by Cat Adams
Tal! Tal, can you hear me? I need to talk to you.
But there was no reaction. No recognition of her presence like after the battle with Vegre. Instead, she heard the echo of him speaking to another person. It was a hiss of words, filled with outrage and fear.
“Right here in a public library, Jason? Are you insane?”
A light flicked on and Mila could finally see. Rows of bookcases surrounded her, covering every wall. There was a framed oil painting that reminded her of the Old West prints of Charles Russell—with a cowboy bulldogging a steer to the ground in a swirl of dust. The man facing Tal was slender with dark skin and closely trimmed kinky black hair. He was dressed casually in black slacks and heavy tan sweater. He crossed his arms, making the down jacket he was carrying poof up to nearly his chin. Then he rolled his eyes as though Tal’s complaint was ridiculous.
His thick Irish accent surprised her. “Oh, don’t get your knickers in such a bunch, Talos. It’s not like a human could wander through by accident. It’s fire keyed, and I’m the only mage in the city besides you. Besides, you said you didn’t care how you got back. Are you coming or not? I’ve only got an hour for lunch.” He motioned toward what appeared to be a fire exit with raised brows.
She felt Tal’s head shake, which was an odd sensation. “I suppose. I’ve only got a few minutes as well. I’ve got to get back downtown to meet someone.”
The way he said those words … it was warm, anticipatory, and it would have made her smile if she could have felt her lips. Jason apparently noticed the tone, too, because he raised his brows. “Found yourself a local bird, have ya? Poisoned candy, these topsiders, you know—dangerous to taste, but oh, so sweet.”
She felt his muscles twitch uncomfortably and wished she could see what he was thinking. But while he was thinking of her, she tried again, yelling as loud as she could with her mind this time. Tal! Can you hear me? I have to tell you what I found out!
Again there was no response, no recognition of her. This is futile. Apparently she didn’t know how to make the connection work properly, and if someone came by while she was sitting in the car looking like a zombie, they’d probably call the police.
It was time to try something else. Thankfully, pulling out of Tal’s head was easier than getting in. She’d never tried to pull herself out of an episode before, but then again, she’d never been conscious during one. She already knew how to close the door in her mind, so it was just a matter of concentrating and pulling backward. Unfortunately, it was like getting unstuck from a wad of used bubble gum. Pry and release, then pry again. Eventually she managed to shake off the tendrils that tried to remain attached to her. Good thing, too—because just as she was disconnecting the last thread of consciousness in the other place, Tal followed Jason through the doorway in a swirl of amber fire that stung her head like an angry wasp.
Mila’s eyes opened abruptly. She rubbed at her temple where one vein was still twitching painfully. She realized her head had lolled against the window, and spittle was pooling on the windowsill from her open mouth. “Oh, yuck. Wasn’t that attractive for people wandering by?” She quickly wiped the drool away with her sleeve and started the car.
She knew where he was, so all she had to do was go there. Of course, it was a big library, but there couldn’t be that many cowboy prints in the place—even in Denver. She should be able to recognize it when she found it.
I hope.
CHAPTER 12
It was the tension in the air that caught Tal’s attention most as he stepped through the illegal gate into the storeroom of the butcher shop owned by Jason’s family in Vril. Yes, he’d been warned it was bad before they activated the gate, but it was another thing entirely to hear the fading screams and smell the smoke of the riot’s aftermath.
As the amber glow faded and became a freezer door once more, Tal shook his head—both grateful and annoyed. “I can’t believe you’ve had this in place for over a year. Do you realize the penalties for having an illegal gate? I can barely convince myself to walk through it once. How could you do it a hundred times or more? Truthfully?”
