Chapter 18 – Shield of the People

Septum sipped at his sickly-sweet chocolate milkshake. “So, how was your day?” he asked.

Tess chomped on her double cheeseburger, dripping sauce. “It was fine, I suppose. My boyfriend’s giving me trouble.”

Septum gripped his knife. “Boyfriend?”

“I’m joking.” She giggled into her hand. “Dad, I’m not fifteen anymore. I’m allowed to have a lover.”

Septum leaned back in the squeaky, faux-leather chair and sighed. “Yes. Of course. You know I get a little nutty about that stuff.” He chuckled.

They returned to their food and silence fell over them.

The diner was lit with stark, clandestine lighting. The floor smelled of cheap, lemon-scented polish. Most of the food tasted cheap, processed. The staff looked like they had lost the will to live, and had only perked up once they noticed that they were serving the Minister of Welfare himself.

If it had been up to him, he would never have set foot in Denna’s Diner.

But it was Tess’s favorite place. She ate with gusto, even though her tray swam with grease.

Over the years, it had started to grow on him a little. Not by any virtue of its own, but because he enjoyed being where Tess enjoyed being.

Septum chewed down a fry.

“So, really. How was your day?” he asked.

Tess puffed up her cheeks and stared into her food. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Today’s been rough. Work’s fine, I guess, the usual, but… I visited her grave today. Put down some flowers. I couldn’t help remembering how we were. Together.”

Septum looked out of the window at the darkened sky beyond. Niggling emotions threatened his carefully manufactured calm. He pushed them aside.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” he said gingerly, looking back at his daughter. “I should have saved her.”

Tess was beautiful. Large, brown eyes, filled with determination. Golden blonde hair, just like her mother.

“Saved her?” Tess asked. “It was an accident, Dad. There was nothing you could have done. You can’t control fate.”

Septum ate a couple of fries and contemplated as he chewed. “Yes. I suppose you’re right, as always.”

The bell above the door behind them rang as someone stepped in. Septum didn’t look back, but he could tell who it was by their aura. He sighed and wiped his hands on a napkin.

“Yes, Fummel?” Septum asked. He leaned back in his seat and threw his arm up on the backrest.

His assistant walked down the center aisle with the same stiffness as always. He stopped before the table.

“Greetings, Miss Couldess,” he said with a slight inclination of the head.

“Hiya, Fummel,” Tess said with a muted but genuine smile. “Nice bowtie. Purple suits you.”

Fummel straightened his ghastly, bright purple bowtie, and the slightest hint of a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Tess was a ray of sunshine. None could resist her pure, joyous influence. It had nothing to do with psychomancy. It was a far more personal kind of magic, one Septum could never hope to master.

“Sir, we have urgent business to discuss,” Fummel said. He cleared his throat and glanced around at the sparse clientele. “In private, if you please.”

“Everyone, out,” Septum said. He exerted his will upon the diner, leaving only Fummel and Tess exempt.

Everyone in the large room immediately stood up without protest and lined up in single file, then proceeded out of the room.

Tess rubbed her arms as if she had a chill while she watched them go.

“Now,” Fummel said once the diner was empty, “a matter for your concern.” He produced a newspaper from under his arm, steered Septum’s tray aside with his pinky finger, and unfolded the newspaper on the greasy table for Septum to read.

“What’s this?” Septum asked, eyebrow cocked. “You needn’t have bothered me just for some light reading.”

Fummel regarded him dully, all the feigned patience of a father enduring his petulant child.

Septum sighed and looked at the front page.

‘WAS GRANHORN RIGHT?’ the headline read. ‘WAR CRIMES OF WENSLOW TAMOS REVEALED.’

Septum chuckled to himself. He checked the publication. The Northmark Shield. An old company that had always skirted the line between colorful commentary and insubordination.

He flipped through to the article, which spanned several pages and condemned the MOW in various ways. While it did not outright position itself on the side of Linton Granhorn and the Bluebirds, its implications were clear.

It’s a shame, he thought. I used to enjoy their spunk. But all things die someday.

