by Tim Susman
What unlikely spot did the Americans have access to? Nothing came to mind, but perhaps Jackson himself would have an idea if Kip suggested it to him. The sorcerers at Prince George’s had been exploring westward; maybe one of them could help now that they’d been recovered.
And they could help guard the Calatians, too. This would take it out of the responsibility of the Army and so it wouldn’t cost Jackson anything, not even a defensive sorcerer.
Perhaps he could get to see Master Odden again. He would like to sit down and talk to him, just to tell him all the things that had happened, to go through what Cott had done. If anyone living could understand it better than Kip, Odden would be the one.
There were so many people whose welfare depended on him now—well, perhaps not depended exactly, but whose lives he could make better with a little effort. They would never know if he didn’t, but he would know, and he would carry it with him as surely as he carried the face of Ella’s mouse friend who had boiled to death in the Atlantic, or Thomas Trewel’s dead drowned face, or his former teacher’s.
He woke early, not feeling rested, but unable to get back to sleep for more than a few minutes. After breakfast, Kip discussed his idea with Captain Lowell, Malcolm, and Alice, and none of them found any fault with it. So it was just a matter of finding Master Colonel Jackson and getting time with him. He asked Lowell about it, and the soldier reminded him that since being assigned to Kip’s unit, he was not privy to Jackson’s comings and goings. “Check with Captain Marsh,” he advised.
Captain Marsh, when Kip and Lowell went to see him, only knew that Jackson had left standing orders for them to be ready at a moment’s notice. “I think we’re going to New York next. The British are moving their ships and there were army movements along the Hudson River valley. He and Major-General Hamilton are scouting locations to move the army to. Good job getting rid of so many of the British translocators, by the by,” he added to Kip. “The Master Colonel said that this has impeded their troop movements.”
So Kip paced about the Trade House until Alice, more out of pity for him than need for herself, asked him to help her with an alchemical spell to draw water out of the air. That distracted Kip for an hour, until Emily returned to ask whether Kip could come back with her.
She appeared on the street, but the guards wouldn’t let her into the Trade House, so she sent word and Kip came down to tell them she was authorized. They walked into one of the small back rooms that wasn’t being used at the moment; the large dining hall was crowded with sorcerers playing cards, and some of the calyxes had joined them.
The back room, which smelled like it had been a storage closet at one time, at least had two stools they could sit on once they’d wiped them clean of dust. Emily sat and then almost immediately edged forward, half off her stool. “They’re all very excited to meet you,” she said. “Abigail thinks that it could really help our negotiations. They seem very willing to take Britain down a notch, and we are working out the terms of a loan, but if you come plead in person, we might also have the services of some of the sorcerers. They’ve got ten translocational sorcerers, and we wouldn’t get all of them, but imagine just having one or two more.”
“I can’t go. Jackson isn’t anywhere to be found and I don’t know how to get in touch with him.” Kip gripped the edge of the stool, imagining its wood bursting into flame. That impulse came with a burst of trepidation about abusing his power, as though the stool were alive and he had callously thought about destroying it. He let go of the wood and flattened his ears back.
“You’re the hero of the Battle of the Road,” Emily said. “That’s what they’re calling it, if you hadn’t heard. You don’t think you can just go on a diplomatic mission? What if Abigail asked for you specifically?”
“I expect she’d have to ask Master Colonel Jackson.” He enunciated each word of the title, and then rested his muzzle in his paws. “They’re so strict here. It doesn’t matter what you did yesterday if you don’t follow orders today. I could have magic taken away.”
She wore that stubborn expression he knew so well. “From what you told me, when they sent you to London, you had a lot of freedom.”
