by Rin Chupeco
“Might come back,” Tito Jose signed.
General Luna turned away, spat. “Putanginang ICE,” he growled.
“Why are they looking for Miss Hutchins?” Tala asked. “And why do they think she’s here?”
“Because we smuggled her out of Arizona,” Lola Urduja said. “Barely. I’ve sent word to Chief Ohiteka. He and the rest of the Californians have offered their protection. They will bring her north if they can get through the next several checkpoints safely. Something must have alerted ICE to us.”
“Miss Hutchins is Avalonian,” Tala guessed. The Royal States had imposed stricter controls on immigration shortly after Avalon’s demise, and King Muddles’s hatred ensured they would be singled out. Tala’s mother, along with the other titos and titas, were all naturalized citizens, but others had not been so lucky, and had gone through other creative, less legal channels to gain entry.
“More than just an Avalonian,” her mother murmured. “She was a glyph engineer who worked for King Ivan.”
“What?” Miss Hutchins had never given any indication that she’d known who Alex was.
“Curse the woman for letting her emotions overrule her brain. Most Avalonians would find the Emerald Act a frightening notion. That they were confident enough to push this into law implies they might have found either an alternative to glyphs, or a new source for them. Still, if she’d only kept silent longer… This is not what we need two days before Alex’s birthday.”
“Where’s Alex?”
“With his lawyer, Mr. Peets, for now. Best to keep him out of this until it’s safe.”
“He’s not texting or calling me.”
“That was on my orders. Let’s not give anyone else an opportunity to find him too.”
“You might want to consider moving Alex out of Invierno for the time being,” her father rumbled.
“No!” Tala exclaimed.
Her mother sighed. “We don’t have a choice, anak. We can’t smuggle him out the way we did Hutchins. The chances of getting caught are high, and we can’t risk that with His Highness. I presume every conceivable method leading out of the city is already being watched.”
The old woman frowned. “ICE checkpoints. We were fortunate enough to get Hutchins through before they put those up, but now we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way. I’ve already requested for the Cheshire to send for the Order.”
“What Order? And wait—you work for the Cheshire?” Tala knew she wasn’t high up on the chain of command, but not being told anything at all rankled.
And whether or not that was the man’s real name, or if he’d adopted the moniker from the famous hero who’d fought in the Wonderland Wars, she wasn’t sure. She knew that one claiming to be the Cheshire had allegedly survived the Wonderland explosion and had found his way to London despite the dozen Interpol warrants on his head.
Lola Urduja shot her a sharp look. “He’s the sole reason Alex hasn’t been found all these years. I trust you to say nothing about this to anyone else.”
Tala nodded quickly.
“And yes, the Order of the Bandersnatch. Avalon’s finest younglings, usually with families that served Alex’s for centuries with distinction. An unofficial charter, since Avalon was overcome long before their accolade year.”
Tala’s eyebrows shot up. The Banders were prestigious magic-users—those capable of channeling magic directly instead of through spelltech—and rare. Most of Avalon’s heroes had first made their names there: the Red Hood, Rapunzel, Jack Giantkiller…
“Could I have been a Bander?”
“Someone who can directly negate magic is a form of magic in itself,” Tita Chedeng allowed. “But there are certain tests to go through before you can be one, hija.”
“So, you’re saying if Avalon was still functioning, and if I’d happened to sign up and passed those exams, I could have been one?”
“Yer mum was one,” her father rumbled.
Tala gaped at her mother, who shrugged sheepishly. It occurred to her that she still knew very little about her parents’ past.
“Governments would kill to know who the next generation of Avalon Banders are,” Tita Baby said after a pause. “Especially now that there’s a resurgence of interest in magic. The youngbloods will be in the best position to defend Alex if necessary.” She addressed the other titos and titas, switching to Tagalog. “Our status here may be compromised as well. Are all your papers in order?”
“All our passports are authentic,” Tita Chedeng replied. “Kay might have some problems, though.”
“Dad?” Tala asked.
“Aye, I’ve never had any proper documentation, even as a lad,” Kay rumbled. “But s’all right, I’m white.”
General Luna strolled up to Lola Urduja and handed her one of the guns the ICE agents had been carrying, the blue glow now prominent.
“Didn’t even see you filch that,” her father remarked, unsurprised. “Took it from their car while they were inside, eh?”
The general shrugged. The old woman turned it carefully in her hands before offering it to Tala’s mother. “Do you recognize this, Lumina?”
“This isn’t any standard police gear I’ve seen before. I’m surprised they’ve been issued category two spelltech so soon after the law passed.”
“Could you tell what it was when you negated the spell?”
Tala had already reached for it with her mind, wanting to see for herself, only to recoil.
Every spell has a unique taste, in her experience; a fire spell always came with that faint aftertaste of char, while one built with poison felt syrupy-sweet.
But this was horrid magic; there was a faint metallic aftertaste that told her this had been configured to track people using only a drop of their blood, but that discovery was overshadowed by a stinging, painful sensation, like her tongue was being slashed by a thousand ice-cold knives.
Tala doubled over and spat multiple times, frantically trying to flush the memory out of her mouth.
