14

The Dikaió City Services Manager had added emergency power to the Governor’s district, though most of the city still remained in darkness even all these weeks later. However, without the ability to control the Dikaió—much like the hospital and the municipal buildings—the lights could not be turned off. Sleeping was a nightmare, and they had all taken to tying pieces of clothing around their eyes to keep the light out at night. Caleb had convinced the City Services Manager to run a line out to Mallory’s workshop and install a Dikaió light, so the workshop was full of Dikaió light even late at night.

A small moth circled the Dikaió light above. Mallory only barely noticed the small insect in the periphery of her vision because she was preoccupied with Caleb, who was acting strange. Every time he set down an armful of parts, he would turn to Mallory, spread his arms wide, open his mouth like he either wanted to begin a speech, or needed air like a fish out of water—she could not tell which—then he would shake his head and walk outside for another load. Mallory could tell he wanted to continue their conversation from the pastureland and was struggling to find the words, but she nearly giggled out loud every time he made the wild gestures.

He reminded her of a little male robin she had sat and watched one spring. The bird was helping his mate build a nest in the eaves of the Matriarch’s roof. He would land on the edge of a board near the nest, carrying a piece of grass or thread, then the female would hop out of the nest over to her husband. With her unmoving eyes fixed on his offering, she bobbed her head to the left then cocked it to the right, inspecting the building materials for quality. If she was satisfied with his selection, she would pull it away from him and hop back to their nest for installation. The male bird would then turn around, spread his wings wide, and squawk wildly, yelling, “Look at me, world! Look what I’ve done! My lover has accepted my gift, and soon we will have a family. Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!” Then he would fly away with his chest puffed out in search of another worthy gift for his beloved. When Caleb spread his arms wide after dropping parts onto the floor, Mallory desperately wanted to fill in his lack of speech with a “Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!” However, she buried the amusement and maintained a stone-like expression. Caleb might take her laughter as an invitation to say what was on his mind, and right now, Mallory wanted him to stay quiet; she had other plans, and they required that Caleb go home sooner rather than later.

Finally, the carts were unloaded and Caleb hovered in the workshop. His eyes met Mallory’s, and their blue irises reflected hers for a moment: A gray storm hovering over a blue sea, and the combination seemed to bring order to his thoughts. His pupils constricted with new courage, and he opened his mouth, but before he could start, Mallory cut him off: “Well, I’m exhausted.” She yawned and stretched her arms wide. “I’m ready to call it a night, Caleb.”

Caleb blinked and stumbled backwards like he had been slapped. “I . . . um . . . yeah. I guess it has been a hard day. Well . . . I guess I’ll go then.”

Mallory bounded past him to the door, flashing him a flirtatious smile. “Okay! See you tomorrow?”

Caleb’s confusion disappeared seeing her smile, and he nodded and flirted back with his own sheepish grin. “Yeah, sure. Of course!” He stumbled out of the workshop after her. She started up toward her house, and he turned toward the Governor’s house. As he started walking, he paused and turned back, “Mallory?”

“Bye!” She yelled and kept moving. She made it to her backdoor and through its welcoming entrance before looking back over her shoulder. Caleb was on his way home, spreading his arms and bobbing his head, no doubt rehearsing the conversation he wanted to have with her in the workshop. When he made it to his house, Mallory saw him stand in the Dikaió light and turn to look back at the Matriarch’s house. She hugged the beam of the door, hiding out of sight, but still peeking out at him from the window. For a moment, she thought he saw her watching him. Finally, he went through his door and disappeared inside. Mallory waited as long as she could bear it and then ran out into the night toward the Administrator’s house to see Alex.

The Dikaió lights were permanently on at her house as well, and Mallory stood on tiptoes to peek through the large picture window into the main room. Alex’s parents were on the couch nearest to the window facing away from her. Alex was sitting on a chaise lounge; her back was pressed up against the single raised side, and her knees were pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She was wearing dark blue pants and a long-sleeved shirt with arm-length gloves to cover her scars. Tears were streaming down her face. Mallory’s heart rate quickened. What was going on in there? Her eyes scanned to the right. The Administrator and his wife were sitting in two overstuffed leather recliners across the room from the window she was looking through. The Administrator’s wife was wiping away tears with the back of her hand, and the Administrator himself was scowling and looking directly at Mallory.

