by L. EE
“What happened?”
“An accident. It happened a long, long time ago. We were nine years old. Some older boys had caught a rat. Even at the Academy we can’t keep them out entirely. They should have just let it go, left it to the cats, but –” Nia swallowed hard. “I didn’t see it myself, but apparently they took it upon themselves to kill it, and not quickly.”
“Little shits,” Gail said under her breath. She didn’t exactly love the rats either, though she admired their resilience, but if a rat had to be taken care of, there was no excuse for not doing it as quickly and cleanly as possible.
“Like I said, I don’t know what Arthur saw when he came across them, but it must have been… He told them to stop, to let it go. He told me later that he wanted to try to save it, if it could be saved, and if not, at least put it out of its misery, but the older boys laughed at him. One of them shoved him. He was going to get an adult, but then one of the boys, he took the poor thing and –”
This time Gail did put an arm around her. “It’s all right, I get the picture.”
“Arthur was so angry. He – he lost control of his magic. One of the boys died. The other three were badly injured. One lost a hand. Poor Arthur was terrified. He didn’t mean to do it. He just wanted them to stop hurting the rat.” Nia’s voice had taken on a dull flat quality as she leaned against Gail’s side. “I heard they found him just sitting there, covered in blood, with the dead boy’s head in his lap and the rat in his hand. I suppose the magic must have killed it too, which was probably a mercy at that point.”
“So it was an accident? He didn’t mean to hurt anyone?”
“No, he didn’t. He just wanted to stop them. It is like – like a match being dropped into gasoline. He couldn’t have stopped it.”
“But they bound his magic anyway?”
“Yes, of course.”
“But if it was accident –”
“If they thought he had done it on purpose, they would have executed him.” Nia pulled away from Gail to glare down at the river. “The binding wasn’t punishment for what he did to those boys. The problem was that he lost control. He dropped the match. He didn’t mean to, his hand trembled, the flame burned his fingers, a gust of wind tugged it away, but the match was dropped. And that can never happen.”
It took Gail a moment to catch up with the metaphor, but when she thought she had it, she asked, “But it was only one time, right? I mean, it was bad, don’t get me wrong, but if he was just a kid…”
“Once is enough!” Nia nearly shouted, startling Gail into silence. Then she looked back at the river, shoulders hunched against the wind and bad memories. “The reason unbound magic is forbidden is because of how easy it is for even a seasoned magician to lose control of it. And until we learn to draw our circles, all our magic is unbound. Before we can talk, before we can walk, we are taught to control ourselves, to hold our magic inside at all costs. That is the first rule of being a magician. There can be no second chances. Any child that loses control of his or her magic even once is bound, for their own protection and the protection of everyone else. A magician who has slipped once will slip again.”
“You can’t know that,” said Gail. “He lost control because he saw some little bastards torturing a rat. How often does that happen in a lifetime?”
Nia shook her head. “That time it was a rat. Next time it would be something else, but there would be a next time. There always is. No one is immune from losing control, but those most at risk have to be – assisted in holding back. It’s not kind, but it’s the only way.”
“It sounds cruel to me.”
“Yes,” said Nia softly. “It is cruel. It’s cruel and it’s unfair.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because otherwise people die.”
“Always?”
“Always.” Nia stared out at the darkness for a moment longer then wiped a hand across her eyes and turned around. “When I was a child, there was a magician at the Academy who wanted to experiment with unbound magic, wanted to prove that it could be controlled if the magician was skilled enough. She claimed that young magicians who had lapses in control might actually be the most powerful magicians of all; they were simply overwhelmed by their own strength. If they could learn to bend their power to their will without the aid of circles, they could likely perform feats of magic not seen for centuries. After conducting many successful small experiments, this magician decided to debut her findings in a final presentation. She, along with her students, would prove that unbound magic could not only be controlled but was actually superior to bound magic.”
Though she had a feeling she already knew, Gail asked, “What happened?”
“She lost control. They all died.”
“So that’s why…?”
“That’s why. And she was - if she couldn’t control it, no one can.”
“I – I think I understand. Thanks for telling me.”
Nia nodded mutely.
Completely at a loss for what to say, Gail just stood feeling like an idiot for what felt like several centuries. The formerly refreshing wind had turned uncomfortably cold as it whipped against her bare legs.
It was Nia who finally broke the heavy silence. “I think we had better go back. We have to start work early again tomorrow.”
Gail could only nod and follow Nia back toward the street. What a way to end the night. She doubted Nia was still classifying it as “a lovely evening.”
You had to know. You couldn’t have worked with him without knowing.
It was true, but it didn’t make her feel like any less of a shithead for dragging it out of Nia that way.
Nia was leading by a yard or two, head down as she strode toward the crosswalk. She had just stepped out into the empty street when a trolley came lurching around the corner much faster than it should have. Nia froze in the trolley’s headlights, but years of training had eliminated Gail’s rat-in-a-floodlight response. She threw herself forward, catching Nia’s arm and yanking her back on to the sidewalk as the trolley roared past.
