ã€ŠLoris of New Castleã€‹


 Chapter One: Scared, Small Things Run Faster

    Chapter 1: Into the Woods

    I ran through the trees and snow barefoot. The firs and redwoods stood as tall as the mountains around me. In their century-long shadows, a child looks like little more than another forest creature panting, trembling, running by. At the next clearing I glanced over my shoulder. My footprints had left a trail behind, each with a rust smudge of blood from my cracked feet.

    ¡°Frackit!¡± I swore, but I didn¡¯t have time to stop and bind them. I could barely feel them any more anyway.  Either I would freeze to death or be caught and killed. I plunged back between the black pines. If I couldn¡¯t see more than a few inches in front of my face, then my pursuers shouldn¡¯t be able to see me. Unless it was-

    ¡°Lorus!¡±

    I cringed and dropped into a crouch.

    ¡°Lorus! I know you¡¯re in there!¡±

    Gimlet jogged into the clearing right after my bloody footprints then stopped to catch his breath. The steamy air blew out of him and floated around him giving his wild, blonde hair antlers. I closed my eyes and stayed silent. Quietly, the hunter walked across the clearing, purposefully putting his feet into the prints I had left behind.

    ¡°Loooooooo-rus. I know you¡¯re here.¡±

    He came right up to the wood line. I couldn¡¯t help but half crack open one eye. I could see him carefully pulling away some of the branches, wading through them as he pushed forward.

    ¡°Come on, Bright Eyes. You¡¯re not some senseless animal.¡± His head swiveled in my direction, and I quickly closed my eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t make me treat you like one. Haven¡¯t I always treated you nice? Haven¡¯t I always looked out for you? Made sure you got your turn at the stew pot? Made sure you had some place warm to sleep?¡±

    I had to smother my mouth and nose with my hand to keep from growling. Gimlet¡¯s idea of ¡°looking out¡± for someone always came with a price, a rebuke, a humiliation.

    He clicked his tongue and shook his head, ¡°So ungrateful, Lorus! After all that the tribe gave you as well. You can¡¯t just abandon us like you did your clothes, Lorus.¡±

    Gimlet cracked a smile as he reached into his side bag and pulled out a large, fluffy mound. I felt my teeth chatter in response, and my fingernails dug into my ice white, bare arms as I tried to suppress the shudder. The coat had been the last thing I dropped.

    ¡°I think Dallia would be very sad to know you lost her gift,¡± he held it up to his face and inhaled. I shivered even more and bit my bottom lip. His head swiveled again, straight to where I was crouching. Every muscle in my body froze. ¡°You must be nearly naked by now, Lorus. What are you still running around in? Your small clothes?¡±

    He pretended to ponder then his eyes opened wide in delight, ¡°I spy with my little eye a white on white shadow, trying to get by- gotcha!¡±

    Whenever Gimlet found me with his gaze, I never could get away. There was just something about those pale gray, almost blue eyes that caught me like a moth in a candle. His club flashed from his sleeve and came down in an overhand blur. There was a snap and crunch as it connected¡­with nothing!

    Blinking, Gimlet stood up and pulled my white drawers out of the snow. I let the puff of steam coming out of my mouth carry the laugh away as I wriggled down a ditch slope like an otter. The screaming and ranting from behind me was worth it just to puncture the ¡°mighty hunter¡¯s¡± ego. It would be a memory I would savor, even if it did mean I now would freeze my butt off.

    The key to not freezing to death when you are wearing nothing but an undershirt is to make a fire if you can, keep moving if you can¡¯t, and remind your body that even if you can¡¯t feel it, it¡¯s still there. I did my best not to let myself fall asleep. By the break of day, I was exhausted and felt like walking death. When I found the toppled log with the inside rotted out, it looked as inviting as a feather mattress. I made myself stay awake long enough to gather  as many dry pine needles and leaves as I could then burrowed into the cold mess, pulling my knees up under my shirt. I never thought I¡¯d fall asleep. But I must have, as my mind fled almost as fast as my feet.

    I never really think about it when I decide to run; I just do. The Ayfortees tattooed my eyes the first time I did it to mark me, a black triangle on top and below each eye, making me look like a clown. No one would take in a spoiled girl, they thought. The next step would have been to cut my nose and lips off, but it¡¯s hard to chase a seven-year-old through brambles. Small things can run fast. Scared, small things run faster.

    The Plainsmen didn¡¯t think my markings spoiled much. I could still cut wood and carry, dig in fields and clean pots, but that was only when they could catch me.  It¡¯s harder to run and hide in a land so flat you can see ten miles ahead. Sometimes I think they just let me run to see how far I would get and how quickly. I brought a good price when they sold me to the Roadies. They thought they were doing me a favor. After all, the Roadies were all covered in tattoos and black streaks. Selling me to them would be like returning me home.

    I didn¡¯t actually mind the Roadies except for the smell and Gimlet. They were a restless people, drifting from village to village, but sometimes I saw cities. They would never take me along when their chiefs went in behind timber walls and rubble facades to trade. So I would be left with their children, most twice as big as me, to ¡°play¡± and watch the babies.

