The Book of Betrayal

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The Book of Betrayal Page 20

by Melissa McShane


  I stared at Wallach, whose lined face was creased in a compassionate smile. “Malcolm,” I said, swallowed, and began again. “Malcolm, you have to come back. Remember? You did all this so you can be a magus again. Don’t let it be a waste. Come back. You promised—promised you’d come back. It’s not working!”

  His chest was so still. There was the original mark of his first aegis, a round white scar the diameter of a walnut, and the long red line of the heart surgery that had removed it. And now, another flat white knot of scarring, smaller than the first and just centimeters above it. I touched it; it felt ridged and rough. I leaned down and rested my cheek on those scars. “You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known,” I said in a quiet, conversational tone, “and you’ve never backed down from a challenge. Maybe that’s why you had to do this. I couldn’t have talked you out of it without making you other than what you are. But damn you, Malcolm Campbell, don’t you dare back down from this one!”

  I slammed my fist onto his chest and burst into noisy sobs, clutching his shoulders to keep my balance. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be dead. Not after all this. Why had the oracle sent me if it hadn’t meant me to save his life? I cried so hard I had to stop for breath. I’d misunderstood, the oracle hadn’t wanted me to come, I’d sacrificed my life for nothing, and Malcolm was dead.

  Hands touched my shoulders, tried to pull me away, and I clung to my dead love and sobbed. Why couldn’t Ragsdale give me a few minutes to mourn? I couldn’t believe I’d ever liked him.

  “Davies, you’re choking him,” Lucia said in my ear, and I jerked upright, swiping an arm across my eyes. Another hand rested on my forearm, the fingers closed gently on my sleeve. Malcolm’s hand. He drew in a ragged, shallow breath, then another. I let out a cry and gripped his hand, hard, and began to cry again when he smiled, the slightest twitch of his lips.

  “…don’t cry…” he whispered, so quietly I had to lean over to hear him. “…enough to make a man think he was dead…”

  I laughed through my tears. “Which of course you’re not.”

  His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at me, a real smile. “I don’t remember weakness before,” he said.

  “It’s a side effect of the resonance technique, which by the way was a complete success and I plan to gloat about it to everyone for at least a week,” Wallach said. “The weakness will pass in a few minutes, and in an hour you’ll be back to normal.”

  “And…my magic?”

  “You’ve got that now.”

  Malcolm closed his eyes again. The next moment I found myself hovering six inches off the ground and had to fling my arms wide to keep from overbalancing. “Malcolm!”

  It was Malcolm’s turn to laugh. “Ah, love, I feel whole again,” he said, “and ready to take on the world.”

  “Enough,” said Ragsdale. “Pontarelli, do your duty.”

  I felt a hand close around my wrist, bringing me back to earth. “Helena Davies,” Lucia said, her voice husky, “you’re under arrest for violating the Accords.”

  18

  The cell was a concrete cube about twelve feet on a side that smelled clean and cool, lit by a couple of bulbs set into a recess in the ceiling. The recess was covered by wire mesh so I couldn’t touch the bulbs, not that I wanted to; they glowed hot and would probably burn my fingers. I guessed the cell’s designers hadn’t wanted prisoners to be able to break the glass and, what? Fight their way out with thin shards of lightbulb? Or was it potential suicide they were worried about? Either way, the bulbs were in no danger from me.

  There was a bench on one side long enough for me to lie down on, if I felt tired, with no pillow or blanket, and a sink with only one handle on the tap. No bathroom, so I guessed this was just a temporary holding cell rather than an actual prison. This was good news. It meant I hadn’t been condemned out of hand, which I knew from my exhaustive study of the Accords was illegal. But Ragsdale had been angry enough that I hadn’t been totally sure he’d abide by the Accords in this case.

