Mallory sat with her parents late into the night. None of them said anything, they just clutched tightly to one another in their grief. Eventually though, sleep’s inevitable call pulled them apart. Mallory trudged with blurred eyes to her room, neglecting all her bedtime rituals, and collapsed into her bed. She half expected her sleep to be fitful and full of nightmares, but with the exception of being briefly awakened by the loud noise of a storm that night, she slept soundly. She slept so soundly that, when her eyes finally did open, the sun was shining brightly through the dragonfly stained glass of her window, casting its green and purple light across the room, rippling like tiny dancers on the floor and walls. The only thing that was missing was music for the dancers to move to. Mallory’s eyebrows raised. She had not heard music beyond the wordless hymns of the human instrument since the Dikaió disappeared. The joyous musicians that used to play at the christenings and on market day were silent. She had not seen their glowing instruments dancing around them in all that time either. She supposed that without the Dikaió, there was no means to call the instruments. She had killed music.
Mallory sighed as the memories of the night swept over her, and now she would have to face the music as the old saying went. She climbed out of bed and cleaned herself up. She put on her most royal-blue dress; she did her makeup, highlighting her eyes with a matching mascara; she pulled her hair back into a bun, taking the time to tame the wild curls into straight lines like the stems of a bouquet, and finally, she added a spritz of glitter. She looked like her mother, ready to go to a ball rather than an Administrative trial that would undoubtedly end in her death. Still, if they meant to kill her, she wanted to be sure they saw her, not as a troublesome girl that needed to be dealt with, but as an heir of the Triad who stood in the way of the Administrator and his family’s coup d’état. She wanted them to know that Mallory Knenne was not afraid.
She walked down the stairs and found her parents sitting at the table eating breakfast. Her father burst into fresh tears when she turned the corner.
“My girl,” he sobbed. “You’re beautiful.”
Her mother, whose hair was also pinned tight and straight for business, wiped at her eyes with her napkin and nodded approvingly. “You always were wise beyond your years, Mallory.”
Mallory sat down to her place. There was a spread of all her favorite breakfast foods on multiple plates: eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, cinnamon rolls, a chocolate éclair, dates, oatmeal, strawberries; there seemed to be no end of food. She looked askance at her mother. “But how? Why so much?”
“The City Council thought it appropriate to not deprive you from your favorite foods this morning.”
“But how many people are going hungry because of me?”
Her mother paused, looking sideways at her, but did not answer.
Mallory caught her meaning without pressing for an answer: All the people were going hungry because of her.
Her mother changed the subject.
“Did anyone else hear the thunder last night? It was so loud and awful, I think the wind was knocking things over.”
Her father, still weeping a bit, said, “I would have slept through it if you hadn’t woken me up.”
Mallory spoke around a mouthful of chocolate éclair. “I heard it too, but I fell back asleep.”
“Mallory, finish chewing before speaking, please!” Her mother demanded.
Mallory laughed and took a huge bite before saying in a muffled chew, “Mother, if this is to be my last meal, I don’t see how manners are going to make a bit of difference.”
Her mother rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. “Fine, but if the Matriarch has anything to say about it, it will hardly be your last meal, and then won’t you wish you’d used your manners like I asked?”
The whole family burst into laughter. Mallory felt good to laugh with her parents again. She knew that her mother would fight until the end, and even though she might not live through the day, it did feel good to be a happy family again. The laughter was short-lived, though, as a knock sounded abruptly at the backdoor.
Mallory’s mother shot up from the table, “No! They’re early! The trial is not supposed to start until one o’clock this afternoon. They said they would give us the morning.”
Mallory’s father stood up and stepped in front of her protectively, blocking the way to her from the kitchen. “And so they shall! So they shall!”
Alex’s voice called through the kitchen. “Mallory? Are you home?”
“It’s just, Alex. It’s alright,” Mallory said starting to stand up.
Her mother shouted, “It’s too soon! Go and tell your grandfather the trial is not until one o’clock.”
Alex stepped around the corner from the kitchen, wearing her magistrate blues. Mallory’s father stepped forward and folded his arms, looking down at Alex.
