by Keith Walter
Grace jumped in, a pensive look in her eyes. “The former lands of Leviathan, now known as the Fey Republic of Free States, is sister to the Union. They fought together in the war, but decided to live under separate banners afterward. Surely it can’t be all bad.”
“Your info is a little dated,” Charles added darkly. His own eyes took on a hazy focus as he remembered. “The Republic didn’t just refuse to join with the Union, they’re barely a single country. Effectively, it’s just a bunch of independent city-states. They fancy themselves being more free than the Union, but in a lot of ways that just means there are no laws.” He twisted his neck until he felt a relieving pop. “And while they may have fought together, current relations are coldly antagonistic at best. Neither side trusts the other. Last I knew, the Republic was forcing all Union immigrants to endure a full mind-search.” When he caught the shocked expressions of Serin and Leslie, he tried to pull back. “It’s not painful or anything, but they simply don’t take chances with spies. It’s not so bad if you don’t have anything to hide.”
“Have you been there?” Serin asked boldly.
Charles chuckled, loosening the tension that had begun to build in his shoulders. “Been there? Yeah. Submitted to their tests? No. Turns out I’ve got too much worth hiding.” He winked mischievously.
Talmer, who until that point had held his tongue due to Barclay’s previous reprimands, could no longer stand the lunacy. “This is ridiculous. I have no need to go into hiding, into the wastelands—” he spat the word “—of all places. The moment we gain access to a communication portal, this entire trial will be resolved.”
“For you, you mean,” Barclay reminded him. “Even if your daddy can bail you out, he’s not going to lift a finger for the rest of us.”
Talmer stared down the older fey, keeping his expression passive. He obviously did not care about the converts—to him, they were useless and a smear on the name of fey. He probably respected Barclay because of his power, but in his heart Barclay knew it wouldn’t bother Talmer to see the old fey knocked down a peg. Serin and Leslie likely weren’t a threat to him, both being attractive women, but he had no connection to them personally. Barclay assumed Talmer admired Charles for his efforts on the docks, but he wasn’t someone he’d deem worth sticking his neck out for. No, the only being on this ship that Talmer would have felt any loyalty to was Grace, the noble ship who was surely far more important than she let on. “I have sway,” Talmar stated. “I could negotiate on their behalf.”
Barclay held up an open palm to the three irate fey, each of who seemed ready to tear into the pompous young man. “As generous as that offer is, duke’s son, we are set on being free. That position is non-negotiable.” He tipped his head down slightly, a sign of respect and understanding. “I am sure you can relate to the discomfort we might have putting our lives entirely in another’s hands.” Talmer frowned, but nodded slowly. “Look, where each of you ultimately end up from here is still up to you. If you don’t want to go to the Republic—” he looked pointedly at Charles and Talmer “—no one is forcing you. But for right now, we need to first get off the water and out of this city. I think it’s smarter if you stick together. But once you’re gone, you’ll be making your own decisions.”
“I do not think this is necessary,” Talmer replied, quieter than before. He followed Barclay’s lead, nodding respectfully. “But I acquiesce to your experience.”
Barclay opened his arms, bringing everyone back into the conversation. “With that decided, our first order of business is getting transportation set up.” He pulled a second map from his pocket and unfolded it over the first. Circling an intersection of roads toward the center of the city, Barclay looked back at Leslie. “I was going to have Serin and Charles go to secure tickets, but I’m thinking those two aren’t going to get on all that well. So I am going to need you to take her place.” He caught her eye, staring seriously. “This job requires a cool head, I trust you can do that.”
Leslie glanced at Charles, who seemed deviously amused. She closed her eyes and took a long breath. She opened her eyes again and managed an apprehensive smile. “More feet make the path safer.”
“Good,” Barclay replied. “So that leaves me to go out and try to pull some strings as far as keeping us off the Union’s radar. The rest will stay on board.”
