3

 

With a stiff wind chilling the night air, both girls pulled their light jackets closer around their bodies, and the large oaks in the yard waved their branches wildly at the two straying figures. Alex paused uncertainly before the rustle of their admonishment, but the atmosphere of danger and excitement galvanized Mallory’s determination. She quietly pushed Alex toward the Administrator’s house. Alex nodded, and then took the lead.

They kept to the shadows, avoiding the steady stream of important city leaders heading to the Matriarch’s home in answer to her informal dinner invite. Mallory doubted anyone would question the children of two of the most powerful families in the city. Anyone they encountered would be more likely to assume they were running a last-minute errand for dinner and not up to something that was, if not illegal, then at least highly irregular.

But for Mallory, there was too much riding on this late-night mission to chance being caught on the way to their destination before they had even tried to remove the curse of the Chorus.  Several times one or other of the girls would stop like a frightened rabbit and scan the street for movement. Determining to be extra careful, they crouched behind bushes, pressed themselves against trees, even laid flat in the Dikaió Architect’s lawn just before Caleb appeared with his hands in his pockets, walking quickly behind his parents and Alex’s family. The whole triad of governmental power was going to be at the Matriarch’s tonight, and the girls needed to hurry, or they would be missed; someone, probably Caleb, would be sent to find them.

Despite their best efforts at avoiding detection, at one point the girls turned a corner without checking around it and very nearly ran right into the head of the Dikaió Smith Guild, a short, fat man with short-cropped hair and a well-quaffed mustache, and his tall, thin wife with her fiery red curls. They were both dressed to the nines with a tailored tuxedo and a form-fitting black dress, respectively. They were covered in jewelry: platinum earrings, diamond necklaces, feather broaches, gold medallions, silver bracelets, and a ring on every finger, sporting every type of precious stone known to the city—each piece was the workmanship of a different guild master. Mallory had heard the Smith Leader say that they wore the jewelry while socializing with the other leaders of the city to advertise the expertise of the Dikaió masters and drum up potential customers, but it certainly did not hurt that they looked so, so lovely while wearing their finery either. As it happened, they also sounded quite lovely while wearing their jewelry because when the girls turned the corner their surprised shrieks were nearly auto-tuned into a delicate vibrato by the tinkling of their trinkets while they swayed, clasped their chests, and then hugged each other in terror and surprise.

Mallory and Alex both smiled, bowed slightly, and said, “Excuse us.” They rushed by before the startled couple could catch their breath, though the jingling sounds of their movements carried on the wind, chasing the girls all the way to the Administrator’s house. Mallory kept looking over her shoulder half expecting to see a small fat man and tall thin woman lurking in the shadows, only noticeable by the glints of outrageously priced metal reflecting the glint of the moon and the sizzle of the light of the city, but no one was there. 

The light could be beautiful at night. It was dimmed to let the citizens sleep, and just noticeable by the irregular crackling and spitting of purple lightning when a stray bug or piece of dirt tried to cross the barrier.  On a windy night like this, the lightning was even more active, and Mallory was arrested by a particular violent patch of electric brilliance when a slipstream of leaves hit the light. Even the light seemed to be calling them to stop and turn back before it was too late. Alex tugged on Mallory’s sleeve, and she turned to find herself standing for the second time that day at the Administrator’s giant back door.

Alex ordered the door open, and they both stood on the threshold looking into the dark, echoing entryway. Mallory turned to her friend, “You don’t have to, you know.”

Alex looked stung. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Mallory. You’re my best friend. Every time I see you struggle, my heart breaks. If we don’t do this, they’ll have a different Matriarch, and we won’t be able to stay friends.”

“What!?” Mallory stepped back, hurt and confused.

“Well, I mean I’d like to stay friends anyway, but you’ve seen what’s happened to our parents. The only friends they have are the other leaders.”

Mallory shook her head. “No, no—the part about another Matriarch. What are you talking about?”

“Mallory, you have to know. My grandfather, the Governor, and your mother have discussed it several times. Has she never told you?”

“Told me that I won’t be the next Matriarch? No, never! Where are they going to find a new Matriarch in the family line? I’m the only daughter of the governing families besides you, and then who would be the Administrator?”

“Mallory, your mother is pregnant. The baby is a girl, and they have decided that she will be the Matriarch when she comes of age.”

Mallory was shocked and fell awkwardly backwards off the stoop. Her ankle twisted just enough to register pain, and she reeled back, barely maintaining her footing while trampling the Administrator’s lovely flowerbed full of summer bounty, daffodils, and tulips. It felt like Alex had punched her in the stomach.

