by Jay Posey
“Wren, no,” Cass said, but Wren ignored her. Now wasn’t the time. The officer’s eyes flicked to Cass and then back to Wren.
“I am still your governor,” Wren said. “Regardless of what you’ve been told.”
After a moment of hesitation, the officer took out a pair of binders and clamped them around Wren’s wrists. Even when he had tightened them fully, they nearly slid down over Wren’s hands. Wren was pretty sure he could have pulled free if he’d wanted to.
“What about these others?” one of the guards asked the officer in a low voice.
“I don’t know, just… just keep an eye on ’em,” the officer said. “Until we get this straightened out.”
The officer and two other guards formed up around him, careful not to get too close to Swoop, who had worked his way up to his hands and knees, but hadn’t made it much further.
Wren looked at his mama.
“Take care of Swoop,” he said.
The officer placed his hand on Wren’s shoulder and guided him forward. It was only as they started away from the gate that Wren realized the crowd had gone nearly silent. They were almost all watching him, some with concern, some with confusion, some with contempt. The guards cleared a path through the people as the officer kept a tight grip on Wren’s shoulder. Murmurs swept through the crowd as they passed through.
Wren risked one last look over his shoulder, and saw Mama helping Swoop to his feet. There was a figure standing behind them in the distance, still outside the city: Chapel.
Wren smiled inwardly, as he quietly let the guardsmen lead him away to his uncertain fate.
TWENTY FIVE
They had stripped Wren of most of his belongings; his pack, his coat, his knife. It was the knife he missed the most. At least they’d taken the binders off too. And it felt good to be warm again. Now he sat in a small, dim room within the governor’s compound, waiting to hear what would become of him. For some reason they’d thought it necessary to blindfold him when they brought him inside, so he wasn’t sure exactly where he was. He didn’t recognize the room. But there were lots of rooms in the compound that he’d never seen. Wren guessed he was somewhere on one of the lower floors, below the main council room. There were two chairs in the room, with a low table between them.
For all the seriousness of the situation, there was a dark humor in it. He had been here before. It wasn’t the same room, nor were circumstances the same. But not all that long ago, a year and a half maybe, he’d been captured, isolated, locked away so someone else could decide his fate. At least this time he’d chosen to be captured. And he hoped this time his fate would be his own to decide.
Night was closing in on Morningside. It was still his city. He was responsible for it, whether anyone recognized it or not. So, while Wren sat and waited for someone to come and take him before the Council, he closed his eyes and stretched outside of himself, searching for a way to connect to the machine.
It had been easier before, when he’d been able to touch it. Wren didn’t know why, but that always seemed to be the case. Things were clearer somehow when he could touch them. But having had contact with the machine once before, at least he knew what he was looking for. He tried to visualize it, remember what it had been like, what it had felt like.
Somewhere in the ether he found a thread. He focused on that sliver of signal and traced it back to its source. But as he tried to follow it, it seemed to unravel. He tried again, but each time the signal dissolved before he could establish a solid connection. He hadn’t often connected to complex systems, and certainly he’d never faced anything as complicated as Underdown’s machine before. But even so, something felt different. It was almost as if the machine itself didn’t want him to connect. Like it was resisting him.
The door to his room opened, startling Wren back to the physical world. Joris, one of the compound watchmen, stood in the doorway.
“It’s time, Gov–” he said, cutting himself off before he finished the word. “Uh, they’re ready for you.”
Joris smiled sadly. He had always been one of the nice ones. Wren could see the reluctance in his face. He was following orders, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“Thanks, Joris,” Wren said.
There were two other guardsmen waiting in the hall, but Wren didn’t recognize either of them.
“This way,” Joris said. He led them down the corridor. The other two guards stayed close behind Wren, one at each shoulder. Wren’s nerves started running wild as he pictured what he might be walking into. And he didn’t know why they thought they needed three guards. They were treating him like an enemy who might try to escape. As if there was anything he could do to one of these stout men that would enable him to get away, let alone three of them.
They climbed up two flights of stairs and came out into a hallway that Wren recognized well. Joris wasn’t leading them to the Council Room as he’d expected. They were heading towards the old throne room. The room where Underdown and Asher had each once sat. Where Wren had Awakened his mama, and where Three had died. A year and a half later, and Wren was back to where his life in Morningside had started. Maybe it was fitting that it should end here, too.
It had taken everything in Cass not to pursue the guards when they had led Wren away. But he had seemed changed somehow. Unafraid. Sure of purpose. In control. He had spoken to the guards in a tone she’d never heard from him before. And his words to her had been heavy with the weight of command.
Take care of Swoop.
And so she had. She’d taken Swoop’s pack and had managed to get him back on his feet, but it’d taken a lot of effort to get him there. The guards that had been left behind had seemed reluctant both to let them go or to make them stay, so in the end they had just stood around doing their best not to interfere in any way.