    When my womanhood came, they decided it was time for me to mate. I didn¡¯t approve of the mate they chose, not him, not any. It was not that I had a choice, but I was young stock, so they hoped I would have a good chance of producing lots of children.

    They pointed out that bearing a child would promote my status in the tribe. I wouldn¡¯t have to be a slave any more. I could be a Giverned, their word for someone who brings in children, either their own or from elsewhere. The more children I could produce, the more my rank would increase. Since I started early, I might be a Matriarch by the time I began to silver. It was a tempting offer.

    But then the night I was supposed to be mated, I ran. The weather had turned some weeks ago. It was brisk during the day with the cold deepening once the sun went down. An early snow shrouded the camp. The mothers of the tribe had all donated a little to my wardrobe, wool pants from Nada, a linen shirt that had only been mended once from Maebh. My buckskin boots were from Lithalia¡¯s dead son that we left stretched out on the coast of white birds. The coat I loved best. It was a speckled gray with fluffy fur, a shade that I had only seen on the great wolves that even the Ayfortees were afraid of. Dallia said it was elk, but that had to be a lie. There have been no elk to hunt let alone make coats out of since the world fell asleep. That¡¯s what Gimlet said anyways.

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    The coat was so big on me that the back hem dragged a little on the ground. I picked my feet up as I marched through the camp, jingling and clicking with other donated bells and beads reluctantly contributed by girls I used to sit with. One foot up then down into the snow making a little hole. The other foot came up then down. It went into the snow, bringing with it a little cave in and cold sneaking in through the top of my boot. I lifted it again and shook it out before replacing it with a little hop. I took a bigger step this time and another hop. Then another and another hop, and suddenly I was running past the last tent in camp, past the reach of the campfire light. I don¡¯t think anyone there, including me, understood what just happened. All they found was a trail of shed clothing, bells, and beads dropped at intervals behind me leading into the woods.

    It was the scream that woke me up. Immediately, my head shot up. Mistake. There was not a lot of room inside the log. Something was strange outside; there was a noise I couldn¡¯t quite place. It was like a chorus of frogs all croaking in unison, followed by an angry hiss, and sounds like hail hitting a wagon roof. The longer I listened I would hear more screaming, more angry voices shouting back and forth. I considered whether or not they were getting closer and decided I would have to give up my log.

    Moving was agony. I checked my fingers and toes. My fingers were okay, but the color of the little toes of my feet scared me. Gingerly as I could I blew on my hands then straightened out the toes on my feet. Much as I tried, I couldn¡¯t stop the whimpering nor the tears and snot that began leaking down my face. Most of the feeling returned, but now my stomach was growling, and the alarming noises were definitely closer.

    I looked around for something to bind my feet with. The best I could do was some birch bark stripped off a tree and padded with moss. The going would be slower, but hopefully now I wouldn¡¯t leave as bad a trail. Carefully, I set off through the woods, doing my best to pick sunny patches to move through to fight off the chill. Something hissed past my head. I ducked instinctively into a crouch, looking back to the bushes it had shot from. Nothing came, so cautiously I crept after it, curious whether it was bird or animal.

    A good thirty paces onward, I spotted something lodged in a tree just a hand over my head. It was an arrow, but one of the strangest makes I had ever seen. When the Roadies hunt, sometimes they use longbows that stand nearly as tall as the man, but it lets them bring down wild goats or even fowl from long distances. When in the woods or chasing down fleeing slaves, they carry a crossbow. This reminded me of the crossbow bolts, but it was even shorter. The feathers of the shaft were made out of a strange, stiff material, almost like leather, and the shaft itself was shorter than the tail, and spiraled. It looked like someone had twisted in their hands. I reached up and pulled it out of the tree. My breath sucked in as I stared at the head, baffled. It was made out of metal. New metal. Metal that someone had to have forged.

    That¡¯s when I realized someone else was staring at the bolt. Just past the tree, looking back with equal surprise, was Gimlet. I was away again in a heartbeat. I swear I felt Gimlet¡¯s fingers brush my shoulder, trying to grab my chemise then scrambling behind to follow.

    ¡°Lorus! Gah! Not that way you little idiot!¡±

    I ran as fast as I could through the pines and the birch. I ran faster than I ever had before. I ran so fast, the world slowed to a crawl. I spotted a hole in the shrubbage, just a gap over a brambles hedge and under a low hanging limb. Sucking in a breath, I leapt, yanking both knees up to my chin and squeezing into a ball. Like a rabbit to its den, I was through-

    And into the middle of a massacre. The world froze for a second as I hung in mid-air. It looked like one of the pictures in Jubee¡¯s precious book, the one with people and events before the Big Sleep. But, then Lithalia found it and used it for kindling.  It was a field at war, but one side was sorely at a disadvantage.

