AER:
Aer wasn’t surprised to see Korvo sitting at the bar at Bethlem’s. She was, however, slightly worried that his face was pressed into the wooden grain of the bar.
“You doing alright?” she asked, taking the seat next to him. Across the bar top, papers were strewn about. She recognized them immediately. Arrest warrants. Business closures in the Wall District. Bad news.
“The cards keep showing me disaster, but somehow I always think it’s going to be different when I look at them. That somehow having the school open for a day will have curbed these numbers.” He drew a heavy breath and picked his head up off the bar.
Aer knew only the empty room allowed Korvo to show such honesty. In front of anyone else, including Merin and Bryce, he would be all hope and no downside.
“Things are getting worse, Kor. You have to admit that to yourself.”
“Bad enough for you to be talking the same nonsense as Sid?” he asked, shuffling the papers into order.
Aer started to say something, but Kor waved his hand. “Don’t answer that. I’m having a bad day as it is.”
“Any more than other days you get the reports?” she asked, glad he had sidestepped the Sid question. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the conviction she was doing the right thing joining Sid, she just wasn’t ready for this, whatever it was between her and Kor, to be over. And, she bet, neither was Kor.
He put a hand on her knee, hesitating only a little before he made contact. He knew she didn’t like being touched without permission. She put her hand on top of his to let him know it was okay. His shoulders seemed to relax.
“The Council gave me a slot to talk to them again,” Kor said. “Sometime in two weeks. To review the use of their building.”
“Bethlem told me on my way in that Merin had students already. It will go fine.”
“But I need to prove that it helps more than the Refuge.”
“The Refuge doesn’t help at all, so that won’t be hard.”
“I think I need to bring Bryce along, and I’m not sure he can handle that.”
“You want to take Bryce into the Council? Will they even let him past the door?” If there was one Magic besides the two of them the Watchers followed, it was Bryce. He was not known for taking things lightly or remaining calm in any given circumstance. Kor was getting desperate if he was willing to gamble on Bryce staying calm with the Council. She could hear him yelling obscenities now.
“You know as well as I do that something has to change.”
“I know.” She pulled her hand away from Kor’s. He looked at his hand on her knee for a moment and then returned his hand to the half-empty glass on the counter. He rotated it around so the liquid inside spun tightly like a miniature tornado. He set it down, and they both watched the vortex slowly dwindle into nothing.
“I’m assuming you’re not coming by the school,” Kor said without looking at her. She could sense the command in his voice, but she could tell it was also painful for him to say it. He couldn’t have her involvement with Sid tarnish the school. She nodded.
“I have other things I’m taking care of for the next few days.” The air around them tightened. Aer reached for the papers, and Kor shifted away from her.
“You won’t let me read the reports? I helped you get those,” she said.
“It’s not—”
“Then what is it?” She could already feel the panic begin to surge inside her. There was only one thing Kor ever tried to hide from her. How could she have been so naive? He knew the arrests were going up; he knew people were suffering; that wouldn’t have caused him to have his guard up. Only one thing would.
The same thing that had happened to her. Her fingers snapped to her neck where her jagged tattoo shone out to any passerby. It was not the neat lines of Bryce’s tattoo. No. Hers was not done by the government in their brisk and impersonal way. She had been held down in an alley by a mob. Sometimes at night, when Kor rolled over and his arm fell on top of her, she would wake up in a sweat. It would take her hours before she could no longer feel the men as they pinned her to the ground and tattooed her across the neck while she kicked and screamed. Her mouth filled with the dirt from the alley, her eyes with her hatred for non-Magics.
“You didn’t want me to know,” she said when she could finally get her throat to remember she was in Bethlem’s and not choking on the dirt of the street. Her words still came out hoarse.
Korvo nodded and handed her the paper, but black dots were filling Aer’s vision. She couldn’t be sure if they were from panic or anger. Her hands twitched and the paper fluttered in her grasp. She let it fall to the ground.
“Can I stop you?” Kor asked in such a whisper she almost missed hearing it over the sound of her winds coming to her rescue. Her stomach flipped.
“No,” she said, letting her cold green eyes match his. She focused on the brightness of his eyes so that her conviction wouldn’t fade looking at the worried furrow across his brow. She stood and took a step toward the door. Nothing was more important than this. He’d see.
