by D P Rowell
“Too long have the Indies bullied us with fear. Attempting to outlaw our very way of life. No longer will the people of Eveland tolerate their ridiculous notions of witchcraft and magic!” The crowd cheered back, booing in agreement with Kar’s disgust with the Indies. “It’s time we get behind Sam Radar and see the Neutrals as our ally. During my administration, we will join the Neutrals in bringing a new era of peace to Yutara . . .”
His words became muffled as Ace’s thoughts drifted. He didn’t remember anything about Angus Kar supporting Sam Radar. This may have been his biggest clue, but he couldn’t tell. It all depended on the theories around Sam Radar. If the man was truly bent on bringing all nations together under his rule, like the rumors said, then Ace had found his parcel. But, how did he know they weren’t just rumors? Rio was right, this was heavy, high end stuff. None of it seemed like immediate truth. All of it seemed to circle around the ultimate. The speech didn’t last long, he talked about tax policies and foreign policies; mostly stuff Ace felt too young to care about.
No thugs or criminals, Ace thought, but Kar definitely has both power and influence. After his speech, Angus Kar instructed the crowd to enjoy the celebration and stepped off the stage. At this point it seemed nearly impossible to reach Kar, as he was escorted to the balcony and surrounded by agents. Next to him sat a young, familiar looking Evelander. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but he knew he’d seen him somewhere before.
One thought swept over him, turning his attention elsewhere. Agents guarded the entire building. Two by each door. All of them with the same silver suits as Kar, only with visors over their eyes, and a wireless earpiece in their right ears. The visors allowed them to see behind them and on either side of them at once.
“Well, I didn’t expect he would win it, but he did,” said the male with dreadlocks, turning to face the rest of the table. Ace listened, but kept his eyes about the entire room, looking for any suspicious behavior. Something out of place. After seeing nothing, he worried his snooping might be an issue and sabotage his cover. Another thought passed through his head. If any of them at the table were lying, it would be immediate truth. He decided to ignore his concerns about Sam Radar and Angus Kar and take it slow his first round, focusing on the conversation at the table.
“How could you not expect it?” Said the red drake, “Eveland is sick of the Indies. Kar ran a genius campaign.” The small fins on the side of her head wagged as she spoke, and she clicked a few incomprehensible things.
“Yes, but many of the humans have become swayed by their arguments,” said the jag. “I was surprised he won too.”
“Well, no matter,” said the male to Ace’s right, “he won it. That’s all that matters.”
“I’ll drink to that,” the lady jag said. Everyone raised their glasses, and Ace quickly joined in with his. He fought not to wince when he drank the liquid. It tasted like medicine.
“Senator Starland,” said the jag. The there was an eerie moment of silence. “Uh, Senator Starland? Hello?” Ace jerked his head toward the jag. He had forgotten his name in this simulation.
“Sorry, miss—uh—" Ace glanced to the name tag on the table before the jag, “Mrs. Ruhgi. I was distracted.”
The jag dismissed Ace’s apology and said, “What are your thoughts on Kar’s win? We haven’t heard you say much.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond. He still had no idea who the witch was. Would anything he say sound legitimate?
“Well—uh—I—” Ace said. Everyone stared at him with anticipation and confusion. He swallowed and spoke the first thing on his mind, “I think Kar must’ve had some help winning.” The table stirred anxiously.
“What do you mean?” the jag said.
“I mean, I think he must have a powerful influence in Eveland. Having such a strong stance against the Indies and still winning,” Ace said. He wished he was more well learned in Eveland history. He worried only pieces of what he said made sense.
The man with dreadlocks chimed in. “Well, he does. He’s been Mayor of Cains for fourteen years now, and never lost an election. Obviously, the people liked him.”
“A little strange, don’t you think?” Ace said. The table chuckled facetiously. The jag, however, seemed particularly upset with this. He looked at her; their eye contact confirmed it.
Jackpot.
“What’s strange? That Kar knows how to win elections?” The jag said.
Ace smiled, feeling the simulation was a little easier than he’d expected. “That many elections?”