    Before me a group of fighters, wearing the oddest attire I had ever seen, stood side to side. They had put up a barricade of their round shields and more metal shafts than I¡¯d ever seen in my lifetime, but it gave them precious little protection from their attackers. The defenders, in their coats of forest green and navy, had arm-length shooters raised to their shoulders, some already discharging their bolts. These weren¡¯t bows; they were something else like a long stick, and the shortened bolts fired out of them with astounding speed and force. Others green-coats were crouched behind them, frozen in the moment of levering in a reload.  One man crouched at the edge of the barricade, arm outreached. A few feet before him, a young woman, her helmet discarded revealing wild, black hair, was crawling back towards her unit, a heavy bag slowing her movements. She would not make it.

    All around the green fighters swarmed the mud-daubed elfs. The so-proclaimed earth''s-last-friends outnumbered their prey three to one. From the number of arrows and wounded elfs on the field, I was surprised the fight lasted as long as it did. White teeth sharpened to points, ears cropped at angles from birth, fingertips and nails hardened to claws, elfs were what the Roadies frightened their children with when they misbehaved. When a trailer hitch broke or someone¡¯s wheel broke with no explanation, it was elfs. When someone hale and strong the day before suddenly sickened and died, it was elfs. When a child wandered too far from the center of camp suddenly vanished out under their sitters¡¯ eyes, it was elfs. If anyone stole more children than Roadies, it was the elfs. They were even more feared than the Ravenous; although, there were many arguments which were more lethal.

    And right now, one was in mid-spring towards black-haired girl. Let there be no mistake, I did not want to save anyone but myself. I just happened to already be in mid- flight. Elfs traditionally do not wear clothes, something they deem unnatural and pretentious, unless health and weather dictate it. Of all the available landing spots, this one was literally just under my feet. As soon as that realization dawned, time started again.

    It¡¯s not a pretty or a comfortable thing slamming into a naked man, no matter what Maebh says. I¡¯ve had plenty of experience being thrown around and bashed into things. Most don¡¯t hit or kick back. There was a lot of yelling and shrieking. I roll-bounced off the elf¡¯s shoulders as both of us crashed to the ground. Hard. I could feel the shock all the way up my arm. Quick as I could, I tried to orient myself. Now that time had started again, so had the noise. The infernal whistling was everywhere, and punctuating it the bolt sticks the green coats carried made a teeth grinding whizz-slap sound every time they fired. I thought if I stayed low, I could scamper around the edge of the fight and vanish back into the woods. And then they shot me.

    The impact hit me so hard in the back it knocked me forward into a muddy, ripped up hillock. That was probably a good thing, as I¡¯m pretty sure I shrieked like a little baby and cried as I grabbed my arm and rolled over on my side. Had the elf snuck up behind me to wreak revenge?

    When I sat up, I found myself staring teary-eyed back at black-haired girl, face ashen, both shaking hands still pointing the bolt-stick at me.

    ¡°You shot me you turd nerfer!¡± I cried.

    ¡°Aaaaaagh! You stupid, poncy git! You shot her!¡± Gimlet hollered. When had he arrived?

    ¡°I-I-" black-haired girl¡¯s eyes bulged as she looked back and forth between her hands and me. Elf was long gone. Lucky sot.

    You-shot-me!¡± There was plenty more I would have liked to say, but suddenly Gimlet was there trying to scoop me up while green coats rushed us. I think I made it to my feet, but I left my sense of balance behind. Then there were grabbing hands and a soft sack of black. But then maybe that was just the consequences of being cold, naked, and bleeding closing in around me.

 Chapter 2: Dont Worry. I Didnt Die.

    Chapter 2

    Don¡¯t worry. I didn¡¯t die. Let¡¯s be honest, there was a lot of shouting and tussling. I was tired. I didn¡¯t want to go back to the Roadies with Gimlet, so I just continued being ¡®asleep¡¯. It was a lot more comfortable than wracked with pain. That came soon enough.

    When I could no longer hide in the depths of unconsciousness, stiffly, painfully, I surfaced, eyes barely squinting open just in case fleeing back to sleep was still an option. There was light somewhere, so that made it more difficult. I wasn¡¯t cold, though, so that was an improvement. I decided to commit and woke fully up, even attempting to sit up as I did. That was a mistake.

    Whatever they make those bolts out of, it¡¯s not something you get over fast. Trying to put weight on my right arm just resulted in the muscles giving out and me crying like a baby again. That got someone¡¯s attention. A big bosomed, freckle-faced woman with her silvery hair in plaits came bustling over. She was the type Chief Urtega said he liked diving into head first. I quickly laid back down and pretended to be asleep.

    ¡°Ach! The sleeping beauty awakes, does she!¡± her arm expertly slipped under my bandaged shoulder, hoisting me back into a sitting position and fully back awake. ¡°There we go now! Back to the land of the living.¡±

    I clenched my teeth, refusing to let this large woman know how much she alarmed me. She eyed me and made another clucking noise before brightening.

    ¡°And¡­back to the eating, I hope? Would you care for some food, ducky?¡±

    My mouth opened on its own, ¡°Food!¡±

    The noise of my stomach drowned out my voice. I swallowed nervously a few times and tried again.

