“And Saruak?” I asked him.
“Saruak, at full-strength – and he’s close to that by now – comes somewhere near the apex. His race is phenomenally ancient. They’ve visited plagues on entire populations, crushed whole dynasties beneath their heel. We’ll never know how things might have been different, if it wasn’t for the Manitou.”
He’d tensed himself, as though the ground beneath him had become unsteady.
“The most powerful of us are only human, at core. But they occupy a level no adept can reach. A good way to describe them? You could call his kind … Destroyers.”
I could almost hear the capital, when he said that. And some of his dark mood was affecting me by this time, settling down around me like a shroud.
“But you said near the top,” I pointed out. “What trumps a Destroyer?”
“Only one thing.” And his eyelids finally came back open. “A Changer of Worlds.”
Then he sat there like a bright-eyed shadow, taking in the sight of my blank face.
“A Changer doesn’t need to use magic as such, Devries. The Buddha was one. Jesus was. Christopher Columbus. Edward Jenner. Einstein. But in this case, I’d imagine, we require one with special powers, rather more than changing water into wine. Can you think of anyone who answers that description?”
He waited for my answer, knowing there was none, then let out an exasperated sigh.
“Anyone, in this whole town?”
“Maybe if you really tried …?”
But his features screwed up, almost with contempt.
“I’ve already told you! I’m only middle management in the pecking order of the dark arcane. I just drive a fancier car than most.”
“You’re seriously telling me there’s no one who can face him down?”
“At the beginning, maybe. But it’s far too late, by this stage. He has pushed his way into our every conscious thought. And he’ll keep on using that, until he makes his final move.”
I wasn’t giving up, however.
“How about the Little Girl?”
Willets pulled a strange expression, mildly amused by my persistence.
“Her? I’m not quite sure what she is. I’m not even certain that she’s sure.”
And what did that mean?
“But I don’t think that she’s our savior, no. In fact, I’d lay good money on it.”
“There’s no hope for us at all, then? I can’t bring myself to believe that.”
“Which is your strength, and I envy you for it. But it won’t help you this time. I’d love to give you a happier answer, one that you’d prefer to hear, but –”
He spread his slim hands, showing me how empty they were.
“—honesty forbids me. I am genuinely sorry.”
Then he hunkered down a little further in the shadows, peering at me from his bed. His back was bent. His frame and his whole manner reeked of sheer exhaustion. Exactly how long had he been sitting there before I’d arrived?
What was it about the stronger forms of magic? Raine. The Girl. And now my somber companion here. This town was staring into the abyss, and they were being no real use at all.
I think I saw the truth of it, right then. Since magic does away with all the normal laws, it cuts you loose, leaving you marooned beyond reality. Although that wasn’t only true of him, the more I thought about it. It described us all.
“You’re right about one thing, the ceremony,” he told me gently, trying to make up for his lack of helpfulness so far. “It’s going to be Saturday he makes his final move.”
I thanked him for that and started getting up.
“You want to know what I believe?” he breathed, stopping me. “When people get into the habit of overturning the natural order of things, they’re tempting Fate in the most perilous fashion. We’ve all been ducking and weaving for a good long while now, surviving somehow. But it’s finally caught up with us. And – you know what? – we’ve no one but ourselves to blame.”
Which was a judgment that I simply wasn’t willing to accept.
My greatest strength, he’d said. Perhaps my greatest weakness, too. But it was better than his attitude. I wished him a good day, then headed back toward the street.
As I pushed the metal door back shut, that saxophone came floating once more from the subterranean dimness.
I could still hear it as I walked away. Except that now, it was inside my skull.
TWENTY-NINE
In the electric blueness of her room, the Little Girl revolved. Her eyes were moving swiftly again, under their closed lids. And her smooth brow was furrowed up with intense concentration.
She’d felt so terribly unhappy, during the course of the last couple of days. All those people she’d seen dying, all that pain and loss and injury. And some of it had been inflicted upon little children like herself. She would have cried for them, if she’d known how. Something in her desperately wanted to reach out and touch them, heal them. Maybe even bring them back to life.
But perhaps that was not such a good idea, the more she turned it over. She’d seen very bad things happen, when magicians had tried that.
Although – like most other things that happened in the town – she’d only ever watched it from a distance. Mr. Ross was right about that. No, she never left this room. And never got particularly involved in anything that was going on beyond it.
She’d been listening to his thoughts, the whole time he’d been talking to the doctor. And …was he cross with her?
He didn’t understand, though. She was bound to this place, could not leave. She wasn’t exactly sure why. It was simply a fact that she had always been aware of.
She kept on listening, as Mr. Ross discussed things with the red-eyed adept. And one thought of his, in particular, stood out.
Staring into the abyss. They’re being no real use at all.
She felt her limbs stiffen.
Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Ross. I want to help. I really do!
“I’m not quite sure what she is,” Lehman Willets was saying. “I’m not even certain that she’s even sure.”
