by R S Penney
One advantage of mental triggers over physical triggers was that you could control the rate of energy flow and the area of effect. The former directly influenced the latter. Her cloud of gloom became unnoticeable a few inches away from the house. So long as she didn’t move too much, no one would spot her. So, she waited for the piano music to stop. And then she triggered her Sonic-Source.
Muffled voices became louder and more distinct. The coin amplified the distortion caused by the window pane, but Kalia was able to make out the words. She adjusted the rate of energy flow to manage the volume. She didn’t know what she would hear. Hopefully not another conversation about taxes. She had listened to several of those already.
“And you’ve had no sign of her?” Robert Delarac asked. Kalia strained to listen. His voice competed with those of Danielle Delarac and her sister-in-law. The two women were quietly discussing a servant whose performance had been unsatisfactory. Of course, they would be closer to the window.
“We’ve searched, Robert,” Timothy said. “But I’m afraid we’ve had no luck. We don’t know what happened to Adele.”
Kalia perked up.
“She wouldn’t just leave!” Robert protested. “Not like that! Adele was always willful, but she had sense enough to-”
“Robert,” Timothy cut in. “We will find her.”
So, Timothy was hiding the fact that he had already located Adele. Which raised the question of where he was keeping her imprisoned. It had to be that. He wouldn’t just let her run loose if he intended to make use of her powers. Adele was unstable. She might burn down a village just to ease her boredom. That kind of thing drew notice. So, where was he keeping her?
Not here, Kalia suspected. A house like this would be teeming with servants and family members stopping in to visit. It was far too likely that one of them would stumble upon something they weren’t supposed to see.
“I’m sure we will,” Robert said, though it was clear he didn’t mean it. “I had hoped that you might have something. I’m afraid I’m not long for this city.”
“You won’t be staying for the party?”
“Another week in New Beloran? I find the idea frightful.”
A gathering in one week, Kalia mused. Miri will love to hear about that.
It dawned on her that she was supposed to be mapping the house, but she was fairly certain that Miri would find the information she gathered here to be of greater use. She stayed for a few more minutes, but when the Delaracs failed to discuss anything of interest, she decided it was time to go.
Dalen knew that he should go to bed. It was his turn to sleep on the sofa tonight, and he was aching for some soft pillows after spending two nights sleeping on the floor. The men rotated between the living room and one of the bedrooms while the three women shared the other.
He knew that he should just get ready for bed, but he couldn’t. His legs were filled with restless energy. He had to walk. So, he had left the apartment shortly after dinner, and he hadn’t been back since.
The lamps on each sidewalk illuminated the tall, gray townhouses on either side of Halper Street. Most of the windows were dark. He caught a flicker of light now and then, but most people had turned in. A quarter moon hung in the sky, surrounded by stars.
In brown pants and a matching coat that fell to his knees, Dalen shuffled along with his hands in his pockets. He grew flustered, thinking about what Tommy and Miri might have been up to.
If Delarac had caught them…
Pausing, Dalen tilted his head back, and a cool breeze ruffled his hair. “There’s no reason to think that,” he muttered. “They’ve both faced down enemies that were far more dangerous than Timothy Delarac.”
Soldiers, Field Binders, the walking dead: Tommy and Miri had gone up against them all and survived. That was the problem. He was in love with two people who had shared the kind of epic adventures that belonged in a storybook. What could Dalen offer in comparison to that?
Tommy and Miri stood together on a battlefield while Dalen Von Sasorin hid in a tent and prayed for the guns to stop. Tommy and Miri ran off to scout the enemy’s house while Dalen sat down at Mrs. Carmichael’s table and ate salted pork. It would be one thing if he could be out there with them. At least then he would have a modicum of control. But this sitting and waiting…
“You’re worried about them, aren’t you?”
Dalen shrieked.
Clamping a hand over his mouth to silence himself, he spun around, and his eyes widened. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he yelped. “You scared me half to death!”