    ¡°F-food? You have food for Lorus? Food for me? Now? Food?¡±

    It was as though the dams of plenty had opened up. Nurse Bountiful beamed like I was learning my first words, and she did indeed bring me food, food just for me and no one else.

    Judging from some of the other faces around this brightly lit room of beds, the other occupants weren¡¯t particularly impressed with the fair presented: a chunk of bread, greens so steamed they¡¯d gone to mush, a bowl of meat broth with some mushrooms and barley in it. But most of them also looked like first feeders. They would be the first ones to the carcass on a hunt with their mates and spawn. Bone-crackers like me are a cook¡¯s best friend.

    Nurse Bountiful was nice enough to let me get all the way to tipping the bowl back and sucking the last grains out of the bottom of it before she began the interrogation.

    ¡°All right, Luv, let¡¯s start with the basics. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    I stared back, lips still locked on the edge of the bowl trying to suck whatever flavor was left off of it. Nurse arched an eyebrow.

    Placing a hand on her own generous chest she said, ¡°Me, Jane Marks, you¡­?¡±

    I let my eyes slide off to the right then wander around the room. It was as big and as spacious as one of the camper tents the Roadies used and maybe as big as the meeting tent of the Ayfortees, about thirty paces by twenty. Many of the beds were wooden cots, like mine, stretched comfortably across beige canvas and tucked in with white starched sheets and a scratchy, navy, hemp blanket. There were a few beds for larger individuals, however, that looked like they were actually made out of metal. From this distance I couldn¡¯t tell if they were new forges or recasts though. I could investigate later. A gentle cough brought my attention back to Nurse Bountiful, or Jane, or whomever.

    She had a loaf of bread in her hand and was offering it to me. I looked at it then back at her then tentatively reached out a hand.

    ¡°Ah¡­¡± she pulled it back. That figured. I bit my bottom lip and waited. Now it would come. ¡°I¡¯m Jane Marks, and you are¡­?¡±

    She offered the bread in my direction again. Fine. I would play.

    ¡°L-Lorus.¡±

    Jane beamed and tore off a piece of the bread, handing it to me. My hand shook from the effort it took not to grab it. That might startle her if I did.

    ¡°Good! Family name? Lorus what?¡±

    I shook my head and sucked on the piece of bread, making it last as long as possible.

    ¡°No?¡± Jane pondered then brightened, ¡°Clan then, or tribe, or¡­what other name do they call you? Who are your people?¡±

    She gestured, opening her arms wide like she was embracing other people. This mother hen probably could fit an entire family of eight under her wing span. She held out another chunk of bread, even though I hadn¡¯t finished the first.

    I looked at her and shook my head again, ¡°No. No family. No clan. No tribe. Lorus has no people.¡±

    Jane seemed honestly surprised and handed over the chunk without a thought.

    ¡°But then what about these-" her hand reached out unexpectedly towards my face, and I couldn¡¯t help myself.

    Snarling I smacked her hands away and tried to push myself back in the bed. Something was wrong though. My feet weren¡¯t working right. With a cry, I lost my balance and toppled out of the bed onto the floor.

    The fall wasn¡¯t far, but it jarred my right arm, bolt wound and all, making me cry out in a sad sort of squeal. A shadow loomed over me. I cringed. I had blown it. Quickly, I looked for a place to hide. I slid under the cot next to me and kept going, squirming under low hanging butts until I got to a metal bed in the corner. All the while the patients hooted and hollered and made that sound with their mouths that I hate so much, laughing.

    ¡°Oy! You got a slippy one, Nurse Fuzzy-Wuzzy!¡± one shouted as Jane tisked.

    Another was nearly bent double, red in the face and wheezing as he pointed in my direction, ¡°There she goes! Oo, look at her wiggle! Oh! Oh! I never!¡±

    I waited as Nurse Jane slowly paced closer then made as though to slide across the aisle to the opposite row of beds. As soon as the patients, crying out like some hunting pack, started Jane heading that direction, I flipped like an otter and shot for the door. My fingers grabbed the edge and yanked it open, only to find myself staring at a pair of black boots. Disaster!

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The gray mustached man and I stared at each other for a moment before I reversed myself again and shot back under the beds.

    ¡°Nurse Jane!¡± I could hear him bellow, ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this! I was under the impression we ran a medical ward here, not a circus!¡±

    Jane paused red-faced in her pursuit.

    ¡°Corporal Whittaker! I assure you, sir, we take our job here with the utmost seriousness, but please lower your voice! The child is nearly out of her mind with fear and such raised tones will only add to her agitation!¡±

    The Corporal blinked, ¡°Oh. Quite sorry, nurse.¡±

    Jane rounded on the rest of the patients.

    ¡°The same goes for you as well! I appreciate your interest, but please!¡±

    She waited until the other patients muttered embarrassed apologies then actually lowered herself to hands and knees and carefully pulled up the blankets on the bed I was hiding under. I backed to the wall and snarled.

