by Gin Hollan
// Chapter 8 //
Sam hadn't caught up and it was starting to bother Arabeth. They'd walked into the evening. What would be taking him so long? The edge of the city was in sight when she called for another stop.
"Let’s stop again," she said.
"You're waiting for Sam," Graham stated. "Let's just push forward. He's a cop. He'll find us."
Stubbornly, Arabeth sat down on her heels and gave Marble a snack instead. "There is safety in numbers," she tried to keep her voice calm, but knew there was an edge to it, nonetheless.
He scowled. "We're not safe here, even with him. We will never be safe here. Do you know what I overheard last night?"
She stood and faced him. "Gossip and fear-mongering, I'll wager."
"People at the inn have accurately guessed where we're from. They also say our ancestors were trapped behind the mountain as part of an exile agreement. We're not just on the wrong side of the mountain. We're on the wrong side of history. We're blamed for the death of hundreds of thousands of people."
Arabeth froze. There was a ring of familiarity in what he said. A vague memory of a page-long note in one of her grandfather's journals had mentioned an exile, and a catastrophe. It didn't say who was behind it, but they'd have to be more careful than she'd thought if it was true. Still, they had a job and she never backed out of an agreement once made.
"What are you saying, then? Abandon this girl and her unconscious mother?" she asked.
Graham turned away, mouth clamped shut, and started walking up the road.
When Arabeth didn't follow, he turned back. "Well?”
“Sam should be here by now.”
“I'm not waiting here to die with him."
She had to shut him up before his anxiety rubbed off on her.
"Wasn't it you who said the ones responsible for the incursion had to be found and brought to justice? Where are your principles now, Graham?"
He startled at her words as though slapped. Surely, his thoughts would clear now... once he realized the dichotomy.
Arabeth took in a long breath. "Fine, let's walk on."
He made a face as he turned and marched up the road.
"And try not to look suspicious," she tacked on. “If you can't stop from blowing everything up in your mind, try math. Mentally calculate prime numbers out to a thousand or something," she said, using a lighter tone.
She could see him thinking his options out. It would only be a matter of time before he broke away completely. Yes, his news was distressing, but no one actually knew their identities. They'd need a cover story - a reason for their unusual appearance and speech. A reason they were here, now. Maybe they could learn of a place they might also be from. If their location and direction of travel were the biggest give-aways, they'd have to change that perception.
They travelled another hour before Arabeth slowed. This stop was less about letting Sam catch up and more about checking on the passengers. She walked the horse to a tree and wrapped the lead rope on a high branch. She lifted the corner and peered inside. Two remained asleep, and Mable pretended to sleep at her mother's side. Good, she smiled. Opening her backpack, she pulled out an oil skin and slowly dripped water into each mouth, watching to make sure they swallowed.
At the crunch of boots on gravel she turned and saw Sam approach. A wash of relief hit her, softening her knees slightly.
"What news have you?" she smiled brightly, hoping he would keep the bad parts to himself. Later, fed and rested, they could talk and scheme.
"There's a fair bit, but what's of interest to me most keenly is that there is no policing system out here. It's nothing like what we're used to."
"Seriously?" Graham said, having walked back to see what Arabeth was doing.
"Indeed. It is more of a network of private security companies, subsidized by the government based on quotas and a point system."
"So, we're actually safe?" Graham said.
"Oh no," Sam laughed. "We have never been in this much trouble. They work on a point system... imagine what foreigners without travel permits are worth."
Graham's face paled.
"I used my Blastborn identification to say I've been tracking a fugitive, but you two... well, three... you're another matter."
"So, if we're the fugitives you're tracking down, would you get us locked up here and shipped home?" Graham wondered, veiled hope in his eyes.
Sam shook his head. "Like I was saying, there is no unified system of criminal governance."
"But they could arrange transport and 'we' could pay, right? They'd send us home?" Graham continued. “It was your idea to step passage through the cave.”