Mallory dropped to the ground. Their eyes had met for an instant; of that, she was sure. However, she was not sure what her next step should be. Should she just go home? Should she knock on the door? Ultimately, she wanted to see her friend. That was why she was here. She steeled her nerves and stood up to go knock on the door, but when she turned back toward the door, she found herself standing face-to-face with the Administrator.

“Eek!” She involuntarily squeaked in fear.  

“Miss Knenne,” the Administrator said in a low, angry voice. “What can I help you with?”

Mallory stammered, “I . . . I wanted to see Alex. I heard she was home from the hospital.”

The Administrator’s expression did not change. “We’ve always encouraged the heirs of the Triad to be friends with one another.” He rolled his hands into small fists, pulling the words out with some difficulty. “In your case, that may have been a mistake. What you did to the city demands justice. And I will see that you receive it.” His voice quivered slightly, whether in anger or sadness Mallory could not quite determine. “What you did to my granddaughter is unforgivable. Even if it takes my dying breath, I will see that you pay for her scars.” He took a menacing step toward her. He was not a tall man—at least not as tall as her father or Caleb—but his presence made up for his stature. Mallory was frightened. “You are not welcome here, Miss Knenne,” he said, and then without a hint of change in demeanor, he turned to the side making a space for her to pass. “Please, leave!”

Mallory wanted to say something, wanted to run past him and into the house to Alex, but she was not sure what the Administrator would do if she tried it. She walked slowly past him looking at the ground.

“And Miss Knenne,” he said, making her turn back to face him once more. “Never speak to Alex again, or so help me, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” Even in the dark, Mallory could see the veins in his forehead throbbing as his face bloomed bright red. His fists curled tighter, and his torso shifted slightly to the side as if he were ready to swing one of those tight fists directly at her. She took her cue and ran as fast as her feet would carry her.

Tears blinded her vision as she ran. Her heart was still beating fast. She could not quite label the emotions she felt: fear, shame, anger, grief? Her feelings were similar to how she felt when the leader of the Smith Guild confronted her the night the Dikaió was lost, so it was definitely anger. On the other hand, the Administrator was a different animal altogether from the portly leader of the Smith Guild. Like the beasts of the Dark Forest, the Administrator had teeth. If he chose to charge her with a crime, she could be imprisoned; judging by the way he had looked at her and spoke to her tonight, she wondered if the judgment would not be harsher.

She ran blindly, turning corners and looking back, hoping that the Administrator had not changed his mind and decided to pursue her with a team of magistrates after all. From her Matriarchal training with her mother and grandmother, she knew that there were certainly worse judgments that could be passed according to city law, up to and including death. Her grandmother said that the two boys who had built the fire sprite might have received that harsh punishment if they had not been the fire sprite’s first victims. There was no more atrocious crime in the city than harming another citizen—even if it were accidental.

Perhaps Mallory was both angry and afraid of the Administrator because she knew that he would not be unjust in calling for capital punishment for what she and Alex had done. And perhaps that is what Caleb was worrying about when he spoke of the conversations amongst the Triad, and needing the fire sprites to stave off a power grab by the Administrator and his family. He may intend to kill her. A shiver ran down Mallory’s spine, and she slowed her run to a walk. With her thoughts collected with new understanding, she became aware of her surroundings. The night air was cold; cold enough for a coat, and she had left hers at home. She rubbed her arms vigorously to warm them up. She looked around to figure out exactly where she was, and that is when she realized that it was very, very dark.

In her blind run, she had apparently left the Governor’s district, and without the city’s light or even Dikaió lights on the doors of the houses, she had a hard time getting her bearings. The only light she could make out was the moon, and it was just a sliver of a new moon partly covered by clouds. Then she noticed a flickering glow farther up ahead up the street from around the corner of a small, modest house. She must be in one of the citizens’ districts, though it was still impossible to tell which one it was. The streets leading to the citizens’ districts all ran like spokes in a wheel toward the city center and the Governor’s district, with crisscrossing avenues like the thread of a spider’s web. At the outer edges, the districts ended in walled cul-de-sacs.  If she went the wrong direction, she would end up having to backtrack out of a dead-end, or even worse, across the pastureland near the Dark Forest, which was not a pleasant prospect in this thick curtain of night. She decided that she would find out where the flickering light was coming from and see if there was someone that could give her directions or at least a street name that she would recognize and be able to follow back home.

