Sorcerer's Secret

by Scott Mebus

  “You’ve found it?” he asked, eyes boring into Bridget. Being on the run clearly did not agree with the fallen god. His clothes were in tatters and he looked sickly. “Where?”

  “Hello, Hex,” Rory cut in, his stomach rolling at having to face his betrayer. “Still running and hiding out, huh?”

  “Don’t give me that holier-than-thou crap,” Burr spat. “This is still my room. I earned this room and they can’t take it away.”

  “Then you should have kept the door shut,” Fritz said, shaking his head. “You know we’re going to tell the council you’re down here, right? You were cast out a long time ago. You lost all these privileges.”

  Burr sneered. “Tell whom you wish, I’ll be long gone.” He peered at Rory intently. “You should let me come with you. No one knows Kieft better than I do. Even if you think you know where his treasure is, it will be heavily guarded. I can be useful.”

  “Do you really think we’d ever trust you again?” Rory asked, incredulous. “You betrayed us over and over, in every way. I could never trust you.”

  “You have to fight magic with magic,” Burr insisted, opening his hand and letting sparks jump from knuckle to knuckle. “Kieft will set traps. I will be able to see those traps and disarm them. I wouldn’t ask for much. Just some choice items. I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to do, I promise.”

  Soka gave the fallen god a disgusted look. “We don’t need you, pretend medicine man. I am with Rory, and I can protect him.” She lifted her hand, and clouds formed, raining down on her palm, small jolts of lightning snaking out to zap her fingertips. Burr flinched, gazing at the Munsee girl with new respect. He did not give up that easily, however, turning back to Rory with renewed urgency.

  “Rory, all it takes is one false move and this little girl could be killed by one of Kieft’s traps,” he said. “Let me be the one to take those risks. Let me be the one who risks his life, not your pretty friend. There is no way for you to lose!”

  “I only lose with you, Hex,” Rory told the old man, suddenly tired. “I don’t have time for this.” With that, he turned to walk away. The others followed, leaving Soka to give the last warning.

  “Follow us and you will pay,” she promised the old magician. “Understand me?” The lightning licked off her palms onto her fingertips. Burr took a step back, alarmed.

  “Who are you, girl?” he asked.

  “Stay away,” she told him, before turning to follow Rory and the rest. Burr yelled after them, though he did not budge from his door.

  “You’ll regret walking away from me! You’ll regret ever casting me aside. You need me!” But they kept walking, and soon even his echoing voice was a memory.

  21

  THE GAME CHANGES

  Sooleawa sat in Tackapausha’s wigwam, the rest of the elders long gone. The newcomer army was coming to them, convinced that Kieft’s army was going to attack the park. The elders had to decide what to do. Even at this moment, they weren’t fully agreed. But the night had grown late, and they dispersed. Tackapausha had asked Sooleawa to stay behind, and now she was waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “I just want the anger to go away,” Tackapausha said, suddenly looking tired. “I thought it would disappear when my son returned to me, but it won’t leave me be. Why is that?”

  “You’ve been hurt, deeply,” Sooleawa told him. “That kind of hurt is hard to heal. It takes time.”

  “I feel broken,” he said, slumping down. “The newcomers broke me with their lies and their wars.”

  “It takes more to forgive than many have to offer, I believe,” Sooleawa said. “Anger is fire . . . it consumes you and leaves nothing but ash. It tears down our houses and leaves us homeless. Forgiveness, understanding—that is how we build again.”

  “I fear I am not as strong as you,” Tackapausha sighed. “My anger had burned through me so completely that I am nothing but a shell that can crumble at any time. Part of me wishes to take our battle to Kieft, as I doubt I can survive the wait. Either way, I know I will not survive this last fight. My son will do my forgiving for me.”

  “Do not speak so,” Sooleawa scolded him. “You have more strength than you know.”

  Tackapausha opened his mouth to reply, but Sooleawa never got to hear his words as just then a ripping sound echoed through the wigwam and a knife appeared in the wall, cutting a hole from the outside. Black figures poured in through the hole, firelight glinting off their knives. Tackapausha didn’t have time to fight back as one of the knives found a home in his chest. Sooleawa immediately began to summon a spell, grasping at the wampum she kept in her pouches.