  I fixed my skirt and finger-combed the tangles out of my hair, then put it back up in a messy ponytail and sat on the bench, staring at the door. It was metal painted institutional beige and had a line of rivets all around its edges. For lack of anything better to do, I counted them: thirty-one. Why an odd number? Why not thirty or thirty-two? There was a tiny window in the top, about three by five inches, with a metal slider closing me off from the outside. I got up and pried at it, but couldn’t get it to move. I’d just have to sit here and wait. They’d—

  —wait a minute, Lucia hadn’t taken my phone! I pulled it out and checked the signal. No bars. My excitement faded. Well, at least I could play solitaire. That would keep me from going crazy from waiting.

  I’d played about fifty games of solitaire and lost all of them by the time the window slid open. I quickly tucked my phone away, though it was probably too late to keep it hidden. “I’m coming in,” Lucia said. “As ludicrous as this sounds, I have to warn you that attacking me will make your situation worse.”

  “I’m not going to attack you.”

  “What’s ludicrous is the idea of you trying.” The key clanked in the lock, and the door swung noiselessly open. Lucia’s face was tense and drawn. “You just had to be a hero,” she said bitterly. “Couldn’t you have come up with a better story than that one? Like that the oracle sent you to witness history being made?”

  “It felt like the right thing to do.”

  Lucia rolled her eyes. “God save me from noble idiots. Your ‘right thing’ is going to get you dismissed.”

  “Not…executed?”

  “Not likely. With all these traitor deaths, the Board is reluctant to murder one of its own. What did you do to piss off Ragsdale? He’s foaming at the mouth, wanting you dismissed immediately without trial.”

  “I think he feels he’s gone to bat for me so many times, I should have respected that by not violating the Accords. I’m sorry about it.”

  “Nothing you can do about it now. But he’s not a good enemy to have.”

  “I know. Lucia, what happens next?”

  “The Board will convene for your trial. The full Board. I insisted on it.”

  “You did? Why? Couldn’t they participate from a distance?”

  “Because having them face you directly will give you an advantage. Easier to dismiss someone who’s just a voice and an image on a computer screen.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  Lucia waved that away. “It will take a few days for them all to gather. Your trial will be next Tuesday morning. You’ll be free on your own recognizance until then, and you’ll open Abernathy’s as usual on Monday.”

  “You’re not going to keep me locked up?”

  “Judy Rasmussen argued persuasively that you are still Abernathy’s custodian, and Abernathy’s should stay open for as long as that’s true. Stirlaugson admitted you were unlikely to make a run for it, what with your whole life being here.”

  “It’s true. And I wouldn’t run anyway. I want to argue my case before the Board.”

  “There’s not much to argue. You stupidly admitted to your guilt in front of a Board member and a fellow custodian.”

  “Not that. I’m going to ask them to change the Accords.”

  Lucia raised both eyebrows. Then she laughed. “You’re guilty as hell, but you’re going to argue they shouldn’t punish you and should make your offense legal? I never knew you had that kind of nerve.”

  “I don’t know about punishing me. I do know the Accords are wrong, and I’m going to convince the Board of that.”

  Lucia shook her head, her laughter trailing off. “You want to roll the dice again, it’s your funeral. As it is, you’re free to go. The Board will send word as to when and where you’re to meet with them.” She swept me a humorless bow and I scuttled out the door, vaguely afraid of having it close on me and trap me in that boring cell again.

  Lucia and I walked down the short corridor lined with cells—actually
, there were quite a few, which made me wonder how many were occupied and how often they were used—and through another beige metal door whose rivets I didn’t have time to count. Beyond, a curving hall with a black stripe painted down its center stretched out before us. “Follow the black line to where it joins the magenta line, then follow the magenta line to the transit hub. Someone will be waiting for you there.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. Campbell, probably. He wasn’t too happy to see you led off in metaphorical chains while he was still helpless. And I think Judy Rasmussen is around here somewhere.” She made a little shooing motion and turned around. “I’ve got a crapload of paperwork to do that someone’s little speech generated.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just…don’t be afraid of the Board.” Lucia let out a long sigh. “You know you’ve got no chance, right?”