She was unprepared for the site she found when she turned the corner. Down the avenue several bonfires had been lit in the middle of the street on each block, and hundreds of citizens were clustered around them. Mothers sat on the pavement with their children, wrapped in comforters and blankets, and the men were hauling furniture and other belongings out of their houses and tossing them onto the fires to keep them roaring. Mallory shivered in the cold air and found herself drawn to the fire’s warmth. As she approached, she began to notice the faces of the people around her, especially the children. Their eyes were sunken, and their cheek bones protruded too far against tight, nearly translucent skin. The men’s faces were drawn as they carried the heavy furniture, and their mouths hung open while they breathed hard. Their gums were receding up over their teeth unnaturally. She had never seen a malnourished person, but she instinctively knew that these people had not been eating enough.

Then the smell of the street washed over her: There was a pungent odor of sweat, sewage, and filth—a smell her own sweaty body no doubt added to, having just finished hauling sprite parts all day and not having showered yet—but there was also an acrid odor in the air with a hint of what smelled almost like sweet wine. The smoke of the fires masked it somewhat, but Mallory could not get away from it as she walked amongst the crowd. As she followed the trajectory of the odor, she realized that it was the heavy breath of the people around her; something about it did not smell right.

For the most part, the people were quiet. There were some soft conversations here and there, and Mallory could hear the wordless hymns of the mothers comforting their children. She would almost expect this scene of human suffering to be full of sadness, but all of them bore empty expressions. They seemed to be feeling nothing. Hungry lethargy so encompassed the citizens that many could not raise their hands to bat away the flies landing on the watery corners of their eyes. She felt like she was stumbling through a nightmare.

Suddenly, a man’s voice called out, “It’s the Matriarch’s daughter!”

Mallory looked toward the sound of the voice and saw a tall man with a stocking cap and loose-fitting clothes pointing at her. The crowd around him was looking in her direction as well. Their empty expressions began to shift: Some eyes widened, and the corners of their mouths ticked in hopeful expectation. The eyebrows of the tall man who pointed at her were furrowed, his mouth twisted in anger—no, it was deeper than anger. Disgust? Maybe Rage? Others around him bore the same twisted look.

As the crowd’s attention turned toward her, their bodies began to move toward her as well. Listless children cowered from her while their mothers crawled toward her, their empty eyes locked on her. The angry group of men moved faster than the rest, and their clenched fists suggested they harbored the same intentions as the Administrator.

While Mallory tried to register what was happening, she stumbled backward to get away from the crowd, but her own reactions were dulled somewhat by hunger and confusion, and she found herself caught by strong hands that locked tightly on her arms and shoulders on the dark street. Suddenly, someone had a handful of her hair and was tugging at it. Sweet-foul breath bloomed in her face, and sweaty, hungry faces began to drag her toward the nearest fire. Murmurs of “witch” crackled in the air, and everywhere she looked she saw dirt-smeared faces, blood-shot eyes, and yellow-stained teeth. She was no longer moving her legs; her rubber-soled shoes dragged on the pavement if they touched it at all. The crowd’s motion was now her own. She knew that she should be screaming, but the crowd’s voice was now her own as well; their stifling proximity sucking away whatever air she might have used to call out. The claustrophobia she had experienced inside the herd of cows reared up, but the only way out of the crowd was the fire, and it was drawing nearer with every step.

An explosion sounded from somewhere outside her jumbled prison of humanity, and a man to her right yelped loudly. He shook his head, and blood began to run from the top of his ear, which seemed slightly shorter than the other. Another man to her left had gone limp and then fell to the ground. The cluster of men tripped over him, and the crowd toppled, taking Mallory with it. Legs and arms were swinging wildly, and Mallory felt a boot connect with the bottom of her chin. Warm saltiness flooded her mouth, but she hardly had time to notice as the surrealness of the moment had ended, and her survival mode kicked in. She bit and scratched wildly; wiggled and kicked; punched and clawed; fighting her way out and over the sprawling bodies of the men, all fighting to get untangled from one another.

