The Madness Project (The Madness Method)

by Bralick, J. Leigh

  “Filthy Jixy.”

  I stopped and turned to glare at them, but the guard gripped my arm and propelled me forward.

  “Come along.”

  He brought me to a board room, painted white and gold instead of paneled in wood like so many of the other rooms. It was empty, but through the glass balcony doors I caught sight of Kor standing out in the wind with a few other men, pointing out toward the city as they talked. For some reason I frowned a little when I saw him. Maybe because he seemed so at home, deliberating with my father’s staff, when I’d been so convinced he belonged in the underground like me.

  Like me.

  I shook my head and followed the guard. At the door of the balcony he stopped and waited to be acknowledged, barring my way so I couldn’t interrupt the men’s conference. A few minutes dragged by, and I took to wandering around the board room, plucking items off of the credenzas to examine and stopping in front of a mirror to evaluate my battered face, until the guard finally shot me a stern look.

  “Stand behind me,” he said, gruff. “I will leash you if I have to.”

  I grinned my best—most infuriating—grin and made my way as slowly as possible back toward him. Finally the four men stopped debating long enough to notice the guard standing in the doorway.

  “Yes?” one of them asked. “What is it?”

  “Young man to see Kor,” the guard said, and hauled me forward to stand beside him.

  Kor’s head snapped around, the strangest expression on his face as his eyes met mine. But all he said was, “Oh.”

  And for some reason, I’m not sure why, I thought he sounded disappointed.

  He handed a sheaf of papers to one of the other men and clapped him on the shoulder. “See to that. We’ll finish this later.” He beckoned to me, saying to the guard, “You’re dismissed. I’ll show him out.”

  The guard saluted—to Kor—and marched off without a backwards glance, brushing his hand off on his uniform jacket as he went. The hand that had touched me.

  Once the other men had gathered their things and filed from the room, I wandered out onto the balcony and leaned on the balustrade beside Kor.

  “So,” he said, studying me. “You came after all. What do you want?”

  “Had no idea you had such an important role in my fa—in the Court,” I said, nodding back toward the board room.

  He shrugged. “Of course you didn’t. You look awful, by the way.”

  “I aim to please.”

  He snorted. “What’d you do? Get in a fight?”

  “At least one.” I touched my eye, wincing. The swelling had started to go down by now, but it still stung to the touch and from the board room mirror I knew it looked ghastlier than ever, all sickly yellow and green. “And thanks for warning me about the water.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh. Yes, forgot that, didn’t I. Well, you’re still alive, so that’s fine, I suppose.”

  “Suppose so,” I said, staring down into the garden.

  A few girls in woolen coats and scarves were wandering through the perfectly groomed rows of hedges and winter-bare rose bushes, the wind chasing their laughter and the murmur of their voices up to the balcony. I frowned and shifted my weight, because even from my distance I recognized Samyr. A few weeks ago the sight of her there wouldn’t have surprised me. The Ministry girls spent so much of their time around the palace, sometimes it felt as if I could never get clear of them. But now it wasn’t surprising so much as unsettling.

  I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I have a bit of information.”

  “Mm,” Kor said, striking a match on the balustrade to light his cigar. “Pray tell.”

  “I know where Rivano is hiding.”

  He didn’t say anything at first. He lounged against the railing smoking his cigar, the wind blowing the pungent smoke over me until my eyes burned and my lungs seized in a cough. My already frayed nerves snapped. I snatched the cigar from his hand and smashed it against the stone.

  “I told you once,” I hissed. “Not around me.”

  Kor speared such a dangerous glare at me that all I wanted was to take a step back, return the cigar…anything to quell the tension. A week ago I might have, but I liked to imagine that a week had already changed me. Not much, but enough that I could throw the cigar into the bushes without too much thought. I couldn’t look at him while I did it, though. I hadn’t changed that much.

  “You are no one I need to listen to,” Kor snapped, bringing his face close to mine and jabbing his finger at my throat.

