Untamed Skies

by Mirren Hogan

  Gideon’s attention went immediately to the figure seated at their mother’s tea table. The silver service had been moved atop the bookshelf and the table draped in a dark cloth spangled with sequins. A woman in a shabby blue dress sat on the opposite side, a large glass ball before her. Strands of beads draped her like a second garment, and even in the dim light he could see the bright green of her eyes. Her face bore the elaborate tattoos of a River Rat. In her lap was Pippin, cooing as if he’d discovered his long lost mother.

  Emotion gathered in Gideon like a storm, slow and unformed. Fear was there, but so was an anger so vast it hadn’t touched him yet. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked softly.

  He heard Miranda’s indrawn breath.

  “Dragons are drawn to magic,” the woman replied. He could only assume she’d deliberately misunderstood his question. “Just as they despise the twisted abominations that haunt the wild places.”

  She had an accent Gideon couldn’t place, lilting and filled with liquid vowels. She was young, her smooth face framed by a black lace veil. She picked up an ornate bottle and poured a small measure of violet liquid into a minuscule glass. She drank it down in a single swallow, but not before he caught the cloying aniseed scent. The spiced liquor had a drug meant to enhance visions of the spirit world. It was also highly addictive.

  The idea of this outrageous creature near his sisters made his blood run cold. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And what are you doing in this house?”

  To his surprise, it was Olivia who answered—the plain, practical middle sister who never took a step out of line. “This is Madam Alma. She’s here to tell our fortunes.”

  Such conduct would have been foolhardy at the best of times, but after Ellery’s trial? He spun to face his sisters, shaking inside with the force of his nightmares. “Are you mad?”

  Sidonie rose. “She came the night of the party. It wasn’t safe for her to leave. Not with all the guards patrolling the streets. I’ve been hiding her ever since.”

  He envied his twin’s cool even as he deplored her judgment. He turned to Miranda, his last hope for good sense. “Did you know about this?”

  She colored. “I found out today.”

  “I found out yesterday,” said Olivia. “I had her tell my fortune right away.”

  Olivia never failed to get what was hers.

  “We’ve been making plans,” Sidonie added calmly. “The guards aren’t on the streets so much now. We can get her safely away.”

  Gideon looked from one sister to the next. All had their jaws set in a way that warned him to mind his step. He clenched his fists, reeling in frustration along with an irrational regret that he’d been excluded from their plans. “Then why is the woman still here?”

  “I keep the bargains I have made,” said Madam Alma, who was stroking Pippin’s head between the nubs of his tiny horns. “I do not break my word just because there are difficulties.”

  “She says I will be rich,” Olivia said with obvious satisfaction.

  Gideon met the woman’s eyes. Her pupils were dilated from the drugged liquor, but nothing about her was slow. Something in that gaze went through to his core. He should turn her in, and yet he couldn’t. His family was harboring a magic user—and as if she saw his dilemma, she gave a slow nod.

  “The sooner I finish, the sooner I will be gone,” she said. “The cards will not be denied once they are spread.”

  “We’ve just started on mine.” Sidonie pointed to the table. “We’ll be brief. Miranda has copied the designs down for future reference.”

  Miranda held up her notebook almost in apology. Further annoyed, Gideon glanced down at the cards, but it was a deck he’d never seen before, with figures and animals framed by bold triangles. The spread itself was a triangle, with one card at the apex, two below it, and three below that. A slight chill passed over his skin. From boyhood, he’d been taught to fear charlatans like this, both because they were frauds and because they had evil powers. The adults had never been able to make up their minds on that point.

  “Then get on with it,” he said, almost in a growl.

  “Very well. The white owl ascends,” said Madam Alba, touching a card. “This is a time of great delicacy. The power of the hunt rises, but there is no clarity as to who is the hunter and who is the prey. The card beside it is the ship in full sail. There is a journey ahead, but that is a descending card. The journey will take you deep within your own heart.”