It jangled its bell as it went, that hearty, “fuck you, stay out of the road if you want to live,” melody that Gail was used to hearing from the nighttime trolleys. Nia, however, was clearly less acquainted with their behavior and was clinging to Gail like somebody who’d just narrowly avoided death. Which, in retrospect, Gail guessed she had.
“You okay, princess? Don’t take it hard, they don’t stop for anyone at this time of night. I’m not sure what it is they do if they’re not stopping, but maybe they compete to see who can mow down the most pedestrians.”
“I thought it was going to hit me.” Nia stared after the trolley with an expression of dazed terror on her face. She turned her wide eyes to Gail’s face. “What would you have done if it had hit me?”
“Skipped town, because there’s no way I’d go back to the Academy and say I got their best Illuminator hit by a trolley.”
Nia laughed shakily, dropping her head against Gail’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to sleep now.”
“You’ll have to get used to it, princess.” Gail was unable to resist running her hand lightly over Nia’s curly hair. When the other woman didn’t object, she did it again. “The trolleys are always crazy this time of night. You can never predict where they’re going to show up, even with the tracks.”
“The tracks…” Nia murmured almost sleepily. Then her head snapped up so quick that she almost socked Gail in the eye.
“Goddamn, what’s gotten into you?”
“The tracks!” Nia gripped Gail’s arm and looked at her intently. “Do you have a subway map?”
“A subway map?” This conversation was speeding out of control quicker than the wild trolley. “They never finished the subway.”
“Yes, but they started them, which means there must be maps of the tunnels, correct?”
“Well, yeah.” Slowly, Gail began to understand what Nia was getting at. “I’ve actually been d
own in the tunnels a few times. I think I’ve got a map back at the hotel. We could go –”
But Nia had already grabbed her hand and was dragging her across the street.
When they arrived back in the lobby, the place was finally starting to empty out for the night. The people who still weren’t ready for bed were headed out to other bars and nightclubs while the rest wandered up to their rooms to sleep the rest of the night – and likely most of the morning – away.
Nia, however, seemed wide awake as she pulled Gail toward the elevator, all signs of her former tipsiness gone. In the few moments of stillness in the elevator, Gail managed to say, “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I wouldn’t get too excited. The trains haven’t been running for –”
But Nia waved her into silence. “Leave that for later, detective. First we have to see if my theory holds any water. Then we can move on to the logistics.”
“Aren’t the logistics kind of important?”
Nia’s beaming smile didn’t dim a degree. “Of course, but we have to take these things one step at a time. Ah! This is our floor. Quickly, detective!”
Gail let herself be pulled out of the elevator and down the hallway to her room. Nia waited impatiently, tapping her foot while Gail dug in her pocket for her key.
When she finally got the door unlocked, Nia opened it and pushed past her into the room.
“You know I need get them for you, right?” said Gail as she shut the door behind them. “So there’s no point getting ahead of me.”
“I’m sorry,” Nia huffed, not sounding particularly contrite. Then she began digging into her own handbag while Gail went to the safe where she kept her paperwork-in-progress. Pulling out the folder, she flipped through the scant notes she had made on the case so far until she got back to her more general resources. A list of phone numbers, a street map of New Crossbridge, a bunch of old notes, a few photographs – ah, there it was. The map was creased and wrinkled and scribbled on. There were other pieces of paper taped to the edges where Gail had extended the map with pencil, marking out the unfinished tunnels that the printers hadn’t bothered with.
“Here.” She spread the map out on the table by room’s two armchairs. “Sorry it’s a bit of a mess. I’ve done some work on it.”
“No, no, this is perfect! The scale’s line up almost exactly.” Without preamble, Nia spread her own much-annotated street map across the subway map. “Look, detective, look! Do you see?”
Not at first, but when Nia began scratching hard on the marks she had made on her map to indicate all the places they had failed to find Connery over the past week, she began to get it. When Nia lifted her map, Gail saw that the faint marks that had bled through to the subway map lined up almost exactly with the tracks.
“You see, detective?” Nia said again. “Do you see?”
“Yeah, I see.”
Nia wore a triumphant smile bright enough to split rainy season clouds. “We’ve found him, detective!”
“Good for us.” Gail couldn’t quite find it in her to smile back.
30
Nia Graves
The next morning, Nia’s head was fuzzy from lack of sleep. She had gone straight to bed after her revelation about the subway tracks, but a jumble of excitement, trepidation, and guilt had kept her staring at the ceiling long after she should have drifted off. Excitement because they were finally one step closer to finding Connery. Trepidation because she had to admit that though Connery was clearly not unbeatable, he was far cleverer and more resourceful than she had given him credit for.
But, if she were honest, it was the guilt that held her eyes open long after her head began to ache with exhaustion.
Detective Lin deserved to know.
You should have spoken to Arthur first.
Why? I doubt Gail will hold it against him. She doesn’t even seem to comprehend the seriousness of the situation, which I suppose is understandable given that she’s a layman – but layman or not, she deserved to know. She is our partner in this. And she asked; she wanted to know.
And you wanted to tell.
Yes, she had.