    ¡°Lorus,¡± she said quietly, ¡°Lorus, I should not have done that, ducky, should I? I¡¯m sorry, Lorus. I¡¯m terribly sorry. Will you come out?¡±

    My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. Nurse Jane was apologizing to me. I pondered the situation, mind racing, heart pounding so loud I was sure they could hear it echoing through the ward. She was not screaming or cursing at me. There were no sticks or rocks. They hadn¡¯t tried chasing me out with fire or freezing water. Everyone was completely silent, waiting on me. The realization of what I could be dealing with made me shake.

    Nurse Jane took it as fear and tushed softly.

    ¡°Ach, there now, Lorus. Come here, darling. It¡¯s all right,¡± she opened wide her arms.

    It was a risky move, one I¡¯d seen little curly-haired Davy pull off to great effect, but if I was right, the payoff would be huge. I curled my legs under me and stared hard into Nurse Jane¡¯s eyes, seeking any sign of deception. Then I launched myself straight at her, arms outstretched.

    ¡°Lorus is sawy!¡± I wailed as I burrowed my face brimming with tears into her bosom.

    I caught her off guard, and she sat back hard on her heels, but I could almost feel her smile beam around the room as the patients murmured in amazement.

    ¡°Sawy, sawy, sawy,¡± I sobbed, keeping my face hidden in her shoulder.

    Jane chuckled and patted me on the head, ¡°There now. You¡¯re really a good girl, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    With an alarming strength, Nurse Jane scooped me up and carried me back over to my bed. I had to fight the urge to squirm or kick. It would ruin everything if I freaked out now, but I was shaking like a leaf as she lowered me back into the cot. She must have taken it for cold because in an instance I was swaddled up to my eyeballs in extra blankets.

    Nurse Jane stood up and looked around, ¡°Now then. I think there must be one more of bowl of barley broth around here somewhere for my hungry little Lorus. Then, when you¡¯re ready, you can tell me all about Lorus and those fascinating marks around your beautiful brown eyes.¡±

    I nodded under all the blankets and made myself say, ¡°T-Tank-you, Nurse Jane¡±.

    The Colonel nodded approvingly as Jane bustled off to where ever the food was kept. I was sure I could discover that at some point.

    ¡°Nurse Jane tames yet another wild child,¡± he rumbled warmly. Cautiously, he leaned in to peer at me under all the blankets. Nervously, I pulled up the covers around me until just my eyes were showing, but I did tentatively try a shy smile at him. His whiskers bristled in delight.

    ¡°You are a good gel, aren¡¯t you wee thing?¡± he beamed before straightening and regarding me with an eye that I realized was creamy white, instead of a match for his other blue eye. ¡°And a bit curious as well. Hmmm, Lorus, was it? Lorus like chorus, for whom the angels sing, what?¡±

    He mused to himself as he wandered back out of the tent just as Nurse Jane came back in with my food. I sighed with delight at the smell of more warm food. Perfect. This could work. This could be very good. I had found a nest of soft touches. It was the perfect mark.

    My little-girl-lost act worked wonders on Nurse Jane and the rest of the patients as well. Once I finished my second meal, I related what I could remember of my origins. The fact that I was an orphan passed from tribe to tribe, owner to owner, drew no small amount of gasps and pitying sighs from the other patients. I may have played up the hunger and beatings a little bit but not much. When I got to the part of about me being mated off, there was nearly a riot.

    ¡°But she¡¯s just a baby!¡± one man with his arm in a sling protest as Jane tried to calm him down.

    ¡°Oh you know these savage lots,¡± an older woman with a wheeze in her voice answered. She had to take a couple thin breaths before continuing. ¡°It¡¯s all about quantity, not quality. ¡®Ts what got our great-grans into their mess in the first place.¡±

    One of the other patients smacked his gums and shook his head, ¡°I been living in the Shoals so long I forgots how bad life can be away from New Castle.¡± He looked up with new resolve in his eyes. ¡°Soon as I kick this ¡®nurmonia, I¡¯m going back to my lessons! I will leave Purgatory! I will join a Ward in New Castle.¡±

    That was a new word I hadn¡¯t heard before. I looked up, eyes as big and innocent as I could.

    ¡°Lessens? Why would you want to lessen? Isn¡¯t more always better?¡±

    The other patients chuckled as Jane smiled, ¡°No dear, not lessen to make less, lessons to learn.¡±

    I cocked my head to the side, a gesture that seemed to cause the other patients no end of delight, just as much as it turned my stomach.

    ¡°Learn what?¡±

    Jane nodded as though I had asked something important.

    ¡°The naturalization lessons are for those who pass through the Quarantine Camp. After staying in quarantine for three months and taking lessons about the rules and society of New Castle, you can petition to become a New Castelian yourself and join a ward. Successful applicants have gone on to become Cogs, and there are even some who have been known to become Bench Dogs, Regulars, Alchemists, Thaumaturges, or even a Second for a prominent Wardensan.¡±

    That statement did cause an outcry in the ward as patients argued over the likelihood of a petitioner advanced in age actually qualifying for a university or academy profession. Jane just let them bicker, a knowing smile on her face.