“Yes,” The jag said firmly, “that many.”
Everyone at the table went silent a moment. The debate continued, and everybody leaned in to hear it. Ace thought up every challenge he could to their beliefs. They went back and forth, the argument increasingly getting more heated. But, unfortunately, the jag never seemed to resort to witchcraft. Either this witch was far more skilled than Ace had anticipated, or he was at the wrong table. Eventually the debate subsided, and servers came by with trays of food. Ace hung his head in disappointment. What could he do now? Something caught the corner of his eye. He looked to his right, a man dressed like a civilian trotted through the tables. A drake, in fact.
Well, there’s something out of place, Ace thought. He looked closer. A green drake, very young. All he could make out from his distance.
Talk about it out loud, Ace remembered Rio’s words.
“Who’s that?” Ace said. The table looked at where Ace looked.
“Who’s who?” The jag said.
Ace pointed. “That young drake.” He saw something he didn’t expect. His heart dropped as the green drake reached behind his back and pulled something from his shorts. He was heading for Kar. He had a blaster. Ace shot up from the table.
“Senator? What are you doing?” The man with dreadlocks yelled. Ace didn’t respond, he took off, weaving through the round tables, bumping into dozens of people, eyes still fixed on the drake. He was bringing too much attention to himself, and the agents had begun to take notice. The drake started his way up the winding steps leading to the balcony, hand on his blaster. Ace finally got to the bottom stair. The drake only needed a few more steps to reach Kar. Ace bolted, sweat seeping from his skin. The drake slowly pulled the blaster from his back and pointed it straight at Kar.
“Blaster! He’s got a blaster!” Ace shouted just as he made it to the top of the stairs. He tackled the drake to the ground, but not before the sound of plasma fire echoed through the hall. Screams flooded the air, and agents sprinted to the newly elected president. Ace and the drake rolled around, fighting each other, until something caused him to stop. He and the drake caught eyes. It seemed as if time slowed, and Ace grew cold with fear. The beady eyes, and the frog-like face couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else.
“Rio?” Ace said.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Caged Witch
The simulation stopped, and Ace stood, staring at the frozen chaos about the room. Everything morphed into pixels and drifted into darkness. The lights turned on in the ceiling and floor and the brass walls became visible.
Was the simulation a real historical event? Did Rio really try to shoot Angus Kar?
Ace thought back to the day Rio told him of how he and Grandpa met.
“Let’s just say I got mixed up with the wrong people, and your grandfather saved me,” the drake had said. The wrong people? Had Rio tried to kill a president? The door to the simulation room flung open and Ihana came stomping in.
“What was that, Halder?” Ihana said. “We’re not policemen, we’re hunters!” She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to the door leading to the watch room. Inside, George and Keele sat in hover chairs by a widescreen television. On the TV was a frozen picture of Ace and the simulation.
“Hey, let go of me,” Ace said. The water drake did. “I can walk by myself, you don’t need to pull me.”
“Can you explain what you were thinking?” She said.
Ace shrugged. “So, if
I’m in a room and a president’s life is in danger, I’m just supposed to let him die?”
“We’re not—”
“We’re not policeman, I get it!” Ace said.
“Apparently you don’t! Your mission was to find the witch, not save President Kar!” Ihana said, throwing her fist down. Her veins came through her shiny blue skin. Short-tempered drakes were starting to annoy him. He took notice of Keele remaining silent, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed.
“It’s not like I had time to do anything about it. Or a hunter’s rifle for that matter,” Ace said. “If I had waited for Kar to be shot, the whole room would have gone to chaos.”
“And then you would’ve had a perfect distraction,” George said.
Ace looked daggers at George. “And a president would also be dead!”
“No, he wouldn’t have,” the hunter replied. “You really think someone could’ve snuck into that room with a blaster unnoticed with all those security officers around?”
The boy stared at him wordlessly. He hadn’t thought of it, but George had a point. “He was allowed in?”
“Look who’s finally catching on,” Ihana said.