“She won’t be going with you until the time comes. We get the morning with her. It was decided.”
Alex looked at the floor timidly. “I’m sorry, Mister Knenne. I wasn’t sent here by my grandfather. I came to talk to Mallory as a friend, not as a magistrate, or as an heir of the Administrator—but that’s not why I burst . . ..”
Mallory’s mother huffed and interrupted her. “I don’t care what capacity you’ve come in; we were given the morning to prepare our daughter for the trial and to spend time with her should the worst case be decided, and . . . and you . . ..” The Matriarch turned red and the tenor of her voice began to rise. “You of all people have the audacity to call her your friend? You’re just as guilty in all this as she is—why are you not standing trial as well? With a friend like you, who could ask for enemies?”
Alex nodded. “You’ll get no argument from me. I demanded that I stand trial beside her. My grandfather has forbidden it, and he’s forbidden me from attending. I didn’t even know the trial was today until this morning. But I can tell you this—I intend to testify at that trial, and I’ll demand from the City Council whatever fate they give to Mallory. I don’t care what my grandfather says.”
Mallory’s mother softened. Suddenly, tears began to flow freely down her face. “At least my daughter has made better allies than I have within the Triad. You are welcome to stay, Alex Nelson.”
Alex shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s like I was trying to say, that’s not why I burst in and interrupted your morning.” She turned to Mallory. “Mallory, where are the fire sprites?”
Mallory cocked her head in confusion. “In the shed. Where else would they be?”
“They’re not there. I checked just now before coming up to the house. Caleb and I were going to go over the schematics like we talked about to be sure you didn’t miss anything.”
Mallory’s father tilted his head in confusion, nearly a mirror of his daughter. “Did you say, ‘fire sprites’?”
Mallory turned to her father. “They were going to be our contingency plan against the Administrator’s coup d’état.”
The Matriarch covered her mouth, and then quickly folded her arms, trying to grasp the situation. “Honestly, Mallory, fire sprites? As if you had not done enough to turn the city against you, and now you’re building fire sprites?” She began to pace, speaking with her hands as much as her mouth, “I thought maybe I could save you from the trial today—that the City Council could be reasoned with, that the Administrator could be reasoned with—but if you’re building fire sprites, how do I convince them that you’re not a threat to the city? I’m not even sure I believe it anymore.” She stopped in front of Mallory and clasped her hands pleadingly, “Why couldn’t you just keep your head down? Why do you have to be so much like your grandmother? The Administrator never did like her, you know. And if you remind me of her, it’s no wonder he’s out to get you.”
She paused for a moment and then looked at Alex who was awkwardly trying to avoid her gaze during the uncomfortable family moment. Then she looked back at Mallory with narrowed eyes, “What’s all this about a coup d’état?”
Alex answered, “You mean you don’t know? Caleb said that you and the Governor were aware of my grandfather’s plans . . . well, he implied it anyway.”
“This is the first that I am hearing about this. I don’t believe it for an instant.” Mallory’s mother looked at her husband and made a ‘what are we going to do with these children’ gesture.
“My grandfather is mobilizing the magistrates to take control of the city. We’re not sure when, but quite soon.”
“The magistrates?” the Matriarch’s tenor rose higher. “And the Governor is aware of this?”
“My father is quite aware of the Administrator’s plans, and we’ve been devising counter strategies for weeks,” Caleb chimed in, just now walking into both the house and the conversation like he lived there. He had already snagged some of the unfinished bacon off Mallory’s plate at the table and shoved a whole strip into his mouth. “You don’t mind, do you?” He raised the bacon in his hand questioningly. Mallory smiled and shrugged, but the Matriarch did not seem to notice at all and sat down roughly. Her mouth hung open, her shoulders slumped, and she looked one way and then the other in shocked disbelief. Mallory’s father rushed to her side and began to ineffectively fan her with a limp, folded napkin.
Caleb shrugged, turned to Mallory, and asked, “And speaking of counter strategies, what did you do with the fire sprites, Mal?”
“I didn’t do anything with them. They were in my workshop when I went to bed last night.”
Mallory’s mother asked, “What workshop?”