    ¡°So what do you think, little Lorus? Would you like to learn more about New Castle and petition to become a citizen?¡±

    I knew what answer they expected, but I still had to make the story look convincing. Looking around the room wide-eyed, I asked, ¡°Will they all be like you? Are Castelians all as nice and good and kind as you, Nurse Jane?¡±

    Nurse Jane and the other patients laughed. She even reached out and patted me on the head. I held my smile in place. Hopefully, she didn¡¯t hear my teeth grinding.

    ¡°Ach ducky! New Castle is full of sundry and diverse peoples, but there are many good ones there, yes. And as long as you apport yourself properly, you¡¯ll find many just as nice as I.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be fooled though. There are a few rascals as well.¡±

    The other patients murmured and muttered, and I thought I heard a few names float pointedly about.

    ¡°A good girl like you would only keep the best company though,¡± she nodded affirmingly, ¡°So there¡¯s not much for you to worry about.¡±

    A whole city full of softies like Nurse Jane and all these wanna-bes? I closed my eyes for a moment and let a genuine smile warm my face.

    ¡°Lovely!¡± I breathed. ¡°Then Lorus will go to New Castle.¡±

 Chapter 3: Hello there, Bright Eyes

    Chapter 3

    Being an invalid, I found, provided me time to think and more time to observe the strange interactions and sympathies between my fellow patients. One of the first anomalies was this thing they called ¡®the noble spirit¡¯ or ¡®Espirit de Glorianna¡¯. Later in the afternoon when I had to relieve myself, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and attempted to stand. I realized quickly it hadn¡¯t just been a case of panic or disorientation before. Something was seriously wrong with my feet.

    One of the other patient¡¯s cries of alarm brought Nurse Jane running, and she cautiously inquired what I was doing. At this point I had staggered a few feet and was hanging off the foot rails of one of the metal beds looking something like a drunk raccoon. Using gestures as best I could, I indicated I needed to go outside. Not even dogs go where they lay; I certainly wouldn¡¯t, even though some of the patients tried to explain the cooking pots next to each bed to me. I thought I could just walk to the wood line and do my usual squat until Nurse Jane explained that would be quite impossible.

    ¡°Oh deary! I hadn¡¯t said anything yet because I didn¡¯t want to alarm you,¡± she took a breath staring intently at me. ¡°I¡¯m afraid your poor toesies suffered a bit of frostbite, and you¡¯ve lost your pinkie toes on each foot as well as the fourth one on your left.¡±

    I blinked.

    ¡°Oh, is that all?¡± I nodded to myself. Yes, that made sense. I¡¯d done all I could, but casualties were to be expected. ¡°Well, Lorus use stick.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Nurse Jane looked to where I was pointing to a stick with a large tassel on the end.

    ¡°Lorus use stick. Seen elders do it. Lorus go out.¡±

    I figured if the old goats of the Ayfortees and plainsmen bent crooked as yew trees were still hopping around with just their canes and walking sticks, there was no reason I couldn¡¯t do the same. In between sniffles and ¡°oh you poor dear!¡± one of the other nursing help brought in the strangest contraption ever. It was a wicker chair with wooden wheels and a push bar in the back. I took one look at it and nervously began limping away even faster. There was no way they were getting me to ride in that thing. As much as she might claim to admire my tenacity, however, Nurse Jane was much more adamant about me avoiding invisible things called ¡®germs¡¯, which she claimed were all over the ground and would somehow climb into my feet and make them go bad if I walked on it.

    I assured her as best I could that I would watch my feet very well, and after all the bandages on them, I wasn¡¯t sure how any germ thing could wiggle in there to begin with. It wasn¡¯t as though I hadn¡¯t spent my whole life barefoot anyway. I considered telling her about the many times I¡¯d had the bottom of my feet whipped by the Plainsmen for running or when I had my feet broken by the Roadies for the same reason, but each new injury I revealed only seemed to make her more determined I was to be treated like egg shell. It was either her way, or I would have to pee myself in the middle of the room.

    As tempting as the thought was just to get a point across, I did not think it would endear me to their company. With as much dignity as I could muster, I allowed myself to be lifted into the wheeled-chair and carted like a child to the washroom.

    After a few days of dealing with this and other oddities, like daily baths, nail trimming, and my favorite, hair brushing, they deemed me fit to attend ¡®lessons¡¯. This I had eagerly anticipated and even asked the other patients to tell me about, much to their delight. I had never heard of a people or tribe so willing to give away the secrets of their society let alone one that demanded new inductees choose and petition for their right to be part of the serving class.

    In between naps and rounds of gorging myself on bread and greens, I allowed myself to be filled in on the workings of the city. All this hubbub, and it was just one city! It turned out that my fellow patients were not ¡®New Castelians¡¯, or just ¡°Castelians¡¯ as they were often referred to, either. The place we were being held currently was a quarantine and naturalization camp, though most called it Purgatory. Everyone else here was from a place around New Castle but not part of it called The Shoals, or they were ¡°rescues¡±, like me.