“But . . . why?”
“There was an anarchist group arising in Eveland during that time, and police were trying to track down who it was. He had a dummy blaster, dropped off by one of Eveland’s undercover policemen. When we learned this setup was happening, we knew we had the perfect distraction we needed to find a witch. She wouldn’t turn to magic in front of all those people, and she probably had ties with Eveland’s government. Could’ve been a great success for us, but you screwed it up.”
Gang? Rio was part of a gang? “But I heard plasma fire,” Ace said, dismissing his thoughts, “It wasn’t a dummy weapon.”
“The blaster you heard wasn’t his,” Ihana replied sharply. “It wasn’t plasma either. The police wanted to catch him, not kill him.” She sighed and placed her hand in her face. “Had you at least identified the witch?”
Ace looked at the water drake, his face scrunched with frustration. “The jag at my table was my suspect. Kar was my suspect for a parcel.”
“And you tried to save him?” Ihana yelled. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I didn’t know for sure,” he said, “I can’t just leave someone’s life to chance like that.”
“No one was asking you to leave his life to chance. What we’re saying is that you need to be more observant.”
“Okay, fine. I messed up. I’m still learning,” Ace said.
“When you’re in the field, you can’t afford to mess up,” Ihana said. “Let’s try another one.”
Ace nodded. “Before we start again, tell me something . . . Was I right?”
“About what?” Ihana said.
“Kar and the jag. They were the witch and parcel.” For a moment the elite quietly traded eyes.
“The jag, yes,” Keele said, finally chiming in. “But Kar was not a parcel.”
Ace felt a sense of dread in his heart. Then why was Rio trying to shoot him? He thought as the water drake led him back to the simulation room.
* * *
How am I supposed to catch a witch without a blaster?
The thought came and went as quick as the next simulation began. Like the snap of a finger, motion stirred around him. He found himself in a small jag town wedged between two mountain ranges. An arched sign hung over the town reading, “Traverser’s Valley: West Side.” One or two hovercrafts came and went every so often. They crept along the town’s roads and zipped away once they passed through.
Inside the town, jags merrily went about their days on giyas: long necked reptile-like mounts with thick, fat feet, and slimy skin. When they held their necks high, they could reach heights of fifteen feet, but when they ran they kept their necks parallel with the ground, making themselves like a razor cutting through wind resistance.
Other than the few huts, and a structure here and there carved from the mountain stones, the bland, white brick like Thraun made up the other buildings. This part of Heorg had a bit more trees and green than Gathara. Most of them looked like needles with leaves. Ace moseyed through the town, wondering why they placed him here and where he was supposed to go, when something caught his ear.
“ . . .by New Realm’s Age, Oglen! Have you lost sense about you?”
Ace peered into a tavern carved from the stone at the bottom of the mountain. Two large male jags stood facing each other, and a small crowd encircled them. He crept inside unnoticed.
“Enough with that! Listen here, Jegri, I not put up with this anymore. It high time this ends.”
The crowds bustled a bit and Ace caught a better glimpse of the two jags. He realized the one called Oglen had a knife in his hand and gripped it so tight the veins in his forearm nearly burst through his gray skin.
A female jag came rushing through the crowd and draped herself over him. “Oglen, please stop, he didn’t mean anything by it!” He brushed her aside like she was made of paper and ignored her with fury in his eyes. She fell into a crowd of girl jags beside them and they caught her.
“You come my tavern,” Oglen said, “you speak way I ask you speak.”
Jegri held up his hands as if to offer a truce. “Oglen, there no need take this too far. We friends.”
“Ever since girl get in your head, you go crazy!” Oglen said, pointing at the crowd of female jags.
“Naneg right, Oglen! You fall victim here. Traverser’s Valley fall victim ‘less we do something about it!”
Ace’s ears perked forward. He sat in the tavern, listening carefully, scoping the crowd, looking and listening for anything able to offer clues; and this caught his attention. Fall victim to what? He glanced at the girl named Naneg. She cowered next to the other girl jag who’d tried to stop Oglen at first. What had Jegri said? What could’ve caused Oglen to become so angry as to want to stab him?