"The explosives were your idea, to get you free of the cave and out of your contract," Melanie snapped, making them all jump and turn. "Arabeth's plan was piggy-backed on it, to save us from criminals bent on punishing is for things our ancestors did. Let's keep that crystal clear." Her abrupt appearance through the rear flap of the wagon was all the more shocking by the faint blue glow around her. "Now, move. Nature is calling." She dropped softly out onto the ground then bounded up and off, oddly light on her feet.
"Graham," Arabeth said, although they were all watching Melanie disappear into the woods. "If we're tagged here as criminals, what do you think will happen when we arrive back home, where there is a unified criminal justice system?"
"That's enough about that for now. I have an idea how to use their lack of a system to get us home, but did anyone else find that odd?" Sam asked.
"She'll be back, right?" Arabeth asked.
The other two shrugged.
"Back to our actual problem," Graham said, turning to face them. "It raises a point. Can we simply board a train and go home, or at least to our own country?"
"I'm just hoping it's not a walled city," Arabeth said. “Life will be much simpler if we can come and go without some guard rattling a saber.”
"You have identification. Ask someone," Graham said to Sam.
"Yes, that will work. 'Hello, random citizen. I realize we're your sworn enemy, but where can I catch a train deeper into your country?' Smart," Sam bit back, rolling his eyes.
Melanie came back from the woods, looking calm and a little less sleepy. At least she was self-navigating again.
"Fine, smart guy. What's your plan?" Graham said.
"We should skip cities, for now."
Arabeth shook her head and walked away.
"I'm not saying we leave those two to fend for themselves, Arabeth,” he followed after her.
"How about you take Graham and hitch a ride home?" she called back, walking back to where she'd tied the horse.
"I'm not kidding. We need to find another way to help these two," he insisted. “But we need to be smart about it.”
"Melanie, are you in the wagon?" Arabeth called out.
"I'm in," Melanie said, sounding half-asleep.
"Guys, I'm open to suggestions," Arabeth said as she started down the road again. “But I agreed to get them to Owen. Not you. Go if you want to.”
"Let's go around the city. That'll give the woman another longer chance to wake up. She may have a plan B," Sam suggested.
"I like that. I vote for that idea," Graham said.
Out-voted and out-manoeuvred, Arabeth acquiesced. It would be better if Heather was awake when they left her, and recovered from laying still so long. That was worrisome.
She handed Sam the lead rope. “You lead, then.” There was no one solution to make them all happy, but this was a compromise. And Graham was smiling. Should that make her nervous? Arabeth shook her head. Paranoia wouldn't help anything.
// Chapter 9 //
A thin layer of cloud kept the sun from hitting them directly as it moved up in the sky. Walking like this, among the trees, along strange roads as they rose and fell... it was beautiful, but wearying.
Arabeth was certain the blisters on the back of her heels had burst and were now rubbing raw skin. Maybe Mabel would want to walk soon.
> Their first decision came quickly as the road went to a T junction. Turn left the city or right, to where ever that took them. Arabeth didn't stop to ask, turning the horse and wagon toward Owen. She guessed Sam went along because it was the right thing to do, and that Graham had decided he'd get home faster by train.
Arabeth was hoping they could travel counter-clockwise, bringing them closer to home but still getting their assignment done. She would be happy just to see civilization again. Limping along was getting more painful. Sam noticed when she stopped and pulled a boot off, checking her heel.
"Let me help you up into the wagon. You shouldn't be walking, if it's causing you pain."
"It might be better to walk barefoot a while," she said. There were already enough bodies in the wagon.
"You'll slow us all down considerably," Graham grumbled.
"If we find a place that sells corns starch, I'll be fine. I could powder the boot and get a heel wrap. Or buy sandals. It's warm enough here." Cornstarch would temporarily help with the lack of bathing, too, she thought to herself. Her hair didn't need to be cleaned yet, but it would.
