by Andy Havens
Wallace paused in his talk as he navigated around a sharp turn as a big truck came the other way, making him instantly break out in a cold sweat.
“Frankly,” he continued, “if you’d told me about it in so many words without preamble, I’d have said you were crazy or the victim of a hoax.”
“Interesting,” Kendra replied. “Are we sure Ezer isn’t crazy or trying to trick us?”
Wallace shook his head. “If it was just me and you? Sure. I’d consider those options. But both Mr. Monday and Mrs. McKey have pieces of corroborating data. Plus, I was there when the Blood Thanes tried to kidnap you and when Rain tried to kill you after you turned down Earth.”
“Right. I don’t understand why he was so interested in me.”
“I don’t either. Not specifically. I mean, it’s very rare to have an unaffiliated Reckoner walking around figuring out which House to join. Rare to the point of nearly never happens, that is.”
“But still, I’m just one person.”
“Well, sure. But maybe the Bloodlord or somebody in Earth thinks you’re a particularly powerful Reckoner and that you need to be on their side.”
“That’s so goofy it makes no sense.”
“I’m sorry?” Wallace wasn’t used to someone, essentially, calling him stupid. Especially someone who was a Mundane a couple of months ago and has, by her own admission, everything to learn about the Houses, Ways and Law.
“Well, think about it. From what I understand, the most powerful Earth Lords are the oldest ones. The ones who have been around forming alliances and soaking up Earth Ways for thousands of years. Right?”
“Sure, but there are…”
“And,” Kendra interrupted, “the Ways in Blood are all tied to family and clan relationships. Sure, they have some abilities that translate out of the Domain, but it’s mostly all ‘a la familia.’”
“That’s not entirely inaccurate, but…”
“So why would a Mundane kid like me matter?”
Wallace thought for a moment before replying, “What you did to Rain Vernon was pretty extraordinary, actually.”
Kendra didn’t like to think about that. Rain had been her friend and boss. She didn’t understand why he had tried to kill her when she wouldn’t join Earth.
“Right. Maybe. But I didn’t know I could do that beforehand. Rain sure as heck didn’t. And, anyway, it just happened, Wallace. I did something instinctual. To protect myself. I didn’t really mean to kill him. Just stop him.”
Wallace nodded. “I understand. But it’s still very unusual. I think that’s what Mr. Monday is most interested in, if you want to know why you’re along for this, uh… project. That’s why he put me in charge of the study group.”
“Study group?”
Whoops… Let that slip.
“Uh, yes. A few of us have been going through the available… information and, uh… background on your unique… uh… case.”
“And you’re in charge of this group.”
“Yes.”
“That is studying me.”
“Uh…”
“And you didn’t tell me about it?” She sounded a little hurt, but mostly pissed.
“To be fair, Kendra, you went missing right after you gave me the book to study. Nobody knew where you were until I helped you out behind Bardonne’s and then you walked in the door with Vannia and the Warden. Which was, in itself, pretty damn unusual.”
“I get that. He made three, you know.”
“Three what?”
“Three Domain Lords for me.”
“I’m confused. Are you counting Rain as a Lord of Earth?”
“No, he’d be four. I also met the Red Brothers.”
Wallace almost lost control of the car as he turned to look at her.
“You what?!”
“The Red Brothers. Vannia took me to see… them. For a chat.”
They were pulling up to the parking lot on the outskirts of the Stuart-Warden clinic. There was a clearly marked “Visitors Parking” area and a kind of smallish, Plexiglas booth also marked, “Visitors.”
As they parked, Wallace asked, “What did uh, ‘they’ want with you?”
“Mostly to tell me I’m not welcome in Chaos.”
Wallace turned off the car—it was a standard-seeming Ford Taurus from the Library’s pool, but with a small Way that hid the library branding—and they got out.
“You’re not welcome in Chaos?”
“Apparently not.”
“Vannia couldn’t have told you that.”
“I think the Brothers wanted to meet me,” Kendra said as they stepped into the little booth. It was transparent on three sides, had a single unisex bathroom, a drinking fountain, a phone with no keys and a bench that ran the length of the shed.
“I’m going to want to know more about that,” Wallace said. “After this meeting.”
He picked up the phone and, after a series of clicks, heard a voice: “Cooperative Centers for the Long-term Care and Study of Stuart-Warden Patients. This is central administration. How can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Carl Lynne, who we believe is visiting with Dr. Roland Daniels.”
Kendra stood right next to Wallace and put her ear next to the phone so she could hear. She had to balance herself on tiptoe by holding on to his shoulder, which made him a little self-conscious.
“Thank you. Which Center were you looking to make an appointment with?”
“No. I’m sorry. We’re at the visitor’s booth for Center Five. We’d like to see Mr. Lynne today as soon as possible.”
After a brief pause, “I’m sorry, sir. We have no staff named Lynne.”
“No. I know. He’s not on staff. He’s visiting with Dr. Daniels here at Center Five.”
“You want to visit with one of Dr. Daniel’s patients?”
“No, Mr. Lynne is on the board.”
“The board?”