“That rescue mission—the only reason I was given so much freedom was that he hoped I would cause a great deal of destruction. He wanted me to lure the British out into the ocean and incinerate them. If I leave without permission, I’ll have magic stripped until they need me for a battle, no matter what.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
Kip told her briefly about his conversation with Captain Lowell. “Remember, I’m a Calatian. That will always be the first part of whatever I do. Not ‘the fire sorcerer,’ but ‘the Calatian fire sorcerer.’ Not ‘the hero of the battle,’ but ‘the Calatian hero of the battle.’ Every success I have doesn’t move me forward; it stops them from pushing me back.”
“I know,” she said.
“I’m sorry.” He reached out to her. “I know you go through the same thing every day.”
She nodded. “I keep believing that one day I’ll do something bold enough…” She sat back on the stool and her eyes drifted up beyond Kip. “You know that they call Abigail ‘the American emissary’? Not ‘the woman,’ not ‘the lady emissary,’ except when they’re addressing her as ‘My Lady’ or something. She’s earned that respect.”
Kip let out a bitter laugh. “And it only took her seventy years.”
“Well,” Emily said, “perhaps she’s shortened the time for the rest of us. As you’re doing for Alice.”
“And hopefully more.” His tail relaxed.
Emily smiled. “Even if you can’t come back, it’s nice to get to see you again. I’m thankful that you’re all still alive.”
“How long can you stay?” Kip asked.
“Oh, I thought I would say hello to Malcolm and Alice, but I should return before too long. It’s late there, and if you’re not coming back, I’ll get a good night’s sleep and try again tomorrow. I do hope you reach Colonel Jackson. Those Dutch sorcerers are very anxious to see you.”
“I do too.” They rose together, but as Emily reached for the door of the room, Kip said, “Wait. One thing.” She turned, and he rubbed his head. “Sorry, I’m tired. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. Do you think the Dutch would give us more sorcerers, or more help, if we could send them a calyx or two?”
“I’m sure they would,” Emily said, “but I wish you luck convincing the American army to give up that kind of power to another country.”
“Ah, I suppose you’re right.” Kip opened the door for her.
“What kind of help would you ask them for?”
He followed her through. “It’s stupid as I think about it. I was going to ask if they could house the refugee Calatians. Keeping them in a neutral country might be safer than anywhere here.”
“They wouldn’t be neutral if they agreed to that, though.” Emily patted his arm. “They’re safe where they are. I can’t imagine a safer place.”
“Not all of them are inside the Tower,” Kip said. “And they’re very crowded in there, and I don’t know that they’ll have enough food. I don’t think the leaders here are worrying about them, so someone ought to.”
“I will ask in a very indirect way what we might expect to get, if we were to provide a calyx to them for a limited time. Have you someone in mind who would agree to it?”
“No,” he said, and stared down at the floor. “That’s the other problem. I can only ask for volunteers and hope that someone is willing to make that sacrifice.”
“We keep hearing that war is about sacrifice.”
“Yes.” Kip lowered his voice as they passed the large dining room. “I find that for the officers, war involves someone else’s sacrifice.”
“Of course it does,” Emily said. “But you need someone to plan the battles. If General Hamilton got killed in an infantry charge, that wouldn’t do the army any good.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean that
they are looking out to make sure that they and theirs benefit from the war. When it comes to Calatians, or…” He thought of the Chasseurs-Volontaires. “Or any other group that aren’t male British landowners, well, they don’t much care what their situation is after the war.”
“I believe the Adamses care more than that.”
Her tone had a little chill to it, so Kip said, “Of course they do. But they are by and large the exception. Right now we are all united because we all believe we will benefit from a free and independent America. But the moment there’s even a hint of someone needing more than the barest minimum…”
“They are trying to win a war.” Emily sounded as though she were trying to convince herself as well as Kip. “The least distraction…” She sighed. “But I suppose it would be easy enough to simply appoint someone to take care of the housing of the Calatians, wouldn’t it?”
“I would think so. But Alice and I are too important. Maybe Mr. Morgan would do it, if anyone would listen to him. It needs a human to agitate on our behalf. I can’t even manage it, and I’m a sorcerer.”
