When they emerged, Amy was mildly disappointed at the continued cloud cover: while her mundane vision seemed normal, a brighter light would be a true test. Still, she blinked several times, and her vision oscillated between mundane and mage in an odd kind of overlay. Even when she saw without the pull of color and pattern, the air itself looked alive in a way. It was so hard to explain, even to herself, that Amy wondered if she would have to write poetry to describe it in a medical journal.
Mira followed more slowly behind Amy and they both paused a few yards away from the car. Devin walked carefully around it, motioning for the driver to remain inside. Mira trusted that he knew what he was doing. “How do you feel?” Mira asked as they waited.
“Honestly, I think they helped a lot.” It was as close as Amy could come to admitting her mother had been right to bring her here.
Mira sighed, releasing the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. Thank God for the fae. But Amy still needed help understanding her new sense; if the fae couldn’t do more, there was only one other person she could think of. “I’m going to call Jonah.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Amy began to say, as the clouds parted and the sun started peeking through to illuminate the dirt of the parking area in a dappled pattern. Amy blinked, distracted; despite the strength of the light, she only saw one image with her mundane sight. She blinked again, and the air hummed in a sliding kaleidoscope of blue, silver, and orange, the car still visible beneath it. She smiled; perhaps this time, the risk had been worth it.
Devin motioned them closer, and the driver jumped out to open the door for them.
Mira got in first and took her unhackable cell phone from her bag. “You need a mage to help you understand how to deal with your new sight, and since Ted’s unavailable, Jonah will be able to help.”
Devin and Amy climbed into the limo. “You seem to have known the moss woman for a long time,” Amy noted.
“Belutha? Yes. I met her when I was quite young, actually,” Devin replied, but whatever he might have said next was interrupted by Mira’s telephone call.
“Hello, Jonah. It’s Mira,” Mira said.
“Mira, thank God it’s you!” Jonah’s voice sounded strained, and he spoke rapidly.
“What’s wrong?” Mira asked.
“Things are nuts around here. Ted and I are about to head to Boston to meet up with your daughter. I’ve been trying to reach you, but I think I had your old number.”
“Why are you coming out here to meet Amy?”
Devin and Amy both looked at Mira sharply. Mira made sure the partition was closed, then put her phone on speaker. Her days of secrecy with her daughters were over, and if she didn’t trust Devin, there wasn’t any way to keep Amy safe.
“The enclave knows that I’ve been feeding you information.” Jonah sounded harried. “But Tyrone said that it was as it should be — my bindings led me to you or made sure you knew what you needed to know for the benefit of the Danjou. I don’t know. But anyway, they’ve released Ted from house arrest and are sending him to Amy.”
“What? Why now?” Mira asked. “Is this some kind of revenge? Is he coming to hurt her?”
“No, no, no!” Jonah spoke quickly, and Mira wished she had Mike here to discern any lie in his swift denial. “The enclave needs Amy. Or at least they think they do. They’re sending Ted because she knows him. God, everything is happening so fast.” Mira could hear someone else, and there was a rustling on the line.
“Mira Bant de Atlantic, I’ll be honest with you. But I have to speak quickly.” The voice was deeper than Jonah’s, and more composed.
“Who is this?” Mira demanded, while Amy whispered, “It’s Ted.”
“I’m Theodore Riccie of the Danjou. I worked with your daughter on the recent vision restoration project. While Jonah seems intent on making everyone as paranoid as he is, please believe me: there is nothing that you need to worry about. We are merely coming to join Dr. Bant on her humanitarian mission to Arabia.”
“Her what?” Mira was perplexed. Amy shook her head and mouthed, “Later.”
Ted huffed, “We don’t have a lot of time right now. Jonah and I need to be at the airport in a few minutes. Ask Amy about it; the DoD has been working with Eli on the arrangements ever since that press conference she gave last month.”
The line went dead. Mira and Devin both looked at Amy. “When were you going to tell us about that?” Devin asked.