“There is no way I am sitting back and doing nothing,” Serin suddenly clamored. “I can go get supplies, or keep an eye on the area.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “But I need to get off this ship.” Her eyes drifted to Grace. “No offense.” Grace just flashed a smile, understanding of the fire elemental’s qualms.
“If you are going anywhere, you are going with me,” Barclay replied. Having spent time in deep landlocked battles before, he acutely understood Serin’s discomfort. “I would rather be able to keep my eye on you.” Serin grumbled under her breath but agreed.
“Ah,” Talmer interjected. He would be damned if he was the only one not contributing. “I am sure I could be of invaluable assistance, as well.”
Barclay mulled the option. He didn’t trust Talmer anywhere near a communication portal, but it wouldn’t help to keep building conflict with the young man. He glanced at Grace and realized he was throwing her under the bus. “Actually, I do have something for you to do, Talmer. This ship is going to be our base of operations. Grace here has been out of the game for a while. I’ll need someone clever and experienced to stay on board and keep an eye out for anything suspicious she might not see.” He looked down, feigning concern. “It’s a lot to ask, I know, which is why I thought you’d be the best choice.”
Talmer couldn’t hold back the proud smile that crept over his face. “Yes, of course. You need not worry. I will accomplish this task with all excellence.”
A grunt of acknowledgement was all that Barclay offered. Pulling a wad of human money from below the dashboard, he handed it to Charles. “This should be enough to cover the bus fare. Just remember, we can’t afford you getting seen when you get the tickets.” Barclay thumbed the funny paper as he handed it off.
“Humans and fey have more in common than we like to admit,” Charles replied dryly. “Let’s double this just in case we need an exit strategy.”
“Grace can make as much as you would like, it’s just pressed cotton,” Barclay said, pointing to the cupboard below the dash.
“Excellent,” was all Charles said as he opened up the same cupboard and pulled out a second stack of green paper. Stuffing it into his pockets he stood up and turned toward Leslie. “It always feels wrong to be the first one to leave a party, but this one seems to have died,” he offered with a smirk.
Leslie took a deep breath. “Behemoth grants everyone a purpose, even if sometimes it is hidden beyond our sight.” Barclay knew Charles was going to test the limits of her patience, but if he could help provide for Leslie’s family then it would be worth it. “Let’s go.” She was careful to pick up the map of the city Barclay had neatly folded and offered as she passed.
“Oh, Charles,” Grace chimed in. “Mr. Barclay did—”
“Just Barclay,” the old fey cut in with exasperation.
“Ah, yes, Barclay did try to keep the moonlight at bay on your chest. But just in case, I placed runes on your undershirt for further protection. There should be no risk of another transformation.” She smiled amiably. “Wouldn’t want that to get loose, especially in such a populated area.”
A wave of realization swept over the others and Charles seemed to shrink in on himself. “Definitely time to go,” he added as he rushed out the door.
Barclay waited for the Leslie to follow, distracting the rest, before he spun to Grace and leaned in close to her ear. “You are sure everyone on board will be invisible to anyone out there searching?” he whispered quickly. Grace looked puzzled, but nodded. “Good,” he whispered, “but I need to ask one more thing of you. Do not let Talmer off this ship. Do not provide him a communication portal for any reason. Just keep him
occupied, if you can, until we get back.”
Grace glanced sidelong at Talmer, who returned the glance with a seductive smile. She looked back at Barclay, smiling sardonically, and gave a quick thumbs-up.
◆◆◆
In the time it had taken to discuss the plan, another pallet carrier had moved away from the dock, allowing Grace to sidle up close. Seeing the docks almost completely empty, Charles and Leslie nodded at one another knowingly. Charles watched with more than a little envy as Leslie hopped over the railing outside the bridge. He took a breath and prepared his knees for the twenty-foot fall. Leslie landed as if she were playing hopscotch on the school playground. Charles on the other hand hit like an old rusty chain. His legs fell out from under him and his body crumpled into a pile.