  Tackapausha’s killer turned to her—it was Askook. She felt no surprise as the snake-faced Munsee approached her. She gripped her wampum, pulling as much magic into her as she could bear, and just as the knife descended she sent herself out, soaring through the air in one last moment of freedom, even as her body fell. She soared on, searching for her children, desperate to say good-bye.

  Rory and his friends finally left the underground corridors behind and emerged into City Hall proper. Alexa and Nicholas led the way through the twists and turns of the old building, keeping to the shadows to avoid detection. This didn’t seem to be much of a problem, however.

  “Where is everybody?” Lincoln asked, gazing around the empty halls in confusion.

  “I don’t know,” Nicholas replied, looking equally confused. “But the map room is off-limits, and anyone we meet would likely keep us from going, so let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. Here we are!”

  He pushed through a nondescript door into a dark room, he and Alexa ushering in the rest of them before he closed the door.

  “Wow!” Bridget whistled by Rory’s side. And Rory had to agree with her. The long room was dark, like a planetarium, though instead of stars, the only light came from what appeared to be a glowing diorama floating a foot above the ground, which took up most of the room.

  “It’s the whole city!” Bridget cried, running up to get a closer look at the scale-model-size buildings. Rory followed, marveling at the sight. He realized he was actually walking through the diorama, wading through the model as if it were a shallow pond. He passed by the hip-high Statue of Liberty, its torch the size of his fingernail. The Financial District rose up before him, the tall buildings as high as his shoulders. Everything seemed so lifelike, he felt like Godzilla about to attack. Gazing uptown, he could spy the Empire State Building in the middle of the room, and the trees of Central Park beyond that. Everything glowed as if the noon sun shone down on it, even though the room’s ceiling was pitch-black. Only one thing was missing.

  “Where are the people?” Bridget asked. She had run all the way up to the Village, passing through the buildings as if they were holograms—the most lifelike holograms Rory had ever seen.

  Nicholas shrugged. “We’re not looking at the city the way it actually is right now. We’re looking at our collective memory of the city. When you mash together everyone’s memory of a street corner, you’re not going to all remember the woman hailing a cab. But you will all remember the drugstore with the summer beach display in the window. Understand?”

  “I guess,” Bridget replied, running up to Midtown. “What about Central Park? Most of you guys never set foot inside it, right?”

  “Until a few days ago, Central Park was merely a black, shrouded area in the middle of the map,” Alexa replied, walking through the miniature city toward the Brooklyn Bridge and City Hall. “But this map is more than just the city today. Watch.” She stretched her arms out, closing her eyes. Suddenly the map began to shift, the buildings melting down into trees, the edges of the island falling into the water, and the land shifting, rising up into hills and falling down into valleys. When the map stopped flowing, the only buildings that were left were clustered at the southern tip, including a fort and a few farms. The rest of the island was covered in trees and bogs, meadows and streams, and a large lake near a long wall that traced the n
orthern line of the settlement.

  “What happened?” Rory asked. Alexa opened her eyes and smiled sadly as she glanced around the new map.

  “This is the Mannahatta of my youth,” she said, running a hand over the lifelike grass that covered the ground near her waist. “I asked the map to remember it with me.”

  “Why?” Bridget asked.

  “When I was small, I used to play by the Collect,” she said, reaching down with a finger, gently sinking the tip into the large pond near the wall. “My father didn’t like it, but he’d often be busy in City Hall and I’d run off, past the wall that later became Wall Street, up to the pond to throw stones at the ducks. And there was a cave there, a deep cave I never saw the back of, that I liked to play pretend house in, as if I were a cavewoman making a home for her family. My father caught me one day in the cave and I’ll never forget how he reacted. It was as if I’d leaped into a bear trap or something. His face was so frightened as he scooped me up and carried me out that you’d think I was playing with rattlesnakes. He made me promise never to enter the cave again, and I didn’t, because his fear scared me. Later, other buildings sprang up and I lost sight of the cave, so the temptation disappeared. But I never forgot.”