  Sidonie leaned closer, her long neck arched to better see the images. “And what does that one mean?” She pointed to a coiled serpent at the top of the triangle.

  The fortune teller passed a hand over the spread, and suddenly the serpent became a dove. Gideon blinked, wondering at the flawless sleight of hand—and the fact that no one else seemed to have noticed the switch.

  “The apex guides the rest,” Madam Alma replied. “It tells me your heart is pure. That will guide you when all else fails.”

  Sidonie sat back with a small sigh. “You aren’t going to tell me that I will marry the man I love?”

  That would be Richard Wilcox, Gideon thought. There was a long pause, the silence broken only by the scratch of Miranda’s pencil.

  Madam Alma cleared her throat. “The future is a string of incidents. Fortune runs deeper.”

  “What does that mean?” Gideon asked.

  The fortune teller cast him an unreadable look, but addressed Sidonie. “Your future might be marriage, but your fortune tells you if it brings happiness or misery.”

  Sidonie reached toward the cards, her fingertips hovering before she drew them back without touching. “I don’t understand.”

  Madam Alma tapped the dove. “Remember there is love between you, a promise given, an invitation accepted. I see a ring set with sapphires and a vow sealed with a kiss.”

  A blissful smile curved Sidonie’s lips. “Then I am content.”

  Gideon wasn’t. By rights, he should confront the woman for switching cards, but he couldn’t bring himself to rob his sister of her dreams. Apparently, Madam Alma couldn’t either, and he grudgingly approved.

  That didn’t make her any less of a danger. He turned to the woman. “Pack your things. It’s time to go.”

  “What about Miranda?” Sidonie protested.

  Miranda shook her head. “I don’t mind. Really. You should go.”

  Gideon had never loved his youngest sister more. He plucked Pippin from the woman’s arms and handed the creature to Olivia. “Get this beast back to Gwennie before she bursts in here looking for it.”

  Olivia looked mulish for a moment, but surrendered as he knew she would. She’d had her fortune read, and so wouldn’t fight for anyone else. A moment later, she and Pippin were gone.

  Madam Alma was wrapping her glass ball in the tablecloth, ready to pack it in a threadbare carpet bag. She had the air of someone who’d been rudely dismissed before, and would be again. That was a River Rat’s lot—despised until the rich wanted a forbidden thrill.

  With a muttered oath, Gideon fished in his pocket and came up with a handful of change. He grabbed the woman’s fine-boned wrist and pressed the money into her palm.

  “For your trouble,” he snapped.

  She glanced down a moment, then returned her gaze to his face. “Four silver coins, and yet I have told but two fortunes.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  One corner of her mouth quirked up. “I do not need the cards to see fear drives you, but anger runs deeper. That is a precarious course or a glorious one. Your choice.”

  There was intimacy in her words he didn’t like. He dropped her hand and stepped back. “Tell us where you call home, so we can take you there.”

  Madam Alma’s smile was brief. “You would not survive the journey.”

  The Fletchers’ landau pulled up beside the river just as the moon rose. Gideon had driven the vehicle with the hood up and curtains drawn for privacy. Olivia had remained behind, but Sidonie and Miranda had
accompanied Madam Alma in the carriage. Miranda suspected Sidonie felt responsible for the woman, since it had been her idea to engage her in the first place. Miranda had come because she was mesmerized—not by the fortune teller herself, but by a world that would not permit magic to live in the wild. She’d never understood it before, and regarded the woman like a rare bird nearing extinction. Nothing had been the same since that afternoon at the foot of the Citadel. It was as if Miranda’s world was a warped reflection of the one she’d grown up with, distorted and rife with peril.

  The question was how to navigate. She was no one special. She’d never been more than ordinarily cautious, but neither was she exceptionally brave. It was as if she had lived her life between two parallel lines, afraid to look right or left. But now she’d glimpsed a different, darker truth. For all her newfound vision, she was no wiser—just more agitated.