“Get up and disperse,” a woman’s voice called. “By the authority of the Administrator and the magistrates, step away from the Matriarch’s daughter.”

The men looked in the direction of the voice as though in a haze and pulled themselves to their feet groggily. She was an average build, but she was wearing the blue uniform of a magistrate, which looked almost black in the darkness of the night. She had arm-length black leather gloves and knee-high leather boots to match. Her head was covered with a helmet and face shield, which reflected the dance of the bonfire in its mirrored surface. She was pointing her weapon at them, and a thin tendril of smoke trailed from its barrel. The men’s rage turned to solemn confusion. They looked at each other and then back in the direction of the voice, and then one of them shrugged and turned away. Soon most of them were walking away dejectedly, picking up the furniture they had dropped to add the fuel to the fire. Two of the men picked up the man who had stumbled and caused the rest to fall. The injured man groaned, lucky to have survived the magistrate’s shot. Most of the men dispersed as ordered, but some just stood staring at Mallory with concentrated hatred. Their shoulders rocked back and forth, and they shuffled wearily from foot to foot. Whatever rage had compelled them before had not been completely dissuaded by the appearance of the magistrate and her weapon.

“Mallory, come with me now!” the woman hissed.

Mallory did not hesitate. The magistrate walked quickly and purposefully away from the crowd without looking back. Mallory followed, trying to keep pace, but she kept looking back to see if they were being pursued. Some of the men were following them, but once they turned onto the Dikaió-lighted paths of Main Street, Mallory did not see them again. The magistrate did not slow down though, and Mallory found herself quickly running out of breath following this law-keeper.

“Can we slow down? I think you lost them!” Mallory called.

The magistrate stopped cold and swiveled toward Mallory. She closed the gap between them in two steps and loomed over her in silence with her hand on her weapon. Mallory thought of the Administrator’s threats, and suddenly, she felt like she might be in as much danger now as she had been when she was in the hands of the angry men. Mallory lifted her hands defensively as the magistrate reached up suddenly. Rather than strike her, the magistrate unstrapped her helmet and pulled it off. Mallory’s eyes widened as Alex’s face emerged from beneath the magistrate’s helmet.

Alex seemed like she was about to say something, when Mallory pounced on her and wrapped her in the tightest hug she could manage. “Alex! I’m so happy to see you. I thought that we’d never be able to see each other again.”

Alex patted Mallory awkwardly on the back, barely able to move her arms. “Yes, yes, well okay! C’mon, Mallory, get off me.” She squirmed and wriggled out of Mallory’s embrace. “That’s partly why I came after you—to talk to you about my grandfather’s plans, and partly to save you from that mess.” She gestured toward the darkened part of the city with her gloved hand.

“How did you know I would need saving?” Mallory wondered out loud.

“You were out at night. Clearly, you were not obeying the Administrator’s warning for the wealthy and the ruling class to not go out after dark, and why were you out? Surely, your parents have warned you? My parents and grandfather have been in my hospital room updating me on the deterioration of the city and the mobilization of the magistrates for days now, preparing me for what to expect when I was discharged. Honestly, Mallory, what were you doing?”

“No one told me anything about . . . that!” She waved her hand in the same direction that Alex had gestured. “I’m out because I wanted to see you, Alex! But your grandfather—”

“I know. He blames you for all of this.”

Mallory dropped her head. “And he’s right; the citizens do deserve justice.”

Alex grabbed her friend’s shoulder, “Not any more than I do. I told him I was the one who read the words. I was the one that destroyed the Dikaió! But he won’t hear it, Mallory!” She let go and turned her head away. “He doesn’t want justice; he wants to see you executed. He wants to see the Matriarchy and the Governorship abolished. He thinks a city without the Dikaió can only be ruled by the justice of an Administrator. My father and the magistrates are with him, and they expect me to join them. That’s why I’m wearing this uniform. When my grandfather excused himself and went out the front door, I went to the window and saw him yelling at you. When you ran away, I said I had to use the restroom, and I slipped out the window to find you.” Alex looked down at the darkened street below them, then jerked her head back to Mallory with fire in her eyes. “I can’t be part of what they’re doing, Mallory—especially not after what I’ve done. Mal, they’re planning a coup.”