"Until then, you need to get off your feet," Sam insisted.
A glimmer caught Arabeth's eye through a narrow gap in the trees to their right. A horse and rider came weaving through, towards them, directly where there wasn't a road.
As the rider pulled to a stop, she drew her hood back. A middle-aged woman with sharp features and pale skin smiled at them.
"We've been waiting. The Master is thrilled you've come," she said. When no one responded, she tilted her head to the side. "We can help with your sleeping people, if you want it." The woman's bearing was confident, as though she were accustomed to being a leader.
“Are you from Owen?” Arabeth asked.
The woman laughed. “No, we like our sunlight. We have medicine and food, shelter for a day. Please do not deny us the pleasure of your temporary company. It really is dull out here.”
"How will we get the wagon through the trees?" Mabel asked, sticking her head out the canvas of the back flap.
"Ah, there's the girl," the woman said, sliding off her steel grey mount and leaving it standing where it was. Arabeth looked closer. It was... actually... made of steel, she realized. It was disguised to look like a horse in barding, but it was hairless and the breathing motion could be attributed to the internal machinery, Arabeth surmised.
"Yes, it's fabricated. Sebastian said you've never seen an automated horse," the woman smiled, seeming pleased that her interest was peeked. "Rare... and expensive, but Sebastian thought it was worth the risk in order to get here quickly. He also predicted you would not be able to resist, once you saw."
"It is a curious thing," Arabeth said, stepping a little closer. She was intrigued, but inexplicably offended that they thought it could replace a real horse. She shook her head, refusing to give in to the base emotion. It was a machine that walked. That was worth learning about.
"Let's get you all over to the keep. Sebastian and the others are keen to meet you."
Arabeth looked to see Sam and Graham's reactions to the situation. Sam shrugged and Graham nodded, eyes glued to the mechanized horse.
"You've mentioned Sebastian twice now. What is his interest in us?" Sam asked.
"Oh, right. He's the owner of a large portion of the land out here, a minor Lord of this country, but more than that, he's an inventor. That should intrigue half of you. I'm here because he wants to talk with Heather before you take her on, but more than that, he wants you to stop shooting her. Graham..." she looked until she found him. "He has a way for you to get home, and... what else did he say?" she trailed off into thought, tapping the tips of her fingers one by one on her thumb. "I give up. You can find out what else he wants to talk about when we get back."
How did this man know their names and what they'd been doing? While the mechanized horse felt pointless, this felt invasive. “I would say yes, but we need to get going our own way,” she said, leaning down to pull her boot back on, wincing and pulling it back off.
"This is better than going to Owen,” Mabel said. "We should go."
"It's not far. You can't see the path from here, but there's a turn coming up," the woman said. She looked at Arabeth, standing with one boot in her hand. "And I think you'd like to ride the mount."
Arabeth's stomach lurched. Horses she knew... but how did you control a mechanized one?
"It runs like a regular horse, but without all the... unpredictability."
"That's alright. I prefer the real thing," Arabeth hesitated. “I'll ride in the wagon, if someone else wants to lead the horse. It would be a relief to ride instead of walk, and it was good that Sebastian's messenger spoke as though Heather were an old friend.
The woman stood, chatting with Mabel now, clearly not in a hurry.
"Mabel, what do you say?" Arabeth asked, hoping for clarity.
"I have heard stories, from my mother. I think he's good," she said.
She was a little more blunt than Arabeth expected, but to the point. That was good.
"Then, let's meet... I'm sorry, what's your name?" Why did the people over here never introduce themselves? She sighed.
"I am Grace Eleanor Kinzy. We can talk about me later, if you want. Now, let's get this procession started," she flourished toward the mechanized horse.
The motion grated on Arabeth's nerves. Was Miss Kinzy being condescending, or was it a matter of personal style? It didn't matter. In a few hours they'd be on their way. At least she'd be off her feet.