“Are you okay?” Leslie said as she rushed to try and help him up.
Grunting, Charles held out a hand stopping her. “Just working out the kinks, nothing to be worried about.” He walked with a noticeable limp, but tried to hide it when he saw a nearly passed-out drunk staring. He ignored the man, who just rolled over as they made their way past the rows of containers. And yet, it wasn’t the discomfort in his body that bothered him. Free of the ship, there was almost nothing between him and simply disappearing into the world once again. Nothing but a stupid agreement with Barclay.
He shouldn’t have agreed, but the man had left him no choice. He supposed, if he really wanted to, he could just abandon them. His conscience slapped him hard enough to stop walking momentarily. He’d agreed to help, given his word. But what was his word really worth? Just hours ago he had broken the most sacred of promises; he’d given up. Even Alistair wouldn’t have forgiven something like that.
Squeezing his hand into a fist, he ground his knuckles into his chest. The pain had a way of focusing his mind, blocking out all the unimportant thoughts. He was a failure, in more ways than he could count, but failure was temporary so long as one was alive. Maybe he could never live up to his promise to Alistair. But if he could follow through now, help Barclay and these fey as he said he would, maybe there was still hope.
Two fences later, the first road opened in front of the pair as Leslie unfurled the top of the map. “If we take this street straight, it should take us close to the bus depot.”
Charles quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, but we’re obviously taking Main Street.” Already, his mind was ten steps ahead, eyes scanning the area for useful information.
“What?” she replied quizzically. “Why? There will be humans there.”
Charles held back a laugh. “Never spent much time around humans I take it.”
“Behemoth, give me strength,” Leslie whispered in response to her partner’s tone. “Barclay said we should refrain from being seen.”
“And that’s the plan,” Charles replied softly, as if talking to a child. “The Union will be out in force, but they have no choice but to spread themselves thin. They are going to keep an eye on the obvious escape routes and most visible areas. My rule has always been to try and go where the other guys aren’t, like a nice crowd of humans. Like a lot of fey, the Union think of humans as little more than animals, and won’t pay too close attention to them.” He shook his head. How many times had he done this, walking right by his pursuers, using their overconfidence against them?
Leslie struggled to grasp the poin. “Main Street is out of our way, the crowds will slow us down. We don’t have time to dawdle.”
Charles sighed. “You don’t say.” He was quickly getting the impression that Leslie wasn’t going to be a great deal of help. Speaking slowly, he tried to sidestep a drawn out explanation. “Trust me when I say I have experience with this kind of thing.” He smirked as he added, “You might say I’m a bit of a professional criminal. Let me do the planning and I’ll get you back to your little clan.”
“We are not a clan.” Leslie ground her teeth at the word. “We are a family.”
“Sure, however you want to call it,” Charles replied nonchalantly.
“If you don’t know the difference,” Leslie added pointedly, “then maybe you shouldn’t be so presumptuous.”
Charles frowned. Having grown up with neither himself, he was reminded of a loneliness he thought he’d long forgotten. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that Leslie was probably right. “Fine, family.” Somehow things had become contentious, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Jamming his hands in his pockets, he mumbled, “Let’s just get moving.” Leslie took a deep breath and let Charles take the lead. They walked in silence around several turns until at last the bustle of Main Street surrounded them.
Leslie didn’t want to admit it, but she really hadn’t spent much time around humans. She had been born into a small clan of little influence. They were workers of the land, but respected by the rich for what they provided. Human society offered nothing to her clan. She had read about it, but rarely experienced it herself. Now, surrounded by dozens of humans on all sides, she was feeling uneasy.
Her companion seemed to have no such problems. He walked with ease, stopping in front of a window display and pointing inside meaningfully. “What?” she asked, not understanding his aim.
“Here,” Charles replied as he handed over a few bills from his pocket. “We need to be a little less conspicuous.”
Leslie stared at the green paper in her hand then back at Charles. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Really?” Charles mumbled to himself. “It’s a clothing store. I need you to go in and get some clothes.”