Her vision was suddenly blurry with tears. But all of that physical discomfort was multiplied exponentially by the questions that filled her mind. Her mother was having another daughter to replace her? Why hadn’t she said anything? Why hadn’t her father said anything if he knew? If she wasn’t going to be Matriarch, what was she going to be? What purpose did a Chorus have? She imagined herself an old woman, hobbling down the street on her cane, alone, dejected, cast out by the city she loved. Children avoided her on the streets, casting fearful glances at the crazed Dikaió Chorus. Who was that old woman that only existed to exist? What was her purpose? Would anyone remember that she was part of the Matriarchal leaders of the city, or would she have only a few books to comfort her? Would Alex reject her too? Would Caleb even see her after this, or would he look through her like an invisible wraith?

“Mallory? Mallory!” Mallory gradually climbed out of the pit of anxious uncertainty to find Alex standing in the flower garden shaking her. “It’s not too late. They haven’t announced anything, so it’s not part of the records yet. That’s why we have to change your Dikaió, tonight!”

Mallory’s eyes focused as hope began to bloom once more in her chest, burning back the marauding self-doubts and depression. Yes, there was still a chance to claim her birthright. She would let her usurping unborn sister taste the misery of a life without purpose in the city. Let her join the ranks of the lower Dikaió. Mallory checked herself. That’s not quite the spirit a Matriarch ought to have. Every citizen should be treated respectfully as the city could not function if they did not provide their service. Maybe she’d hire the girl as an assistant. She would be family after all, and without the threat of having her title stolen, it might be nice to have a sister to help out while managing the affairs of the Matriarchy. But first she needed to be a Dikaió Syntec.

Mallory reached up and took hold of Alex’s hand. Fresh tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, Alex.”

Alex inhaled deeply and wiped a tear away. “Let’s just try it and make sure it works before we get all emotional.”

“Of course, but even if it doesn’t, Alex. You’re the only one who has even been willing to try. Whatever happens, you will always be my best friend.”

“Raw!” Alex shook loose from Mallory’s hand and wiped tears from both cheeks. “Okay Mallory, seriously. Let’s go do this.”

Mallory nodded, and the two girls embraced quickly before turning in to the dark house. Alex thought it would be better not to order the lights of the house to turn on and attract attention. Despite the urgency of the situation, their plan for the night was still a clandestine operation, which could result in disciplinary repercussions. Alex’s grandfather was the Dikaió Administrator of Justice for the city, and her father as heir to the Administrator was the Chief Magistrate who oversaw the Order of the Magistrates: officers that were tasked with upholding the laws of the city, but on a day-to-day basis they mostly decided disputes between citizens. However, for extreme cases, the magistrates were armed with old-magic projectile weapons, which were quite deadly—though only the magistrates had ever seen one in use, and then only in training. The city was a peaceful place, not perfect by any means, but no one saw any reason to break its laws and ruin a good thing.

As far as Mallory was aware, the Administrator himself had not issued judgment on a case in which a citizen had disobeyed the city’s laws in the girls’ entire lifetime. The consequences of getting caught were impossible to know, but the trouble that would come after the fact seemed relatively slim: Mallory would be the only other Dikaió Syntec and would have a rightful claim to the Matriarchy of the city, and up until now they always went easy on her because of her mother’s position. Still, the risk was palpable in the air as they dodged furniture in the darkness of the night.

Shadows seemed to reach out for them, barring their way. Foreboding stared down at them from the portraits of Alex’s ancestors lining the hallway, beginning with Daniel Nelson the first Administrator, who had always mesmerized Mallory. He had the most piercing blue eyes, perhaps exaggerated by the artist, but they seemed as if they could look past all a person’s pretensions and see what was within. His eyes looked more like Caleb’s crystalline blue eyes than Alex’s, but that was expected, since the three families often married within their ranks if there was more than one child born to a house, so it was likely Daniel Nelson was related to all three of them in some distant past.

It had been at least three generations since one of the ruling families sired more than one child, and that was about to change. The House of the Matriarchy would have two girls, so whichever one was not Matriarch could be betrothed to Caleb. Mallory had not considered that until this moment and felt her stomach turn with the thought of her little sister marrying Caleb—for an instant, she thought about turning and running home, but her duty was to the city, and what use would she be as the Governor’s wife with no Dikaió? She could not even help her mother with the dinner party this evening, she would not even make a decent housewife. Any man who married her would have to leave his duties. Imagine a Governess calling on the Governor to leave the city’s needs to help her in the cooking and cleaning, ordering around the sprites every night: the very thought was scandalous. The entire city would look at her as a person of inconvenience. Besides, the city needed a Matriarch, and that was the role she had been born for, until her grandmother cursed her. She glanced back at the painting, and Daniel Nelson’s eyes danced warily in the reflection of a streetlamp shining in through the living room window, questioning her true intentions across the years.