“Promise me,” he said reaching up his hand but letting it drop, “you’re just trying to make people hear about the atrocities. You aren’t trying to start a war.”
Aer walked out without looking back.
BRYCE:
The temperature dropped almost immediately when they entered the garden. The pockets of shade chilled Bryce.
He wasn’t ready yet to go back and talk to Merin. He had too many things on his mind, so he decided to teach Tiernan some words.
“Tree.” He pointed to the nearest tree.
Tiernan repeated. “Tree.”
“Climb,” Bryce said, grabbing the lowest-reaching branches and hauling himself up into the tree. They continued this way, learning words in the common tongue until Bryce was satisfied he could give brief commands and Tiernan would know what he wanted. The last thing they needed was for him to have to try to search his limited Hadranian to tell Tiernan he needed to run.
“Tiernan,” Bryce mused when they reached the top of the tree. The little boy looked at him. “I think I love her.” He pointed to his heart.
Tiernan cocked his head much like a puppy and poked himself in the chest. “Fire?”
“No, no. Love.” He took Tiernan’s hand and flattened it so that his palm stretched across most of his small ribcage. He could feel the subtle beat of Tiernan’s heart too.
“Love?”
“I don’t know how to explain love,” Bryce said in Hadranian after a minute. He didn’t even know the name for love in the language. It was not something that came up a lot when Kor was teaching him. “Love is good. It feels like protection and safety,” he attempted to explain. But either his pronunciation was that bad, or Tiernan didn’t understand those things either, because the little boy continued to look at him confused. They sat in silence for a while.
“I learned Hadranian.” Bryce’s confidence bloomed in the presence of so much nature. “Kor taught me Hadranian just speaking about home. Telling me short phrases.”
Tiernan nodded, even though his eyes remained blank.
“It’s just that if I learned a new language from Kor, I can learn to read from Merin. Then we’ll be on equal footing, and maybe I can finally get her to understand what it’s been like for me instead of just getting so mad.”
Tiernan moved closer to Bryce and put his hand flat against his chest.
“Love?” Tiernan asked.
Bryce laughed. “We should make sure Kor explains before you tell everyone you love them.” Tiernan smiled at the mention of Korvo’s name. Bryce didn’t blame him in the slightest. It couldn’t be easy having to follow him around and not being able to communicate easily.
Reverting back to the simplest childhood pleasures that didn’t require language, Bryce took a deep breath, letting himself think for a moment about the past. His mother’s berry dumplings warm from the oven and cooling on the counters in their farmhouse. The pleasure of getting the scraps of dough, sweet and sticky on his fingertips.
“Come on.” Bryce swung down to the lower branches. When they reached the ground, he picked Tiernan up, placed him on his shoulders, and headed toward a bakery near the gardens.
Bryce slid the few coins he’d made from working with the city florists over the counter. The clang they made on the counter was bold, and the warm puffs of pastry sprinkled with sugar with a quick and reckless hand plopped onto the wax paper in front of them. Tiernan’s eyes lit up, and he had eaten the first bun completely before Bryce had even taken a bite. There was no trace of the sticky sweetness on Tiernan’s lips. He had scarfed the whole thing in one go.
“Slowly. Enjoy.” Bryce opened his mouth wide and tore a bite from the bun, smearing the warm sugar glaze across his face. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips. “Enjoy,” he repeated and handed Tiernan another warm breath of pastry. Tiernan took it in his hands and looked at it before taking a slow bite just like Bryce. Bryce smiled down at him and took the bag with them as they exited the shop.
Bryce gripped the bag close to him to absorb some of the lovely warmth his purchase had brought him.
“We can’t be doing this every day. I don’t make a lot of money,” Bryce said to Tiernan, who ignored the foreign words that fell flat on his ears. He was still enchanted by his second bun, taking small bites until he had hardly enough room to still hold on to it.
Tiernan reached up and put his hand out to Bryce.
“Another? There are only two left.” Again, Tiernan’s eyes were empty of understanding anything other than the delicious sugar glaze he had tasted for the first time. “Fine, but the last one is going to Kor.” Bryce handed him the larger of the two and licked his fingers clean.
As they walked, Tiernan ventured farther and farther from Bryce, until they turned a corner and Tiernan stuck like glue to the older boy, causing Bryce to get tripped up by Tiernan’s feet.