Jason shrugged and took off his down jacket, despite their being able to see their breaths in the room. “Well, you must handle the overworld a lot better than me, ’cause twasn’t a hard decision. The mattress in me flat is lumpy enough to bruise and I simply can’t abide the food up there. Do you know you can’t even buy mutton stew in a restaurant?” He reached over to hang up the jacket on a wall hook and picked a dark burgundy cloak to replace it. That was probably a good idea. The thick, puffy jackets favored topside weren’t very common down here, so Tal likewise shed his, even though he’d be cold. Jason continued to talk as he looked around the room. “So I spend a few nights a week with me mum and da down here—have a good dinner, help Da with the shop. Who am I hurting? Not the O.P.A. Not the kings. Not even the bloke down the block.” He motioned toward the coatrack. “Go on then. Take the black one to wear. It’s Da’s, and it’s got a hood. You said you don’t want to be noticed down here if you can avoid it.”
He eyed the cloak longingly as another shiver caught him. But he wasn’t quite cold enough to deprive an elderly mage of the warmth. “Won’t he need it?”
Jason was cautiously peeking through a window set high in the stone wall into the street above. He waved back one hand. “That’s an extra. He and Mum took me advice and evacuated to Shambala days ago. That’s why you don’t see any meat hanging in here. Da decided to add his stock to my Uncle Fineas’s store there.”
Tal gratefully wrapped the thick wool around him as they walked up the stairs into the main shop, and felt heat return to his limbs. While he could warm the room with the remaining magic in the opal, he didn’t know what they might encounter down here. Better to conserve the magic if he could. “It’s still an illegal gate, though. You were risking both you and your parents going to the dungeon.”
Again Jason shook his head in bemusement. “This isn’t Rohm, Tal. Nobody cares about a little thing like a private gate in Vril. The way folks figure it here—if we want to use what precious little magic we get for such frivolity, we’re welcome to … but we won’t be getting any neighborly charity, either.” He motioned toward the door. “Looks like most of the looters have moved to the next street. There’s no magic left to steal around here … hasn’t been for days. It should be safe to go outside now.”
All the same, Jason slid on his battle glove, causing Tal to remove the opal from his pants pocket. He really needed a glove, but until he found his, or a replacement, he’d just have to keep a tight hold on it. But even the brief flash of it into the dim light made colored fire swirl around the room. Jason couldn’t help but notice and let out a whistle similar to Alexy’s of the previous day. “Nice focus. Looks old.”
“It is. But it’s only a loaner.” He shrugged as though to dismiss it, but he couldn’t help admire it, too … and admire the woman who should be wielding it. It was obvious Mila could craft magic, even if just basic defense. But he’d love to find out what she was capable of if properly trained.
His friend laughed and slapped his shoulder. “You’ve got that look again, lad. I presume it was loaned by the same someone you’re meeting later?”
Tal cleared his throat and decided a change of subject would be in order. He motioned toward the front door, where the leaded-glass entrance to the shop lay in crushed shards on the floor. “What exactly happened here? When did the riots start, and why?”
Jason let the subject of the focus drop after a tiny smile. But his face dropped into serious lines when he followed Tal’s hand and saw the glass. “Bleedin’ hell! That wasn’t like that yesterday. Aw, Mum will be heartbroken. That glass was specially crafted by Patrick Flannigan, the chief assistant at the local alchemists’ guild. Da saved up part of the magic ration for the better part of a year for it.” He walked to what used to be the door, then squatted down to pick up the largest piece with a look of sadness. The shard wasn’t much bigger
than his palm. “The raw sand and lead had to be gated three times, all the way from Germany.”
There wasn’t really anything to say. Still, it should be acknowledged. “Sorry—”
Jason raised angry eyes and snorted before dropping the glass back to the floor. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. Sorry the bleeding kings didn’t plan things any better. How could there not be riots, when there’s no food, no water, and no way to get them? Arrogant sons of bitches, the lot of ’em!”
He stood in a rush and crunched across the glass out of the shop, causing Tal to throw up his hood and chase after him. Once outside, he couldn’t help but stop and stare. The Vril he’d known just a few years ago was gone. Buildings were pockmarked by sledgehammer holes, and exquisitely carved masonry littered the streets. No grass left, no flowers; pet racoons, mole rats, and snakes abandoned to roam at will. Even the illusion of blue sky now existed only in snatches and grabs across the landscape—a patchwork quilt of seemingly endless air, chewed away by the dark stone ceiling that was the reality of Agathia. Fires burned wherever there was fuel, and the stench of cesspools long past overfull burned in his nose. “How long has it been like this?”