  I held my gaze averted, and tried to keep my chin up.

  “I didn’t have to come,” I said. “Do you want the information or not?”

  Kor hissed a sigh. “You really know where he is? What, did your girlfriend finally get you in?”

  “He wasn’t hard to find,” I said, just a bit maliciously. I knew it would chafe him to think I’d done in a few days what my father’s intelligence officers had failed to do so far.

  “You think you’re too good for this game, don’t you,” Kor said. “Let me tell you something, boy. People have died playing this game. Good people. People who are a hell of a lot smarter and more experienced than you. So watch yourself. And whatever it is you think you know, better spit it out now before I throw you into the bushes.”

  I grinned. “It’s the old Troyce & Fallon factory.”

  “What?”

  Finally. I’d finally managed to stun him.

  “That place was condemned after the factory fire,” he said. “Are you sure?”

  “Sure as rain,” I said. “They’re holed up in the basement. Some of the kids tried to convince me the factory itself is haunted.”

  “Of course they think that. South-siders are notoriously superstitious. Well, who’d be surprised, thick as the magic is down there?”

  “Some time you’ll have to explain how you can be so harsh toward Jixies.”

  “It’s not really any of your business, now, is it?” he asked. But he said it mostly without venom, and after a moment he flicked his hand toward me. “So, are you sure Rivano is there?”

  I hesitated. “I haven’t seen him myself, but the girl said his headquarters are there. I got a good look at the Hole, though. Same building. That’s where the kids live who work for a fellow named Kantian.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” Kor said, interest flickering in his eyes. “Never knew he had anything to do with Rivano.”

  “Well, he’s more like a front man, from what I can tell. The kids seem to do some kind of work for him, in exchange for shelter and food. Of course, they all do their part, too, shuffling around mills and factories. They never seem to stay in one place long.”

  “Of course they don’t,” Kor said. “The stavos have too tight a leash on the foremen. Control who they hire and for how long. Kantian never sold out to a stavo so his crew gets the short of it.” He frowned. “How many kids would you say he’s got?”

  I frowned, trying to do a mental count of the faces in my fickle memories. “Not sure. I’m guessing twenty, give or take a handful?”

  He sniffed. “You know how many kids live on the streets in Brinmark? Twenty hardly sounds dangerous. Well, have you seen any weapons down in the Hole? Were the children being trained in combat techniques? Anything else of interest?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  I thrummed my fingers on the balustrade, trying to think if I was forgetting any important details. Stars, though, I couldn’t concentrate at all. Samyr and the other girls were passing close under the balcony now, and my heart had taken to hammering in my throat. She wouldn’t recognize me. She couldn’t. Still, it felt so wrong, so utterly wrong to be here with her so close, looking like this.

  “Although,” I said finally, letting my thoughts drift away from Samyr, “I did hear something interesting from some other kids—the ones who aren’t part of Kantian’s crew. There’s talk of rebellion. I’m not sure if it’s just a vicious rumor or if it’s real, but they seem to believ
e it down there.”

  “Rebellion? As in, violent rebellion?”

  “I really couldn’t say.”

  “Maybe you should find out.”

  “It has to do with Rivano, though. And…Istia. Not sure if it has anything to do with the anarchists, though.”

  Kor straightened up and turned to face me, eyes narrowed. “Are you sure about any of this? Think hard, kid, because the wrong information could get a lot of people hurt.”

  I swallowed and tried to recall the conversation. It struck me suddenly that everything I told Kor could change the whole world down there. He would take the information to my father’s advisors, or to the Intelligence Committee, and they would act on it. Somehow I’d managed to ignore that until now. It had only been a game, pretending to ferret out bits of information, getting a pat on the back if I found all the right pieces… Up until now, it hadn’t meant a thing.

  “I don’t…” I started, then leaned my elbows on the rail, pressing my palms against my forehead. “I’m not sure. It was when I was with the Bricks. I told them I was from Istia and they asked if I was here for the rebellion. That’s all. I’m not sure what that means, but rebellions come from within a country, so, it doesn’t make much sense at all.”