“My mother and the Governor will stop them.”

“How? Maybe with the Dikaió that would have been true, but without it?” Alex pulled her weapon from its holster. “How will they compete with these? You saw what it did to that citizen. They have hundreds of these and enough ammunition to subdue the city.” She paused and looked at the weapon with glazed eyes.

Mallory bit her lip, weighing how much of her recent activities she ought to share. Alex was her friend, but she was also an heir of the Administrator. Still, she would not be here if she could not be trusted. Her grandfather had made it very clear that he did not want the two of them talking, and Mallory decided to trust her.

“Caleb knows about their plans, and we’ve been working on a solution.”

Alex’s eyes refocused, surprise written on her face. “What do you mean?”

“We found fire sprites in the dark woods, and we’re rebuilding them to fight the magistrates if it comes to that.”

Alex shuddered and then shouted at her, “You’re doing what!? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

Mallory raised her hands in frustration. “Not any crazier than using the magistrates to take over the city. Like you said, without the Dikaió, we can’t fight back. The citizens starving to death down in the dark streets certainly can’t fight back. What choice do we have?”

Alex began to pace. “But without the Dikaió how will you stop the fire sprites if they start burning the city?”

“Caleb is convinced that they can be controlled. He thinks they were part of the city’s defense against the dark forest and were discarded when the light was constructed. If they can be controlled by some type of old magic, they’ll protect us from the magistrates and the dangers of the dark forest.”

Alex lowered her head at an angle, considering the possibility. “I was going to suggest running away, but this could be a better option—assuming Caleb is right and the fire sprites can be controlled. It’s a terrible risk though, Mallory.”

“So is doing nothing.”

Mallory watched her friend’s lips tense as her jaw clenched, straining the muscles in her neck as she seemed to consider the devastation of the past against the threats of the impending coup.

“The Governor and the Matriarch are on board with this plan, then?”

“I don’t know. My mother hasn’t been speaking to me, and Caleb has been keeping me busy with projects and speaking very little about the affairs of state. The only thing he’s let slip is that it’s been decided that my sister will be Matriarch, regardless of what happens with the Dikaió, and that our parents want us to get married to strengthen our families’ position in the city.”

Alex laughed, “Well, you’ve at least got to be happy about that, right?”

Mallory frowned. “I think we can deal with that particular issue once we ensure that the city will still have a Governor and Matriarch, and that I survive your grandfather’s plans for justice.”

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Demure and deflect when the topic of you and Caleb comes up?”

Mallory’s frown deepened. “What do you want from me, Alex? My whole life, I’ve been the heir of the Matriarch. The night I found out that’s changed; we destroyed the Dikaió. You nearly died. The city is in shambles. Now, your grandfather wants to kill me and stage a coup. There’s a forest with killer creatures in it, and we’re building fire sprites in my shed to fight them—and apparently the magistrates as well. Forgive me if I think talking about Caleb and me living happily ever after is a waste of time. Besides, I’m just seventeen-years old. Even if we were going to be married, it wouldn’t be for a few more years, and that is only if I’m not in prison or dead.”

Alex smirked. “So, you’re saying you want to marry him.”

Mallory rolled her eyes in reply.

Alex’s demeanor shifted then, “Fine, let’s talk about survival for you and the city leadership. What’s your next step for building the fire sprites?”

“We need that sprite book from the Book Club.”

Alex’s expression fell. “We can’t get it.”

Mallory felt her muscles tighten instinctively. “Did your grandfather find out about Book Club?”

“No! That’s not it.” Alex reached up and unbuttoned the top two buttons on her uniform. Her upper chest was pale white in the Dikaió streetlights, but there, where the key to Book Club used to hang, was a pink and white scar the exact shape of the key. Alex was looking down at her chest, but she couldn’t quite position her head in a way to see the scar. The tips of her index fingers traced it tenderly. “The key got so hot in the City Hall fire that the metal left its mark.”

“Oh! Alex!” Mallory felt her own chest tighten in empathetic suffering for her friend. “I’m so sorry. Where’s the key now?”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t know.”