took a news roll, handing the paperboy a fat coin. “Keep the change,” he said, causing the boy’s eyes to grow round with disbelief.

  “Do you know who the Knave is?” Wren asked, as they made their way down the street.

  Auspex skimmed the paper as they walked. “I don’t know the Knave personally,” he said, turning a page. “But the name is respected among the Outsiders, not least because anyone whom Boggen wants that badly is a friend to us.” He pointed to a sketch on the front page, and Wren’s heart sank. The artist had clearly portrayed Auspex’s profile, and the other supposed escaped Outsider looked exactly like Wren.

  “That’s a good likeness of you,” Simon said politely over her shoulder, and Wren nearly jumped. Her nervousness had almost disappeared, but now she felt hunted, as if every face around her was sure to recognize her picture and start calling out for Boggen’s soldiers.

  “Perhaps the Outsiders will welcome you after all,” Auspex said with a smile. He appeared calm, but he doubled his pace after this, leaving Wren to straggle along behind, nervous and out of breath.

  The farther they went, the more crowded the streets grew, which made Wren feel a little bit better. She kept her head down and darted after Auspex and Simon. Suddenly, the movement of the morning traffic slowed to a stop, and Wren could hear the sound of a commotion up ahead.

  “Wait here,” Auspex ordered. With an easy movement, he clambered up the brick wall so that he could see above the crowd. “A blockade,” he said. “More of Boggen’s soldiers.”

  After doubling back and clambering through a narrow alley filled with refuse bins, they finally drew near the river. The smell of garbage mixed with the odor of fish. Canalboats drifted past, and so did the small canoes that served as river taxis. Auspex hired one of these.

  “Say nothing,” Auspex whispered as they climbed onto the boat, with a meaningful look at the pilot. Wren perched precariously in the middle, Simon behind her, as the pilot poled them down the canal. Their silence gave Wren the opportunity to observe the city around her. They passed by buildings that must have once been brightly colored but were now weathered by the elements.

  She knew that Nod had thousands of Magicians living in it, but now she saw that they were more than just Magicians—they were people, too. A mother stood on a balcony, hanging up laundry as two small children played at her feet. Older kids chased dogs on the waterfront, their happy laughter making her suddenly homesick. Or Earthsick. She wondered what her life would have been like if she had been born on Nod. The food was odd, of course, and the customs and clothing looked like a strange mishmash of history and sci-fi, but there were people here. People who lived and died at the mercy of Boggen.

  The boat angled toward a lonely-looking dock. Auspex paid the pilot, and Simon clambered out onto the weathered boards, one hand extended.
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  Wren grabbed his hand, but as she followed after him she felt a sense of foreboding. The other parts of the city might be crowded or dingy. They might be weathered by the elements or not as well-kept as some neighborhoods, but the area where they now stood was nothing like even the shabbiest of the places she had seen. Wren instinctively squeezed Simon’s hand as she looked at the bleakness around her.

  “What happened here?”

  The buildings, or what was left of them, were scorched with black stains. She could see through some entirely, where interior walls lay in shambles. And others stretched halfway up and then abruptly stopped. Refuse and clumps of forgotten papers had gathered in the gutters. The whole place had the feel of a forgotten ghetto.

  Auspex replied in a whisper, even though the pilot was long out of earshot. “The plague happened.” He took out a piece of fabric and began to unroll it. “Boggen will have to push his soldiers hard to follow us here.” A faded map was painted on the fabric, and Auspex traced a route with his finger. “They had to quarantine the neighborhood and burn it to stop the plague’s spread, and the superstitious folk in the city still suspect that it is tainted.”

  “That’s horrible,” Wren said. Any relief she felt at hearing that they had escaped Boggen’s soldiers evaporated at the thought of exposure to the plague.

  “Thousands died.” The fabric hung limply in Auspex’s hands. “Young and old alike. It was unstoppable.”

  “Was it viral or bacterial?” Simon asked, and for all his being in observation mode, his voice was reverent.

  “Viral?” Auspex said, as though tasting a new word. “I don’t know what you mean, but it spread like fire.” He pointed to the blackened surfaces. “And fire was the only thing that stopped it.” He paused ominously. “If it really ever stopped.”

  “What started it?” Wren asked.

  “What do you think?” Auspex shook his head. “Stardust.” He nearly spit the word. “You know what the colony was escaping. Years of civil war on Earth. Fighting against what they saw as too many restrictions on the use of magic.” He sat down on a piece of broken stone. “Factions sprang up. Magicians argued about how best to use the stardust.” He sighed. “Mother Goose was the leader of the most progressive. She said that a new planet with new life had new potential.” He spread his arms out wide. “This used to be her part of the city—her launching place for expeditions into the wilderness.”