“Anak,” her mother said disapprovingly.
“Sorry,” she choked.
“I’d be angrier that you were reckless, but I’d say that’s punishment enough.” Lumina popped open a small compartment underneath the barrel, a grim look on her face. “Tita. Kay. This is no ordinary spelltech.”
Tala managed a quick glimpse inside before her mother closed it again; it was filled with faint white crystals, all crushed nearly into powder and shining brightly.
“We might have to rethink our protection detail, and whether Invierno is as safe as we think it is,” her mother said tightly, her anger apparent for all to see. “Not all spelltech comes from Avalon patents. These aren’t powered by glyphs, but by shardstones, and the only person with a constant supply of those is the Snow Queen.”
Tita Chedeng and Tita Teejay gasped in unison.
“Punyeta,” General Luna muttered again.
“But she’s dead!” Tito Jose signed violently, making cutting motions in the air with his hands in his agitation.
“Impossible,” Lola Urduja hissed, angrier than Tala had ever seen her.
“It’s possible that the government has gotten their hands on Beiran spelltech independent of their ruler, and it’s horrifying to think that this is the best-case scenario we can hope for. The UN hasn’t lifted their ban against Beira, but if the Royal government has been conspiring with them to gain this spelltech, then this is going to be a political nightmare for everyone involved. The queen only offers shardstones to those who have already pledged their loyalty to her. And if she’s alive, then this is too much of a coincidence for her not to know where we are or who Alex is. Those young Banders better arrive soon, Tita. The sooner we get the prince out of town, the better.”
* * *
The number of videos responding to Miss Hutchins’s had risen from twenty to at least
two hundred—opinion pieces mostly, but a few attempted to be informational, often touching lightly on the topic instead of directly referencing the teacher. Tala ignored the obvious conspiracy theory ranters but clicked on a few other links out of curiosity.
The I Was Today Years Old When I Learned podcast was the first to get her attention, talking about some of the history of Avalon, particularly its castle, Maidenkeep. “What not a lot of people know is that the castle may itself be spelltech,” the host cheerfully informed her. “Legend has it that it’s powered by a device they call the Nine Maidens that serves as a control booth of sorts. Now, nobody but the Avalonian kings and their counsel know what this contraption actually does, much less what it looks like, but theories of it vary, ranging from the ability to levitate and steer the castle the way a helmsman would a Federation starship, to controlling most of the kingdom’s weather, to just a really advanced smart-home automation system that would make OzCorp’s virtual assistant Ruby seem primitive in comparison.
“The most popular theory is that it’s on autopilot. Historian Justina LaConda says the Nine Maidens might have been configured to automatically defend the castle from most attacks at some point in history, mainly from the kingdom of Beira, Avalon’s natural enemy. (Incidentally, did you know that every queen in Beira assumes the name ‘Annalisse’ upon taking the throne to honor the first ever Snow Queen? Beira also claims their queens are immortal. Either way, not creepy. At all.)
“The problem is that nobody—nobody—knows how to change the settings, much less understand the full extent of spells contained within it. Popular legend has it repelling sieges and physical attacks, putting out fires and preventing floods, and in at least one story even teleporting the whole castle elsewhere in times of great peril. The sacrifices previous kings and queens have reportedly made to harness its powers directly, however, are horrifying: a lot of mutilations, a lot of madness, a lot of death. So there’s probably a reason why someone was smart enough to keep it on autopilot mode instead.
“Unfortunately, as Avalon is inaccessible to us at the moment, we may never know what it really is. This is Skylar Ahmad, and I was today years old when I learned about the Nine Maidens.”
The A Brief History of Weird Things podcast was also an enjoyable listen. “Ever wondered how the Royal States of America wound up with a king?” its narrator began. “Well, believe it or not, it had everything to do with magic. You see, charms used to only be for the nobility in the same way only royal families were allowed to wear indigo-dyed clothes in the past. This was part of the so-called noblesse oblige, which means that while nobles enjoyed certain privileges—including access to magic that the poorer classes couldn’t touch—it also came with the responsibility to be generous to the less fortunate by using these spells for everyone’s benefit. Unsurprisingly, the nobles wasted no time using them for their own personal gains instead.
“It took the Revolutionary War for magic to be accessible to the common folk, but even that came with restrictions. For one thing, famous weapons of war only worked with certain members of the royal house. We know now that some spelltech was configured to work for only one specific person, usually the royals who could afford the price tags for it, but back in the day, people assumed this was because only kings could wield them, and said kings encouraged those assumptions. Notable figures like George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, and Thomas Jefferson soon proved that commoners were more than capable of harnessing spells of their own when they defeated the British forces, but even they realized that magic in the hands of the wrong people could easily go against them. Sure, all men were equal, but some dudes had to be a little more than equal to use certain powerful spells.
“To do that, they needed a king of their own, a royal figurehead with Washington as his prime minister. Someone sympathetic to their cause, preferably a known face among their supporters. Enter the Marquis de Lafayette, who we would eventually know as King Gilbert the first, of the Royal States of America.”
A knock sounded on her door. “Come in,” Tala called, hurriedly turning off her screen.
