by Gwynn White
"Shut up. You know what I mean."
* * *
It took them a while to get back to the horses they stole and circle around. "Riding horses is hard," Crispin said. He could tell he was gonna be hurting tomorrow.
"Doesn't seem hard to me."
"You're so big that horse looks about ready to tip over."
"It's fine." Charlie patted the horse's neck. "I heard that they get foamy at the mouth when they're tired. His mouth looks good."
"Heh," said Crispin, "A cowboy as well as an Inventor."
Charlie seemed pleased with himself.
By the time they found a place to tie the horses and climbed up to the hills on the other side, the sun was low in the sky. But it shone right on the gate, and there were the men. "I see two men, and a guard house," Crispin said. "There might be more inside."
Charlie nodded. "Sounds good. Let's go, before someone notices their horses are missing."
Blocker walked Wheelcard territory with a pad and pencil in hand. Where were the fences? Where were the walls? Where would they need to build barricades and where would they get the supplies for them?
Pretty much nothing happened during Yuletide — most shops were closed, and the zeppelin only ran once a day. It would be hard to get anything shipped in before the New Year.
But they could steal stuff.
Later that night he borrowed his brother's steam automobile and drove around in the rain looking for construction sites that weren't guarded.
He was looking at one when a guy walked right in front of him. Blocker slammed on the brakes. "Hey!"
A man came up to his window; Blocker rolled it down. "You lost?" Then the man laughed. "Blocker Goolsby. You wouldn't be looking for something to steal, now, would you?"
"Not at all," Blocker said.
"You got a mighty nice automobile here. It'd be a pity if something were to happen to it."
"It's not mine, so I need to go return it."
The man gestured with his chin, and the other man moved away from the front of the car. "Go return it then. But if I see it again I might not be so nice next time."
Blocker got out of there as fast as he could, but not before a big chunk of mud went splat! on the back of his brother's car.
Chapter Fifteen
December 21st
Acevedo let out a contented sigh. After eleven days of parties, food, and drinking you'd think it would get repetitive, but it never did. The room was full of his friends and family. He had his feet up on an ottoman, a drink in his hand, and here came the birthday cake. Half of his family were winter children, and so was Katherine, so there was lots of cake to go round. He grinned. Plus eleven days of Yuletide still to come.
"Uncle Acevedo," his little niece Donna said, "would you tell me a story?"
"Don't bother your uncle," his sister Cirulla said. "It's his birthday."
"It's my birthday too, Mama," she replied. "I want a story."
He put down his cake and drink. "Come here, sweet girl," Acevedo said, taking her onto his lap. "What story do you want?"
Donna said, "Bellicola and the Dragon."
"Ah, that's a good one."
His brother Cavallo, sitting next to him in another chair, glanced over. "You'll make a good father one day."
Cavallo was just two years younger than Acevedo, but he had eight children. His oldest son Roman was twenty and getting married soon.
Acevedo looked down at the little girl nestled in his arms, and he held her close, feeling a great surge of affection for her. Since Liza's death, he'd never even considered if he might be a good father. But now? Maybe I would.
The Cathedral hummed with activity — lines of families bringing children for their Blessing, food cooking for the feasts, gift exchanges in the back room. Helena stood in the doorway to the vast main hall, surveying what the Dealer wrought.
A bountiful windfall to strengthen us to face the winter to come.
Activity on all fronts had quieted. Several thousand had been turned out of their homes right before Yuletide, yet the expected outcry never appeared. Reports showed these exiles were widows, elderly, living alone for years, without family or friends to either help or wonder where they had gone.
We've failed them. The Dealers should have identified these people and at least offered the women an invitation to join them. But it was too late now. She returned to her office and added outreach to the women in these camps into her planning.
Every bit of the Cathedral's resources had gone into building the new aid stations, and another fifteen would be completed soon. Fortunately the police took the new status of their buildings in stride, and had offered no violence. They didn't want to follow the King's orders either. That was encouraging.
The Dealers were her sisters, but also her charge, the gift the gods had given her to care for.
Her plan was sound. The Dealers should survive. This was all that mattered.
Crispin was busy in his metal office. Almost a thousand new insiders meant his camp was full to bursting, and the newcomers were outraged, angry, anguished, even after eleven days of exile.
He didn't blame them. Their people had betrayed them, and it was a bitter draught to swallow. His cousin Shuli came in. "Fight over by the fence. We put it down."
"Put them to work building the base for the ray cannon."
Shuli, as big as Charlie but with the same straight black hair as Crispin's, let out an amused laugh and left. He wouldn't go anywhere; they had runners to every part of their territory. Charlie had set that up long ago. One to loiter in an area to get the news, another nearby to send it out again. Between them and the army of children scampering for ways to get an extra roll for their bellies, Crispin knew everything that happened almost as soon as it happened.
Charlie stepped in, about filling the doorway. "I just thought of something."
Crispin, about to start melting lead again, felt startled. Charlie almost never came down here. "What?"
"It's gonna be hard, defending there and here both."