Jim stood under the light of a nearby lamp, backing away with his hands raised defensively. The poor man was mortified. “I…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I just thought that…Maybe I should go.”
Heaving out a breath, Dalen strode forward with his head down. “No,” he said. “I could use the company.”
“Are you worried about…” Jim hesitated, no doubt trying to decide how much he wanted to say aloud. “Our friends?”
“Very much so.”
Dalen jerked his head toward the nearest intersection, urging the other man to follow. He turned around and began marching up the sidewalk at a brisk pace. He wanted to be far away before anyone came outside to see what all the commotion was about.
They rounded a corner onto a street very much like the one they had left behind: a narrow lane sandwiched between townhouses that stood three stories high. An old, gray cat came skulking out of the shadows, but other than that, he saw no one. He supposed it was safe enough to speak his mind.
Dusting his hands to ease his anxiety, Dalen kept his eyes fixed on the ground under his feet. “I should be with them,” he said at last.
Jim gave him a sidelong glance. “What would you do?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Then why-”
Gritting his teeth, Dalen forced his eyes shut. “I don’t know,” he growled. “I just hate being left behind. It’s a constant reminder that I am useless.”
He was surprised to feel Jim’s hand on his shoulder. The other man was looking at him with such sincerity. “You are not useless,” Jim insisted. “I was there, Dalen. You practically ran that camp.”
“I hid in a tent while you fought the enemy.”
“You managed our food,” Jim said. “Our supplies. It may not be glamorous, but we would have accomplished nothing without you.”
Dalen searched for a retort, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps Jim was right. He had felt like luggage from the day they had left Aladar. Sure, he offered the odd nugget of information, but when it came to fighting, he was beyond useless. More of a liability than anything else.
He remembered the way Marcus used to glare at him. That man could shoot with precision, craft powerful Infusions and take down an enemy with his bare hands. But what did Dalen do when trouble showed up?
He hid.
“Not everyone is a fighter,” Jim went on. “You can’t build a world with nothing but fighters. You need clerks and librarians, doctors and philosophers. Playwrights! Rather than fret about the talents you don’t have, celebrate the ones you do have.”
Only then did Dalen realize that he had been muttering his thoughts aloud. Chagrin swept over him in a wave, nearly drowning out what the other man had said. Dalen took a moment to consider it. Jim knew about his shortcomings, but instead of reacting with disgust, he saw something worthwhile in Dalen.
“Thank you.”
“Happy to help.”
Without warning, the other man stepped forward and kissed Dalen’s lips. He pulled back all too quickly, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” Jim whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Dalen was unable to suppress a smile. “At least you were willing to do that,” he said softly. “Some people are too afraid of what others might think.”
“Don’t be too hard on Tommy. He doesn’t always show it, but I can tell he feels responsible for what happened on Hebar’s Hill. He’
s not spending all this time with Miri because he doesn’t love you. He’s doing it because he feels like he let us down.”
Squinting at the other man, Dalen grunted. “You’re a strange one,” he said. “First you kiss me, then you urge me to make up with my partner.”
Jim shrugged, then turned his head to stare up the street toward Mrs. Carmichael’s building. “I never wanted to come between you and Tommy,” he said. “I promised myself that I was going to keep those feelings buried. But sometimes things slip out.”
“Sometimes they do.”
“Shall we go back?”
“Yes,” Dalen said with a curt nod. “I think that would be wise.”
When they returned, Miri was sitting on the couch with hands folded in her lap. She had her eyes closed, breathing slowly as if she might fall asleep. Dalen was afraid to say anything. Perhaps it was best to let her rest and find out what had happened tomorrow.
Tommy stood with his hands braced against the wall on either side of the window, staring out at the darkness. “You’re sure about this?” he asked. “You really think that it’s our best option?”
“I am,” Miri replied.