“John Adams has spoken in favor of Calatians in the past,” Emily said. “I could approach him on your behalf.”
“Let me talk to Master Colonel Jackson first.” Kip paused at the base of the stairs. “He might yet do the right thing.”
Emily smiled thinly. “I wish you all the luck in the world with that.”
Over the course of the afternoon, Kip bothered Captain Marsh two more times, until the sorcerer snapped at him that he had no way to contact Master Colonel Jackson, and that he would likely know of Jackson’s whereabouts only a very short time before Kip himself knew.
Kip resisted the urge to snap back with some difficulty; the stress of the day had worn on him, and the lack of sleep hadn’t helped. He stalked back up to his room, where he created a magical fire and stared into it. There was nothing inherently bad about the fire, he reminded himself, or indeed any kind of power. Evil came from the use to which it was put. He had thought that he was justified in killing because his superiors had told him he was, because he was facing people who would have killed him. He did not doubt that he would rather have survived than not; what he was coming to doubt was that it was necessary to be in that situation at all. And yet, if he did not have Jackson’s ability to strip magic from someone, what other recourse did he have against sorcerers?
It wasn’t until mid-afternoon of the following day, after Emily had left disappointed from another visit, that Kip found Master Colonel Jackson, though it was actually the other way around. One of the guards came up to the room where Kip and Alice were studying spells and Malcolm was playing with Ash. “Master Colonel Jackson to see you downstairs, Penfold,” he said, and then looked to Alice. “Er…he said ‘the fox,’ so maybe you’d best both come.”
“He means me,” Kip said, jumping to his feet.
Alice rose with him and followed. “I’m a fox as much as you are,” she told him.
Captain Lowell, who had been reading a newspaper, stood as well. “Am I to come too?”
The guard shook his head. “He only said, ‘the fox,’ and you’re no fox.”
Kip frowned. Lowell looked as worried as he felt, but there was nothing to be done about it. So he and Alice followed the guard down to the room that served as Jackson’s office when he was in the House.
Master Colonel Jackson sat behind his desk reviewing some papers and barely glanced up. “Have a seat, Penfold,” he said, and Kip held one of the chairs in front of the desk for Alice, then sat in the second himself.
This attracted Jackson’s attention; he looked up and said, “I didn’t ask to see Miss Cartwright.”
“The guard seemed confused on the matter, sir.” Kip was pleased that Alice didn’t get up.
“Well, well, she may stay. I suppose both of you may attend to this matter.” He pulled two papers from the pile he was looking at and laid them atop the others. “We think the British are preparing for an offensive on New York, so we’ve been preparing for that. It likely won’t happen until tomorrow at the earliest, so we’d like you to go to New Cambridge tonight.”
Kip sat up straighter. “Yes, sir. Are the refugees being re-settled?”
The question confused Jackson. He shook his head quickly. “Re-settled where? They’re being settled for the first time. And how did you—Oh, I see. Ha ha!” He relaxed. “You mean the ones who were already there. Yes, we have to find a solution, but in the meantime we’re moving the New York and Boston Calatians to New Cambridge for safety. If the British are going to attack New York, the Calatians might be a target, and while the Boston group might be safer here, it’s easier to defend them when they’re all in one place.”
Kip’s mouth hung open. “That’s—that’s another thousand Calatians. They can’t all stay in the College.”
“Oh, it won’t be a problem with the weather improving. Mainly we need to bring in food for them, you know. I have orders out to local farms, but they’re sure to be restless—the Calatians, not the farms—and want to go out and get food for themselves. I want to have someone they trust explain why we have to keep them there for their own safety.”
Alice had turned to stare at Kip, but he only registered her movement with his whiskers and peripheral vision, because he kept looking at Jackson’s smile. The man wasn’t malicious; he really was talking as though the Calatians were a store of ammunition—or, no, farm animals that needed to be protected and fed.