  Gideon opened the door of the landau and helped the women out. The stink of fish and mud clung to the damp air. “This way.” He led the way toward a flight of stairs that descended to the dock.

  Sidonie, dressed in an airman’s uniform and with her fair hair coiled beneath a cap, remained behind to hold the horses. Miranda followed the others down the creaking wooden stairs. During the day, the area was crowded. Colonies of houseboats stretched along the banks. Barges, skiffs and wherry boats carried goods and people within the walls. Heavily armed ships ventured the length of the river, gun ports open and marksmen high in the rigging. Sometimes River Rats tied up there, too, but none were in evidence now.

  The night was different, and quiet enough Miranda heard the lap of water and gentle bump of the boats moored along the riverside. Gideon led the way to a small padlocked boat shed. Fletcher Industries kept a handful of small craft for convenience. There were artisans—clockmakers, gear mongers, and jewelers—who lived and worked on the water. Some came to land so rarely, it was far simpler to do business where they worked. Gideon set about hauling one of the boats to the water.

  Miranda turned to Madam Alma. “Are you certain you’ll be safe?”

  The fortune teller gave a slight shake of her head. She’d drawn her veil forward, hiding the tattoos on her face. “No one is ever certain. But I am a River Rat, as you call us. I will find friends on the river, in this city or out of it, before the sun rises. We have our ways.”

  Miranda swallowed. “I’m sorry this happened.”

  “So am I.”

  There was an awkward pause while Miranda searched for something to say, but came up empty. Helping a fugitive escape should have been a grand adventure. Instead, she was nervous and cold.

  “You never received your card reading,” said Madam Alma.

  “This is more important.”

  “Is it? You are kind.”

  Miranda rubbed her gloved hands against the chill. “I do have a question, if you don’t mind.”

  “Ask.”

  “One of Sidonie’s cards changed. Why?”

  The fortune teller looked toward the river, where the ships’ lanterns smeared the water. “You shouldn’t have seen that. Never mention that you did.”

  The words chilled Miranda in ways the damp riverside could not. The woman was not embarrassed, as if she’d been caught cheating. It was more, as if Miranda had done something extraordinary. “Was there something bad in Sidonie’s cards?”

  “Hm. Let’s say that I made a suggestion. Sometimes the fates listen.” Madam Alma turned her focus back to Miranda. “Your sister deserves everything beautiful. I hope she receives it.”

  Miranda nodded, lost for words.

  The fortune teller slid a hand into her coat pocket and drew out the cards. She’d wrapped them in a worn silk handkerchief, which she unfolded as Miranda watched. “Since I cannot give you a proper reading, pick whatever card draws you to it.” She fanned the deck, holding them so the designs were hidden from view.

  After a brief hesitation, Miranda picked one and turned it over. A scorpion pranced there, tail raised for battle. “What does this mean?”

  “Don’t you know the legend? When the great hunter Orion grew mad with bloodlust, the gods sent the humble scorpion to protect the land. It was small and insignificant, so Orion did not guard himself against its sting. Thus the hunter became the prey.”

  Miranda said nothing. The card still drew her, but it repulsed as well. It wasn’t pretty or pleasing, like a dove or a rabbit, though it appealed to a bloodthirsty streak she barely acknowledged.

  “There is no glory here,” said Madam Alma. “The scorpion does not work for fame or praise. Its power lies in the shadows.”

  Miranda had always hated being the last and the least of her siblings. Even Gwennie, who adopted new causes once a month, had a stronger sense of purpose than Miranda. And no one expected anything better, for all they deplored Miranda’s lack of focus. Unlike lovely Sidonie or brilliant Olivia, she would never set the world afire.

  “This isn’t for me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The card all but guaranteed she’d never get the admiration, the sense of belonging and recognition, that she craved. And yet, almost illogically, Miranda sensed possibilities. No one would see Miranda Fletcher coming. Her life up to that minute ensured it.