Tala’s mother stepped into her room with a package in her arms. “I need to show you something,” she said, laying the box carefully on her bed. She untied the ribbons and lifted the cover.
It was a beautiful dress of colored patterns and textiles. Embroidery danced along the edges, tilted up at the sleeves, and spanned themselves across the waistline. Small mother-of-pearl shells were woven into the fabric, glistening like prized sequins.
“This is from my tribe, the Mai-i,” her mother continued. “It’s woven from abaca. These shells? They’re called takmon. I’ve worn this many a time in Avalon, for important ceremonies. It was my mother’s, and her mother’s. They were valuable enough to be offered as dowries once, and it takes months of constant weaving to finish just one of these. When you turn eighteen, Tala, it’ll be yours to keep.”
Tala’s hands wandered down the diamond patterns, marveled at the softness of the cloth intertwined with the perfectly made, intricate stitching. “It’s gorgeous. But I won’t be eighteen until next year. Why show me now?”
“Because we’re not sure what’s going to happen in the next couple of days, love.” The response came from the doorway where her father’s hulking form stood, watching them. “And we want you prepared for anything.”
This was a lot more serious than Tala thought. Lola Urduja had been mum on further details that afternoon, and Tala was still bursting with questions nobody wanted to answer. How many more Avalonian allies were out there? Did they know about her and her parents? Why send a contingent of Bandersnatchers her age, instead of soldiers with presumably more experience? Would they take Alex away but keep her and her parents stuck in Invierno? Tala didn’t like that idea at all.
“Why are they so keen on finding Alex? Is it because of that Emerald law?”
Her mother hesitated, nodded. “After the Wonderland bombing, Avalon reneged on their agreement to share spelltech. That gave rise to a lot of resentment, especially from those who want to profit off it. The United Nations had declared Beira an enemy, but it’s been suspected that certain governments have been trying to woo their support in return for access to their spelltech. They also think Alex is the key to thawing Avalon.”
“And…is he?”
She sighed. “With the firebird, it might be possible. But we don’t have the firebird.”
“What was life in Avalon like?” Tala found herself asking. She was only a baby when her parents had left and remembered nothing before Invierno. Her parents had always been reluctant to talk about the past, as had Lola Urduja and the others. It hadn’t seemed right to push, when it was obvious that past had been a painful one.
Her mother smiled. “Happy. King Ivan was a good man, as was Queen Marya. Avalon was like a second motherland to me. And Alex was quite the adorable child.”
“And you were both soldiers there? Bandersnatchers?”
“Aye, I was a soldier,” her father said. “Special forces, of a sort. Yer lola Urduja and her team functioned in a more official capacity for the Avalonian king. And yer mother was the Bander.”
“It wasn’t as prestigious as it sounds,” her mother demurred. “We used to call it the rich boys’ club, because most were sons of some titled nobles. That isn’t to say they weren’t talented—they were the best magic-users of their generation—but most came from privileged backgrounds.”
“What happened when the frost came?”
“Your lola Urduja was the hero of the day,” her father said. “They were too late for Ivan and Marya, but it was she and the Cheshire who smuggled Alex out before the ice cut off all escape. Yer mum and me, our first priority was you. They came up with the plans tae move him from place to place, secret him away with loyal supporters tae keep him from ever being found. The Makiling curse helped yer mum avoid detection. Still does. And me…” He paused. “I…lo
oked very different, then. Doubt anyone would recognize me now.”
“Do you think we’ll ever go back there one day?”
Her mother’s gaze moved to her father’s. “I hope so. We’ll know soon enough.”
“But not to the Philippines?” she asked.
She wasn’t expecting the sorrow that clouded her mother’s face at the words, but it was her father who moved, seating himself on the other side of the bed. “Had a falling-out with yer mum’s side many years ago,” he said quietly. “Didn’t approve of me.”
Anger flared through her. Because he was so much older than her mother? Because he wasn’t Filipino? “Because you’re not one of them? That’s ridiculous!”
Her father paused, his turn to look uncertain. He opened his mouth.
“Yes.” Her mother’s voice was sharp, cutting him off before he could speak. “Invierno doesn’t have the monopoly on bigotry, Tala. Cutting off ties was a decision I made, and a decision I stand by. I’ve never looked back since.”
“Lumina,” her father began.
Her mother shook a finger at him. “Your father’s been harboring that particular guilt all these years. I’ve never regretted my choice. The two of you are all I need. But, Tala, if you’d like to go to the Philippines once everything’s settled down, we’ll take you. You deserve to know where you come from, know more about the people who’ve come before you.” She smiled. “Your birth helped ease much of their hostility, you know. They’ll welcome you with open arms.”
Tala looked down at the beautiful dress. She fingered the bright shells, exploring the way they felt against her skin. “Won’t I seem too different?” It didn’t sound like her mother’s people were amenable to change.
Her mother softened. “Oh, honey. Just because you’ve never been to the Philippines doesn’t mean their rivers don’t course through your blood. It doesn’t mean you don’t have their mountains in your eyes. It’s not where we are, it’s who we are. You’ll always be both a Makiling and a Warnock, and always a Filipina. Never forget that.”