“Why are you walking so close to me all of a sudden?” Bryce asked, aware it made very little sense to ask. He sighed and repeated the questions in the best Hadranian he could manage.
Tiernan simply pointed around them.
A Watcher was glaring at them from across the street even though they were back on the poorer side of town.
“Watch it, Magic,” a man bumped into Bryce crossing the street.
“Excuse me?” Bryce said with a little more sass than was ultimately required.
“You heard him. You and your little Hadranian rat better not think you’re trying anything on my beat,” a Watcher said coming to join the conversation. His baton was already drawn.
“I’m just trying to get home,” Bryce said, flashing his most charming smile, trying to hide the anger starting to boil in his chest. Without Tiernan he might have tried to fight this out, but now he just wanted to escape.
“I can take you where you belong. The Refuge is always taking riffraff like you.” The Watcher took a step closer.
“Now, I’m not sure what is going on here, officer,” Bryce said putting his hands up in front of him. “But I’m sure we can work it out.”
“That’s just the thing with you Magics,” the man who bumped into him chimed in, “you think you get a say, but you don’t.”
The Watcher smiled a toothy grin.
“Tiernan,” Bryce whispered, “Run. Find Bethlem.” The little boy looked up at him and nodded. Bryce stepped in between him and the Watcher, and Tiernan took off.
“He’s too young for the Refuge,” Bryce said as pleasantly as he could, but his eyes were locked onto the baton in the Watcher’s hand. Usually, Bryce was pretty clear when his anger got the better of him in a situation, but he wasn’t even sure what had started all of this. And he was very sure that it wasn’t his fault. That didn’t mean he had any more plans on going to the Refuge.
“And what about you?” The Watcher took a step toward him.
“I’m too smart,” he let the ground rumble beneath him. Roots from any nearby plant rushed to him now. It was a gamble. The magic would drain him of most of his energy. If he couldn’t get far enough away, he was a dead man running. This was too much magic for him to really try, but he wasn’t going to the Refuge, and he wasn’t going to fail to protect Tiernan. That left him with this one option.
The Watcher fell to the ground with a grunt, and Bryce ran. He heard the Watcher get up and run after him. Bryce’s legs were turning to mush. The rumbling ground didn’t make it any easier to keep his footing as he ran.
The roots broke through the hard-packed dirt of the street between the cobblestones. He was running out of magic, and he wasn’t close to anywhere he could hide. The school was blocks away, and Aer’s house was too close to the Refuge for comfort in a situation like this. He was too tired to fight now, too. He would only get one good punch in before he could barely stand. He had to find somewhere quickly. The footsteps of the Watcher closed in. Bryce braced himself for the blow from the baton. He’s going to hit me in the shoulder, right at the neck, Bryce thought. But the blow didn’t come.
He chanced a glance behind him and found the Watcher’s feet tangled in the little roots that had come for him. The Watcher pulled at the roots, but they just tightened around his boots, holding him in place. Bryce said a silent prayer to any of the Twelve Gods that were listening, thanking them for plants and their strong roots. Now he had time to hide.
He slowly worked his way through shadows, leaning heavily on the sides of buildings, in order to reach the closest safe space: the friendly florists who worked in this part of town. A smile and some help to bring out the most brilliant colors of the flora gained him a lot of favors here.
Behind the shop, Bryce could feel his energy dropping. His hands were shaking, and he let his back slump against the brick wall. He wasn’t even sure he had enough energy to turn the doorknob.
He could wait behind the crates in the back of the shop. In an hour or so, he’d have enough energy to keep moving. He buried himself a little deeper. At first glance, no one would see him from the road. Once settled, Bryce stared at the road. No one was going to sneak up on him.
Leaves fluttered down onto Bryce.
“What are you doing?” Vycky asked, her hands full of clippings. “You better get out here and explain yourself, Bryce.”
“I could use a little help,” Bryce said. Vycky was his favorite. She was young, barely older than Korvo, slender, almost vine-like. Her hands were always stained with some sort of color. Her apron always had twigs and leaves sticking out of the pockets. Bryce liked that she didn’t try to look like anything other than someone who played in the dirt throughout the day. Too many of the other florists in the marketplace tried to dress fancy. They presented flowers like jewels. Something only the rich could afford. Vycky took the time to nurture the flowers herself, and didn’t buy them from far-off greenhouses or outside the city in order to make quick cash.