Crispin nodded. Charlie had become obsessed with the racetrack, never stopped talking about it.
"So we gotta move there."
"What? We gotta house here, Charlie!"
"Listen to me. Yeah, we gotta house here. But the racetrack has a huge building! You said ten stories —"
"The front, yeah. No way to tell how much of that is livable inside."
"But we can make it livable. And it's gotta have all that fancy stuff for their guests. Just imagine — inside plumbing, running water, real kitchens for Nana." He paused. "Besides, I can build them another house anywhere they want, a better one."
"You wanna just leave all these people?"
"Naw, bring them with us! I mean, after we get all the stuff we want. It'll be great. We set them off — get all the stuff you want, bring it over to us. I had another idea — grab all the carts, too!"
The carts. Crispin stared at his brother, astonished, awestruck. What an idea!
"We'll have the horses, the carts, damn, get the carriages too, if we can. Bring it all to the racetrack. By the end of this we'll have all the stuff we need."
Crispin considered the matter. "We gotta figure out what to do with the people who won't fight. Some are old; we'll need a way to move them."
"Won't know how many that'll be until it comes down to it," Charlie said. "Just walking down here I saw an old woman asking for a shotgun to get those Kerr men who dragged her outside."
Crispin laughed. "On Yuletide Center! Well, I guess you're right; we'll see. Do you know how to make carts?"
"I can probably figure it out. Let me ask around — there might be a cartmaker in all this."
Charlie lumbered off, and Crispin sat, his mind reeling. To actually move? He'd lived his whole life here. But if he could make a better life for these people, this was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Chapter Sixteen
January 4th
Acevedo passed out the syllab
us for this month's reading. Everyone was present, and he felt relieved to see them all safe and well.
"I hope you had a pleasant holiday," he said, and Jack grinned. They had a good time on his visit, and Acevedo was glad to see Xavier's father again after so many years. "Now it's time to get back to work."
The class groaned, some throwing themselves on their desks as if despondent, but it was all in good fun.
"This month, we're going to discuss the political changes in Bridges during the seventeenth century." He pulled out his notes. "Please open your books to chapter eight."
Blocker walked his streets again. He'd gotten less conspicuous men — and some of the older boys — to "borrow" a great deal of sand, which they carted off and began filling cotton feedbags with. He had the little kids running all over the place searching for old nails to bring to him. They'd pound those into thin boards and make spiked gates and various traps for the areas they couldn't defend directly. And a shipment of guns and ammo was on its way.
People strolled along peaceful, without a hint of what was coming. Would it be better to tell them?
But where would they go?
Blocker was afraid of something else. The more people that knew about this, the higher the chance someone would squeal. That could get them all killed. Sooner or later crazy old Kerr would turn on them — and all the gangs — as part of "cleaning up the city."
If Kerr finds out about this too soon, I'll find my head in someone's sights.
Blocker glanced around, shuddering.
Calm yourself. No one knows yet.
But there were too many windows on this street for his liking. He had to make sure everyone knew what was going on the day it happened, so his men didn't find themselves shot from behind by a frightened neighbor.
What was that Spadros said? The guards would wear white armbands to identify themselves. A good idea.
Blocker turned and went to a guy he knew who sold cloth. He was sure they could work something out.
Chapter Seventeen
February 17th
Acevedo passed out forms for a field trip. "Since so many of you wanted to know how the dome was built, I've arranged for you to visit a science museum to learn all the details."
The class burst into excited chatter.
"Bring back these forms by Monday so I can arrange transportation. Your whole family is welcome — just indicate on the form how many people will be coming. Since it's so far in the countryside, it'll be an overnight trip, so bring bed rolls. Also bring a picnic lunch for when we arrive. We'll provide the rest of the food."
The children stared at him in amazement. "It doesn't cost anything?" Jack said.
"It's all been taken care of," Acevedo said.
Being in a crime family certainly had its advantages. Papa was paying for the entire thing.
"All right," Acevedo said. "Quiet, please. Let's get started. Open your books to chapter twelve."
Helena sat reading a report of unusual Guard activity prior to Yuletide — extra shifts at odd hours, with almost 100% attendance. With the recent orders from the King they had intercepted, she expected a rash of resignations, not this. "Get me the files on this Guard commander, Alcatraz," she called out. He must be a persuasive man.
Or he was planning something.
"Yes, Director," her assistant Octavia said. A few moments later, Octavia came in bearing a folder.
Helena read the intelligence they had on the man. Received the Dealer's Blessing at age eight. High marks in school. Widowed, two teenage children. Assigned to the throne room for nine years.
So he knew the old king well, Helena thought.
Present in the throne room during the assassination. The list of known associates included his son's high school teacher, who Mr. Alcatraz had been corresponding frequently with in the past few weeks, a man named Acevedo Spadros.
Helena's assistant Octavia came in. "I just received a collated report from several stations outside the fence. It seems the criminal groups are having meetings. Very secretive ones, too. I'm not sure what it means."