Mallory turned away from the judgmental portraits to focus on Alex as they rushed down the hall. Alex had always been there for her. While Mallory had been busy trying to figure out how to make her way without magic, Alex had walked beside her making sure that the Dikaió would be there to bail her out of trouble if she needed it. It was Alex that first figured out that some magic items would respond to Mallory’s presence if they were told to, which made getting through doors much easier. Even though Alex’s interventions were always helpful, at times Mallory felt exhausted by her friend’s charity, of which Alex seemed to have an inexhaustible well. Tonight was different though. Tonight, Alex was offering help that would grant Mallory independence and freedom.

The night closed in around the girls as they entered the staircase to the attic. Mallory realized she had never been to the Book Club in the dark before, and while the staircase was always somewhat dim and gloomy in the daytime, at night, it was pitch black. She moved her hand in front of her face and could see nothing. Alex pulled a tiny Dikaió torch from her jacket pocket. “Dikaió on,” she whispered, and the stairway lit up in a dim white light that seemed blinding to their eyes, previously adjusted to the dark. Shadows crawled up the walls, undulating around them as they climbed the stairs.

Mallory briefly felt they must be the shadows of the Administrators in the hall come to put an end to their rebellion, but then she realized that they belonged to her and her friend, brought to life by the torch movement of Alex’s hand. The realization did not relieve the feeling of foreboding as she trudged up the stairs.

Alex fumbled with balancing the key and the torch while trying to work the old lock at the top of the attic stairs, so Mallory reached up and took the small torch from her. “Thanks,” Alex said without looking around. Even without the torch, Alex had trouble with the lock as her hands were trembling wildly. Mallory could not tell if it was excitement or fear that caused the tremors, but she assumed both as the two feelings were chasing each other in the pit of her stomach. She felt both profoundly sick and purposefully alive simultaneously.

The door swung open into more darkness. The torch’s light barely passed the doorway of the inner sanctity of their Book Club. Alex froze, and Mallory took her turn to nudge her friend forward. The world is full of significant events that would never be realized if not for friends spurring each other onward into history. Alex walked quickly after Mallory’s nudge, and Mallory followed close behind her, trying to stay within the torch’s circle of light. The two girls rushed to the old lamp and struck the spark necessary to ignite the fabric wick. As they trimmed the lamp, the room settled into its familiar state of illuminated existence, and both girls visibly relaxed.

The book was sitting open on a large wooden crate between the seats and the couch that the group used for a coffee table, and Alex reached for it with the awe and reverence a priestess might display in touching a holy instrument. The girls’ eyes were wide with reflected fire from the old lamp as they looked at the book: Alex’s green eyes sparkling like the green gems in the Smith Guild jewelry; Mallory’s grey eyes swirled red and yellow, becoming the fire of the old magic itself as she watched Alex open the book and turn to the page she had dogeared. Alex began to read, “Assume Dikaió re—”

“Wait!” Mallory grabbed her arm.

Alex screamed. “Oh my!” She breathed hard and held her chest. “Oh my, you scared me! What?!”

“I’m sorry. I just . . . I just, I’m scared.”

Alex raised her eyebrows which caused her black-bobbed hair to rise visibly. “You’re scared? What’s there to be scared of Mallory?”

Mallory laughed. “Says the girl that just screamed and said, ‘you scared me.’”

Alex softened at that retort. “Well, I guess this is all a little scary. I mean what will our parents think . . . the city . . . well, everything? But isn’t it worth it, Mallory? To be able to live your purpose, I mean. Isn’t it worth it?”

Mallory tilted her head to the side and bit her lip, considering. “Of course. But I can’t help thinking about how everything will be different.”

“Yes, but in a good way!”

“My life isn’t so awful, you know.” Mallory thought about her parents and wondered if they would be ashamed of her for breaking the rules, or proud of her for solving her problem independently. If they didn’t have a reason to pity her, how would they look at her?

Alex interrupted her thoughts, “I’ve been there for all of it, Mallory. It’s not great either. Building your death-trap contraptions to survive not having the Dikaió—it’s not great, Mallory. You’ve nearly killed yourself . . . you’ve nearly killed me a dozen times or more.”

Mallory laughed at that. “See, we’ve had some good times even without the Dikaió. Imagine how boring your life would be if I were just like everyone else.”

“Boring, yes, but we both know that eventually we’ll have to grow up. We’ll have to take over our parents’ roles. I’ll be Administrator, Caleb will be Governor, and you could be . . . you will be Matriarch. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I do, more than anything. I do. It’s just that I keep thinking about my grandmother’s dream.”

“More like, your grandmother’s curse.”

Mallory ignored that comment and continued, “Well, she said a Chorus would save the city. What if someone needs me to be what I am, and I just don’t know it yet?”

“I believe it was ‘a Matriarch who was a Chorus’ that saved the city. Right? If we change your Dikaió, you will be ‘a Matriarch who WAS a Chorus,’ past tense, Mallory.”

