"She doesn't," said Amelia with a sarcastic smile on her face. "She's making it up. Nobody knows the names of the galaxies. There are no records of any of them."
"Yeah, well, where I come from, we learned about the skies in science," I said and then added under my breath. "Not to mention, you can just Google it."
"Andromeda," Cornelius said as he turned back to the sky. "Placed in the sky by Athena to be near her husband, Perseus and her mother, Cassiopeia."
"You know all this?" asked Amelia.
"Of course," he said proudly. "Greek mythology always made an interesting read."
"Intelligent and handsome," said the First, making Cornelius blush with a mischievous smile. "Two qualities not often found together in men."
"I think Nicky's right," said Emma Lee, stepping in between Amelia and Cornelius. I could see the anger all over her face; everyone could. "We should go and see how Marshal is doing. All of us."
"Darling," Cornelius looked at her as if she were a child throwing a temper tantrum and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Please, calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down!" She pulled herself away from his touch. "You can stay here with her if you wish but the rest of us would like to go and see Marshal."
"I'm quite sure nobody else, besides Nicky and yourself..." he started.
"No, no," said Colonel Al. "The girls are both right. We'd like to see the boy."
"Yes," said Robert. "I think we owe it to Marshal after all he's done for us in the past few months."
"What do you mean?" Cornelius looked irritated with all of us. "He's done nothing for me."
"You can't be serious," I said. "Where do you think you've been living all winter? He opened up his home to all of us, something I'm not entirely sure he's too comfortable with."
"He didn't have to," he said.
"Holy crap, Cornelius!" I was trying to keep my voice level but I could feel it crackling as I got angrier. "Fine! Stay here! Amelia, where's Marshal? Just give me directions and I'll find it myself."
"No, no," she smiled. "I'm sure Reginald and Jonathon would love to take you." Two men stepped out of the shadows. I had no idea they were even there. I was so fascinated with the view and then the argument with Cornelius that I didn't even see them there. They looked a lot like official guards and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"Where's Cici?" I asked, looking around for the girl who had been our guide since we got there. "Why can't she take us?"
"Cici has other obligations," said Amelia. "Don't worry, Reginald and Jonathon know this house just as good as Cici, maybe even better. Boys?"
"Yes," said the one called Reginald. "The First is right, as always. Please, follow me." He headed for the stairway without looking back, confident that we would automatically follow. I looked at the colonel and saw the look of worry on his face. I could tell he was thinking the same as I was. This wasn't right; something was wrong.
"If you don't mind," Jonathon urged us by waving us forward with his hands.
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Robert asked Cornelius in a much kinder voice than I would have used.
"Maybe, in a bit," he said, his eyes already searching the sky for more planets. "I just want to look at it a little while longer."
"Whatever," I said and pulled Robert away. "Let's go."
We followed Reginald down the stairs and to the elevator that we had used when we first got there. Jonathon brought up the rear, making sure, I guessed, that none of us strayed away. I tried to talk to them but neither one would say anything except to say this way please, that way please. At least they were polite. There were no numbers in the elevator, just buttons so, when Reginald reached out and pushed one, I could only guess which floor we were going to. Basement from the way the elevator moved, which seemed a little odd. Why would they put Marshal way down in the basement?
We got out of the elevator and followed a long narrow corridor that kind of reminded me of the tunnels in the colonel's abandoned mine. There were bright lights placed every few feet so we could see where we were going, so it wasn't quite as claustrophobic as the mine. There were no doors. We turned right, went about ten feet then turned right again, twenty more feet, then left, down a flight of stairs, through another long corridor with fewer lights. Just where the hell did they put Marshal?
"This seems pretty far," I said. "Are you sure Marshal's way down here?"
"Almost there," said Jonathon. He was right. Another right turn and there it was; the end of the hallway. There were three doors; one on each side of the hall leading to who knew where and a big black door that waited ominously at the end of the hall.
"Is this it?" asked Emma Lee and I could hear the fear in her voice.
"Yes, your friend is inside," said Reginald. He pulled out a ring of keys, picked one and put it into the lock. He opened the door and waved us through. "Be careful; there're stairs so, watch your step."
Slowly we walked through the door and started down the steps. Robert went first and, therefore, got to see the jail cells before anyone else. He stopped and put both hands on the walls, blocking our way.
"Keep going!" Reginald didn't sound so friendly anymore.
"No, I don't think I will," said Robert and I could hear a bit of fear in his voice, something I had never heard in Robert's voice before. This scared me more than anything else.
"What's wrong?" asked Colonel Al.
"It's a trap," said Robert. "They're not taking us to Marshal! They're going to lock us up!"
"Trust me," laughed Reginald. "You'll see your friend."
"Robert?" It was Marshal! I could hear his voice and felt an impulse to run to him. "Is that you, you, you?"
"Marshal?" I yelled.
"Go!" Reginald pushed Emma Lee, who had been at the end of the line. She fell forward, causing us to tumble down the stairs like a row of dominoes. We were too heavy for Robert to block us and he fell hard down the last four or five steps. I heard a crack as his knee slammed into the floor. He screamed out in pain and tried to roll over but we had all fallen on top of him, making it impossible for him to move.