Alliances are the ties that bind the different sentient species together. While such ties have been generally beneficial, they have also been the primary means by which isolated territorial conflicts have erupted into global wars.
– Sirens: An Overview for the Newly-Transitioned, 3rd ed. (2015), by Mira Bant de Atlantic, p. 217.
Chapter 35
“Did you know the word ‘honeymoon’ came from southern Europe before the Atlantic War? Back then, the newlywed couple would be sequestered in their new home for the first month after their wedding. To encourage them to provide him with grandchildren, the groom’s father would deliver mead to their house every day.” Kyoko trailed her finger down Thomas’ chest as he stroked her hair and stared at the ceiling fan that whirled above them in a soft, slow rhythm. “The groom’s father made sure that no one bothered them. And they would just stay inside and make love for a whole month.”
“We need less interruptions and more honeyed wine,” Thomas murmured. “Traditions must be upheld.”
They had arrived in Brisbane a few days ago, only to be greeted with what they both considered an alarming amount of attention. Thomas had chosen Brisbane because it was reported to be a mundane city; most mages stayed close to the inland deserts and the major cities in the southeast.
According to the gossip on Kasos, if you stuck to the coasts, it was supposed to be pretty easy to come into Australia without attracting unwanted attention from the apartheid state. As mage constructs, sirens had a kind of in-between status in Australia: they weren’t required to register with a specific mage patron, but were expected to have an invited purpose to be there. They had planned to spend a little time getting oriented before Kyoko approached anyone official to apply for sanctuary.
But when they arrived, a mage delegation was waiting for them. Apparently, Kyoko’s sundering of Morgan le Fay’s geas had caused ripples (that was how the mages explained it) that echoed across the world. The Australian mages had triangulated their location, then tracked their flight from Africa.
So instead of staying in Brisbane, they were now in Canberra. Instead of relaxing anonymously on Australia’s famed beaches, they were about to attend a state dinner as the Cabal’s “honored guests.” Despite the Cabal’s relentless hovering, Thomas nevertheless felt infinitely freer than he ever had before. Only his concern for Kyoko’s safety kept him from recklessly telling their mage companions to get lost. Kyoko had been right about the geas. Thomas had never realized how unbearably heavy that binding had been. He was amazed that Kyoko had survived twenty years under her indenture, when she had known life without it.
“You get used to it,” Kyoko said, and shrugged. “But I’ll die before being bound again. Now that we are in Australia, I want to speak with their professors of vampirism.”
“After nineteen years of daily takings, Kyoko, I doubt Gerel’s tracking capabilities will fade anytime soon,” Thomas cautioned. “But I hope so.”
“I don’t care if I have to wait twenty years. Gerel’s time will come.” Kyoko smiled, and he thought she looked almost fae-like in her passion.
“I’m going to destroy her, Thomas. I should have realized much sooner that she would never let me live past my term: she taught me too much. It would have been too risky to let me go free. But she was stupid, and I want the Cabal’s professors to teach me all the counter-spells the Asian clans tried in their attempts to undo Chía’s masterwork. Then I’ll unravel the spell and break her apart slowly.”
Kyoko’s eyes glowed with an intensity that sca
red Thomas, but excited him too. That old rebel cry, “Give me liberty or give me death,” made a lot more sense to him now. Of course, Patrick Henry had been rebelling against the imposition of the enclave bindings on independent American mages, and not indentures or geases, but Thomas now understood that drive for freedom in a visceral way. Kyoko should have her revenge.
The Australians were bending over backward to give Kyoko whatever she wanted; if she asked to meet their foremost expert on vampirism, they would arrange it. “How long do you think they’ll keep us in Canberra?” Thomas asked.
“Maybe we can get them to agree we ought to go on a tour or something. I don’t think they’ll let us out all on our own, but at least we’d be able to get away from this city and all these events,” Kyoko replied.