  “Means you’ve got some more work to do,” Kor said. He had his matchbox out, twirling it back and forth on the stone balustrade. “You met the Bricks?”

  “You know about them?” I asked, instead of answering.

  “I’ve heard of them. Look, I’ve been working that district a hell of a lot longer than you. They’re a close-lipped group as a whole down there, but I do know some things.”

  “Good, maybe you can tell me something. If I want to have any chance with the Hole, I need to find the name of the Bricks’ supplier. I don’t even know what kind of supplier. It was by sheer chance that I found the Bricks in the first place.”

  “Their stavo, eh?” He sighed. “What do they need the name for?”

  “I have no idea.”

  A peeved look passed over his face. “Listen. You need to start thinking this kind of thing through before you come running back here again, right? You can’t just think, ‘Oh, someone mentioned a rebellion,’ and decide that’s enough to warrant a visit back home. Think about it next time. And if you don’t have all the facts, keep digging. Otherwise you’re just wasting my time.”

  I clenched my teeth through the whole lecture. When he finally stopped, I exhaled, slowly, and turned toward him.

  “You didn’t exactly give me any advice on that matter.”

  “I thought it was common sense. My mistake.”

  The heat rose to my cheeks. Arguing was pointless; I knew he was right, much as it shamed me to admit it.

  So I just asked, “Do you know anything about the supplier or not?”

  “No, sorry. I really don’t.”

  “Kor, why didn’t you tell me to make myself older when you sent me down there? Nobody thinks a kid should have any business asking questions. I’ve just been ignored and rebuked for it so far.”

  He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You think the only way to get information is to ask questions? Sometimes you need to shut up and listen.”

  “And just pray that they get around to talking about something important?”

  “And pray they get around to talking about something important.”

  “Sounds like a waste of time.”

  “Except that all the time you’re listening, you’re busy building their trust and their attachment.” He eyed me sidelong. “And as to your question, do you think you’d have been ignored or scolded for asking questions if you walked down there as a full-grown man? No. You’d have been taken down an alley and shot for being too nosy. So. That’s why I didn’t tell you to change your age.”

  “Fair enough,” I muttered.

  “All right, is that all you’ve got for me?”

  I nodded. “Don’t do anything yet. About the Hole, I mean. I’m almost in.”

  “Stars, kid. What kind of patsy do you think I am?” He jerked his head toward the door. “Go on. Get out of here. I’m not going to walk you out. Think I can trust you to get yourself out without causing a scene with the guards again?”

  “Only if I don’t decide to steal from myself on the way out,” I said.

  He snorted and pulled out another cigar. Since I didn’t have the energy to fight him again about the smoke, I gave up and left.

  Samyr and the girls—Vessa Bell and their plain mouse of a friend whose name I could never remember—had just left the palace when I emerged from the grand entrance. They stood on the wide front steps, adjusting their hats and gloves and whispering to each other through the furs on their collars. I hesitated in the doorway, paralyzed with uncertainty. If I moved, they would see me, but if I went back inside, the prickly woman who led the tours would inevitably be waiting to pounce on me. I wasn’t sure which option terrified me more.

  I had no chance to decide, though. Samyr turned suddenly toward me, and her brows shot up in surprise. I watched the subtle shift of her features, from alarm to disgust to something almost—but not quite—resembling curiosity. After a moment she tossed her head.

  “What’re you looking at?” she asked, haughty, making the other girls turn and stare at me.

  I gave her a scant, feral smile and said, “You.”

  Her cheeks flamed. Vessa inhaled sharply and stepped up beside Samyr, and I felt so wicked for tormenting them, but my thoughts were all in a tangle and I couldn’t walk away.

  “Leave her alone,” Vessa said. “You’ve no right to talk to us!”