“Have Storm take this issue off print,” Septum said, holding up the paper. “In fact, shut down their Northmark operations and have the company dissolved. This kind of cheek cannot be tolerated.”

“Very well, sir.” Fummel took back the newspaper with two fingers. He went over and dropped it in a trash can before returning.

“Now that you’re here,” Septum said. “How is progress on the…” He glanced over at Tess. “The other thing. What I asked of Mara.”

He guarded his words around Tess. Her constitution was too fragile to bear the world’s many cruelties. He had to protect her from them.

“Miss Mara asked me to convey to you that she is experiencing some difficulties obtaining the persons of interest,” he said. “However, she assures you that she will attend to the matter personally, and that no national policies will stop her.”

“Splendid.” Septum waved Fummel away. “You can leave. I’m sure you have other business to attend to.”

Fummel nodded to the affirmative and left the diner. Shortly after, the guests and staff filed back in and resumed their normal business as if nothing had ever happened.

***

Linton rested in his chair before the fireplace in the Randy Bardoch common room. He stared into the flames and ruminated on what had transpired.

One goddess, he could have accepted. But two? That was a problem. However, for the time being, any added power to pit against the MOW was indispensable. He would simply have to wait and see how the dice landed.

One archon down. The other group had evidently succeeded in their task, but they had not yet returned to the bar. Tamos’s position was being filled by the former Executor Storm, now a construct. That was an unexpected development.

It was also perfect for his needs. Storm wouldn’t be able to help himself, but to exert his power in various cruel ways. It would further deteriorate the trust between the people and the MOW.

The crackling fire was suddenly extinguished, amber flames funneled through the air past Linton. Looking back, he found Aeva standing behind him. The flames engulfed her right hand and grew brighter, crackling merrily against her skin without causing her any discomfort or harm.

“Her strength is surging,” Aeva said. “I can feel it. She is recovering from her wounds.”

“Good for her,” Linton said. “Just don’t get too attached. Gods are just as wily as men.”

“I will be cautious.” She clenched her fist, and the flame was extinguished. “But I need this power. Gjurin is not forthcoming, but Gisa is. Until I can retrieve the Crown, I will take such help as I can get.”

Linton grunted in response. He couldn’t hide his displeasure.

I didn’t break her out of the Arcanex to get what amounts to another geomancer. I broke her out because she’s Gjurin’s Chosen.

“I had hoped that we could talk,” Aeva said.

“We’re talking now.”

“You are a human.”

“Observant.”

“I was taught that humans are weak. Contemptible. False. I was taught that I was all those things, because of the human blood in my veins. And yet, during my time in the Concord, I have not found you all as such. Your flaws are many, yes, yet you are not…” She struggled for the right word. “Irredeemable.”

Linton caught onto her line of reasoning. “Which means…?”

“My tribe lied to me. My god rejected me, abandoned me. Only among the humans have I found any semblance of purpose.”

Linton looked back at her. “Interesting.”

Her face was screwed up in anguish, sharp canines showing. Her fists were clenched at her sides.

Linton regarded her face attentively. She was on the verge of tears, poor thing.

It’s not what I had hoped for, but perhaps she can still be of use. Regardless, she’s one of the Bluebirds now. Nothing can be done about that.

“I’m feeling hungry,” Linton said. “Why don’t we grab a bite? It’ll help you forget about all this.”

Aeva swept her hand across her face, and a flash of fire burned away her tears. “Perhaps…” She bit her lip. “Yes. I think I would enjoy that.”

***

I never did see much of this city, did I? Aeva thought.

She wandered beside Linton down a wide market street, working their way through the nightly bustle. He had placed a glamor on her so they could remain inconspicuous, but she had convinced him to only remove the appearance of her horns, fur, and claws, leaving all else the same.

Warm magelights bloomed all around them, yellow and orange and blue, casting a dreamlike glow over the whole market. Stalls lined the promenade along the sidewalks and in the center. Merchants cried out their wares over the ambient rumble of the city.