“The board of directors. For the centers.”
“We don’t have a board of directors, sir.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We have a board of trustees.”
“Yes, of course. Mr. Lynne is on the board of trustees.”
“The board meets in New York City and Tampa, sir. Not at any of our Centers.”
“I know. I mean, I didn’t know that, but…”
Kendra took the phone from him.
“Can you connect us with administration in Center Five, please?”
“Certainly. One moment.”
The phone rang on the other end, a slightly different tone. Wallace looked at Kendra.
“Why did that work?”
“Because transferring the call counts as a win for anybody on a central desk like that. Even if it’s passing the buck.”
The line clicked and a different voice asked, “Center Five administration, how can I help you?”
“Hi,” said Kendra.
Then, almost all in one breath, she rifled off, “I’m sitting out here in the visitor lot and I’ve gotten passed around on the phone a ton and I hope you can help me. This phone rings right to some truly rude person at a central something-or-other and they were completely useless and I think I talked to the same lady like four times before I finally said, ‘Can you please just put me on with someone who can help me here at Center Five’ and she passed me to you. I’m totally sorry if you’re the wrong person. The last, like, three people she transferred me to had no idea what I was talking about and I’m just hoping I’m not being a bother but that you can help. Please?”
“Those people at central,” the voice on the other end said, exasperated. “I don’t know why they bother to even answer that phone. It’s almost never used and, seriously, should just ring right to me.”
“Well, thank god somebody gets it,” Kendra said, grinning up at Wallace who was confused and a bit peeved.
“Oh, honey,” said the lady’s voice, “I totally get it. This place usually runs like clockwork. My phone hardly ever rings.
But throw in one monkey-wrench and nobody can think on their feet.”
“It’s like that everywhere, I think,” Kendra agreed.
“So you’re out at the hut? Nobody uses the hut. Did you have an appointment? Checking someone in? You do that at the main gate, honey. It’s just around the access road to the right there.”
“My driver and I don’t exactly have an appointment,” Kendra admitted. “We’ve been trying to meet with one of the Center’s board members, a Mr. Lynne? We were in the area and knew he’d be here for some meetings, so we thought we’d stop by. We have a speaking opportunity for him related to his work with the Centers. I’m the press gal for a local TV producer named Solomon Monday. He wants to interview Mr. Lynne while he’s in town. I didn’t have any luck catching him at his office, so I thought I’d just drive out here.”
“Well, Mr. Lynne is here today. He visits our Center at least once a year. I don’t know anything about an interview, though…”
“Oh, he doesn’t know about it. That’s why I’m here. My boss does the fun stuff… TV, cameras, microphones. You know. And who does all the leg work? Wanna guess who?”
“Oh, I hear you, honey. Let me see if I can get a message in to Mr. Lynne. He is meeting with our senior staff this morning. Who did you say the interview is with?”
“My producer is Solomon Monday. I believe they met at some party or something once. He should know him.”
“OK. Just stay on the line. Don’t hang up or you’ll have to talk to Beverly in central admin again.”
“Great. Thanks!”
While they waited, Wallace asked, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why the lie? Why… all that about being on the line with four other people. We weren’t.”
“You don’t deal with regular people much, do you?”
Wallace shook his head. “No. I guess I don’t.”
“If you want results, you have to fit into their narrative somehow. Most people at work have a pretty well defined set of stuff that they do. That’s their narrative. If you come at them with a request that’s outside that, they don’t know what to do. Hell, I’m guilty of it. There was a little kid in one of Mr. Vernon’s gardens once just sitting there staring at a white, flowering weed. Maybe seven or eight. He wasn’t in my way. Didn’t need any help. Looked OK. So I did my job around him for like half an hour and left. Kid never looked at me. I avoided him. But when I thought back about it, I realized… That’s pretty odd. But it wasn’t part of my…”
The phone came alive again.
“Mr. Lynne said he’d be glad to talk with you about the interview. Drive up to the main gate, like I said, and security will pass you through.”
“Thank you sooooo much!” Kendra gushed.
“Oh, honey. You’re welcome. Stop by the front desk on your way in and say, ‘Hi.’ I’m Shirley.”
“I’m Kendra. I’ll be glad to. Thanks again!”
They hung up and got back in the car.
“And you used Mr. Monday’s name because you knew Fayton would recognize it as related to the Domains, not some local interview.”
“Right. That’s part of his narrative.”
“Clever.”
They came to the gate which was set into a ten-foot tall fence topped with razor wire. The guard shack was much nicer than the visitor shed. It was larger, for one thing, and looked like it could comfortably hold a half dozen workers or so. And there was an A/C unit on one side and a satellite dish on top.
A guard in a blue security uniform with an “S/W” logo on the chest came out of the shack and mimed for Wallace to roll down his window.
“You’re from the TV station?”
“Yup,” answered Kendra, leaning over from her side.
“The producer or something?” the guard asked.
“I’m a line producer, yes. But we’re trying to get something set up with my boss.”
“Who’s this guy,” jerking a thumb at Wallace.
“He’s my driver.”
“You need a driver?”