    Of all the rescues that came through, one had been there for so long, she practically lived in Purgatory. Raikan was a sun or two older than me and seemed initially curious. I pretended to be asleep each time she came by to look at me. I worried that she might be jealous of the attention I received, but it seemed I slept so much and was generally out of the way that she deemed it easier just to ignore me. Raikan had been the previous ¡°wild child¡±, and she and Nurse Jane seemed to have a special connection. I seemed so docile, demur even, I apparently didn¡¯t take nearly as much constant attention as the other girl.

    The rest of the patients had all grown up around New Castle, and though degrees of enthusiasm varied, all of them undeniably loved their city that they did not belong to. It took me a little while to figure this out. They kindly explained the varying tiers of influence, what they knew of the city¡¯s history, the relationship between the Cogs and Classes, and I nodded while trying not to fall asleep. It was the mention of the Thaumaturges that finally put the pieces together for me.

    ¡°Take those poor little toes of yours, Lorus,¡± the boy in the bed next to mine pointed. ¡°It¡¯s hard wobbling around without the balance they help with, right? Well, a good Thaumaturge could not only make you a shoe to slip over that to compensate, he-¡°

    ¡°Or she!¡± a red-headed girl on the opposite aisle interjected.

    He sighed, ¡°Or she, although girls are mostly alchemists.¡± He stared pointedly at red-haired girl who just stuck out her tongue.

    ¡°Anyways," he continued, ¡°A good thaumaturge could not just make a shoe, but he or she could make mechanical toes or even a whole foot!¡±

    ¡°Make? From what?¡± I asked. I had seen a man on the shores of white birds once with everything below the knee on his right leg replaced with a wooden stump.

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    The boy grinned, making his green eyes light up in a very charming manner.

    ¡°From Thaumagturgic steel of course. They forge it in the big furnaces in each ward university. You know? The big lights over the city? Thirteen in all? Makes it look like a big birthday cake?¡±

    I stared at him trying to figure out the series of words I had just heard but had no idea what they meant. He looked across the aisle at the red-head who sighed and rolled her eyes.

    ¡°She hasn¡¯t even been out of the hospital tent yet, Moron.¡±

    I looked back at him as he sat there scowling.

    ¡°Moron?¡± That was an interesting name.

    ¡°What?¡± he looked up, surprised.

    I put a hand on my chest, ¡°Me Lorus,¡± I then pointed at him, ¡°You Moron?¡±

    ¡°Aggggh! Beka, now you¡¯ve confused her!¡± Moron shouted at red-haired Beka who was cracking up so much I thought she might roll out of bed.

    Moron shook his head in frustration and mimicked my gesture.

    ¡°No, no, no. You Lorus, I am Finnias Treadgold Wiglaf the Ninth from the Arsenal Shoals. I¡¯m only in here because someone would not cover her mouth when she sneezed,¡± he glared accusingly.

    Beka tossed her head, ¡°I was elbows deep in my Leidenfrost engine! You think I was going to take my hand off the crank just to smear it in snot?¡±

    ¡°You should have turned your head!¡± Fini Treadgus Wig¡­Moron shouted back. ¡°You didn¡¯t need to sneeze in my face!¡±

    I decided it was a good time to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep. I had plenty to consider. The Roadies had never mentioned New Castle nor the Castelians, something I found interesting, considering this seemed to be a resource with not only able mechanics but the means to manufacture metal. Perhaps that was the point though.

    The Roadies had a comfortable migration path following not only the path of wild herds and fowl but also weaker tribes who didn¡¯t have access to grancestor motors or technology. It took a lot to keep the pack of Harlies running, most of it dangerous distilleries and meddling with fire. That¡¯s why slaves and bone-chewers like me were both despised and needed. Why risk blowing up an able bodied warrior with the volatile task of lighting a fire when you could buy or kidnap someone else to do it? For the record, I had gotten pretty good at fire starting, only blowing off my eyebrows twice. I had seen one poor bone-chewer with a face that looked like candle wax. Apparently, her minders thought it was much funnier to watch her run screaming around camp with her head on fire rather than put her out.

    The New Castelians seemed to have very strict rules on violence and punishment though. It didn¡¯t seem they would tolerate that sort of treatment, even to their dredges. Heck, even the Cogs got three meals a day and a stipend for Brew, an alcohol for drinking not for running engines. Apparently, they had a whole different distilling process for what their machines ran off of. No, the Roadies would not like that sort of competition at all. The fact that New Castle¡¯s existence had been omitted from lore or conversation, even when the city was so close to the migration road could mean just one thing. At some point the Roadies had challenged the Castelians and lost. Just the thought sent my heart racing again.