  But coming to do what? Her flicker of satisfaction guttered.

  To do what needs doing. In all honesty, if she could get rid of the sick feeling that had taken up residence in her stomach since Ellery’s trial, she didn’t care about seeing her name in the newspapers. She just wanted to breathe again. To believe in happy endings, at least once in a while.

  “I want this,” Miranda said. “I can’t see how to make it work.”

  “It’s too soon,” said Madam Alma. “You’re on the eve of things. You’re not in it yet.”

  She reclaimed the card and wrapped the deck back in the silk. Then she held the bundle out to Miranda. “They are a worthy tool if you learn to use them.”

  “But don’t you need—”

  “You will need their help, girl.” Her tone turned sharp, making it an order.

  “Then I thank you.” Miranda took the cards without further protest, hiding them in her sleeve as Gideon returned to their side.

  “The boat is ready,” he said. “I have one favor to ask in return. If you come across Ellery’s daughters, tell them what their father did for their sake. Warn them not to come back.”

  It was the first time he’d mentioned the girls since the trial. They’d kept the secret of Ellery’s daughters between them. It was the only way to guarantee their father’s sacrifice bore fruit.

  “You are a man of conscience, Gideon Fletcher.” Madam Alma picked up her carpet bag. “Whether you like it or not.”

  The fortune teller gave a regal nod and walked to where the boat bobbed beside the dock. Miranda huddled against the damp as Gideon helped the woman climb in and cast off. As Madam Alma pulled away, it was plain to see she was an expert with the oars—which only made sense. She was a River Rat, after all.

  And then it was over. Miranda shivered, not sure what they’d just done. Yes, they’d broken the law and saved a woman—and themselves—and it felt right. But it put them at odds with everything she’d ever known. Sooner or later, they would pay a price.

  “Good riddance,” Gideon said as they climbed the stairs to the street.

  “Don’t be a curmudgeon. You’re a man of conscience,” Miranda replied, teasing because she needed to feel brave. Plus, she was his little sister.

  But the words were also true. She was proud of him—and a little bit of herself, though she was frightened as well. As Madam Alma had said, they were on the eve of things, and the path ahead wasn’t clear.

  Maybe that was just as well. An image of Ellery, looking back at the sunlight, flickered through her mind. She wondered when—or if—the shadow of the Citadel would fade from her spirits.

  Gideon slung an arm across her shoulders. “You’re a pest,” he replied, as fondly as a big brother could.

/>   “Agreed.” A nothing. A shadow. A lethal sting. The entire notion about the scorpion was ridiculous, but ideas—like pests—were hard to dislodge once they’d set up shop. It gave her the grain of courage she needed.

  “But you’re my favorite nuisance.” His words brought the night as close to their old, comfortable world as the two of them could manage.

  Miranda caught her brother’s hand, and this time he didn’t pull away.

  THE END

  If you enjoyed “Fortune’s Eve,” don’t miss Gideon and Miranda’s next story Scorpion Dawn, exclusive to the Rogue Skies collection.

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  Visit www.EmmaJaneHolloway.com for more!

  If you loved these stories, please support the authors by purchasing a copy of Rogue Skies fantasy and science fiction anthology.

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  About the Author

  Ever since childhood, Emma Jane Holloway refused to accept that history was nothing but facts prisoned behind the closed door of time. Why waste a perfectly good playground coloring within the timelines? Accordingly, her novels are filled with whimsical impossibilities and the occasional eye-blinking impertinence—but always in the service of grand adventure.

  Struggling between the practical and the artistic—a family tradition, along with ghosts and a belief in the curative powers of shortbread—Emma Jane has a degree in literature and job in finance. She lives in the Pacific Northwest in a house crammed with books, musical instruments, and half-finished sewing projects. In the meantime, she’s published articles, essays, short stories, and enough novels to build a fort for her stuffed hedgehog.