"Oh my god," I said. "Are you okay? I heard a crack. Was that your knee? Get off, everyone get up! Help Robert!"
"Your friend will be fine," said Reginald. "Now get up! You two, the men, get over there by the fire guy. The girls can go over there to the empty cell. Jonathon lock them in!" He got out his keys and started to unlock the cell that Marshal was in. I looked at Marshal and could see that he didn't look too good. He was pale and sweat was starting to form on his forehead. Colonel Al was helping Robert and I wondered why he wasn't putting up much of a fight then I saw what looked like a gun being pointed at him by Reginald. I looked at Jonathon and saw that he had one too.
"I think Robert needs to see your healer," said Colonel Al after we had been locked in our cells. "His knee is in bad shape. I think he busted his kneecap."
"I'll talk to the First," said Johnathon who, I decided, was a lot nicer than Reginald.
"Jon, let's go!" said Reginald. "She'll be expecting a report."
"What about Cornelius?" It was Emma Lee and I could hear the concern in her voice and I knew she still cared for him. "Will he be thrown in jail with us?"
"I think the First has other plans for him," Reginald laughed and nudged Jonathon in the side. Emma Lee put down her head and retreated to the back of the cell. I watched as the two guards made their way up the stairs and out the door. I heard the click of the lock and knew we were locked in.
"Well, I'll be damned!" I heard the pompous voice but I didn't want to believe it.
"What the hell?" I said as I looked through the bars to the cell across from us. There was a man in it all by himself.
"Well, look who just got an invitation to the party." My mind filled with a mixture of confusion and anger as Gregorius stared at us, a grin forming across his face.
Chapter 14
It took me a few minutes to adjust to the fact that Amelia had thr
own Gregorius into a cell. I knew he wasn't the most pleasant person in the world and that he broke a lot of rules by leaving the court, but he was her brother! Why would she put her own brother down here? I was so confused that my head was starting to hurt. I decided to start with something I could trust.
"Marshal?" I asked, turning to the cell right next to ours. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"
"No, no, no, Nicky," said Marshal who was sitting on a cot against the wall. "Amelia didn't hurt me. She just asked me a bunch of questions and then got mad at me and put me in here, here, here."
"What did she ask you?" asked Robert.
"She wanted to know how old I was," said Marshal, "where I came from, is there more like me, are they coming here. I didn't know, know, know how to answer her. Everything I said made her mad. She asked so many questions. I answered them best I could but she didn't like my answers. She got mad, mad, mad and got those guys to bring me here."
"Did she ask about the rest of us?" asked Colonel Al.
"Yeah," said Marshal. "She wanted to know how we all met, met, met. I don't think she understands the other world. I tried to explain it but she wasn't getting it. I..."
"I think your friend is tired," said Gregorius. "Maybe we should let him rest."
"And we should listen to you?" I blurted out without thinking.
"No," he said, "you don't have to listen to me. I just think that Marshal is still recovering from his wound and needs to rest. I know my sister and I can guarantee she wasn't very sympathetic to his pain when she questioned him. He should lie down and try to sleep."
"Marshal," I said. "He's right. You should lie down and try to rest. Maybe one of you can check his bandages. Robert, can you see if the stone is still in place. Maybe we can ask one of those men when they come back if they could bring Jeremiah to check him. That way he can look at Robert's knee at the same time."
"I don't think Jeremiah will come down here," said Gregorius and I heard a bit of the attitude slip back into his voice.
"Why not?" I asked. "He's the one who put the stone there in the first place."
"He's also the one who took it out," said Gregorius. I looked down at Marshal who was now lying on his side.
"That's right, right, right," said Marshal. "He came down here and took out the stone and put new bandages on."
"Well, maybe, you don't need the stone anymore," I said, trying to grasp at something good. "He changed the bandages, didn't he?"
"He changed the bandages so I wouldn't bleed all over and get everything dirty," said Marshal as he closed his eyes. "He didn't want to clean up the mess if I died."
"What the hell?" I said, not understanding what was happening. I thought Jeremiah was nice and wanted to help us.
"Confused, are you?" asked Gregorius and I could still hear sarcasm in his voice.
"A little, yeah," I said. "Why are you locked up? What did you do? Does your sister hate you that much?"
"Is that what she told you?" asked Gregorius. "That she hated me?"
"Maybe," I said. I was confused by the way he scoffed at his sister.
"Did she also tell you that I killed our father?" he asked. "Or, maybe, she just planted me here to get information about the Fire People from you; find out how many more are coming. I mean, you brought one of them here, you should know shouldn't you? Didn't Faelen tell you anything?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"What's to explain?" he asked. "You guys brought him here, therefore, you guys should know how many more will come and when. But the truth is that you don't know, do you? You're just as clueless as dear old sis'."
"What?" Colonel Al was on his feet and staring through the bars at Gregorius.
"I know I'm right," he smiled. "You don't know how many more are coming; you didn't even know that Fire People existed before you came here. For the longest time, you didn't know this place existed."
"How do you know that?" asked the colonel.
"I know a lot about you guys," he said. "More than you know about me."