Jason turned around and let out a deep sigh, his brown eyes filled with worry and sadness. “It’s never been this bad, but if you mean the sky, it’s been like that for months. The king’s counselors kept up the sky over the public areas as long as they could—bartering for magic at first, since we had a lot of water for trade. But since early summer when they had to evacuate the second ring and move everyone here to the city’s center, they’ve resorted to begging and borrowing from the other kingdoms. That’s about the same time the drought topside started to affect our reserves. King Kessrick hid the information as long as he could, but when the humans deepened their wells, eventually the guilds figured it out.”
Tal shook his head. Riots had happened in Rohm, too, when they evacuated the third ring. Originally, the rings had been a perfect solution to the growing cities—and emulated how the humans managed their land. The city’s center was the first ring, with roads laid out in concentric circles. The second ring just sort of happened, when the wealthy and powerful wanted private estates away from the city. But when growth continued through expanding families, they needed somewhere to go. Up wasn’t an option because of the cavern’s ceiling, so people moved further out. The second ring estates became suburbs and the wealthy moved again to create a third ring. It had stayed that way for centuries with the kings managing the populations to fit the space. “But of course, once the easy water was gone, the witches didn’t have the magic to pull from deeper sources, so people had to move closer once again.”
“Precisely,” agreed Jason, now speaking louder to be heard over the yelling and racous laughter of what appeared to be a gang of witch apprentices. They were amusing themselves by crafting small water spouts from questionable trickles out of a storm drain and spinning them through broken windows to soak the floors and walls. “The moat worked for a long time, keeping the lower elements, like that lot—” He twitched his thumb toward the boys, probably not into their teens, “—away from the upper class. But then they had to drain the moat for drinking water. Once that happened, most of the middle class moved away and they put up the fences to keep everybody in the first ring. But you can’t crowd a million people in an area scaled to house a quarter million, and not expect problems. Now most everyone is gone because all that’s left is food, water, and skies over those who can afford to pay—the magic nearly stolen from those who can’t afford not to sell.” He let out a frustrated breath and stepped away, turning his back on the delinquents. “Well, come on then. You wanted to see where some of the other gates are, right?”
Some of the other. Tal was still trying to get that image firmly fixed in his mind. There should only be six gates to the overworld on the entire planet, but there might be double or even triple that just here in Vril … and right under the noses of the O.P.A. and the kings. “Yes, I suppose we should.”
They walked together, keeping to the shadows, which wasn’t too difficult. There was far more dark than light in the city. The only other people they encountered likewise didn’t want to be seen, so they kept a good distance away from each other. It killed Tal inside to watch people destroying the property of others, looting focus stones and clothing from homes and shops, without doing anything to stop it. Even when he noticed a woman, clearly in O.P.A. garb, taking a measure of magic into her stone in exchange for turning her head, he couldn’t intervene.
For, as Jason had told him, Alexy had walked back into a trap. He was in prison, no visitors allowed. Kris had been right about everything. He’d listened when Jason had checked in. Had heard Commander Sommersby calling for his capture … by any means necessary. That Jason trusted him enough to ignore that order—well, he couldn’t risk turning his friend in for anything he might witness today. And he couldn’t afford to make arrests for lawbreaking since he’d probably be taken away as well.
They hadn’t gone more than four blocks when they came upon a form of graffiti. The sparkling red letters were over a meter tall, and hovered in the air near a pile of trash. A pair of racoons turned black button eyes their way, but then returned to their meal of discarded root vegetable peelings and what might once have been porridge.
REPENT, FOR SHE IS COMING!
Another sign of similar style ran sideways up the side of a bakery.