  “And you know I have to try, right?”

  “I do. I’ll try to be there on Tuesday, but if not…good luck, Helena.”

  “Thanks, Lucia.”

  I strode down the black line, then the magenta line, barely noticing my surroundings except that the gardenia smell was stronger now. I had two days and a few hours to figure out what I could say to the Board. Avoiding punishment was probably pointless, and I had to admit I was guilty even if the rules I’d broken were stupid, unjust ones. That meant I could focus on what I increasingly felt was the purpose the oracle had sent me for: getting the Board to change the Accords.

  I emerged into the central chamber and looked around for a familiar face. The display on my phone told me it was almost six o’clock, and apparently that was the node’s busy time, because the chamber was thronged with black-clad men and women, some wearing fatigues and bearing guns or knives, others in jumpsuits pushing carts. No one I knew appeared, so I began walking the perimeter of the chamber.

  There were seven great openings, each painted a different color, and the lines on the floor made an enormous tangled spider’s web near the center of the room. I’d never noticed the tangle in all the times I’d been here before. I was so fascinated by it I didn’t at first hear my name being called, and looked up just moments before Malcolm swept me into his arms and kissed me in full view of everyone. Someone passing nearby let out a long whistle, which made me smile. Malcolm released me, though only to arm’s length, keeping hold of my hand. “You’re all right?” he said.

  “I’m fine, except for the Tasers and the beatings. No, I forgot, you people use jolters.”

  “How can you joke at a time like this?” Judy said. “The Board is still out for your blood.”

  “Yes, and I’ve got a few days before I have to face them.” Judy’s choice of words dampened my courage. What if all of them felt, as Ragsdale did, that I’d betrayed their trust in me? Which in a sense I had.

  “That will be plenty of time for you to plan your defense,” Malcolm said. “I think we should leave this place and start on that immediately.”

  “I’m not sure I have a defense, given that I’m guilty.”

  “Of violating an unjust law.”

  “That’s what I plan to say. I’m going to ask the Board to repeal that provision of the Accords.”

  Malcolm’s hand closed tightly on mine. “You’re not serious.”

  “I am serious.”

  “She is,” Judy said. “When she gets those two little lines between her eyes, you can tell she’s going to be stubborn.”

  “I will remember that,” Malcolm said. “I have a feeling it’s information I’m likely to need in the future.”

  Sunday morning I re-read the Accords and made notes, though I’d memorized all the key points of it, chapter and verse, back when Malcolm was on the run. Then I went to the Athenaeum and did a little more research, this time on the circumstances surrounding the drafting of the Accords. It probably wouldn’t matter, but despite my brave words I was starting to feel desperate. By three o’clock Sunday I’d fallen into despair. I’d only been a Warden for sixteen months; the Board members had been Wardens their whole lives. Who was I to demand they change the document that for more than seventy years had kept the peace in the magical community, just for selfish reasons?

  I lay on my couch and stared at the high, white ceiling. There were patterns there, too distant to make out. Why did people texturize their ceilings, anyway? Maybe for insulation? Or so the sunlight wouldn’t reflect off them so easily? Or…it was pointless guessing when I had no understanding. Much like trying to guess which way the Board would jump.

  Harrison, I knew was my enemy, and had been from the start. Ragsdale, I’d made my enemy. Would Chukwu, the Board member from Nigeria and someone friendly to me, come down on Ragsdale’s side? After what had happened at the Conference of Neutralities, I trusted the Board to do what they thought best for all of magery, but I didn’t kid myself that that meant they’d do what was best for me. Helena Davies was just another cog in the machine, important only to herself.

  The door opened. “Helena?”

  “I’m in here.”

  Malcolm came down the hall and bent down to kiss me. “I never realized how much it chafed that you had to let me in.”

  “Are you really a stronger magus, thanks to the new alloy?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m still experimenting, and the team hasn’t done any training yet. Nor will we, until this is over.”