  “You think this might be the cave Adriaen entered to go down to the cavern?” Rory asked, hope rising in his heart. Alexa didn’t answer, searching the south shore of the pond, then nodding as she reached out with a fingertip to tap at the mouth of a small cave hidden behind some trees.

  “That’s it,” she said firmly. “That’s the cave.”

  “But you said yourself the cave was built over,” Rory said. “How can we find it today?”

  “Nothing is every really gone in Mannahatta, you know that,” Nicholas told him. Alexa nodded.

  “You want to know where it is today?” She closed her eyes, and the map began to flow once more. Buildings rose up out of the ground, land emerged from the sea, and hills and valleys smoothed out into avenues and tree-lined streets. Soon the city Rory knew had returned. But Alexa’s outstretched finger had never moved. “It’s right here.” Rory stepped up to her side. Her finger was pointing at a small pizza place not far north of City Hall.

  “You found it!” Bridget cried, hopping up and down.

  “She did,” Nicholas said, smiling. “Let’s go!”

  But before they could move, a strange feeling washed over them. Fear, mixed with pain, and unbearable love. Rory bent over double, overwhelmed, and he could see the others were just as overcome. He recognized the presence—he’d felt it before—and the power of it was almost too much for him. But that was nothing compared with Soka, who had collapsed to the floor.

  “Mother!” she screamed, tears pouring from her eyes. “Don’t leave me!” But despite Soka’s cries, the feeling faded, leaving Rory hollow and sad.

  “What’s going on?” Fritz asked, bewildered.

  “It’s Sooleawa,” Rory replied, feeling shell-shocked and grief-stricken for Soka. “She’s gone.”

  It didn’t take long for them to find out what had happened. As they left the map room, they ran right into Walt Whitman, who was running down the hall with Dorothy Parker at his side.

  “They launched a sneak attack in the middle of the night,” Whitman told them. “Askook, the devil, killed Tackapausha and Sooleawa . . .”

  “She’s gone,” Soka mumbled, pain flashing across her tearstreaked face. Whitman’s kind eyes overflowed as Mrs. Parker gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  “I’m so sorry,” Whitman said, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Now my people are left without a pau wau,” Soka said, and Rory realized, with a sinking sensation, what that would mean.

  “And the first real battle is just around the corner,” Whitman said. “Though I have no doubt we’ll prevail! We have stout hearts and strong leaders!”

  “That more than makes up for our lack of guns and swords, I’m sure,” Mrs. Parker added drily.

  “You should see to your father,” Whitman advised Nicholas. “He needs you right now. To be honest, we need all of you right now. This battle is not just for the Munsees. We’re fighting for the heart of the city itself!”

  After a quick farewell, he and Mrs. Parker continued down the hall, running to meet up with the other leaders to discuss battle plans. Before the Rattle Watch even turned to look at Rory, he knew what was coming. So he beat them to the punch.

  “You need to be here,” he told them. “Helping your people. I can go alone to the cavern.”

  “Not alone!” Bridget cried. “I’m coming, too!”

  “One of us should go with you,” Alexa began, but Fritz cut her off.

  “No, your place is with the gods,” he said. “They need people they can trust right now. I will go with Rory and Bridget.”

  “And Soka, right?” Bridget asked, eyes hopeful. But Soka looked away.

  “Soka needs to go back to her people,” Rory told Bridget. “They’ll need her magic to counter Kieft and Askook. That’s far more dangerous than where we’re going.” His eyes glanced over at Soka, the worry rising in his heart. “You will be careful, right?”

  “I will if you will,” she said tearfully. Bridget stamped her foot.

  “But we’re supposed to have magic!” she cried. “The Fortune Teller said so!”

  “I will give it to you,” Soka promised. She looked deep in Rory’s eyes, and the pain he saw in her own cut him to the quick. “I will make sure nothing harms you.”

  Rory forced a smile. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, knew it in his heart. But he couldn’t let her see. He stepped up and gave her a soft kiss, in front of everyone. “I know you will,” he whispered. “I know you will.”

  Caesar Prince stepped into the small room, frowning as he took in the forlorn figure sleeping on the rough pallet. It hadn’t been easy whisking this man away from Kieft and hiding him while Caesar attended to some delicate tasks. It had better be worth it. He turned to the Abbess, who had guided him down to the basement of the abbey and was standing just outside the door.