The scent of spices and savory meats mingled together, forming a pleasant aroma which set Aeva’s mouth watering, and worked up her appetite. The typical human stench was still present, but here it was more of an unpleasant aftertaste.

She looked around. There was so much to see—too much to take in.

A group of young males stood on a street corner, breathing in multicolored smoke through a metal apparatus that they passed around. An older lubbard female sat on the sidewalk, dousing her dried-out skin with a bottle of water. A dog-sized lizard snuck up on one of the stalls and snatched a hanging strip of meat with its long, prehensile tongue. By the time the merchant noticed, it had already run off with its prize. The pedestrians moved in a wide circle around a street performer who pranced around with long silk ribbons. The ribbons moved in dizzying patterns around him, forming impossible shapes. Ships, animals, mountains. Clearly, there was magic involved.

“The city takes on a different air at night,” Linton said. He stopped in front of the performer, and Aeva joined him amid the circle of onlookers. “Freer. Bolder. But remember to be vigilant. The MOW is always watching.”

The performer raised his hands high, and the ribbons whirled before him. For a brief moment, they took the shape of a bird with its wings spread.

The Bluebird symbol.

The performer let his ribbons drop with a wry smile and bowed to his meager audience.

Linton chuckled to himself. He tossed a colored cube into the performer’s hat when presented before they moved on.

“The cause is catching on,” he said. “Won’t be long before it hits critical mass.”

“I thought I was having food, not listening to you boast,” Aeva said.

“We are. Just taking you to a good place, is all.”

Linton led them to a stall further down the street. A massive, rotund creature with mustaches drooping below his chin, wearing a dirty apron, greeted them there.

“Two swidwi,” Linton said and handed over a handful of blue cubes to the creatures.

The creature stowed away the money, spoke a few words in an unfamiliar language, and shuffled off to prepare their food.

“What is a swidwi?” Aeva asked while they waited.

“You’ll see,” Linton said with a grin. “It’s good. Trust me.”

“You never hunt in the Concord?”

“No. Only a few people are hunters. Even then, a lot of our animal products are imported from elsewhere in the world.”

Aeva scoffed. “How strange. In Anderland, everyone is a hunter. If you do not hunt, you are either old, lazy, or weak. Very dishonorable.”

“Yeah, that’s not really how humans work. We specialize. That’s how you get people like me.”

“How did you end up here?” she asked. “I mean… why did you choose this path?”

Linton was quiet for a while, then he laughed. “You know, it’s funny. Now that I think about it, I can’t quite recall. Many small decisions led me here. Then there’s the dream, of course.”

“A dream?”

He shook his head so firmly his hood nearly slid off. “Not a dream, exactly. It just feels like one, in hindsight.” He looked up, fixed her with dark, earnest eyes. “It’s nothing. Nothing I can share.”

“I came here because of a dream, as well,” Aeva said. “Perhaps we are connected, in that sense.”

Linton smiled. “Interesting.”

Their food was up, and he took it for them both, handing Aeva a pouch of soft bread with fatty meat, grilled vegetables, and a thick, pink-ish sauce inside.

“Durok cuisine,” Linton said. He held his swidwi in both hands and bit into it. “It’s not exactly traditional, but it sure is tasty. I’ve seen Cat down three of these in one sitting.”

Aeva took a careful bite. The meat was too overcooked for her liking, and it was uncomfortable not knowing where it came from, but…

“It is delicious,” she admitted.

Linton grinned. “Right?” He took another large bite.

They ate as they walked, continuing down the market street.

“I have something else to show you,” Linton said. “It’s going to blow your mind.”

“I doubt it,” Aeva said with a snort. “But you may try.”

Aeva finished her swidwi. She was still hungry. Linton noticed and gave her the last of his.

He took her to another stall which smelled of honeyed sweetness. He bought a flat object in a paper wrapper, about the size of a small book, and handed it to her.

Aeva opened the wrapper and found a solid, rich-brown brick.

“Chocolate,” Linton said. “You’ve never had it, have you?”

“Chocolate,” Aeva said, trying to mimic the word.