“The old shed, Mother—where I build my inventions.” Mallory wished her mother would keep up.
Her mother nodded but stared past them with shock at the Administrator’s betrayal. “Oh yes, the shed.”
Mallory’s father jumped in now, “Do you suppose something happened to them in the storm last night?”
“What storm? There wasn’t any storm last night—the grass is dry.” Caleb folded his arms and addressed Alex. “Do you suppose your grandfather is on to us and dragged the fire sprites out in the night?”
Alex shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. It’s certainly possible. I mean, we had to cart the parts through the city; it would be weird if the magistrates hadn’t noticed us. Maybe one of them followed us?”
Caleb shook his head. “I watched for followers; I didn’t see anyone.”
Mallory chimed in then, “We’re not going to figure it out here. Let’s go see if we can find any clues.” Caleb, Alex, and her parents piled out the back door. Mallory cocked her head as they walked outside. The wind was roaring loudly through the trees, but it must have been blowing at an angle that was shielded on this side of the house because the air was perfectly still where they stood. They all walked back behind the trees and shrubs to Mallory’s workshop.
The door to the shop was wide open, and its hinges were slightly bent; the wooden frame around the doorway was cracked in several places as well. Mallory ran her hand over the shattered wooden planks. That must have been the thunder they had heard in the night: the door being ripped off the shed. She looked inside, and all three fire sprites were gone: the complete fire sprite, the partially completed one, and the one that she hadn’t even started to fix. Sprite parts from the Rookery were scattered all around the floor. There was a sharp odor in the air that stung her nose, and that was when she noticed something very strange: “The barrels of paraffin are empty.” She pointed at the three fifty-gallon barrels that were laying on the floor, nearly bone dry. Alex and Caleb rushed past her to inspect them.
Caleb set one of the barrels upright and checked the floor around it. “There doesn’t seem to be a single drop spilled.”
Alex turned slowly in confusion. “If the magistrates were going to take the fire sprites and the paraffin, why wouldn’t they just load the barrels and cart them in a Chorus cart like we did? It’s not like they could carry the liquid around without a container.”
Caleb grabbed Alex’s arm. “Come on, let’s give the Knenne’s their morning, and we’ll go investigate.”
Alex nodded, and the two of them hustled out the door. Mallory walked over and looked inside the empty barrel. She started to reach in, and her mother yelled, “Mallory!”
“What?” Mallory spun around half expecting a battalion of magistrates at the door.
Her mother pointed at her with concern. “It’s your good dress!”
Mallory looked down at herself and laughed, “Oh, right.” She stepped carefully away from the barrel. “You know, if the trial doesn’t go our way, the dress isn’t going to matter much.”
Her mother scowled and scolded, “Well, it certainly won’t go our way if you walk in covered in sprite grease and smelling like nail polish.” She waved her hand at the barrels. “What was in that barrel anyway?”
Her father spoke this time. “It smells like the stuff the Culture guild uses to keep the bugs away.”
“Paraffin,” Mallory said, moving towards the door. “It’s also highly flammable.”
The Matriarch inspected the room with her hands folded behind her back like a military general. “So, that’s what you’ve been using this room for? Building weapons?”
“Well, that’s what I’ve been building recently. It started out just as a tinkering shop, then Caleb co-opted me into building solutions for the city’s problems.”
Her mother’s eyebrows raised. “Like what?”
“The Chorus carts, the hoses for the hydrant sprites, amongst others. Surely you’ve heard about it? He said his father and the City Council put him in charge of the projects.”
“Caleb’s father has done no such thing. All three of you have been barred from any official discussions in the City Council meetings ever since the City Hall fire.”
Mallory shook her head. “But Reddy Lamarr, the Sprite Master, helped him with the Chorus Carts. She’s on the City Council—surely they knew about it?”
The Matriarch looked confused. “Are you sure?”
“She was standing not five feet from this shed, getting her directions from Caleb Aiworth acting as the Heir of the Governor.”