“You’re in a garbage pile. I think that goes without saying.” Vycky pulled him up by the hand. Bryce almost fell back down when she let go.
“You’ve been using magic?” she said, ushering him into the back of her shop.
“I was just protecting myself.”
“From whom?”
“Some Watcher who tried to pick a fight. I didn’t do anything. I swear, Vycky.”
“I believe you. Been too many Watchers in town. It’s like they’re looking for trouble,” she looked at him. “And they found you. Can you walk?”
“Not far.”
“Help me finish these bouquets, and when I drop them off, I’ll drop you at Bethlem’s.”
They didn’t talk much for the next twenty minutes. Bryce just handed her flowers as they worked. He didn’t have the energy to cut the stems or perk up the flowers. Even his mind was blank.
“Last one. Ready?” Vycky said, shaking Bryce from his nothingness. “Grab whatever is in your little bag, and let’s go.”
Bryce was glad no one was in the alley to watch him tumble into the delivery cart. Even Vycky pretended not to see, but he caught a smile on her face that sold her out. Nestled among the roses, Bryce felt safe as they cruised through town. He peeked into the bag, the pastry was a little worse for wear, but Korvo would still appreciate it.
After dropping him at Bethlem’s back door, she waved as the cart bounced away. Bryce raised his hand in salute, and then slowly and carefully made his way into the bar.
Tiernan nearly pounced on him when he lifted the cloth door of the back room above his head.
“This little one get away from you?” Bethlem said, following in behind the staggering Bryce. Bryce tried to smile, but the effort was too much. Bethlem’s face softened. “He seemed rather worried, but it looks like you got yourself out of trouble.” Bethlem set a tall glass of clean water in front of Bryce. He chugged it without responding. It would take him some time before anything other than tasks of basic survival were beyond him.
Bethlem left them in the back room, and Bryce slumped in the padded chair. Tiernan ran around poking him places, lifting his arms and legs to check for bruises or blood. Satisfied, he sat making small fires in his hands and letting the fire walk from finger to finger. Bryce watched, mesmerized by the flames and the Tiernan’s control.
“I bet you had to have good control. Otherwise, they would have found you earlier. Me, I came from a farm. It’s a pretty easy place to hide my power. I was ten when they finally decided plants crawling into my room at night was not normal. It really broke my parents when they had to face the truth,” he mumbled with his cheek pushed against the table. He hadn’t even told Merin about his past. It was too painful.
He closed his eyes and suddenly he was only a few years older than Tiernan, running back from the fields. There was a man in a Watcher’s uniform standing on their back porch. Bryce hadn’t feared him then. He stopped just short of the little wood stairs, looking past the man to his mother, who was weeping in his older sister’s arms.
“This him?” the man asked. His mother only wept harder. His older sister nodded. The man reached down and grabbed his wrist.
“Mom. Mom? Mommy!” Bryce reached for his mother. She turned and sank, her feet giving out, and his older sister stared out into the fields with blank eyes.
The man took Bryce to a group of other men in fancier suits. Their buttons gleamed in the sunlight, as did the large needle the tallest man had in his hand. Bryce’s cries pierced the afternoon autumn air. And when Bryce kicked, the other two Watchers held him down. One for his wrists, the other for his leg while the last carved with the needle and inked a Raven’s head into his leg.
He struggled, but there was nothing his little body, as strong as he was from working the fields day in and day out, could do against three grown men with batons at their waists. The pain was seared into his mind. Some nights, when he closed his eyes, he could feel the needle raking across his skin. It felt like fire and bee stings combined into something purposefully malicious and horrendous. Tears streamed down his face onto the field below him.
He could still feel the pain now, the humiliation, and fear. Then the only thing to do was to start throwing punches until it stopped hurting. It rarely stopped hurting.
“Run home,” the first man had said when they’d finished. Bryce had stared at him blankly.
“Get out of here, Magic,” said the man with the needle. Bryce turned and looked down at the painful red and black smudged mess that had taken over his ankle and hobbled back to his house. It took him nearly an hour to walk with his sore leg pulling behind him. Even though the dirt and leaves clung to him, he could still see the inflamed mess. It was like his leg stopped, or something about himself stopped, where that tattoo covered his ankle.