“I’m from the city. I don’t drive.”
“Ah. OK. Well, here are your guest badges,” he handed them each generic plastic rectangles with a QR code on the front. There was a clip and a lanyard, so Kendra put hers around her neck and Wallace clipped his to his shirt pocket.
“Thanks!” Kendra called out to him as the gate opened and they rolled through.
“That was easy,” Wallace said.
“Why wouldn’t it be? We’re visiting a long-term care facility for people with a rare mental health problem. From the little I’ve heard, Stuart-Warden sufferers aren’t violent or anything. They just need a stable place away from… I don’t know. Stress and distractions, I guess. I saw a thing on it on TV a couple years back.”
“Why would a Wanderer of Release be interested in a place like this?”
“Who knows? You guys have all kinds of pet projects I thought. If he’s in Release, maybe it’s a good place to hide out among Mundanes.”
“Interesting. Could be.”
“And what’s a ‘Wanderer,’ anyway?”
“It’s a distinction among the Second Circle of Release. Those who can, if absolutely necessary, contact Lady Percy. The Wanderers are a kind of open-ended intelligence gathering operation. They do all kinds of work in the world and then use what they find to help inform the activities that Release takes on. The Second Circle also has Hunters, who are always on specific finding missions. And Binders, who are assigned to keeping things hidden or locked up. Then there are Breakers, who are brought in if the Hunters find something that needs, well… Broken into.”
“So, kind of like the guilds within Blood Tribes.”
“You’ve been doing some reading…”
“Yes. Bardonne’s has a decent little library. Though very little of it is aimed at teaching the basics of the Houses to a new Reckoner.”
“That stuff is usually taught within the Houses over the course of many, many years.”
“I get that. It just makes it harder for a noob.”
“Understandably so.”
“You also mentioned the hunt. So these guys in the Second Circle are the ones who might become the next Lord or Lady of Release if they find out where she’s going to show up ahead-of-time?”
“Oh, no. The Second Circle is entirely ineligible to ascend. It has to be, well… anyone else in Release.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the Lord or Lady of Release has to have some level of contact with the Domain. If you want to ascend, you need to prove that you can, on your own, best her—or him—in the game. Not by rising through the ranks, but through raw talent. If you’d rather not make that try, you can serve time in the various Circles and eventually move up to the Second. That’s apparently what Fayton has done. He’ll be one of a couple dozen Wanderers who, basically, keep the machines of the House oiled and running. Release does a lot of work for the other Houses. And that requires competent administrators and dedicated managers.”
“Why do they do so much stuff for other houses?” Kendra asked as they looped around the campus, passing a pleasant copse of trees, a gazebo and a little, manmade lake. They could see the main facility, now, up and to the left of the road.
“Ah. You haven’t figured that one out on your own?” Wallace looked pleased.
Of course you look pleased, Kendra thought. Knowing crap that other people don’t is like crack to you Sight people.
“No. Please tell me.”
He didn’t catch her dry sarcasm at all.
“While Release, of course, keeps their own secrets close, at some point, well… what do you need if you’re interested in finding and breaking important things out or keeping important things hidden?”
“Uh… Important things?”
“Yes. And if those are all within your own House…”
I’m still not catching on to this one… Damn it, I must be low on caffeine.
“What
? Blood does most of its stuff all within Blood. All their tribal wars and clan treaties and what not. And Earth doesn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about other Houses. You guys in Sight care, of course… because there’s no border on information. But why does Release need…”
And then she got it.
“Breaking into your own bank is no fun.”
Wallace nodded. “Exactly.”
The road wound around a field and across a small, scenic stream. As the perimeter fence disappeared behind them, it was almost possible to think you were in a lovely, private park.
But something feels… odd, Kendra thought. She looked around at all the trees and bushes and pleasant, rolling fields lined with footpaths. It all seemed very normal and regular. But something about it wasn’t quite right. Like when you see a really good retouched photo and quite can’t put your finger on it, but the shadows don’t quite match up. Or the colors in one section aren’t entirely natural.
For a moment, her mind kicked up the memory of a brick wall. Something about it had been wrong in the same way that these fields were wrong.
A brick wall? Something brick. The feel of bricks. What is it? I can’t quite put…
But by then they had pulled up to another parking lot, this one almost full, and the feeling was gone. Wallace found a spot near the back and they got out.
Walking up a dirt-and-paver path to the front door, Wallace continued, “There are factions within Release that practice on each other. But it’s a lot more interesting for them if they are, essentially, consultants for others. That’s one of the other reasons they work with Mundanes so much. The tools of the trade for Release aren’t all Ways. Plenty to do and learn elsewhere. Like with computers. That’s almost entirely a Mundane field. But they are…”
The front door opened before they had a chance to grab the handle and a pleasant, middle-aged woman in comfortable business-casual clothes stepped out. She smiled and held out her hand, so Wallace shook it.
“I’m Shirley Lawrence,” she said. “We spoke on the phone,” that last to Kendra, who shook her hand, too.
“Yes. I’m Kendra. And thanks, again, for taking the call. It was so nice of you.”