In the face of Kip’s shock, Jackson’s smile faltered. “Come now,” he said. “You yourself showed me that Calatians are an important target in this war. How would you have us defend them? Leave garrisons and a defensive sorcerer warding three different areas?”
“I was going to ask about relocating the London Calatians.” Kip found his voice with difficulty. “There has to be a better site. And then to add another thousand on top of them…”
“New Cambridge is where they are right now. We can find another location, but it will take time. So.” Jackson fixed Kip with a stare again. “Can you go there tonight, settle the newcomers? You may bring Miss Cartwright if you wish.”
“I…” Kip collected himself. “Yes, I can. Sir, I had a request for you as well. Miss Carswell tells me that the Dutch sorcerers are quite interested to meet the Calatian sorcerer who was present at the destruction of the Road, and might be more inclined to help us in the war if I visit them.”
“Yes, of course.” Jackson waved a hand. “A brief visit.”
“And in the matter of the Calatians…Bryce Morgan was the leading citizen in New Cambridge. May I put him into a position of authority when it comes to requests from the army, and so on?”
Jackson stroked his chin. “Are there any human residents of New Cambridge you might trust to do right by the Calatians?”
“There’s—”
“Marshall Winters,” Alice said. “You don’t think?”
“Winters would be fair,” Kip allowed. “But I think it’s important for the Calatians to have one of their own to voice complaints and requests to.”
“Then Winters for the camp as a whole, and this Morgan fellow for the Calatians.” Jackson’s words carried the finality of an order.
“And perhaps a leader for the London, New York, and Boston populations? Someone they know?”
“Excellent idea.” Jackson pushed the two papers across the desk at Kip. “Here are copies of the official orders in case someone questions them. I’ll be back here tomorrow morning, nine sharp, expecting your report. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” Kip stood, and Alice followed his lead.
When they left the office, she headed for the stair, but Kip stalked to the back room where he’d talked to Emily. Alice hurried after him, excusing herself as she bumped one of the other military sorcerers. When she came into the small room, Kip swung the door shut and finally gave vent to his feelings, calling magic and incinerating every speck of dust in the room, a task that required both focus
and energy.
Alice jumped at the small sparks all around the room and then sniffed the chairs. “That’s a quick way to clean.”
Kip stomped from one end of the small room to the other. Alice backed against the door to watch. “It’s terrible that they’re all going to be packed into the College grounds,” she said, “but he did say they would be looking for another place for them.”
“And then have to move them all?” Kip kicked the wall and turned. “They’ll be there until the end of the war, making requests through a human.”
“I’m sorry.” Alice clasped her paws together, pressed against the door. “Marshall Winters is a good person. Father trusts him.”
“He is a good person.” Kip calmed and came to Alice to put a paw on her shoulder. “It was a good suggestion.”
“Well…we’ll just have to fight well and end the war soon, then, I guess.”
She smiled bravely, but her words sent Kip back to the ocean, to Cott’s desperation. Again he wondered how many more people he would have to kill, or how effective a soldier he could be if he refused to kill again. “Yes,” he said, and searched for reassurances that the war wouldn’t last much longer.
Several of his thoughts came together in that moment and a scheme opened up in his mind. Dangerous, but the possibility it afforded if he could succeed… He turned it over in his head, considered several angles, and it remained tenable, if not completely sound. “Alice?”
“Yes?”
“If…suppose we could get the prisoners back from Gibraltar, and get all the Calatians from the Isle of Dogs, not just the calyxes.”
“That’s a thousand people or more. Fifteen hundred.” Her eyes widened.
“Closer to two thousand, I think, with the prisoners. But suppose we could do it.”
She pictured it. “The British wouldn’t have any Calatians, or not nearly as many. They couldn’t make strong magic.”
“And we could. They’d have to surrender, wouldn’t they? Emily said something about the Dutch invasion being the last war the British lost to a nation without calyxes. Well? What if they were the nation without calyxes?”
