by Gin Hollan
Melanie mumbled something from under the blankets on the other bed.
"I don’t know, but your friend woke up last night? Is that why she's inside?" Mabel started slowly, hesitating.
"Yes, and no, Mabel. Now tell me the real reason we’re taking you to Owen."
"We need to change our identities and leave the country. Mom says that's the only way to escape the family."
"You're not free to come and go as you like?"
"I was born to the family, so they say I belong with them. My dad died and the family doesn’t trust us to keep their secrets. And she wants me to be free. This was the only way."
"Are any of these secrets about a man named Tanner Stein?"
Mabel’s head shot up and she stared wide-eyed at Arabeth.
“Is another secret about a functional automaton?”
Mable nodded slowly.
“You won’t get in trouble for telling someone like me, Mabel.”
She shrugged. “They’re not supposed to work anymore. They need a Seer to run them, and all Seers are loyal to the king. That man found a way to make one work, without a Seer. There’s a device he calls a controller. He talked about starting his own army.”
“I can guess which side of that army you and your mother are on.”
“Mother says he’s crazy. We’re going to warn the king.”
“The good news is, Tanner Stein is dead.”
“He is? Really?” She looked hopeful, then shook her head. “It won’t matter. My mom says he is part of a group.… That it's more than a political thing.”
Arabeth waited, hoping the silence would prompt the girl to elaborate.
“My mom will know how to find them, and says I need to ask fewer questions. We have to get her to the king before that pistol puts holes in her memory.”
“I see.” Arabeth started to wonder what she’d been pulled into. This was not your normal runaway bride.
She walked over to where Melanie slept and gave her shoulder a light shake. "Come on, Mel, we need you to walk out of here on your own two feet. Naptime is over." As she removed her hand, an electrical static charge shot out six inches then radiated out around Melanie. "Is this your way of saying no? We have a job to do—an important one. You can sleep in the wagon. I'll buy you a pillow, even." This was crazy stuff, like they were using people as a conduit. That would be crazy, Arabeth thought.
Melanie mumbled something, then tried to sit up. The static field still surrounded her.
"Try harder, Mel, or shut that electricity off so I can help you up."
Melanie sighed and the static dissipated.
"Good. Let's get you on your feet now." Arabeth took Melanie's elbow and used it to guide her up and around the bed, toward the door.
"Mabel, be a dear and get the door, would you?" she said.
They made their way down to the bottom of the stairs with a bit of patience. The odd sight turned a few heads, and more eyes.
"Melanie, you do this every year. Can’t you find a better way to mourn your parents?" Arabeth lied loudly when she noticed people looking over and the odd one staring.
It hadn't occurred to her they might be staring because they looked foreign. How many of them understood her? Her mouth felt like sand as this sank in.
"We’d better leave, fast," she said.
Wobbling as they hurried, Arabeth realized she’d left her pack behind. "Mabel, go back up and get my pack, please, then meet us out back, by the wagon.”
The girl hesitated.
“Don’t worry—we’ll wait for you."
Mabel nodded and ran back upstairs. Melanie stumbled slightly, but Arabeth encouraged her out the door. As they made their way around to the back, Arabeth paused. Sam stood talking with two strangers, both in military-style uniforms. All three looked to be deep in conversation, but one of the men glanced when Arabeth rounded the corner.
Had they discovered Mabel’s mother? And now Arabeth was all but dragging another woman out of an inn. If that didn't look suspicious, nothing did. How would he explain? She stopped long enough to catch her breath. Melanie was a bit heavier than she looked.
Mabel came running around the corner, nearly running into them both. That got the attention of all three men.
She’d better sharpen up, she chided herself. Hopefully Sam had gained enough trust that they’d believe whichever story he had cooked up. She walked over to join the conversation, or interrupt it, whichever needed to happen.
The two men were tall, like the people in the gypsy camp, and their posture smacked of faked ease. Running wouldn't be an option. Urging Melanie forward, she walked her to the wagon.
"They caught a virus somewhere. I can't put a finger on what it is, but they sleep all the time. We're heading to Owen right now, to a specialist." Sam's words were strong enough, foreign enough, and strange enough that the two men both took a step back before realizing they had and readjusting their stance back to something more neutral.
"And the girl?" the other one asked.
"She's the daughter of the one in the wagon," Arabeth said.
"And you are?" the taller of the two asked.