Hanging his coat on the rack, Dalen stalked into the living room with a soft sigh. “Do either of you plan to elaborate?” he inquired. “Or will you be speaking in code for the remainder of the evening?”
Kalia was seated on the small, wooden table, wrapped in the folds of her coat. She shivered. And no wonder! Out in that chill with nothing but a thin shirt for protection against the elements? It was a wonder that she hadn’t caught her death. “Delarac is hosting a party in one week,” she explained.
“I see…”
“We’re going to raid it,” Miri said simply.
Spinning around to face her, Dalen waggled a finger as he strode across the living room. “Now, let me be certain I understand the situation,” he began. “The original plan was to capture Delarac and find out how he has been controlling Adele. But we are now eschewing that in favour of…”
Miri sat forward with her hands on her knees, glaring at him. “Many of his war-hawk friends are going to be there,” she said. “The very architects of the campaign against the Al a Nari.”
“And you hope to accomplish what?”
“The architects of the war gathered in one place,” Miri said. “If a few of them die, it’ll be a strong message to the rest.”
Dalen just stood there, slack-jawed and trying to think of something to say. “You’re talking about murder,” he managed at last.
Miri looked up at him, her eyes blazing with quiet fury. “And what do you call it when politicians send young soldiers off to die?” she asked. “When they order soldiers to kill people who have never posed a threat to anyone?”
Dalen scrunched up his face. This whole conversation was tying his stomach in knots. “I’m not saying that-”
Miri was on her feet in an instant, striding forward and forcing him to retreat. “This isn’t a debate,” she said. “This is happening. They thought the revolution died on Hebar’s Hill. They were wrong. I suggest you get used to that reality because, in one week’s time, we are putting an end to this war.”
12
The noonday sun shone down from a clear, blue sky, casting silver rays upon the ancient city. In just a few short days, the place had changed from the ruin that Desa had found a year ago.
The buildings were now as strong and sturdy as they had ever been. Instead of empty holes, they all had windows in ornate frames. Paved streets ran between the lush, green lawns that surrounded every home. Flowers in every imaginable colour grew in quaint, little gardens. At this rate, Desa would not be surprised if Mercy started creating furniture. It was as if she expected the people who had once lived here to return.
“Very good,” Mercy said.
Desa sat crosslegged on nothing at all, floating above a small house on the north side of the city. Her eyes were shut, her mind drifting through the exercises that allowed a Field Binder to contact the Ether.
“Yes, I’d say you’ve got it.”
She opened her eyes to find Mercy hovering over the street in her crystalline form. The goddess sparkled, light refracting as it passed through her body. “You have a very disciplined mind, my dear.”
“Well, I should hope so,” Desa replied.
She killed her Gravity-Sink and dropped to the rooftop, landing crouched upon the building. Slowly, she rose and paced to the ledge. “When I came here, I was hoping to do more than repeat the exercises I learned as a girl.”
Mercy descended to stand upon the roof. Her form changed with a flash of light, and then she was an ordinary woman with dark-brown skin and curly hair. “I’m sensing a little impatience.”
“My friends need me,” Desa said.
“Yes, that is the problem.”
“I don’t understand.”
With a soft sigh, Mercy stepped forward and reached out to press her finger against Desa’s forehead. “Perhaps it’s time for your next lesson.”
Just like that, Desa was somewhere else, in a room with walls that had been painted a soothing pastel-blue. Morning sunlight streamed through skinny, rectangular windows with brown muntin. She recognized the city on the other side of that glass.
Aladar.
Lifting her hands, Desa was surprised to see the smooth, delicate skin instead of the calluses that she had grown used to. Her body had changed as well. She was now a slip of a girl, just barely into adolescence.
“Desa Nin Leean!” someone barked.
She spun around to find five people seated behind a wooden table. The speaker was Rael Von Casian, a short and compact man with olive skin and rough stubble over his jaw. His face was lined with creases. And his eyes…Large, brown and full of scorn.