  Oh, don’t I? I thought, but I only said, “She asked. I answered.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “We’re the Prince’s friends. If you bother us—”

  “He’ll what?” I asked, taking the first few stairs down to stand a bit closer to them. Vessa backed a step, but Samyr set her hands on her hips and glared at me. “Come find me? Challenge me to a game of wickets?”

  “Don’t you dare insult him,” said the other girl, the mousy one. “You’re nothing compared to him.”

  I eyed her curiously, feeling a bit guilty as always that I’d never learned her name. She had to be one of the Minister’s daughters, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out which one. Comparing her to Samyr was like comparing a thistle to a rose, but I knew Samyr and Vessa were both fiercely devoted to her. And of the three of them, she would be the one to defend me—me, Tarik.

  “You’re quick to judge,” I said.

  “You’re a Jixy,” she said, but her voice quavered on the word.

  I grinned my best mad grin and took another step down. All three of them scuttled back then, like little frightened birds.

  “Scares you, does it?” I asked.

  “You’re an abomination,” Samyr whispered. “You shouldn’t exist.”

  I turned to her, one brow raised. I stood as close to her now as I’d ever dared to as Tarik, but I stood here now as a stranger. As…an enemy.

  What if you knew it was me? Would you say the same thing? Would you look at me with that same hate? Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, and Griff, and the whole world, the truth of what I am?

  She stared straight back at me. Even though she tried to hide it, I could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She was afraid of me. Samyr, afraid of me. The thought knotted a corner of my heart, until I wanted nothing more than to walk away and never bother her again. But Shade wouldn’t walk away. God, sometimes I hated him, that person, that mask.

  Before I could think it over, he—I—replied, “Ever think maybe you people are the mistake? Maybe you’re the ones God forgot about.”

  She snorted. “Don’t be idiotic.”

  “You’re right. He didn’t forget. He just didn’t think you deserved a gift.”

  Samyr exchanged a glance with the other girls, but she didn’t rise to my bait. I knew what she’d be thinking anyway, because a few weeks ago I’d have th
ought the same thing. I sounded superstitious. Backwards. Out of my time.

  “You’re not that special,” the mousy girl said. “What can you do anyway?”

  “Oh.” I smiled, turning my face just enough that I knew the daylight caught on the white lines of my mark. “You have no idea what I can do.”

  She stared at me, pale, her grey eyes wide.

  A little voice in the back of my mind screamed at me; I couldn’t bear it; I couldn’t endure the deception. So I gave the girls a mock bow and, without another word, strode toward the long avenue that led to the palace gates. I wanted to look back. Stars, just one glance, to see what they were doing. To see if they were whispering, or staring, or if they’d already forgotten me and were carrying on as if nothing had happened. But I didn’t. I kept walking, and didn’t stop till I’d reached the south streets.

  Chapter 12 — Hayli

  I couldn’t say how Rivano found me, sitting out on the wall by the chicken-wire park. Maybe Jig had gone and fetched him, or maybe he’d just known like some kind of Knack that I had a notion to talk to him. But one minute I’d been sitting in the cold grey wind, staring at the treetops, the next Rivano stood next to me like a pillar of fire. I tried not to jump when I noticed him.

  “Are you doing better these days, Hayli?” he asked, when a few long minutes ticked past.

  “Suppose so,” I said. “I still got no ken what happened to me, though.”

  Rivano sighed and planted his hands on the rough stone of the wall, his dark gaze fixed on the park like he wasn’t quite seeing it. “I’ve been hearing rumors about this kind of thing happening. Mages getting abducted and waking up with no recollection of what happened to them. Some mages disappear and we never see them again.”

  “You’ve lost mages from your crew?” I asked, a bit horrified.

  “No, fortunately. But I know a Flint went missing some months back, and before that a Shard. Quite a fine one, too.”

  “You think they got taken off to that same place?”

  He studied me quietly, like he couldn’t quite figure out what I was. “I’m not sure. I’d like to know more about it. Can you tell me anything else about what happened? Anything at all?”