The Matriarch’s eyes narrowed, and she looked at her husband with rage. “Have they all turned against me, then? Have I truly become such a social pariah in this city? They’ve shut me out just as much as they’ve shut out my daughter.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks, “Roger, what are we going to do? Either the Administrator takes the city by force, or the Governor takes the city by fiat. Without the Dikaió, we’ve got no hope of standing against either of them.”
Her father just stepped forward and held his wife in his arms silently.
“What about marriage?” Mallory ventured.
Her mother sniffed and looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Caleb said that you and his father have talked about us getting married, uniting the houses.”
Her mother nodded. “We’ve discussed it. You’re abundantly aware that the Council has already decided that your sister will be Matriarch, and you marrying the Governor’s son seemed the most likely choice before the Dikaió was lost, but who knows if that is even still on the table?”
Mallory nodded. “But if it were, as Governess, I’d at least have the influence to keep our family’s place on the Council, even if it were my sister sitting there instead of me.”
The Matriarch broke loose from her husband’s embrace and looked thoughtfully at Mallory, who could see her mother’s political wheels turning. “I honestly hadn’t considered that aspect. I was just thinking about finding you an appropriate match, but you’re right. Installing you as Governess would solidify our family’s place in the government, even in the new order of things.”
Her father, on the other hand, looked very concerned and said, “I’m not about to sell my daughter like so much cattle to a suitor for political gain. You don’t need to make a sacrifice for us, Mallory. The Knennes have more dignity than that.”
“Daddy,” Mallory blushed. “It’s not a sacrifice. I love Caleb Aiworth, and he loves me. I’ve been torn between love and duty for a long time—but if love can be duty, then it’s the best of both worlds. Don’t you think?”
Her mother bounded over to her, full of enthusiasm. “Is that true, Mallory? You and Caleb love each other?”
“Yes, I think so. I mean, well, I love him, and he keeps talking about marriage, so I assume . . . ?”
Her mother slammed her fist in her hand. “Then we need to push that at the trial. If the Governor also joins the push for leniency because of a marriage, then perhaps we can tie the Administrator’s hands.”
Her father laughed and said, “Well, that is a good plan, my loves. Come on, ladies. Let’s go enjoy our morning while we have it, shall we?”
They all headed back into the house and resumed their same position on the couch as the night before; parents cozying their daughter in the middle. In the old days, they used to call this the Mallory Cozy Sandwich. This time, though, they were not waiting for the night to carry them off to sleep, but for the magistrates to carry Mallory off to trial—a fight that they were more prepared for now than before Caleb and Alex had arrived.
Still, when the knock came at the door, Mallory knew that time had gone by too fast. She had not said everything she wanted to say, and she hesitated on the couch. Her parents apparently felt the same way because they clutched Mallory uncomfortably tight, and she hoped beyond hope that it would be enough to not be lost.
The Chief Magistrate called from the back door, “It’s time. Sarai, please don’t make us come in and get her.”
The Matriarch let go of her daughter, stood up, and straightened her dress. She tucked a few loose hairs neatly into place, and Mallory wondered how she could know that they were loose without a mirror. Mallory pulled gently away from her father and stood up facing her mother.
“How do I look?” She asked.
Her mother smiled, and quickly tamed the stray hairs on Mallory’s head as well. “You’re beautiful as ever, Mallory Knenne. Now, head up! Let’s show them what the Matriarchs are made of.”
Her father leapt up and shouted, “Quite right!”
Outside stood the Chief Magistrate with ten magistrates phalanxed out behind him. The Matriarch scoffed at the site of the uniformed accompaniment. “Really, Daniel? She’s no common criminal to be paraded by all this.” She waved her hand dismissively at the guards.
“Your opinion has been noted, Matriarch, but a common criminal could have not done all this.” The Chief Magistrate waved his hand out toward the city and then toward City Hall. “So, I agree that your daughter is no common criminal, and we will take every precaution accordingly.”
Mallory laughed at that. “I’m a super-criminal then? And what of your daughter, Mister Nelson? She’s the one who said the words, not me.”
The Chief Magistrate bared his teeth and hissed. “Save your arguments for the Council, Miss Knenne. My job is only to escort you to the trial.”