A woman sat on either side of him: one tall and dark with short, gray hair, the other plump and tanned with a string of pearls around her neck. Desa knew them both: Adria Nin Shaleen and Mavoni Nin Tarese. This was the Academy’s Council Chamber. She had not seen this place in-
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Rael demanded.
Desa opened her mouth, but no words came to mind. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what was going on. “How did I get here?”
Leaning forward with his hands on the table, Rael fumed. His glare threatened to slice her into little pieces. “Don’t trifle with me, girl!” he snapped. “You know perfectly well what you did to end up here!”
“You revealed our secrets to an outsider,” Adria put in.
“Treason!” Rael spat.
Clasping her hands together behind her back, Desa forced herself to stand tall, forced herself to look him in the eye. “Field Binding is not ours to hoard.” She knew the words by rote. “If learning the Great Art can ease Radharal’s pain-”
Rael’s fist came down on the table, producing a loud thump that made Desa flinch. “Foolish child!” he thundered. “Do you have any idea what you’ve unleashed upon the world?”
Desa froze.
That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. When she had lived this day eleven years ago, Rael had been angry but not feral. He had delivered a scathing lecture, canceled her academic credits and sent her home in disgrace. That was not what she saw in the man who now stood before her. This version of Rael wanted to tear her limb from limb.
Come to think of it, she didn’t recall him ever saying anything about what she had unleashed upon the world. Rael’s only concern back then had been the security of Aladar. Field Binding was the only thing that kept the mainlanders at bay. If Bendarian taught what he had learned to someone else…
She gasped when she noticed the blue walls fading to a dark, sombre gray. The floor changed as well and the table. Colour drained out of Rael’s face as he snarled at her like an enraged beast. “This is what you have done!”
Backing away from him, Desa felt her mouth drop open. “No,” she rasped, shaking her head. “It wasn’t me.”
She tu
rned away to escape the ghastly scene playing out before her only to find that she was no longer in the Council Chamber. She stood upon a gray field under a blue sky, dressed in an old, brown duster and carrying a dagger in each hand.
A colourless man in ratty clothing stood only a few yards away. Gray from head to toe, he studied her with dead, black eyes, sizing her up with the intelligence of Hanak Tuvar.
He charged for her in a mad dash.
Desa leaped, pulsing her Gravity-Sink, and flipped upside-down over his head. Her blade sliced cleanly through his skull, and then she landed in the dry grass, scanning her surroundings.
A gray woman in an apron rushed toward her.
Tossing one dagger up, Desa caught the tip and then threw it as hard as she could. Her knife tumbled end or end, landing in the dead woman’s chest, causing her to fall onto her backside.
“This is what you’ve done!” Rael boomed.
“No!” Desa whimpered.
Two more gray men dragged Tommy toward the wooden fence at the edge of the property. Her young protégé was clawing at the ground, searching for something to hold. He reached for her with an outstretched hand. “Mrs. Kincaid!” he pleaded. “Help me!”
Desa turned her back on him, intending to run – none of this was real – but she was confronted by a furious Miri who blocked her path. A gash dripped blood onto the other woman’s forehead. “This is your fault,” Miri hissed. “Your fault!”
“No, it isn’t!”
Seizing Desa’s shirt, Miri pulled her close. “You made me do it!” she wailed. “You made me kill him!”
A hard shove sent Desa staggering backward until she collided with a big man. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Marcus grabbed her shoulders. “If you had just done what you were told…”
She pulled free of his grip, running for the gray farmhouse, but the sound of his footsteps pursued her. “Why couldn’t you just do as you were told?” Marcus groaned. “Why do you always think you know better than everyone else?” Reluctantly, she forced herself to turn around.
Marcus shambled toward her with his head down, his face hidden by the wide brim of his hat. “Why?” he asked. “Why can’t you just listen?” Step by laborious step, he closed in on her.