Pillowing her heavy head on her hand the next morning at breakfast, Nia poured herself a brimming cup of black coffee. The steam rose into her face, soothing her dry eyes a little.
Pure luck alone had stopped Arthur from killing himself along with the older boys. He had been thrown backwards by the force of his magic, out of the worst of the blast. A few magicians had muttered that this proved the attack had been deliberate, but those who had first come upon the scene had been convinced otherwise by the sight of Arthur clutching his unlucky victims and bleeding from the deep lacerations inflicted by the magical backlash. It had taken four healing circles to patch his bloodied body back together.
A plate clattered on the table next to hers, making Nia look up sharply, but no, Gail and Arthur weren’t down yet. She wasn’t surprised seeing as it was just barely six in the morning, but she was glad for the moment of solitude. After last night, she needed some time alone with her coffee before she was ready to face the day.
She could still remember Arthur’s trial. It had been a few weeks after their ninth birthday. Though she still missed her mother, still woke screaming in the night needing to curl up in bed with Arthur until the shaking stopped, she had begun to dare happiness again. Soon, she and Arthur would be moving into the second phase of their education. Soon, they would start learning magic they could use to make up for her mother’s mistake. They would do it together.
But one pale spring day, she had been called out of class and taken to the high office to see Arthur standing – no, propped up – in front of the Directors, where her mother would have stood if she had survived her failed experiment.
At first, Nia hadn’t understood what was happening. All she knew was that Arthur was obviously hurt and in trouble. She had tried to run to him, but they had held her back and made her listen while one of the Directors explained exactly what Arthur had done. Nia hadn’t believed it at first. Not Arthur. He had known what mother had done. He had held her after she was pulled from the room, covered in her mother’s blood. He wouldn’t have done it too. He would have known better.
Later, of course, she had come to understand that it had been an accident, that he had lost control without meaning to, that it hadn’t been his fault.
But that didn’t change the outcome.
The Directors had asked her a few questions, asked if Arthur was ever mean to her, if he had ever hurt anyone in her presence, if she had ever seen him doing magic he shouldn’t have. She answered each question with a truthful “no,” but looking back, she knew her small tearful voice couldn’t have been very convincing.
“I’m sorry, Nia,” she remembered Arthur sobbing. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I didn’t know it would happen. I just…”
By then she had been sobbing too. They must have been quite the sight.
She lifted her cup of coffee with both hands. It almost burned the skin of her palms, but she held it tightly anyway, letting the heat run down her arms.
The Directors had been merciful. Had Arthur been just a few years older, his punishment would have been much more severe: constant confinement, transportation to one of the more distant Academy campuses, death… Nia clutched the cup tighter, happy to let the pain distract her.
Nia took a long swallow of coffee and thought she could feel the hot liquid seeping into her fuzzy brain and cleaning it out. Being a bound ward meant exile from the core of the Academy. It meant having his magic locked away; it meant an end to his magical education. Anyone who tried to teach him magic or aided him in teaching himself could face his fate or worse. He could not leave the Academy without the supervision of a graduated magician and when he left, he was not to speak to anyone but his escort. He lived entirely on the Academy’s mercy.
Only to protect him, she reminded himself, to keep him safe.
“I don’t know why we bother keeping the bo
und wards,” one of Nia’s classmates, an arrogant snake of a boy named Henry Willas, had once said. “It’s like keeping a rabid rat in your house.”
Nia had thrown a book at his head, earning her the only demerits of her school career. Yes, Arthur couldn’t be a magician any longer, but he was easily the best surgeon in the Academy. Even the best layman hospitals in New Crossbridge asked for Arthur specifically when they were overwhelmed with patients. And he could fix cars and other machines with the same deft skill he used to fix broken bones and faulty cardiac valves. He had nothing to be ashamed of and her associates were fools if they couldn’t see it. Arthur had certainly gone further in his career than Henry Willas ever had.
After cup number three, she was beginning to feel more like herself and more confident that she had made the right decision by confiding in Gail. Better that Gail come to appreciate Arthur’s worth with all the facts at her disposal. Then she would have no cause to feel suspicious or ill-used and any friendship she and Arthur formed would be an honest one.
And she did want Arthur and Gail to be friends.
Her hopes seemed like fruitful ones when Arthur and Gail entered the lobby at the same time, chatting amicably about the earliness of the hour – or how Gail put it “how unnaturally fucking early it was” – and joined Nia at the table.
“Did you even sleep?” Gail asked her as she plopped down in the chair opposite Nia and reached for the coffee pot.
“I slept for quite a while, thank you,” Nia lied. Then she watched in mild dismay as Gail added an obscene amount of cream and sugar to her coffee. She looked over at Arthur, who was rubbing his jaw with one hand. Overnight, the bruise had gone from a heroic purple to an ugly brownish-green.
“That looks like it hurts,” she said, handing him the cup.
“It’s a badge of honor, it’s supposed to hurt.” However, he didn’t say no when Gail wrapped some ice in a napkin and handed it to him. He pressed the homemade icepack gingerly to his face. “Thanks.”