“Hmmm . . . I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Mallory stood up and walked over to look at the books on the shelves.

 “Mallory? Are you ready?” Alex held up the book. “Can we do this?”

“Mmmm . . . ?” Mallory said absently, not looking at Alex.

“Mallory, can you just let me help you for once? Please? It’s just a short phrase; I swear.”

Mallory took a deep breath. “I’ve thought about using the Dikaió my whole life, Alex. I’ve thought about how nice it would be to just say something and have it happen like everyone else, but now that it comes to it, there’s a part of me that enjoys the struggle of having to do things on my own; to say whatever I want, whenever I want, without worrying about hurting someone. And what about that, Alex? What if I say something with the Dikaió and hurt someone? You’ve seen my temper.”

Alex set the book down on the coffee table and leaned back in her chair. She pulled her feet up and crossed her legs.  “It seems like you’re making excuses to not go through with this. You say you enjoy struggling. Why can’t you enjoy the struggle of learning to control your tongue? I would welcome that change,” she teased.

Mallory laughed. “I’m sure my parents would as well.”

“To say nothing of Mrs. Alberts in culturing class. You’ve had her almost in tears worrying whether your curses would destroy the class’s crops.”

Mallory laughed louder at that, but Alex just looked exasperated, which made Mallory laugh even more. Eventually, she took deep gasping breaths between laughter and regained control.  Alex was leaning forward, her elbows resting on her crossed legs, her hands dangling toward the floor. She was silent. Her eyes were like mirrors, and Mallory did not like the caginess of the girl standing at the bookshelf being reflected in them.  Mallory sighed and turned back to the bookcase and pulled out a book titled Understanding Body Language from the shelf. She flipped through it to a page she knew well. It showed a drawing of a person with their arms crossed with a caption that read, “Crossing the arms is a sign of closing off conversation.” There was another image a few pages ahead that said that leaning forward was a sign of engagement. However, the book did not say what crossing one’s legs while leaning forward indicated. When Alex took that position, was she interested in what Mallory was saying or was she closing off conversation? She had never been able to figure that out, so she changed the subject.

“Do you suppose my sister will marry Caleb?”

Alex nearly fell forward off the chair and had to uncross her legs to pull herself up: “What?!”

“Well, she’ll be the second child of the Matriarch. It’s the way things used to be done, right?”

“Maybe, but it’s better than her being the Matriarch.”

“I suppose, but it’s just that . . .” Mallory set the book gently back into its place and shook her head.

“Mallory?” Alex looked uncomfortable and now her arms were crossed as well.

“Never mind, it’s silly. I’m ready.” Mallory walked over and again sat in the chair beside her friend.

Alex quickly picked up the book off the coffee table and began to read before Mallory could change her mind, “Assume Dikaió readdress from Dikaió Administrator Alexandria Nelson. Dikaiós reset to Dikaió Chorus. Okay the book says that will clear your Dikaió class. Now, we’ll reassign it.” Alex turned to another page that she had marked. “Restart Dikaió for Mallory Knenne as Dikaió Syntec. That’s it. How do you feel?”

Mallory stretched out her hands and looked down at them inquisitively. “I don’t feel any different at all. Should I?”

“I guess I don’t know. The book doesn’t really say so. It just has the words. Try the ball.”

“Oh, right.” Mallory pulled the little red ball from her pocket and rolled it onto the floor. It rolled under the coffee table, and then lodged under Caleb’s couch. Mallory leaned forward and thought about the ball. “Okay, ball, come to me.”

Nothing happened.

Mallory tried again. “Mallory wants her ball.”

Nothing happened.

“Mallory wants her red ball to come to her hand.”

Still nothing.

Both girls sighed and heaved themselves back into their chairs, exhausted by the disappointment. Mallory turned her face to Alex, “I don’t think it worked.”

“I can see that.  I thought for sure it would. Maybe I missed something?” Alex opened the book again and began to read.

“Well, you’re not going to find it tonight, Alex; besides, I’m starving. My mother’s dinner party is probably just getting started. Let’s go eat!”

Alex sighed again. “Yes, okay. Don’t forget your ball.”

Mallory turned and looked at Caleb’s old couch. The filth was several layers deep: food, dirt, cobwebs. “There’s no way I’m touching that couch. Who knows what’s living in there—Would you mind?”

Alex visibly relaxed and laughed. “Oh, now you want my help? I don’t mind at all. Ball, go to Mallory.”

Nothing happened.

“Ball, go to Mallory.”

Nothing happened.

Panic tinged Alex’s voice. “Ball, come to me.”

Still nothing.

Alex pulled the small Dikaió torch from her pocket. “Dikaió, on.” The torch remained dark. Alex began to breathe hard, shallow breaths; her eyes were wild. “Dikaió Torch, turn on! Turn on! Turn on!” The torch remained dark.

Alex began to scream.