  I moved my legs so he could sit next to me. “You shouldn’t stop on my account.”

  “I’m stopping on mine. I am far too distracted to safely train, and I believe Canales, Quincy, and Tinsley would say the same. Tuesday night, it will all be over.”

  “One way or the other. Malcolm, what will we do if they take Abernathy’s away from me?”

  “You mean, will I suddenly stop loving you and find myself a beautiful magus to keep my bed warm?”

  I slugged him. “Be serious.”

  “I see nothing else changing except that you and I, love, will no longer have to sneak around. You will still be a Warden, with full knowledge of the magical world, though without responsibilities. You might even take Judy’s place, if you could bear it.”

  “I don’t know which would be worse, being separated from the oracle entirely or being relegated to opening the mail. I just don’t want to think about it.”

  “Then don’t. Let’s go to your parents’ house for dinner like an ordinary couple, then return here to spend the night.”

  I gasped. “Will you stay the night?”

  “There’s no longer any reason not to. I would like nothing more than to hold you while you sleep, knowing I don’t need to sneak away before morning.”

  I sat up and hugged him. “I can’t imagine anything more wonderful.”

  And it was.

  19

  I woke slowly, lazily the next morning, gradually becoming aware of the other person sharing my bed. Malcolm lay sprawled on his back, his mouth slightly open, his hair messy across his forehead. I scooted over and snuggled up next to him. He stirred, rolled a little, and brought his arm around to draw me closer. “Is it morning yet?” he murmured.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Let’s pretend it’s not, and stay like this for a few more hours.”

  “Or all day. They can hardly try me twice for breaking the Accords, if I just don’t open the store.”

  I heard a distant pounding on the apartment door and groaned. “It’s probably Judy.”

  “She’ll go away if you ignore her.”

  “No, she really won’t.” I freed myself from the circle of Malcolm’s arms and found my bathrobe hanging on the back of my door, then stumbled down the hall and opened the door. “Finally,” Judy said, and pushed past me with her box of donuts. “You and Campbell get dressed, and I’ll make coffee.”

  “Not to be ungrateful, but what if we wanted a private morning together?”

  Judy rolled her eyes. “You can have that tomorrow. Today, we have to plan.”

&nb
sp; “Plan what?”

  “Your campaign of public support.” She disappeared into the kitchen. I stared after her in disbelief. Then I returned to the bedroom, where Malcolm was already half-dressed.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked.

  “No. But I surmise that Miss Rasmussen has something on her mind.”

  “She called it my ‘campaign of public support.’”

  Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “I see. She may be onto something.”

  I hung up my bathrobe and put on my clothes. “I don’t understand either of you.”

  Seated at the table with my coffee and a maple-glazed donut, I still wasn’t more enlightened. “The Board doesn’t act according to public opinion. What good will it do for me to have an upwelling of public sympathy?”

  “The Board doesn’t change if it might seem to be bending to the masses’ whims,” Judy said. “They can’t afford to look like they just do whatever’s popular. But that doesn’t mean they don’t pay attention to what the Wardens are saying. If we can get enough testimony as to your stellar qualities as custodian, we might be able to get the Board to keep you on.”

  “It’s a long shot,” Malcolm said. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up. But Miss Rasmussen—”

  “Judy.”

  Malcolm glanced at her and nodded. “Judy is right. Enough people attesting to your impartiality as custodian should sway them, hopefully enough.”

  “We’ve got one day. That sounds impossible.”

  Judy shook her head. “I was working on it all day yesterday. The Nicolliens are going to be a hard sell, given your relationship with an Ambrosite, but by the same token they’ll be the most convincing. If they think you’ve been impartial, it means more.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Look, just let us worry about it, all right?” Judy nodded at Malcolm. “You run the store and be your usual friendly self. Act like nothing’s wrong, and maybe it will come true.”

  I took a ferocious bite of my donut, spraying crumbs. “Let’s hope so.”

 

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