She bit into a corner but could not bring herself to chew. An overpowering sweetness filled her mouth. She spat it out.

“Really?” Linton said. “Not a fan of chocolate? Damn. I might have to kick you out of my group now.”

“You will not.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I could tear you apart if I so wished, and you know what is best for you.”

Linton cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, could you now? I best be careful, then.” He snatched the chocolate out of her hand. “I’ll eat this if you won’t. Can’t let good chocolate go to waste.”

They headed back to the bar, Linton informing her that he still had plans for them. He took them up to the roof via an attic access and sat down on the edge, letting his legs dangle over the side.

Aeva lingered behind him.

Linton looked up into the dark sky. “No stars in the city with all the light pollution. Still, the sky looks damn nice, doesn’t it?”

Aeva looked up. The moon was waning. A skyship laden with blinking lights flew over them like a passing comet. The sky was a mix of purple, blue, and green, absorbing the city’s magelight like a sponge.

“It is,” she said, and elected to sit next to him.

They were quiet for a minute.

Aeva closed her eyes and enjoyed a rare stint of fresh air as a breeze billowed over the rooftop and rustled her hair. Every little sound of the city below pressed close against her. Footsteps, chatter, a pan spitting, rumblers honking, the subtle hum of magelights.

“I saw the world’s end,” Linton said suddenly.

Aeva opened her eyes. “What?”

“My dream. My… curse. My reason for pursuing all this madness. I saw the architect of our undoing. I was only a child when it happened. It’s haunted me since.”

“Couldess?”

“No. Something else. Older, hungrier.”

“Perhaps it was simply a dream.”

“I thought so too, at first.” He stared into the sky. “But the more I’ve considered it, the more I remember of what my mind tried to lock away. It was real. It happened. I came face to face with a monster. And so, in case it ever does venture here, I will ensure that the world is ready.”

“You wish to save them all?”

“No,” Linton said. He shook his head. “No. People always die. This crisis will be no different. But maybe I can save something.” He set his chocolate aside, clearly put off eating it.

Aeva gazed at his profile. Behind the posturing, the arrogance, there was a man willing to stand up to protect what he valued. Even if he was wrong about his dream, that didn’t change his conviction.

A fire lit in her, then. Her people loved quickly, and they loved strongly. It wasn’t love that burned in her, but it wasn’t wholly different, either.

She cupped her hands and focused on the fire within her.

A flame bloomed between her palms, forming into a flower that sprouted there. Bright orange petals with red tips unfolded from the end of its stalk.

She offered it up to Linton. He regarded it with a quizzical look.

“Thank you,” Aeva said. “It may not mean much to you, but I was not raised on kindness. You have clothed me. Fed me. Sheltered me. Saved my life more than once. That is more than I have ever come to expect from my own kind. So, thank you.” She took Linton’s hand and placed the flower inside it. “To dreams.”

He smiled and regarded the flower closely. The glow it radiated lit up his eyes. “Impressive.” He put the flower aside and cupped his hands just as she had done.

“Sena Skolda Agar,” he spoke, and his words sparked with power.

He gave her a delicate, blue flower with many hundreds of petals, like an impossibly fine glass sculpture. It was cold to the touch and caught seemingly every ray of light, fractalizing it into dizzying patterns on her skin.

“To dreams,” he returned.

“Hey, what are you two lovebirds doing up there?” came a familiar, screeching voice from below. “A little light kissin’ while the adults are gone, eh?”

Cat stood in the street in front of the bar, hands on her hips. Her clothing was drenched in blood, but she looked no worse for wear herself.

Linton snorted. “Hilarious, dear sister, but incorrect.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Aeva, he’s no fun. Tell me the truth, now.”

Aeva hesitated for a moment, then smiled despite herself. “Yes. We have been kissing under the moon all through the night.”

Cat clapped her hands together and laughed. “Ha! Linton Granhorn, finding himself a little girlfriend! Thought I’d never see the day!”

“Hey, no, that’s not true!” Linton stuttered.

Aeva looked back at him, grinned, and let herself slide over the edge of the roof.