"Why don't you tell us then?" I asked. "And what did you mean about your father? What really happened to him? Is he really dead?"
"Oh, yes, according to my sister, he is very dead," Gregorius got up from his cot and made his way over to the bars so we could see him a little better. "But not before I tried to save him first."
"Save him?" I asked. "From who?"
"From Amelia, of course," he said and waited for our response.
"Your telling us that Amelia killed your father?" asked Robert who had left Marshal resting on the cot.
"Not her, personally," said Gregorius. "But she did send me after him with soldiers to finish the job."
"But why?" I asked. "What did your dad do?"
"Nothing," said Gregorius and then his face changed. It became serious, almost solemn. There was no trace of the sarcastic jerk he seemed to enjoy hiding behind. "My father's only crime was having the blood of a lesser."
"Ah, yes," I said, remembering how he talked about the people here. "The blood of a lesser. How could he be so inconsiderate? You know, blood doesn't make you who you are. Blood is just chemical. You make you who you are."
"He was not a Huxley," Gregorius said.
"I'd consider that a good thing," I said.
"To the Huxleys, blood means everything," he smiled and I couldn't help feeling angry about what he said. He seemed surprised that I found this offensive. "Oh, come on, Nicky! Surely, you're aware that people are treated differently because of the blood that runs through their veins. Many have been slaughtered for having the wrong blood."
"I know," I said, "but not everybody..."
"We did it," Emma Lee interrupted. I didn't know she was behind me. I thought she had gone to sit on the cot. I turned to her as she spoke. "My family, I mean. Before I fell, my mother and father owned a plantation. We owned coloured slaves, not as many as others but we did have them."
"See?" Gregorius pointed at Emma Lee as she proved his point.
"You did?" I asked. Emma Lee nodded and I felt a chill run through me. I'd heard so much about the southern States during the days of slavery but they'd only been stories in books or in movies. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever think I'd meet someone who actually owned slaves. "You didn't...beat them, did you?"
"My father did," Emma Lee said. "Mama didn't want me talking to them so, I would watch them from my bedroom. Every morning I would get up and go to my window. It was still dark but I could see them out in the field already, working. I envied them."
"You envied them?" I asked.
"Yes. I was jealous of all the time they got to spend with each other," she stated simply. "I didn't know they had no other choice; that they were forced to all live in one place. I didn't know they couldn't leave; I just thought they didn't want to. I saw them; men and women working side by side and their children running around, helping in any way they could. I thought they were families happily working together. I thought they were having fun."
"You see, I never got to see my father," she continued. "He worked all day and sometimes half the night. When he did come home, I wasn't allowed to talk to him. I had to leave him alone. I saw him for one hour every week; in church where I had to sit still and keep quiet. He never hugged me or laughed with me or played with me. I had no idea if he even loved me. My mother was no better. She was always busy with the neighbours or lying in bed sick with some kind of ailment. She found my constant questions annoying and told me not to let silly things clog my mind and sent me off to play by myself. I was fascinated with the slaves and their love for each other. So, when my mother and father ignored me, I would go down to the fields and pretend I was part of their family, playing with the children I watched from my window. That's how I know my father beat his slaves."
"What happened?" I asked.
"It was a sunny afternoon in late August. My mother had been setting preserves with some of the ladies from church. I was nine and running in and out of the kitchen
chasing a cat. My mother lost her patience with me and sent me outside, away from the house. I went to play with the slave children. We hadn't had any rain for two weeks and the ground was starting to crack. I remember feeling so hot and sweaty from playing with a boy named Dar. I always played with Dar. He was my age and we both loved cats. One of the adults saw my father coming down from the house and told me to hide before he got there. Everyone knew how angry my parents would be if they knew I played there. Dar accidentally knocked over a bucket full of water that was there for the workers to drink. My dad was angry but didn't say anything. Instead, he took out a whip from his coat and slashed the boy five times across his bare back and twice across his face. I couldn't believe it. Dar never cried but one of the women did and glared at my father."
"What did he do?" I asked.
"He left the bucket," said Emma Lee and I could see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "He told the workers they would have no water that day. It was so hot and he wouldn't let any of them get a drink all day. I later heard that one of the older women collapsed from the heat. She died later that night. My father never knew I was there. I stopped playing with the children after that. I couldn't face them. I was so ashamed of my father and my mother for keeping these people bound to our land; working to benefit my family. I later learned that they weren't happy families. In fact, they weren't families at all, none of them were related to each other. It was common for plantation owners to split up families, even separating children from their mothers. They believed they could get better servitude out of them without the distraction of their families. I hated my mother and father after that and I have never missed them, not once, since the day I fell." She finished her story and wiped her eyes as she recounted the memories of that day.
"I had no idea," I said.
"Nobody does," she said. "That's the first time I've told anyone about it. So, yes, Mr. Second I do know how people can be treated differently because of what is or isn't in their blood."
"See how much bloodlines mean to those who care?" Gregorius said.
"I know but," I started, "Jeremiah told us it was you who didn't like your dad because he was from the lessers. He said you blamed your father for your mother's death because he wasn't a Huxley. He said that's why she got sick and died. That's not true?"
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