She considered that. And he was right as well. Sometimes, there was only hollowness inside her head. A yawning vacuum, desperate to be filled up. Others, there was such a babble of conflicting voices that she couldn’t separate them out, or even tell which was hers.
If she was going to achieve self-knowledge at some point, then which point? What was keeping it?
But that wasn’t the most important issue. There were other matters, far more pressing, that required her attention. And she needed to be helpful now. She needed to take part. If she didn’t, if she just did nothing, then Mr. Ross might become a good deal more displeased with her. Might not visit her anymore.
Mr. Ross, in fact, might …
No, she couldn’t bear to think about that. There’d already been more death than she could stand.
She turned over everything that the adept had been saying. And yes, when she looked at it more clearly, she could see that he was quite correct. She’d never thought of magic in that way before. A hierarchy, yes. A pyramid. Clever Willets!
And Saruak near the top of it? She cast her gaze toward him. He was no longer even trying to hide himself, and she could see him clearly, still perched in that tree beyond the boundaries of the town, kicking his scuffed boots and chortling to himself.
Her temples creased up even further. Oh, that bad, bad man. She had watched him hurt so many people. And a flash of hatred ran through her. She wished that she could hurt him back.
But then her mind grew calmer, and she started dwelling on the other things that Willets had explained.
The only thing that could beat him was this ‘Changer of Worlds.’ She had never heard of that before. But the doctor was a very wise man. If he said so, she would take his word for it.
And if she wanted to be helpful, she would have to find this Changer.
So she began to cast her gaze out like a lighthouse beam, across the entir
e town.
Look, Mr. Ross, look! I’m trying!
Are you happy with me now?
THIRTY
Halfway back into town, my cell phone went off. I was still floundering in a pool of dark emotion from my meeting with our learned friend, and didn’t feel much in the mood to talk. But I answered it. Cass was on the other end.
“You okay?” she blurted.
“Fine.”
I heard her let out a breath.
“Get anything out of him?”
“A seminar about pecking orders.”
“Huh?”
“Exactly. Oh, and a brief lecture on the subject of deconstructionism.”
She sounded slightly boggled as she took that in. I wasn’t sure she’d even heard the word before.
“Er, what’s being deconstructed?”
I sighed. “Us, apparently.”
Then I noticed her voice sounded echoey, like she was out of doors. And there was some kind of hubbub going on around her. Dozens of raised voices were competing with her own. It was hard to tell from this far away, but they sounded tense and angry.
“Where are you?” I asked her puzzledly.
The background din rose a notch, so she was almost having to shout to make herself heard above it.
“Union Square! Out front of the Town Hall!”
“What’s happening? Who’re all those people I can hear?”
“Maybe you should get down here and ask them?” she came back at me. “Because personally, I can’t believe what’s going on!”
The sun was high and very bright as I headed back into the center of town. The sky was a clear eggshell blue. I could see the river glimmering. The perfect day to be out of doors, tossing a ball around or just shooting the breeze with your friends. Except that the majority of us knew better.
The top end of the square, when I arrived, was half filled up with people. They were all ages, all sizes. And more of them seemed to be showing up the entire time.
There were no adepts here. None of these folks seemed to be anything special. Just the ordinary citizens of Raine’s Landing, coming here to make their point. By this hour of the day, most of them should have been at work, or school. But they seemed exercised and had a slightly frenzied air about them. Normal life had been forgotten, or at least set aside for the time being.
“We want answers!” someone yelled.
When I looked across, I could see it was a store owner I knew, Hoyt Dinsmore. I had never even heard him raise his voice before.
The stage for the ceremony was practically complete. Gaily colored bunting had been strung around it, fluttering the way the banners did. There were microphones in place and chairs, but they’d been covered up. The gathering crowd ignored all that. They had flooded round its girders to the steps of the Town Hall, the big stone lions gazing down at them impassively.
Mayor Aldernay was at the top, directly beneath the clock. He had his suit all neatly buttoned up and there was a supposedly placating smile on his broad, tired-looking face.
“People, people!” he was begging them.
Just like Cassie, he was having to shout just to make himself heard. But his tone, even at this higher volume, was noticeably more mellifluous in public than it ever was in private.
“Surely you can understand? What happened yesterday? It happened to people who were gathered in large groups, like this one! Go home, please! It’s far safer than being here!”
“That’s why we’re here!” a woman in an apron bellowed back at him.
“We’d be safer if we could get out of this place!” her friend, standing next to her, added.
The rest of the crowd murmured their agreement. And I wondered, was this turning into a mob?
Halfway down the west side, only a few yards from my office door, were Saul Hobart and several of his men. The guys in uniform had their expressions blank, their hands set on their hips. They were trying to look stolid and implacable. But their eyes gave them away, becoming more anxious the larger the crowd grew.
This was a town where people knew each other. Nodded, smiled, and exchanged pleasantries when passing on the street. If things turned ugly, what exactly were they going to do about it? I understood their dilemma. I’d have been in the same position, once.