"She's my wife," Sam said, smiling. “Arabeth. We really need to get going. The day will be hot.”
"I think we'll wait until the captain gets here," one of the men said.
"Can I at least help this one into the wagon?" Arabeth asked.
The other officer nodded.
"As family, we are morally obligated to get them medical attention. We hope it's not contagious, but truthfully, we're not doctors."
The taller one took another step back. Glancing at the other man, he shrugged.
"Dennis, you go with them. I'll wait for the captain," he said to the shorter one.
"That won’t work. I have other business to attend to here. Just follow at a reasonable distance, to make sure they get where they need to go," he replied.
“Arabeth, you go while we sort this out,” Sam said, waving one hand dismissively at her.
Taking Sam's cue, she helped Melanie into the back, followed by Mabel, and then went to snap the rope and lead line onto the horse. Arabeth hoped Melanie didn't do anything electrical like she’d done in the room before they got down the road and out of sight. There was no doubt the guards would know what that meant. Where was Graham? If he was still sleeping after the doors had been knocked on, that was his own fault.
From the corner of her eye, Arabeth caught the silhouette of a short, middle-aged man hastening toward them from near the inn. Graham. He walked briskly up and withdrew the gun from under his coat, jamming it lengthwise into her side.
"Take this. Nothing is worth jail time," he said.
Arabeth took the pistol, relieved. "We don't know if they're against the law here," she whispered.
"Is Hicks back with those guards?" he asked, using Sam's last name.
"Yes, and he'd better hurry—I don't plan to dawdle."
As they walked on, Arabeth let the horse slow to a more ambling pace, sympathy for the beast generated by complaint from her own sore feet. Hers were apparently city boots, she conceded.
Their current supplies should last them a week, if they were spare in their consumption ... but then there was Mabel, and her unconscious mother.
The mother…. What was her name? If she knew it, she'd forgotten. Arabeth would have to ask. Either way, they'd have to help the two get to the safety of the contact waiting for them in Owen. Then they could head east. They might get lucky and discover one of the underground rail areas. Would they all look like a strange architectural challenge, such as the one back in Blastborn? Should she share that secret with Sam and Graham, or was that something that would bite her in the butt when she got home? Somehow, nothing got easier the more she thought about it.
// Chapter 8 //
SAM HADN'T CAUGHT up and it was starting to bother Arabeth. They'd walked into the evening. What could be taking him so long? The edge of the city was in sight when she called for anot
her stop.
"Let’s rest 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. I found an old textbook in a dusty corner of that inn and we're not just on the wrong side of the mountain—we're on the wrong side of history. Our ancestors are blamed for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people."
Arabeth refused to react. 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 initially 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," Graham said.
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 giveaways, 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 Mabel pretended to sleep at her mother's side. Good, she smiled. Opening her backpack, she pulled out an oilskin 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 stop 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 us for things our ancestors did. Let's keep that crystal clear." Her abrupt appearance through the rear flap of the wagon was made 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?'“ Sam bit back, rolling his eyes. “Smart."
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," Sam replied.
Arabeth shook her head and walked away.
"I'm not exactly saying we leave those two to fend for themselves, Arabeth,” Sam said as he walked to catch up.
"How about you take Graham and hitch a ride home?" she called back, walking to where she'd tied the horse. “I have enough to think about without the whining.”
"I'm not kidding. Yes, we need to help these two," he insisted. “But we also 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 was the one who agreed to get them to Owen. Not you. Go if you want to.”
"Let's go around the city. That'll give the woman time to wake again. She may have a plan B," Sam suggested.
"Sure … I like that. I think that’s our best choice," Graham said.
Out-voted and out-manoeuvred, Arabeth acquiesced. Why couldn’t they just head for home and leave her to do this?
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, through short 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. Tur
n left to the city, or right, to wherever 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 cornstarch, 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 the underbrush towards them, breaking a path as they went. Not exactly wilderness-trained, Arabeth thought with a grimace. But then, what did she know of that? Books had given her what knowledge she had on the topic.
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.
"Sebastian is thrilled you've chosen this route. Welcome," she said. When no one responded, she tilted her head to the side. "We can help with your sleeping people, if that’s of interest to you." 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. I am here to extend an invitation—we have medicine, food, and shelter for a day or two, if you want it.” When no one responded, she smiled. “We can help with your sleeping passengers.”
