Strangeworlds Travel Agency

by L. D. Lapinski

  The only thing that broke up the flatness of the wall was a metal rectangle with a sort of shelf jutting out from it. It was about the size of a paperback book. The metal was carved with a horrible image of a face grimacing in pain.

  “Where are you taking me?” Flick asked, her voice sounding as small as she felt.

  Swype sneered at her, as if imagining how a lack of tongue might improve her likeability. Silently, they turned back to the door and fished a tiny ceramic egg painted in cheerful colors from their pocket. They placed it in the metal scoop and stepped back.

  The egg glowed red and yellow-hot for a moment and then it… died. It dried, browned, and cracked, as if all the moisture had been sucked from it, somehow mummifying the ceramic.

  Then the bricks swung open. Each brick rotated as if on an axle, turning on its side and twisting away out of sight as the other around it did the same. A door-sized entrance grew from the shifting brickwork, cutting itself out of the wall and opening into a dark archway.

  Flick blinked as she realized—the little egg had been payment, somehow.

  Swype didn’t have to tell her to walk inside, didn’t have to push. They merely adjusted their body language so Flick understood that to try to run or to refuse to move forward would be not only foolish, but also the last thing she ever did.

  “Jonathan will find me,” Flick said, as she stepped into the darkness.

  “I do hope so,” Swype said.

  The doorway twisted closed behind them.

  * * *

  The lamps of Five Lights were lit by now, the golden light keeping the night at bay for a little while.

  Jonathan had to walk half a mile before he reached the grand building of the Order of Thieves. It looked even more majestic up close, like a cathedral. There was stained glass in the windows of the lower floor, showing the emblem of the Thieves—a hand grasping a bag of coins. There was also a stained-glass scene—a pale blue bottle in front of a ragged silver lightning bolt. It was eerily similar to the Strangeworlds Society badge and made Jonathan pause for a moment.

  But there was little time to stand about.

  He pushed open the large wooden doors and sauntered over to the desk, where a Thief looked up in surprise.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  “I’m here to see the Overseer.” Jonathan straightened his tie. “I’m expected.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Jonathan turned to see a young woman holding a door open behind him. “Good,” he said. “I do so hate to be left hanging around in waiting rooms.”

  The Thief smiled, as if Jonathan had said something incredibly amusing. “My name is Pinch. I’ll thank you to accompany me.”

  “Pinch,” Jonathan repeated, with eye-rolling dislike. “You’re all so desperately imaginative with your aliases.”

  Pinch gave a tiny smile. “They grow on you.”

  “Yes,” he said, “like a fungus.”

  Pinch kept up the same wan smile. There was a clink of metal as she adjusted her stance. “Do you intend to stand there all day?” she asked.

  Jonathan wished his head wasn’t hurting quite so much. Tristyan’s warm drink had worn off and over-frequent traveling by suitcase made you tired and sick even if you were at your best, which Jonathan decidedly was not. He found he was almost waiting for instructions, like a lost little boy. “No, no.” He walked over to her, holding the iron-gray suitcase tight. “I’m as anxious to get this over with as you are.”

  Pinch put a hand to his back to steer him and the two of them went through the door, and onward toward the Overseer’s office.

  Flick and Swype walked down a long winding corridor bordered by glowing blue stones that ignited as they passed and then faded into darkness again.

  “This is the entrance used for visiting dignitaries and lords,” the Thief said. “Think yourself privileged.”

  “The ceilings are a bit low for my liking,” Flick said, trying to sound brave.

  Swype glared down at her. “Your silence would cost me extremely little, girl. The Overseer does not need you to be able to speak. Or stand.”

  Flick clamped her mouth shut, smothering a bubble of fear that she half thought might come out as a scream.

  The corridor came to an abrupt end, and Swype pushed a door open, gesturing for Flick to enter. Flick brushed past them, hating the Thief’s closeness, and into a corridor. There were several Thieves placing objects onto scales and shelves, others writing in ledgers. None of them gave Flick a second glance.

  Except one.