It became crystal clear to Thomas within the first day of their arrival how much Kyoko hated the attention the Australian mages were paying to her. She had spent so many years hiding in Gerel’s shadow, he wasn’t surprised that Kyoko wanted to avoid notice. However, Thomas didn’t think she would ever come to enjoy being the center of attention; Kyoko wanted to be left alone to cast. Except for him, she didn’t seem to care for other people.
It was also clear when they arrived that some of the male mages could barely restrain themselves from assaulting him. Their hatred was just barely held in check by their fixation on Kyoko, and Kyoko’s clear demand that they treat him with respect. He needed a break from attending all the events the Cabal had invited Kyoko to, but Kyoko wanted — needed — him at her side. And Thomas would never abandon her.
Kyoko seemed to be gaining in magical strength at least. Her stamina was impressive. It had taken her days to recover from breaking her indenture, and he would have thought that breaking a blood geas laid by one of the greatest mages who ever lived would have laid her out for at least as long. But she had bounced back within hours.
“I’m sick of this,” Kyoko said. “I don’t want to be involved in more politics.”
“We can’t insult them, my love,” Thomas said, kissing her gently. While he could understand why the Cabal was interested in winning her over, the more they fawned, the more Kyoko retreated. “One more night, Kyoko. I promise. Just one more.” He would have to try something different at tonight’s dinner. He hated these affairs almost as much as she did.
“Fine. One more. But let them wait for us,” Kyoko said, kissing his stomach. Thomas gasped, inhaling sharply at her gentle touch, then stroking his hand down her shoulder and back to delight in her softness.
Their handler, as Thomas called the mage assigned as their liaison, met them in the lobby of the hotel, where they waited for the carpet. Wilhelmina was a tall, thin, stately mage, with deeply-lined black skin and an afro that haloed her head in a white puff.
Wilhelmina had brought them a variety of Australian fashions for their stay, and Thomas admired the way the silk dress clung to Kyoko, emphasizing her beauty without overpowering it. The clothes she brought for him were less inspiring, but he didn’t really care much about his appearance. Kyoko, on the other hand, had been outraged at the first set of clothing and insisted Wilhelmina bring something more suitable.
She’d initially refused to explain her reaction, then admitted that the garments included sigils only visible to mage sight. The apartheid regime required patronage of non-mages, but there were apparently degrees of patronage that ranged from near-slavery to a consort-spouse kind of class. By ensuring that Thomas fell within the latter status, Kyoko was affording Thomas protections under Australian law that he would not otherwise have had — mage construct or no. As an extension of Kyoko’s own self, he was essentially untouchable by other mages except through formal application to Kyoko.
Why any non-mage willingly traveled to Australia was beyond Thomas’ understanding; except that was exactly what he’d done. Perhaps there were other desperate souls here seeking safety from their own enemies at home. In any event, Thomas consoled himself, this would only be a temporary visit.
The carpet arrived in a smooth arc, and the driver somersaulted off with an acrobatic skill that Kadu would have been hard-pressed to emulate. Thomas was impressed, but Wilhelmina looked as impassive as ever. He wondered if she had just seen everything there was to see before, or whether she was simply highly skilled at hiding her reactions.
“You will be joining the four members of the Cabal who are in residence now, along with their partners, a few select ministers, and the Pacific delegate,” Wilhelmina explained as she gracefully swept her skirt aside to sit mermaid-style on the carpet, and beckoned them to follow.
Neither Kyoko nor Thomas had traveled by carpet before coming to Australia. The U.S. had prohibited them outright well before Thomas was born. While the Brazilian elite used them to avoid city traffic, Thomas preferred cars, where you were more hidden from view. But throughout Australia, Asia and Africa, flying carpets were the primary means of transportation.
This carpet was clearly a luxury vehicle, boasting spells that ensured a smooth, climate-controlled ride, and even an adjustable wind-shield. Their carpet rides had been the best part of their visit so far. Carpets were as exhilarating a means of travel as motorcycles, but much faster and more comfortable. Perhaps he would learn to operate one while they were in Australia.