The people gathered near the gate had mostly kept clear as well. They’d been largely content to stare at her, most impassively, some with anger and hatred upon their faces. But as she and Swoop had made their way through their midst, Swoop had stumbled and gone down hard on his knees. When Cass had tried to help him up, she’d been surprised to find two other pairs of hands there to assist.
Two women, both in shabby clothes, took it upon themselves to support Swoop the rest of the way, each with one of his arms over their shoulders. Together they had made their way to Mister Sun’s Tea House. Cass hadn’t known where else to go.
And as they approached, Cass noted a number of men and women arrayed around it. Some had swords, some knives, but most of them seemed to be wielding whatever they’d had on hand that might double as a weapon. At first Cass thought they were planning to attack the Tea House, but as she got closer she realized that wasn’t it at all. They were guarding it.
When they saw her coming, they opened a gap in the line for her to pass through, and one of them jogged up the steps and opened the door for them. The inside had changed significantly since the last time Cass had been there, the night they’d fled the city. Some of the tables remained in the middle of the room, but many had been pushed to the corners and stacked. Now the main hall was segmented by folding screens and blankets hung on cords. And there were people everywhere – sitting at tables, sitting in their makeshift rooms, sitting on the floor. Others seemed to be milling around aimlessly. It had all the look of a refugee camp. Many Awakened were among them. Most, in fact. But Cass didn’t see Kit anywhere.
Mister Sun quickly brought them through the main area and after a brief exchange, he took charge of Swoop and led him back to his own room. Mister Sun helped Swoop remove his clothes and then assessed the wound. To Cass’s surprise, Mister Sun seemed to know quite a lot about cleaning and stitching up such injuries. After sealing the wound, Mister Sun applied some kind of salve and dressed it in a layer of bandages.
Once they made sure Swoop was as comfortable as they could make him, they left him to rest and returned to the main room. It was only then that Cass realized the two women who had helped her get Swoop to the
Tea House were gone. She never even got their names.
“Mister Sun,” Cass said. “What happened when we left? What’s going on?”
He shook his head and slid a stimstick in his mouth. It activated, and he took a drag before he answered, “Trouble, Lady Cass. Much trouble.”
He led her through the main area and then up the back stairs to a small room on the top floor. Painter’s old room. They went inside and he closed the door.
“There was a riot, after you left,” Mister Sun said. “Many were injured. Some killed.”
“What started it?”
“Who can say which pebble caused the landslide? It had been building for weeks,” he answered. “Citizens of old resent those brought in from outside the wall. Both despise the Awakened. When it was announced you had slain Connor and fled, there was outrage.”
“I didn’t kill Connor, Mister Sun.”
He shrugged. “You were not here. It was convenient to believe what they said, for those who desired the same outcome.”
“What outcome?” she asked.
“They’re rounding people up,” Mister Sun said. “Preparing to move them out of the city.”
“That’s why all those people were gathered at the gate.”
Mister Sun nodded and took another pull on his stimstick.
“They can’t,” she said. “They can’t do that. Those poor people will get slaughtered by the Weir.”
“They claim the guard will patrol to protect them. Some have resisted. Most have not.”
“And the people downstairs?”
“There was backlash against the Awakened,” he replied. “We brought some of them here.”
“What about the others?”
“With Aron.”
The mention of his name shocked her. “I thought he was dead.”
Mister Sun shook his head.
So, they were forcing the non-citizens back outside the wall. The pure foolishness of it struck her. Particularly now, with the danger that lay ahead.
And logistically, she didn’t see how they could possibly expect to pull it off. There was no way the Council could have put together such a plan in such a short amount of time. Unless of course, they’d been planning it for much longer.
“I need to see Aron.”
Joris opened the door to the throne room, and the first thing that struck Wren was the fact that there were now three throne-like chairs on the dais instead of one. No one was sitting in them yet, which somehow seemed worse than facing whoever was supposed to be there. The room was cleaner than it’d been the last time he’d seen it. The night that Connor and Aron had dragged him through it. Only a few days before, though it seemed like weeks in his mind.
They closed the door behind him and, when Wren looked back, he saw that only Joris remained with him.
“What’s going to happen now?” Wren asked.
“The High Council will be here in a moment,” Joris said without looking at him.
“But what will happen?”
“I don’t know,” Joris answered. Then his eyes flicked to Wren. He lowered his voice. “But try not to be scared.” He tried to give a little encouraging smile.
But just then the door opened, and Joris snapped to attention. Three people strode in, followed by several guardsmen. The guards moved into a semicircle, half on each side of the dais with the chairs in between, while the three moved to sit upon the thrones: Hondo, North, Vye. The new High Council. Hondo sat in the middle, though from the arrangement of the thrones, it was hard to tell if that was meant to be a more important seat or not. It was farther back on the dais than the other two, which were angled slightly inwards. From where Wren stood, it felt more like he was at the focal point of all three. But there was still something inherently more intimidating about that center seat – where Hondo now sat. Vye was on Hondo’s right, and North to his left.