Saul was leaning up against a mailbox, taking in the scene with an unhappy air and shaking his big head.
Cassie had her Harley parked at the south corner. And was standing beside it, with her Mossberg at the ready, her head going constantly around. It wasn’t the humans she was worried about. She was scanning the whole area for any sign of trouble. Dralleg trouble in particular, I guessed. When I walked across to her, she didn’t even notice I was there at first.
“Hey!” I said.
Her face jerked round. And it was set like concrete.
“When did all this start?”
“I’d reckon half an hour ago.”
“Entirely out of the blue?”
She seemed almost as puzzled as I was.
“Looks like.”
But it hadn’t been spontaneously. I had figured that out by now. The Landing might have its shortcomings, but angry mob scenes generally weren’t one of them. And so …
I started wondering what kind of bearing Saruak had on all this.
“What is it these people want?” I asked.
But the answer didn’t come back to me from her lips.
“Hold the ceremony right away!” an elderly guy shouted from the center of the crowd.
I turned around and stared at them. What in heaven’s name were they talking about?
“What are you waiting for, Aldernay?” another voice put in. “More innocent people to be slaughtered?”
“There’s no point hanging round till Saturday! We could all be dead by Saturday!”
Aldernay’s cheeks, true to form, turned a noticeable shade of puce. The shadows underneath his eyes grew darker. He was trying to remain calm, but he failed quite badly, going stiff, flapping his hands in what he obviously presumed was a placating manner. I could see some people looking even more annoyed, when he did that.
“All the plans for the ceremony are in place, folks! If you’ll just be patient –”
The rest of what he was trying to explain was lost under a fusillade of catcalls.
“Get one of the adepts here!” someone demanded. “Let’s hear what they have to say!”
And I’d never heard an ordinary Joe demand to see an adept before.
I could sense the crowd’s whole mood becoming nastier and more intense. And this might be partly the Manitou’s doing, I could tell. But not entirely.
There’d been three massacres in just two days. Parents and loved ones lost, whole families wiped out. Everyone was panicked, very badly. There was no way you could blame them.
But this insistence on the ceremony, the idea that it could save them? It had been tried – and they all knew it – countless times and achieved nothing. From where had the notion come that two eight five would be the charm?
That had to be our visitor. It was what he wanted from them, after all. Willets had already confirmed it. Reunion Evening would bring Saruak to the high zenith of his power.
He was handing them the pen with which to sign their own death warrants. And I couldn’t see any way to snatch it from their grasp.
“The adepts are getting ready!” Aldernay was insisting above the growing hubbub. “If we’re going to do this thing, we need to do it right!”
There were a few derisive whistles.
“That’s bull-flop!” Hoyt Dinsmore yelled, his glasses getting all steamed up. “They can conjure anything they like, so long as it’s for their benefit! Why can’t they do something to help us?”
“It’s not them getting butchered!” someone else joined in.
But the fact was – I could see it clearly – nobody was suggesting anything new. There was nothing startling about the concept. Several adepts had attended most Reunion ceremonies down the y
ears. And it hadn’t made the slightest difference. Regan’s Curse had remained intact, and everybody knew that.
Except … they seemed to have forgotten it. I could only think of one person who would want to make that happen.
I was starting to get really worried. It had been bad enough when Saruak was influencing one human being at a time. If he could cast his spell on this many, then perhaps he could affect the entire population.
It gave me a queasy feeling, imagining what that might entail.
The mayor threw a hopeful glance at Saul. Who, to his credit, just stood there like a spectator. Aldernay’s focus returned to the crowd.
“I will consult with them, I promise you!”
“That’s not enough! We want their answer, and we want it now!”
If there was such a thing as ‘pucer,’ Edgar’s face became it.
“Thing aren’t done that way! You know that! We can’t go demanding –”
Fierce yells cut him off again.
Saul was on his cell phone, calling for more help. His men were standing at the ready and had put their hands across their nightsticks, although they hadn’t drawn them. This showed every sign of turning bad.
I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a shadow moving through the sky toward the square, from the direction of Sycamore Hill. It passed over the crowd, making them all glance up. There was a dull rushing noise, and Judge Levin appeared beside the mayor.
He was wearing the same suit as when I’d met him earlier, but had discarded his robes. His hair looked mildly rumpled and his face was gray and drawn. But his presence, mild and solemn, seemed to have a dampening effect upon the crowd.
I heard someone mutter, “At last.”
And then the people started quieting down.
Asking to see an adept was one thing. Having one stand right in front of you? Another. The families up on the Hill had exercised such power for so very long that people grew up naturally respectful of them. As I watched, a few dropped their gazes.
Levin peered around at them slowly, taking in every last face. And then he stepped forward, making sure he could be properly heard.
“Ladies and gentlemen, be assured,” his voice rang out imposingly. “We genuinely understand your concerns. The events of the past couple of days have been appalling, truly so. They have been foremost in our every thought and deed.”
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