Oglen pointed the knife at Jegri, turned his head to the crowd, and announced, “Jegri here seems think law not matter! For past few months, he spoke ill of Valley and wished ill of Mayor!” The crowd gasped. After the jag said this, Ace noticed the portrait behind the bar of a large male jag in a white suit with a name plate under it reading Mayor Yegeg.
“Not true, Oglen!” Jegri shouted. “Spoke ill of him? Yes. Never wished ill. He tries tear us apart!”
The crowd murmured. Oglen hung and shook his head. “Sorry, Jegri, law is law.” Two jag officers dressed in black vests and jeans, and visors like those in Kar’s simulation, burst through the doors. They came in and arrested Jegri.
“Speaking ill of Mayor does not break law!” Jegri said. No one responded. The officers carried him away from the tavern as he shouted, “Oglen, open eyes! You must see!”
Naneg had her hand over her mouth and tears running down her cheeks. The other girl jag comforted her with an arm over her shoulder.
“Nothing more to see,” Oglen said, “everyone back to your drinks.” The crowd slowly dispersed and settled back to their seats. The girl jags sat at a round table beside them, and Oglen walked to them and said, “Naneg, let this be lesson for you. Keep mouth closed before you end up like your boyfriend.”
He turned and walked the other way, taking his girl jag with him. She shrugged at Naneg and offered a remorseful glance before Oglen took her away. Ace walked to the table slowly. He sat at the table across from it, back turned to her, listening to her quiet sobs. Knowing New Realm’s Age was something only mentioned in lore, and her boyfriend mentioned it, he sought to befriend the crying jag. Knowing the council pushed the idea of witches being fake, Oglen became his first suspect. Maybe there was some connection between the two? There was only one way to find out.
“The New Realm is coming,” Ace said softly, back still turned to her. He heard her cries come to a sudden halt. She sniffed a couple times but said nothing. “I need to know something, Naneg. How close is Oglen to Mayor Yegeg?”
He heard her hands b
rush against the wooden table a couple times as she situated herself. For a moment, she didn’t respond, probably trying to decide whether to trust a strange Evelander. “Wh—who you?”
“I’m a friend,” Ace said without hesitation. Simulated or not, the thought of asking creepy questions in search of a witch made him feel uneasy. He spoke sure of himself in spite being unable to stop his hands from shaking against the table.
“Friend of who?”
“Jegri. That’s all you need to know.”
“How I know you want help us?”
“You don’t. But if you want Jegri freed, you’re out of options.” He caught his breath. Why did he say such a thing? He just said the first thing popping into his head. His chest caved at the thought of it. He didn’t know how he could back up such a statement.
“Y—y—” She sniffed and wined a moment to keep from crying more. “You’re right.”
Ace sighed with relief. He coughed and stuck his chest up to reassure himself of his confidence. “So, what’s the nature of Oglen’s relationship with the Mayor?”
“They good friends. Best, some say. Mayor comes by often and Oglen gives free drinks.”
Ace grinned wide. He settled cozily into the simulation, awaiting the look on the elite’s face when he nailed it, and the look on Rio’s face when he told him. “Listen,” Ace said softly. “I can free Jegri—” he was still winging it “—Dusk is approaching. Meet me in the woods behind this tavern, okay? The alley will lead you there.”
“I . . . I don’t kn—”
“You want him freed or not?”
She paused a moment in silence, but finally said, “Yes.”
* * *
Ace waited in the dark. The greener part at the edge of the Heorg desert carried a chill into the night, unlike Gathara. He hadn’t prepared himself for the cold. Simulated or not, his brain still thought it was real. He rubbed the chip Ihana placed on his head, annoyed it was working. The light from the crescent, yellow moon shone timidly on the edges of the trees, like a thin line of yellow in an otherwise shadowed wood. He wondered if time passed in the same in the simulation as it did real life. Had the elite been in the watch room for hours while he waited in the woods? What a boring job.