When they first arrived, a Cabalist had met them, but had quickly handed them over to Wilhelmina. Both Kyoko and Thomas had been relieved. Kyoko said that the Cabalist looked at her the way Gerel did after a draining: satiated in an ugly way. And Thomas had kept a close eye on the Cabalist’s tightly clenched fists; he was holding back from killing Thomas — but just barely. So Wilhelmina was a relief, even if she were a bit reserved.
“Another siren will be attending the dinner? From the Pacific?” Thomas asked.
“Yes, Bo-Long has been an ambassador here for the past century. He is well-regarded by the Cabal.”
Thomas and Kyoko looked at each other. Wilhelmina was clearly trying to tell them something with that, but neither understood the import. The name sounded familiar, but Thomas had avoided politics as much as Cordelia had immersed herself in them. He couldn’t remember who Bo-Long was, and felt a wash of impotent anger at the prospect of another siren being in the same room as they were. No one would interfere with Kyoko’s love for him. If he were honest with himself, keeping Kyoko from other sirens had been one of the main reasons he’d agreed to come to Australia in the first place.
“Bo-Long has been here for a long time. I don’t know much about the sirens, especially those in the Pacific. It seems like a special favor to include us and him in such an intimate gathering.” Kyoko framed the question carefully, and Thomas thought he saw a glimmer of approval in Wilhelmina’s otherwise inscrutable expression.
“It is a high honor to attend one of the private dinners. There will be no more than twenty guests. The Pacifics are our closest allies; the Cabal has always had good relations with the sirens.” Wilhelmina actually smiled at Thomas; and while he smiled back, he felt his stomach contract in terror.
What had started as an intra-fae war had erupted into the Third Mage War after the losers of the territorial struggle over the Taiga sought new lands. The European mages and Atlantics became allies to withstand their invasion. While were-mage alliances were common — after all, Chía had constructed the weres for that very purpose — sirens had been constructed to aid the fae, and siren-mage alliances felt unnatural. Unholy even.
“I’m looking forward to meeting Bo-Long. He’s been here for most of Australia’s existence, and must have unique insights into your culture,” Thomas remarked, glad that Wilhelmina wasn’t a truth-teller like Mike to feel his lie.
“Yes, we thought you would enjoy meeting with him,” Wilhelmina replied, and Thomas again got the sense that everything about their trip to Australia was being staged and carefully curated.
They arrived at the main upper entrance of Parliament House, which had been built in the 1980s in an architectural style that was more
appealing to Thomas than the ornate, castle-like Atlantic House. Thomas smiled to himself at the irony of naming these state buildings “houses,” as if that appellation would somehow grant a sense of modesty to their massive grandeur.
Inside, the marble floor was inlayed in a black-and-white mage-pattern, the meaning of which Thomas couldn’t discern. He made a mental note to ask Kyoko about it later. He hopped off the carpet gracefully, swinging Kyoko down beside him. A servant extended his hand to Wilhelmina, who carefully slid off.
As the mage, Kyoko took precedence and Thomas continued to be impressed with her seamless imitation of the Australian style. Although she had never been out of Brazil, almost never out of Gerel’s presence even, she had carefully observed others at the endless stream of events they had attended, and keenly put her observations into practice. She placed her hand on his forearm, Thomas covered it reassuringly with his other hand, and they swept forward. So far the Australians had been stultifyingly formal, and Thomas felt himself wishing they had never left Atlantis.
Several soldiers stood guard around the large receiving area, perhaps a third of whom wore the black-on-black jacquard uniform that designated mages. The majority wore royal blue, signifying mundanes. All of the soldiers’ sleeves were embossed with the distinctive seven-pointed white stars of Australia, and all carried assault rifles. Thomas fixed an easy smile on his face, while praying silently that none of the guards would shoot him. But as they drew closer and he studied their faces out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that there didn’t seem to be a single man present; all the soldiers were female. That was an interesting courtesy.
Sirens Unbound Page 38