“I know all about what your job is, Mister Nelson. I know all about the plans you and your father have for the city, and I know what he did to the city when he was young.”
The Chief Magistrate moved quickly before anyone realized what he was about to do. Using the back of his hand, he cuffed Mallory across the mouth. “Be quiet, witch!” He yelled.
Mallory’s head whipped back on her neck. Her vision swam, and she stumbled a little on her feet. The metallic tinge of iron filled her mouth, and she spat blood in the grass. She did not fall all the way down, but the work it took to stay upright was significant. The Matriarch pulled herself up to her full height and stepped between the Chief Magistrate and her daughter. “How dare you strike the family of the Matriarchy! You’ll be on trial next if I have anything to say about it, you weasel!”
His sneer slid into a wicked grin. “Well, you’ll not have anything to say about it, Matriarch—I can assure you of that. Now, come with me peaceably, or there’ll be more of this.” He motioned his hand in striking motion, and then used his other hand to make an “after you” gesture toward the Governor’s house.
The Matriarch did not make one step toward the Governor’s house, nor did she move out of the Chief Magistrate’s path. She stood like a stone monument; her eyes glaring down at him in an expression that Mallory called her “mom glare.” That look had always been enough to get someone to stop and apologize for anything they were doing; the mom glare even worked on Alex and Caleb when they were younger. It was a withering expression of will, and the Chief Magistrate’s eyes momentarily looked to the ground uncomfortably before it. Then, again moving quickly before anyone could have guessed it was coming, he struck out with the back of his hand.
The Matriarch wheeled away beneath the force of the blow and rolled across the ground a couple of times. Mallory’s father barely let his breath out before he’d hit the Chief Magistrate in the jaw with a right cross. The Chief Magistrate stumbled sideways, and Mallory’s father began moving his hands in small circles like Mallory had often seen him do when he was thinking. The Chief Magistrate righted himself and then swung hard at Mallory’s father and one of her father’s circles moved up, easily pushing the magistrate’s fist away from his face. Then Mallory’s father returned the swing with his other hand and sent the Chief Magistrate sprawling onto the lawn. “You never were that good at hand-to-hand combat, Daniel—even when we trained together as magistrate cadets.”
Mallory gasped. Her father was a magistrate? She did not have time to internalize the thought because the Chief Magistrate propped himself up on his elbows and barked, “Take them!”
The ten magistrates drew their weapons and leveled them on the Knenne family. Mallory and her father quickly raised their hands, and the Matriarch stood slowly and regally up off the ground. She drew herself up to her full height once again and wiped blood from her lip. “We’ll go peacefully, but if you intend to lead us to trial brandishing those at us, you’ll be carrying us there instead. You can let the Governor and the Council see your evil machinations out in the light of day, as well as the rest of the city.”
The Chief Magistrate stood and motioned to the ten magistrates who were with him to lower their weapons. He smiled callously, “Very well, Matriarch. I think we’d all like this trial to go civilly. There’s been enough pain and heartache already.” He bowed slightly and made the “after-you” motion toward the Governor’s house once more. This time the Knenne family fell in line and began the march across the Governor’s district. The magistrates filed in beside them, five on either side, and the Chief Magistrate took point at the front of the procession.
They could see the back of the Governor’s house from the back door from where they started in the Matriarch’s yard, but it quickly became clear that the Chief Magistrate did not intend to take them on the most direct path. They walked around to the front of the Matriarch’s house where the two oaks stood, and Mallory gasped. Thousands of people stood in the Governor’s district.
The roar Mallory had heard, and assumed was the wind, was actually the voice of multitudes. Apparently, the news of the trial of the Matriarch’s daughter had spread through the city, and throngs of citizens had filled the streets. The Chief Magistrate clearly intended to parade the Knenne family through the crowd. Mallory bit her bloodied lip thoughtfully. It was a brilliant political move. She knew from her night in the lower parts of the city that the average citizen blamed her for what happened to the Dikaió, and many of them wanted to see justice satisfied at the cost of her life. The City Council would more likely rule in the Administrator’s favor out of fear of the mob tearing the Governor’s district apart if they did not satisfy their cries for justice.