Without Arabeth walking slowly, they made good time getting to the castle. Arabeth could feel her priorities shifting as she rode the strange metal horse. Its motion was smooth. Navigated as though it could read her mind. What wonders had they missed, being isolated behind that mountain? When she may have otherwise been tempted to go home at their first opportunity, she now questioned that goal.
It really was a Castle. she'd never seen one, except in pictures. Somehow, this one wasn't quite as grand. It was... small. The grey stone structure did stand on a slight rise, like a man with a shoe insert to make him seem taller. It was taller than wide, as well, with four stories high, with parapets, slit windows, and a broad moat.
None of those were note-worthy, she decided. It was the three-stack chimney rising up twice the height of the castle that made her pause. No furnace that would fit that space needed three chimneys.
Right now, only two of them had smoke coming out. The new information and it's potential benefit to the people back home was starting to make this trip look like it was Providence, not Purgatory. If the horse hadn't made her mind up, this just might.
She jumped off the wagon a little more enthusiastically than her heel could tolerate but followed her yelp with a smile. "I'm fine." She shrugged it off as a lesser concern.
As they neared the entrance, Grace turned and held her hands up to stop them.
"I should let you know, Sebastian is more than a little different. His Transition was traumatic. Let me assure you - he is brilliant and as kind a human as you will ever meet, once you get past the roughness of it's presentment. You will want to stare and he will be polite enough to ignore it. As a favour to me for bringing you here, I would appreciate it if you didn't or stop when you catch yourself. Here, you will find food and shelter, and if an agreement can be reached, employment. The choice will be yours."
Grace turned around and pulled a long rope that hung down beside the door. A large bell rang from overhead.
"Does this all seemed a little too good to be true?" Sam leaned over to whisper in Arabeth's ear.
She shrugged. "You shouldn't expect a crook around every corner, you know. Not everyone is a mercenary."
"Nothing comes easy - there is usually a price to pay," he said.
"We'll keep our eyes open, to both possibilities." They hadn't had a proper rest in days and they could all use a moment's peace. Sam's apprehension broke through to the more rational side of Arabeth's mind
. What better opportunity for someone to take advantage of them? What if his goal was related to Melanie? He had been observing them. For how long and how?
The large gate opened and they walked in. There was something of a courtyard in the front area, but it was littered with bits and pieces of equipment and crates. Creative minds benefited from routine, but the chaos was probably a part of his. It was either that, or a large animal had run amok several days in a row.
"Welcome, my friends. Come in and find your ease." A tall, thickly built man with an unusually graceful gait walked towards them, arms out and smiling. "I am excited to meet other creatives. We are a rare breed - one that many consider extinct or irrelevant."
Arabeth couldn't help staring, even after Grace's request. Not because he was deformed in anyway. Quite to the contrary. The man was the male equivalent of an amazonian. His eyes bespoke a passion and fire that she'd only dreamt of. If Grace was his subject, it was more likely she was a thrall.
"Miss Barnes has rubbed a heel raw, Sir."
"By all means, take her to Carol," he waved them off.
"Creatives? Does he mean inventors?" Arabeth asked Grace as they walked. "Or is that what he calls Makers?"
"Makers?" Grace paused. "Well, Maker is not entirely equilateral, but it'll do. Creatives are less direct in their methodology."
"You've put some of thought into the boundaries on this."
"It helps frame understanding." Grace shrugged.
"Speaking of understanding, are there any taboo subjects, things we should not do or say?"
“Nothing comes to mind,” Grace frowned. "I guess you'll find out."
"That's moderately unsettling. We'll avoid the usual topics then."
Grace laughed. "I'm joking. We all learn as we go. First, we want you healed. Then, we want you to walk the crystal field out back."
"We did that already."
"Oh, these crystals are all still young. Sebastian brought shards from the cliff field. Most fields were destroyed over a hundred years ago, and now that people are becoming complacent again, they are only now starting to show power.”