  Flick caught sight of a familiar face, with wide shocked eyes—Nicc!—as she was propelled through another door and shut into the room beyond.

  She realized she was back in the Overseer’s office. Only now, with fewer lamps lit, it felt smaller and more secretive. Flick could see a huge tapestry on the farthest wall, showing an outline of a hand grasping a bag with three coins inside it. It was the same picture as had been on the back of the receipt left at Quickspark’s Emporium.

  A door behind Flick opened and she turned to see the Overseer walking into the room, a frown on her face. “Why is she here? Jonathan Mercator has not arrived yet.”

  Flick blinked in confusion. “You want Jonathan?”

  “Indeed I do,” the Overseer said.

  “Overseer,” Swype said, “Pinch has gone to collect the Mercator boy. She’s bringing him here.”

  “Well, he’s had long enough to provide us with what we asked. The lamps are lit, and his time is up.” The Overseer gave Flick a stare, and Flick felt horribly exposed for a moment. “Still, since we have a moment to chat… What is your relationship to Jonathan Mercator, little girl? And what do you know of the Strangeworlds Society?”

  “I am a member of the Strangeworlds Society,” Flick said quickly. She could imagine what the Thieves did with people they didn’t think had any value, and she wanted to make herself seem as important as possible.

  “Then you will know that I am Overseer Glean,” the Thief said. “And that this is our city.”

  “If it’s your city, why are you hiding down here?” Flick said, before she could stop herself.

  Swype stepped forward with intent.

  Glean shook her head. “No need for violence…” She trailed off, as if she was adding the word “yet” in her head. Then she smiled happily at Flick. “And as for why we ‘hide,’ as you put it, you may direct your attentions to the city itself. In your world, you disapprove of people taking things. And once, so did ours.”

  Flick’s mouth opened in surprise.

  Glean went on: “Keeping below ground and out of sight was an old arrangement between the city and its Thieves. It was meant to keep so-called crime to acceptable levels. But as our powers grew, we turned from being relegated to the shadows to holding dominion over the city.”

  “You’re in charge?” Flick’s question was interrupted by the door to the chamber opening and Hid stepping in. He gave a short bow to Glean and shot Flick a malicious grin.

  Fire burned under Flick’s skin. “What did you do to Greysen and Darilyn?”

  “What I always do to people who can’t tell me what I need to know.” He grinned.

  Flick felt sick. “You…”

  “Now, Hid,” Glean raised a hand. “Don’t goad the girl. She isn’t important.”

  For some reason, those words made Flick want to scream. Instead, she glared hard at Glean, who shrugged in a way that was utterly infuriating.

  “We are one of several city orders and societies who govern Five Lights,” Glean said. “We have turned Theft from something dreadful into a mere inconvenience. We even allow customers to purchase back their wares, at a reasonable rate. We are not the villains you wish us to be, little girl. Didn’t you make friends with one of our lower-classes? The de Vyce girl?”

  Flick fidgeted, thinking of Nicc’s shocked face out in the corridor. “I still don’t see why you have to take things. And you kidnapped me!”

  “We did, but
only to arrange an exchange. We meant no real malice. We merely need a way to leave this city.”

  “But why?” Flick asked, confused. “If you’re in charge here, why do you want to leave?”

  The Overseer’s expression twitched. “Because of the schism.”

  “What schism?” Flick took a look at the assembled Thieves, who all looked very uncomfortable. “Do you mean a schism in a suitcase?”

  Glean stared at her for a long time before speaking. “You must know that Five Lights is an intensely magical city?”

  “Jonathan said it was a—a hub. The center of magic?”

  “I don’t know whether that is strictly true,” Glean said. “However, it is very magical. There have always been schisms here. Not that anyone can see a schism, of course, but those of us who own magnifying glasses have seen magical phosphorescence drifting in one direction for some time. It is leaving this world, to feed a schism. And at such a rate that changes are seen here almost daily.”

  “You’ve seen magic?” Flick asked. “You’ve got magnifying glasses?”