Spadros. That name sounded familiar. "Give me the report. And get me a list of all the criminal factions in Bridges."
"Yes, Director."
It took an hour for Octavia to pull together the several lists of known criminal groups, but once Helena went through it, she laughed. The audacity of it!
"What is it? What have you learned?"
Helena put her elbows on her desk, suddenly sobered at the ramifications. "Call a general meeting. I want everyone there."
"All the Dealers?"
"Every single one in the city. Prepare the Cathedral." This was going to change everything.
"Anything else?"
"Assign a surveillance team to this man Acevedo Spadros. I want to know where he goes and when."
"The schoolteacher? I had him for Bridges History."
Interesting. "Did you now? Tell me of him."
Octavia sat. "A kind man. Honest, appreciative of truth. Good with students. Knows history better than anyone I've ever met." The woman seemed a bit in awe.
Helena nodded. Charismatic as well. "He's important in this. I mean him no harm. Something is happening, and I must know what." If her hunch was correct, this was going to be a longer play than she ever imagined. My great-grandchildren may curse me some day, she thought, if I survive. But Helena couldn't think of any other way to ensure the Dealers would come out of this intact.
Xavier watched his men train. They had done very well, learning how to enter a building, check the corners, move out, search each room before moving to the next. They couldn't train in the Armory itself — that would be foolhardy — but he had them study the Armory's blueprints and had the interior of the training building changed weekly to simulate each floor.
Ocho Malize came up to him and bowed. "The King wishes to see you, sir."
A spike of fear. "Very well. Take over here." Xavier went to the King's office. The King stood facing away, gazing out of the window at the practicing Guards. "You wished to see me, Your Majesty?"
Polansky Kerr turned to face him. "Indeed. Report."
"The training is progressing on schedule. We will be ready to complete the mission on March 12 as requested."
"I've changed my mind. We attack March 1st, at dawn."
Xavier stared at Polansky Kerr in shock. That was less than two weeks away! "Your Majesty?"
"Do it. Dismissed."
Acevedo paced in his room, furious. Damn! After all his efforts to get this to work, that madman decided to move up the schedule. He had angry parents in the Headmaster's office who had taken two days off work for the excursion. Now the Headmaster was demanding to know who gave authorization for an overnight trip including young women. Half a dozen gang leaders had sent marks of their displeasure at the changes, including one who left a pile of cow manure on his doorstep. Papa sent Vinny to handle that one.
This was getting out of control. Too many people now knew of the changed schedule, and that put Xavier directly into harm's way. And the last of the ray cannon had been seized by the authorities in Azimoff!
We have seven of them. That should be enough.
He held a letter from the Diamond clan:
You promised us equal entry to the city! Now you tell us the Diamonds will be denied their rightful spoils by refusing us a cannon. We will never forget this outrage. You are a betrayer, Spadros, of friends and foes alike. We will stop your so-called Family's lust to dominate this city. What we seize you will never take from us.
Caesar Diamond
Disgusted, Acevedo threw the letter on the floor.
A soft knock. "Come in."
Katherine opened the door. "I heard."
He didn't want to alarm her. "I wanted the children to be safe so badly. But now the Headmaster's said only girls accompanied by a parent may attend —"
She came to him, took his hands, and her touch warmed him. "Hush. You've done your best."
"I
fear for them." Acevedo knew full well what happened to young girls during war, yet he didn't want to speak of such things. Not to her. "I want to talk to the parents, tell them the truth, beg them to attend —"
"No," Katherine said. "Your friend risked his life to bring us this new time. Parents have already gone to the Headmaster. What if one of these parents takes the truth to the King?"
She was right. But it ate at him. "I wish I could tell the whole city of their fate." He had a nightmare of the city awash with blood, full of ruins, his students lying dead.
Her face hardened. "This city chose its fate when it put up that fence."
Such words from her shocked him.
"This city is cruel," she said. "Heartless. And from what Molly tells me, it didn't begin that way. What changed?"
Acevedo had studied history all his life, but the question surprised him. "We lost who we were." He pointed to his heart. "In here. Became afraid." He felt very still inside, like the calm before a storm. "A man asked why I'm doing this, and I don't have an answer."
She smiled. "You're doing this because you haven't lost who you are," she laid her hand on his chest. "In here."
He took her hand in both of his and kissed it. Gods, she's beautiful. His mouth went dry; his body yearned to move closer. He gripped her hand, squeezed his eyes shut in desperation. "Please tell me you're here why I think you're here."
"Acevedo," his father said from the doorway, startling him. "It's late. Mrs. Bluff, you should leave."
Color flushed her cheeks. "My apologies, sir. Good night." She hurried out past Papa.
Rage and humiliation. "Close the door and go," Acevedo said bitterly, turning away.
"I feared this would happen when you brought her," Papa said. "What are your intentions towards this woman?"
I want her. I need her. I barely know her. "I don't know."
"As I thought. I'm sorry, son — we should have arranged a marriage for you long before this. Twenty-five years is too long for a man to be alone."