DEMETER’S CHILDREN WELCOMES ALL! PRAISE BE SHE WHO WILL RESTORE MAGIC TO THE LAND!
He looked sideways to see Jason’s reaction, but if the tall dark man noticed them, he gave no sign. After they’d traveled another block and passed two more such notices, he had to ask. “Demeter’s Children?”
At last Jason acknowledged the nearest notice with a tip of his chin. “Latest in a series of cults ’round these parts. Best I can get is they worship some entity that lives in the magma, below the mantle. They claim the Trees aren’t the real source of magic, and they have exclusive access to the true source. Fluff and nonsense, of course, but I have to give those boys credit for bollocks. They put their magic where their rhetoric is. Look at that glitter—takes magic to spare. Not subtle, but effective. They’ve loads of members now, and not just from Vril. Da nearly joined up just to get the business back in his shop. The Children only deal with their own … it’s like they’re a guild, but from before the joining.”
Tal began to hear a low, droning noise that increased as it got closer. Jason elbowed him in the ribs sharply and then pulled him into the mouth of an alley. “Look, here comes a procession of Children. Looking for new recruits, I’ll wager. Stay back here with me; watch how they work.”
The group of men and women was certainly impressive to behold. Their scarlet cloaks had magical flames licking the cloth at hem and wrist, and white candles sporting multicolored fire floated at shoulder height on either side to light the way.
The chorus of voices was in perfect unison, the chanting rising and falling to where it was almost a song. “The earth is our mother. She means us no harm. Praise her and bless her and she’ll keep us warm. The earth is our mother. Her magic has served. Praise her and bless her. She’ll fill us with verve. Hail Demeter!”
Tal couldn’t help but smile. “Verve?”
Jason likewise let out a small chuckle and shrugged. “Vim, vigor, and power, I suppose. Must keep that rhyme going, no matter the logic.” He pointed toward the trio of witches that the procession was approaching. “Watch this.”
Two members of the procession split off and walked toward the trio. They stopped what they were doing to watch, but their body language remained aggressive. The taller of the Children, a big man with pale, closely cropped hair, raised a hand in greeting. “Hail, young witches.”
The oldest boy, red haired, his face sprouting a healthy crop of freckles, sneered at the pair. “Sod off, zombie. You’ll not be suckin’ the brain out of my head to follow your freakin’ goddess.” His pals chuckled and elbowed
him in approval.
Then the woman spoke. She wasn’t much older then the trio, but bore the serenity of age on her face and in her voice. “You’re so young. You should be learning your craft. But here you are … wandering the streets, not even able to call up enough water magic to wash your filthy skin.”
Another of the boys leaned forward with a leer. “I’ll be happy to show you all my filthy skin, sweetling, if you wanna wash it. C’mon then, give us a kiss.” He puckered and moved his lips, which set off his friends again into gales of laughter. But instead of pulling back in disgust or snapping a reply, she raised one delicate bare hand.
A roaring filled Tal’s ears and water began to swirl through the air, pulled out of nearby doors and windows so fast and furious that there was no time to react. The water twisted at the witch’s mental command, surrounded the trio of boys and lifted them into the air until they were yelling for help. She kept them there for a long moment as they splashed and sputtered, and then dropped the spell abruptly, causing the boys to fall to the ground with a thud.
“Well, that was impressive,” Tal whispered and Jason nodded.
“Like I said. Magic to spare and they’re not shy about putting on a show.” He motioned with his head back to the group. The boys were picking themselves up, their faces filled more with awe and excitement than anger and fear.
The young girl spoke and raised her hands skyward with closed eyes. “Now you are clean. Praise be to Demeter.”
“Where’d you get all that magic, then? How’d you learn to do that?” The redhead was smiling … no, more grinning.
The woman smiled gently and reached out to touch his hand. “We are the chosen. Demeter blesses us with magic so we can show others the path. We have many master witches among us, who are happy to train young believers.” She held out her hand. “Come. Be filled with food and magic. Elevate yourself to your potential in the craft … as I have. As we all have.”