  Glean took a magnifying glass of silver and polished wood from her inside cloak pocket. Flick’s stomach dropped. To see something she associated with Strangeworlds in the hand of a Thief made her want to snatch it out of her grasp.

  Glean, as if reading her mind, chuckled. “These lenses are very, very precious. I would say this is the most valuable object I have ever held. We know of a mere handful, and they are used only by my highly select First Class division. At that level, thieving is important, but secondary. What they concentrate on is gathering magical energy.”

  Flick noted the cabinets. They seemed to pulse and glow with an eerie white light. So much magic in such a small space felt wrong. “It’s magic, those bottles?”

  “Correct.”

  “Why are you storing so much of it?”

  Hid leaned forward. “Madam Overseer, might I advise caution? This child asks a lot of questions. She may be a spy.”

  Glean raised an eyebrow. “Are you a spy, child? You do ask a lot of questions. And you claim to be ignorant about a great deal of things. What has become of the Strangeworlds Society if you know so little?” Her eyes narrowed. “Does the Society still exist?”

  Flick swallowed. “If it didn’t exist, how could I get here?”

  “I suppose that’s true. Even if it does now appear to be staffed by children.” She went over to the table, perching on the surface so she could look down at Flick. She still wore that empty smile. “Five Lights is doomed. It is a city riveted with scars and wounds, but it has always healed itself. Until a schism, so large it could never be closed, tore its way through our sky.”

  Flick imagined a great glowing tear—like the one she had seen outside Strangeworlds, only stretched across the sky like lightning, ripping through the blue above Five Lights. Unseen, it would be out of mind, not troubling anyone, until it was too late. Helplessness took hold of her and she badly wanted to grab Glean’s magnifying glass, run outside, and aim it up at the sky—just to see whether this woman was right or wrong. Flick didn’t know which outcome she would prefer.

  Glean stood straight. “Magic is leaking out of this world faster than anyone can replace it. Which will only lead to one thing. The end of Five Lights.”

  It can’t be,” Flick choked out. “Schisms can heal themselves and close, if they’re left alone. Why can’t this one?”

  “The sheer size.” Glean sighed. “To close up, it would need to take Five Lights with it. And it will. It has already begun. Whole streets are vanishing off the map. Magic is more difficult to bottle. Even people are disappearing.”

  Like Jonathan’s dad, Flick thought. She could all too easily imagine someone who looked like an older version of Jonathan being sucked into a crack in the sky and vanishing forever. The sick feeling bubbled up in her throat.

  “We don’t intend to stay here and let the same thing happen to us,” Glean said. “We will leave this place and start again. We have done it before.”

  “Before? But…” Flick remembered Jonathan’s words. “You can’t survive in a world that isn’t your own.”

  “Oh.” Glean’s smile sickened into something more genuine, and more frightening. “There are ways to work magic that even the Strangeworlds Society does not know.”

  At that moment, as if she had been waiting behind the door for a good moment to enter, Pinch walked in, propelling a swaying Jonathan in front of her.

  Flick’s mouth dropped open in both relief and shock.

  Jonathan’s hair was matted and sticking up in all directions. There was a smear of dirt on his jaw, and there was blood on his top lip. His glasses were askew.

  And he had a suitcase in his hand. Flick’s relief changed to a feeling of utter betrayal.

  You brought them one! Flick thought, in outrage. You actually brought them a suitcase.… What are you thinking?

  “Jonathan…,” she forced out through gritted teeth.

  His gaze landed on her, and Flick saw that one lens of his glasses was smashed. “Ah. There you are. Have they been treating you all right? Decent food, and so on? I can’t imagine anyone knows how to make an acceptable cup of tea around here.”

  Flick didn’t know if he was joking or not. Her mouth flapped silently, torn between screeching in anger and wailing in despair.

  “I must say, I don’t think much of the décor,” he said, looking around. “It looks like a carpet shop threw up in here.”

  The Overseer bristled. “We did not bring you here to comment on our lodgings, Mercator.”