He could hear the sobs before he had even gotten on the porch. Not wanting to hear his mother cry anymore, he put the weight onto his foot the best he could. He plastered on the smile that normally got him cuddles and kisses. The grin his dad called “the lady killer.” He would show them that grin, and everything would be okay.
“Momma, I’m okay,” Bryce said bursting through the door. The sobbing had only gotten louder.
“How will this look to the neighbors?” his older sister said to no one in particular.
“The men did something, and it hurts. But I’m okay,” Bryce said again. No one looked at him.
“Magics …” his father said under his breath and headed back to the field. “Should’ve taken him to the Refuge.” The door closed.
Those were the last words his father ever spoke in his direction.
f
“When were you given the Raven?” Bryce asked when his head had recovered enough to translate into Hadranian.
“Don’t remember,” Tiernan mused.
“You don’t remember?” How could he forget? Bryce would give anything to forget that day. The tattoo itself had become part of him, but the memory of that searing pain was something he would rather forget.
“I was a baby,” Tiernan said.
“Baby?” Bryce repeated just to make sure he had heard him right. Tiernan nodded and made a rocking motion with his hands.
“Baby.”
KORVO:
Kor came running. As soon as the word made it through to him that Bryce was incapacitated in the back of Bethlem’s bar, he knew he needed to get there as soon as possible.
“Is Tiernan okay?” he said as soon as his eyes saw Bryce sitting at the table with four empty glasses in front of him.
“Don’t worry. I just nearly died today,” Bryce said, saluting Kor and handing him a bag.
“Are you drunk?” Kor asked.
Bryce stuck out his tongue. “Just tired. Tiernan is in the corner. I told him to stay out of sight,” he took another sip of water. “Or at least I think that’s what I told him.”
Kor moved to the boy and gave him a once-over. He seemed perfectly content and healthy. Bryce, on the other hand, looked like sludge. Kor came over and sniffed the glasses next to Bryce. There was no smell. He’d been telling the truth. Bryce’s eyes tracked his movements but said nothing.
“What happened?” Kor asked, finally taking a seat. “A fight?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Bryce tried to sit all the way up. He finally seemed to decide on some sort of elbow lean on the table.
“What do you mean?” Kor curved his back so he was at the same level as the slouching Bryce.
“We were just walking. And this man and some Watcher tried to start a fight,” Bryce gestured.
“Bryce, you’re supposed to be protecting Tiernan,” Kor said.
“I was. I got him out of there. I didn’t start this fight, Kor. I swear on my life. I didn’t even throw a punch.”
“And you’re sure you did nothing?”
Bryce nodded. “I even tried to be nice. Ask the kid.”
“This is worse than I thought,” Kor let his body slump against the chair. He picked up a water glass that had a little liquid remaining. Wishing something much stronger was inside, he swallowed it in one swig.
“If you’re going to be alright, I think I’ll leave you two here for now.” Kor got up. Bryce started to speak, but then stopped.
On his way out of the bar, he dropped a handful of small coins for Bethlem. Without moving closer or stopping from washing the glass in his hand, Bethlem nodded. Kor knew he would take care of Bryce. They wouldn’t have gotten this far without Bethlem. Not without the gossip he pulled in by the glass during the night. Not without the safety of his backroom. Not without his stash of healing drinks. And not without his friendship. Kor would have considered Bethlem like a father if he felt fathers were worth caring about.
He followed his feet while he let his mind wander to the day’s events. He tapped the soft edges of the cards against his finger. The warmth of their power calmed him. He looked down at the bag Bryce had handed him. He hadn’t even noticed it was still clenched in his fingers. One lone pastry sat squished in the bottom.
He had to protect Bryce.
When he was back on the top of the Refuge, out in the open air, he could finally think. He pulled the cards out in front of him. He needed details. He shuffled until they felt right in his hands and swept any dirt away with his arm before putting them down on the metal roof. He needed room to be able to do a reading this complicated.
For something this hard he had to see the pictures. Had to know what side up the cards were. He massaged his right hand hoping for some clarity.
He turned over card after card, his face drooping with every one. His simple readings had been sending him bad tidings, but this could only get worse.
There was the tower.
There was the card of justice.
The moon. A lone wolf howling into the night.
The hanged man. A Raven dangling from one foot, its one crazed eye open and staring into Korvo’s soul.
His skin prickled with goosebumps. Things were going from bad to worse. There was one last card. Lovers in reverse. He shoved the cards back into his pocket.