Wren tried to remember everything Swoop had taught him about commanding a room. He pulled his shoulders back, widened his stance. Looking at the three of them seated there, Wren was surprised to find he wasn’t intimidated. Before he had left, he would’ve frozen at a time like this. After what he had seen, after what he had learned, these three people seemed somehow lesser than he remembered. The adrenaline was coursing through his body, but he found it within himself to bend that nervous energy to his purpose.
“Wren,” Vye said. “We’re so glad you’re alive. We’ve been worried.”
Her kind voice took Wren completely by surprise. He’d expected an immediate confrontation.
“Where is your mother?” North asked.
Wren paused before answering. Swoop had always encouraged him to take a breath before he answered a question. “I don’t know,” Wren answered.
“You can tell us, Wren,” Hondo said. “It’d be best for everyone.”
“I don’t know,” Wren repeated. “I left her at the gate. With Swoop.”
“And the rest of your guard?” Vye asked.
“We came back without them. Because of the order,” he answered. Then, before they could ask another question, Wren pushed back. “Where are Aron and Rae?”
“They no longer serve on the Council,” North said.
“By whose direction?”
“Aron by choice, Rae by vote,” Vye said.
“And so you decided to steal my rightful authority?”
Hondo exhaled through his nose, a dismissive sound. It annoyed Wren. Hondo seemed small.
“You abandoned your post,” Vye said. She said it with a hint of sadness, like she was explaining to a child why he was about to be punished.
“At this Council’s direction,” Wren answered.
“At one member’s suggestion,” Hondo said. “You have to understand our side, Wren. Connor was dead, Aron hurt. You ran away. You left the city in chaos. So while you thought only of yourself, we had to take measures to ensure the security of everyone.”
Wren felt anger rising at the accusation, the twisting of facts to suit their purpose. But he knew there was no use in arguing. Truth would change nothing here. “Then why exile? Why didn’t you just call for us to come back?”
“To prevent further chaos,” North said. “Trust has all but disappeared within Morningside. If we took control and then handed it back to you whenever you returned again, the citizens would never know what to expect. They’d never know who was in charge or why. It was a difficult decision, but it’s for the best of the whole city.”
There were so many things that seemed wrong with what had happened. Unjust. But Wren had to remember why he had come back. It wasn’t to reclaim his seat, or even to understand what had occurred.
“I never gave up my authority as governor,” he said. “But I didn’t come back to claim it, either. I came back to try and save the city.”
Hondo let out a laugh. “From what, little boy?”
“My brother.”
“Your brother is dead,” said North.
Wren shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it, but Asher is alive. I have to try to stop him. I need to use the machine.”
Vye and North exchanged looks, but Hondo sat forward on his throne. “Certainly not,” he said. “We know what your father could do with that machine. You will not touch it again.”
“Hondo, Asher’s gathering an army of Weir. I’ve seen it myself. And I believe he’s going to bring them to Morningside.”
“There is no such army,” Hondo said sharply. “Unless you bring it. There are serious charges against you that must be answered. You can’t escape them by trying to frighten us with children’s stories.”
“Is this supposed to be a trial?” Wren asked.
“It’s not a trial, Wren,” Vye said. “But we do have a decision to make.”
“Connor and Aron attacked me. They attacked my mom.”
“What happened with Connor and Aron was unfortunate. It was a mistake, to be sure,” Hondo said. “But was it a mistake worth their lives?”
Wren was at
a loss. He hadn’t really expected the Council to welcome him back, but he had thought that maybe when he’d explained the situation they’d at least have treated it with seriousness, rather than dismissing it outright.
“It’s a difficult time, Wren,” Vye said. “We think it’d be best for everyone if you stay here in the compound.”
“You’re imprisoning me?” Wren asked.
“It’s not prison, no,” North said. “It’s for your good and for the good of Morningside.”
“It will be confusing to the people if you’re out with them,” Hondo added. “And it may not be safe for you. You are to remain within the compound until such time as we deem appropriate to release you.”
Wren stood in stunned silence as two guards came forward. They ushered him towards the doors where Joris was waiting. Joris opened the door, and they joined the two other guards who were still waiting outside. And the five of them escorted Wren away to his prison.
Painter sat on the flat roof of a two-story building, with his legs dangling over the sides, and watched as the final traces of dusk seeped out of the horizon. Night would soon be fully upon them. The air was cold and damp, but the clouds had begun to break apart overhead, and here and there he could glimpse stars flickering and glittering in the heavens above. He was deeply weary from the journey, but his mind was active.
Tonight he would just observe. He knew better than to let himself hope that he might catch a glimpse of his sister on this first night. Instead of going out to hunt for her, he had decided it would be better to watch the Weir first. To get a feel for how many there were, and how they moved. They had rarely shown up in numbers of late, nor did they regularly approach the wall of Morningside. But perhaps here on the outskirts, he would be able to study their movements and discern any patterns.
He didn’t have to wait long. There was an electric cry away to his right, not terribly far away. It sounded mournful and lonely to him, then. After a while he began to see them moving throughout the dark streets and alleyways below. Those were few in number, and if they had any plan or pattern, it was beyond Painter to decipher.