When the processional entered the throng, Mallory was suddenly glad that the Chief Magistrate had brought ten magistrates to escort them. In fact, she wondered if they would be enough to hold the crowd at bay. People pressed in from every side; their faces blurring in a tapestry of rage and disgust all around them. The crowd jostled the magistrates, who more than once bounced roughly into the Knenne family before pushing the mob back. The walk to the Governor’s house was a relatively short distance. Mallory had run to Caleb’s door throughout her life, and it never took more than a minute or two at the longest. But this trip seemed to take hours: Every two steps they pressed forward in the throng, they were pushed back one. It seemed like they might be lost to the mob forever, but eventually they arrived at their destination.
As the new acting City Hall, the front of the Governor’s house had been transformed: The single-door entryway had been extended into a massive double-door, and all the outdoor furniture that used to sit on the wrap-around porch had been removed, revealing the cold gray stones and beams beneath. The gothic windows were all propped open, so that the proceedings that occurred inside could be shared with the curious crowd outside. The processional solemnly climbed the stairs, and as they did, the magistrates took up positions on the steps and turned to face the crowd to keep them from following. When they reached the porch, the Chief Magistrate opened both double doors, and then stepped out of the way, so they could enter.
The Governor’s House was a marvel of architecture, and the entryway had always taken Mallory’s breath away. It was nearly as large as the Matriarch’s entire first floor, and it was nothing but open space. A chandelier with one hundred Dikaió lights hung in the center of the room above a mosaic of the city’s seal set amongst the white-tiled floor. Two curved, symmetrical stairways with mahogany banisters started on opposite sides of the seal and led to a walkway on the second floor, the mahogany banister continuing seamlessly across the walkway. The whole setup seemed to float in the space in front of three stained-glass cathedral-style windows. Each window depicted an idealized member of the Triad: on the right, a Governor holding a sword and shield; on the left, an Administrator holding a projectile weapon and the scroll of law; and in the center, holding a bowl full of water being poured over a child while dragonflies flew over her head in a wreath, a Matriarch clothed in a blue gown, much like the one that Mallory now wore. She drew in a deep breath amidst the cold, gray background, straightened her posture, and focused her eyes on the confidence and grace of the Matriarch looking down on her from the window.
Then Mallory looked down and saw that the entryway itself had been transformed as well, for now on the seal of the city sat a U-shaped table, around which sat the City Council. The Governor and the Administrator sat at the center of the table, each sitting below their avatar in the stained glass. The center seat was empty, and the Governor motioned toward it and said, “Sarai, take your seat, please, so we can begin.”
Mallory’s mother squeezed her daughter’s hand, and Mallory shuddered to think that it might be for the last time. Then the Matriarch walked around the right side of the table and took her place, head straight and shoulders squared.
The Administrator stood up and spoke loudly, “And so begins the trial of Mallory Knenne, daughter of the Matriarch, Chorus-christened, and destroyer of the Dikaió. The Administration intends to prove that through her actions she has brought irreparable harm to this city—”
A murmur erupted from the crowd outside as the Administrator’s words were relayed among the throngs. Mallory knew that the very idea that the leadership saw the loss of the Dikaió as “irreparable” confirmed the citizens’ worst fears: The Dikaió was not coming back.
The Administrator shouted to finish his opening statement, “—and as such, her actions are deserving of the city’s harshest punishment: Death.”
The crowd cheered, and Mallory steeled herself, stepping forward into the center of the City Seal to face the judgement of the Council.
The Administrator sneered at her and said, “No one on this Council is unaware of the crimes this girl has perpetrated. We’ve all felt the harm in our homes, in our businesses, even in our bodies as we tighten our belts due to hunger. Our protection from the light is gone. Even last night some of the beasts of the dark forest managed to evade the sprites and kill one of the cows in the pasturelands. Is there any reason we should not vote immediately to decide her fate?”
Suddenly the Chief Magistrate and a blue-uniformed magistrate burst into the entryway breathing hard: “Administrator!” the Chief Magistrate yelled.
The Administrator’s veins bulged in his forehead. “What is it, Daniel?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, father, but the market is on fire!”