  “Yes, that ship has clearly… well, certainly the ship has been towed away for scrap if not actually sailed,” he said. “Have you come to your senses, Overseer?”

  Glean looked pointedly at the suitcase in his hand. “You have nothing we want save for that suitcase.”

  “Oh, this one?” Jonathan lifted it. “I am afraid you’re mistaken. This suitcase isn’t for you. It leads back to Strangeworlds. This is for me to take Felicity home.”

  Flick blinked. She looked at the suitcase again. Something nudged her in the back of the brain, but she couldn’t focus on what it was.

  A vein throbbed in Glean’s temple. “You dare come here without anything to bargain with?”

  “Leaving Five Lights is not the answer for you,” Jonathan said.

  Glean laughed for a moment, her eyes flashing. “As if you have any authority to tell us what to do! If you do not hand one of your suitcases over, you cannot have the girl.” She raised her head. “If the girl has no value to you, the magic keeping her alive shall be of use to us.”

  Flick gasped. “You can’t!” She imagined herself falling to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut as her magic was pulled out of her body and put into one of those glowing bottles.

  “Pinch,” Glean pointed, “fetch a bottle.”

  The Thief moved toward one of the cabinets.

  “No!”

  “Stop,” Jonathan stepped forward. “You don’t have to threaten me, or Felicity. We can negotiate. This world is not lost.”

  “Yet,” Glean added.

  “Schisms can heal,” Jonathan said. “They have to. It is one of the facts of the multiverse.”

  “And yet, this one does not.”

  “It could, if you helped it.”

  “How?”

  Jonathan put his shoulders back. “How much magic would you say you have bottled in these walls?”

  Glean leapt off the tabletop and marched over, enraged. “You expect us to give up our magic? We earned it. We took it from this world, as is our right, and we look after it.”

  “You control it,” Jonathan said. “But it isn’t yours. It’s a resource that should be available to everyone here. And look what’s happening because it isn’t allowed to flow!”

  “You are honestly blaming us for this?” Glean leaned forward, her dark eyes fixed on Jonathan’s face. “The schisms in the fabric of the multiverse—this unstoppable schi
sm in my world… Don’t you know where they came from?” Jonathan’s face went from stubborn to bewildered. “Don’t you know what they will unleash?”

  Something wintry and horrible frosted over inside Flick. This was an ice-cold secret, old and edged in silence. She could feel it.

  Jonathan stayed silent.

  A spark of delight hit Glean’s eyes and she leaned forward. “Oh! Oh, so you don’t know. You really are a child, aren’t you? Running in the dark. You travel around in your suitcases, visiting worlds like a conqueror, and yet you have no idea what the true stakes are.”

  Jonathan clicked his tongue. “Are you going to tell me? Or is the suspense simply too delicious for you to spit it out?”

  Glean smirked. “Tell me: Why was the Strangeworlds Society formed in the first place, little Mercator?”

  “To maintain the balance of schism and magic, of course,” he said, frowning. “To protect the worlds.”

  “Protect them, Mercator? Oh, yes, well done. But from what? From whom?”

  Jonathan’s face fell.

  Flick put a hand to her mouth. Protect them from what? From… whom?

  Glean shook her head. “If you knew what we were up against—what we were all up against—you would destroy those cases in a heartbeat.”

  “The schisms in the cases cannot be destroyed,” Jonathan said. He looked as if he was trying to hold on to something that was slipping rapidly through his hands. “They neither use magic nor expel it. They are safe. It is my—our—job to keep them safe.”

  Glean straightened up and laughed. “Safe? We have never been safe, not for one single moment. The multiverse is in more danger than you realize.”

  Flick looked at the suitcase in Jonathan’s hand. She thought about the stacks and stacks of cases back at Strangeworlds. The multiverse was in danger? All of it? Did that include Earth? Pain bloomed in the palms of her hands, and she realized she’d anxiously clenched her fists so tightly her nails were digging into the soft skin.

  Not my world, she thought to herself, the anxiety inside her balling up and lodging in her chest.