  “How is he?”

  “He is a mess,” she said sadly.

  “Well, we don’t have time for his self-pity,” Caesar said, though pity is what he felt when he gazed down at the broken man.

  “I know,” the Abbess said. “Just be gentle. For me.”

  “I saw your nuns packing up. Going somewhere?”

  “The last battle approaches and those of us who remain here must now go to the battlefield, to care for the wounded,” the Abbess said. “There will be many, I can tell.” She turned to go. “I will leave you.”

  “Do something for me, will you?” Caesar asked, grabbing her arm. “If any gods die on your watch, take their lockets and grind them beneath your heel. Don’t allow anyone to take them away. Promise me.”

  She nodded, her eyes wide, and he let her go. She gathered herself with dignity and strode away, leaving Caesar alone with the man. He leaned over the sleeping form.

  “Wake up, Harry—or Peter, or Henry, or whatever you’re calling yourself nowadays.” Caesar poked at the man, who groaned as he woke.

  “My head . . . ”

  “Been drinking?” Caesar asked lightly, showing his bright white teeth.

  “Who cares,” the man muttered, holding his head as he sat up. “I betrayed Kieft, defied him to his face, and all for naught. He took my son and then the nuns told me that the hospital had blown up. My boy is dead. And it’s all my fault.”

  “Stop it!” Caesar scolded him. “Your son is fine. I opened the door to his cell myself, though it cost me dearly.” The man looked up hopefully, then burst into tears. Caesar rolled his eyes at the spectacle. “I’ve had enough of your woe-is-me prattling. I’ve known you for two hundred and fifty years, through at least ten different names, and the one thing that’s never changed is your damned self-pity.”

  “I’m sorry I’m so predictable,” the man said, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

  “It stops,
today,” Caesar announced. “Your boy needs you.”

  “I couldn’t help him.” The man’s tears welled up. “I couldn’t help any of them. I let them all down.”

  “Do you know what this is?” Caesar asked, pulling out both his lockets from beneath his shirt. The man’s eyes widened.

  “Two? Who gave you the other one?”

  “Kieft.” Caesar snorted. “I think he knew I was spying on him, so he decided that rather than try to kill me, he’d make it impossible for me to turn on him. So he gave me this locket.”

  “Whose is it?” asked the man, peering at the gold necklace.

  “The God of Leaders Who Look the Other Way. I’ve been trying to help Stuyvesant and Whitman and everyone else, but this locket and the duties that come with it won’t let me. I’m forced to look the other way. Kieft’s ultimate revenge.”

  “So how is it that you are here?” the man asked, puzzled. “And how did you help my boy?”

  “I can’t not do anything. So I’m breaking the rules and going against my duties, as much as I can, which isn’t much, to be honest.”

  “But that means . . . ”

  “I will be punished, yes,” Caesar said, trying not to think about it. “Harshly. Aaron Burr turned against his duties after the Trap and the land took back its locket. The same might happen to me, or worse. But I can’t turn away.”

  “Why do that to yourself?”

  “Because I did a great wrong,” Caesar said, his heart heavy. “I built that Trap. I can say I didn’t really know what I was doing. That I only meant it as a game, to prove that I could. But I should have known. I was too proud and Kieft used that pride. He told me the Trap would only be up for a short while, and the very fact of its existence would stop the warring between god and Munsee, and I believed him because I wanted to believe him. As I worked with Burr to finish the Trap, I could sense that he knew something I didn’t. But I wanted to see it work. So I told myself to ignore what was all around me. I used the Munsees’ own talismans, the wampum and the Sachem’s Belt, to create the way to unlock it, not realizing what an affront it was to pervert those people’s magic in such a base way. Such pride! And then the Trap was triggered, and weeks passed, and suddenly the Lights, who I had designated as the only ones who could turn the key, began to disappear. There were never many to begin with, and now, suddenly, there were none at all! And I realized that this was no game. No, this was very real. And it was all my fault. Sure, Kieft and Hamilton, and Burr, and you—you all knew exactly what you were doing. But it is my creation. My pride. My crime.”