“I’m wearing clothes,” Leslie replied sharply. “We didn’t come here to shop.”
“How do you not get this?” Charles added, frustration growing in his voice. Trying once more, he began softly, “We need to blend in.” He motioned to the people walking around them. “We need to look like everyone else. It does us no good to hurry if anyone within two blocks can pick us out of the crowd.”
Frowning, Leslie looked at the men and women all around. They seemed to come in every shape and size, wearing a multitude of colors and patterns on their clothes. Looking down at her own crisp white shirt and gray pants, she replied, “I don’t…” She bit her lip as she hesitated. “I don’t know what that means. They all look different to one another.”
“Typical fey,” Charles replied with a long sigh. He tried to weigh his options. It would be easier to get around as part of a couple, but Leslie was proving to be more difficult than helpful. “Look, we’ve got a ways to go before we get to the bus depot, and there’s almost certainly going to be more heat the closer we get.” Placing a hand over his heart, he continued, “I gave my word to Barclay that I would help, and the tickets won’t be a problem on my own. Maybe you should just head back.”
“No, you look!” Leslie snapped as she invaded her partner’s personal space and shoved a finger in his chest. “I’m sorry that I’m not some experienced criminal like you. But this is my family on the line, and I’m not just going to leave their safety in the hands of a stranger.” Pushing him backward a step, she added, “Barclay seems to have some trust in you, but that doesn’t mean I do.”
“Calm down, you’re making a scene,” Charles replied gravely, his eyes searching for anyone that might be watching. Leslie grabbed his arm and forced him into the clothing store roughly. Once inside, he shook off her grip. “What is wrong with you? I’m trying to help.”
“Are you?” Leslie asked aggressively. “Because right now it just seems like you’re just trying to get rid of me.”
“That’s not…” Charles tried to explain, but couldn’t find the words. “I told Barclay I would help, so I’m helping.”
Leslies scoffed derisively. “So you’re just another mindless soldier doing what his captain told him to do. But you don’t care one whit about what the people you are supposedly helping are going through. You haven’t been drying their tears since they were pulled from their beds and beaten. You don’t have any idea what it’s like to be the only thing they can rely o
n in a world that doesn’t care if they live or die.” She poked Charles in the chest again. “You’re just like everyone else in this damn country.”
Charles was losing his composure as he reeled from her words. He tried to remind himself that she didn’t know him, didn’t realize how close to home her words hit. And yet, he couldn’t help the words that spilled out through clenched teeth. “You don’t know a damn thing about me!”
“I know you are only looking out for yourself,” she spat back. “You want me to walk away, return to the boat empty handed, telling everyone on board that it was just too hard. You haven’t even considered what that would do to them, that it would completely crush them after they finally have a ray of hope.” Taking a breath to try and calm herself, she added, “If you don’t care about the lives at stake, how can I trust you’re really here to help at all?”
That hadn’t actually occurred to Charles, but he couldn’t stand the insult. He was trying to be better, but she was just throwing it in his face. “I’m out here doing something, aren’t I? How is that just looking out for myself? Do I have to be kissing away your tears to prove I give a damn?”
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t get it.” Taking a step back, Leslie added sarcastically, “What does a killer even know about caring for others?”
“Killer?” Charles whispered the word. He was caught suddenly between anger at Leslie and anger at himself. Yes, he had killed. But, it wasn’t that simple. “I didn’t have a choice. You think we would even be here if I hadn’t?”
“That makes it right?” Leslie rolled her eyes in disdain. “Don’t mind that they felt the same way, that they were leaving behind families and friends of their own. It’s interesting how think you didn’t have a choice, but I suppose that just makes it easier for you.” Pointing her hands toward herself, she continued, “But I guess that’s becoming a pattern. I’m not doing whatever you say, just because you said it, so you try to send me away. It seems you care more about what’s easier than what’s right.”