    It was about then I felt someone¡¯s eyes on me. I peeked back out from under the blanket. Standing at the edge of the room was black-haired girl. She was there with white-eyed, Colonel Whittaker. The two of them were talking in low whispers with Whittaker gesturing commandingly in my direction. Tossing her head in irritation black-haired girl suddenly turned and marched across the room. Roughly she grabbed my blanket and tossed it back, issuing an unhappy cry from me.

    ¡°Steady there, Lynwood!¡± Whittaker snapped. ¡°The poor thing¡¯s near traumatized. By your hasty actions no less. Not sure how the RCFers would take to that sort of conduct.¡±

    Black-haired girl, Lynnwood put her hands on her hips and glared at me. I wanted nothing more than to fling my pillow in her face and scream that it was her fault I was here in the first place. If she felt so badly about it she could pay the wereguild herself. I wouldn¡¯t mind taking either her blood or her coin, uppity wretch. What warrior drops her weapon for a bag and then shoots the wrong person? I sincerely hoped she wasn¡¯t a representation of New Castle¡¯s defenses. Instead of snarling though, I did pick up my pillow and cradled it to my chest, squeezing it to my face so she couldn¡¯t see my bared teeth.

    After a few moments she simply said, ¡°Maybe,¡± then turned on her heels and left, the Colonel sighed and followed behind.

    I had no idea what that was about. I was still puzzling over it when Nurse Jane said I was stable enough to go to lessons. It seemed Moron and Beka were feeling well enough as well that they were to be sent over too. Moron was to push my chair, and Beka was going to attend lessons. It seemed that although she too belonged to Moron¡¯s village, which at some point was planning to petition for raising to Ward status, she had far bigger, more immediate plans than waiting around. She was attending lessons to petition to become a citizen and then take the placing exam to become a Thaumaturge.

    My two escorts bickered constantly between the two of them about the merits of attending the Thaumaturgic university versus attending school and having one¡¯s own shop in the village. Much of it seemed to come down to autonomy over work. When one went to the university, one had access to all its tools, resources, and libraries, whatever those were. However, one also periodically received jobs and work that the university expected completed in a timely basis. It was possible to be so loaded up with tasks from the university, one never got to work on one¡¯s own inventions at all. This was Moron¡¯s argument. On the other hand, there was only so far one could go on scraps, re-forges, and the second hand anecdotes of village elders. To advance beyond the limits of technology, one had to know just how far technology could go, and only the university Thaumaturges knew that. This was Beka¡¯s argument.

    I¡¯m pretty sure both of them had completely forgotten I was there. And neither, I am fairly sure, expected that I could follow their conversation either. It made sense to me however. Of course there would be both benefits and draw backs to New Castle. As enthusiastic as the Shoalians were, no place could be as perfect as they painted it to be. I will admit, I was very caught up in their discussion even though they kept using words and phrases like ¡°retrochronofantic library¡± or ¡°systematic pedagogy¡± or ¡°holiday¡±. There were still a few fuzzy spots in my vocabulary.

    Thus, it wasn¡¯t until Moron said, ¡°Oh hey! Not cricket, mate!¡± and my wheeling chair suddenly veered off the path and cut across the yard towards a cluster of housing buildings, that I realized something was amiss.

    ¡°No worries, friend!¡± Gimlet yelled over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for this one! Thanks for taking such nice care of her for me!¡±

    I shrank down in the chair and pulled my legs up under the cover blanket they gave me as Gimlet leaned over the back and whispered in my ear:

    ¡°Hello there, Bright Eyes. Miss me?¡±

 Chapter 4: Little Red Canary in a Golden House

    Chapter 4

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a clever one, you are, Lorus,¡± Gimlet chuckled. ¡°I bet you been lying there for days, all snuggled up in their blankets, fakin¡¯ a little cough now and then, pulling on their heart strings and laughing in your sleeve as they tripped over themselves to make you feel comfortable.¡±

    We rounded a corner of one of the buildings, out of sight of any casual passer-byers. All this time I stayed silent. Once we were in the shadows, Gimlet roughly yanked the chair on its side and dumped me out of it onto the ground. I tried not to whimper or cry out. That always seemed to rile him up even more.

    ¡°Get up, you!¡± he snarled and grabbed my arm, nearly pulling it out of its socket. ¡°There¡¯ll be no more lying about for you, you worthless tripe!¡±

    I did my best to stand, balancing on my heels, but wobbling terribly like a new fawn.

    Gimlet scowled, ¡°Here now, what¡¯s wrong with you? What¡¯s wrong with your legs?¡±

    Suddenly, there was a shout:

    ¡°There they are, Captain! That¡¯s the man! Lorus! Are you all right?!¡±

    I let myself collapse to my knees on the ground, glad for once to see my noisy cot mates.

    Moron, Beka, and a young, sandy-haired woman with a red sash around her hips rounded the corner. A half dozen more soldiers swooped in behind them. In very little time both Gimlet and I were surrounded. These soldiers all had red trim on their dark green instead of blue, and instead of the bolt guns, they carried funny crook-legged sticks about as long as their arm each.

    I could see the gears in Gimlet¡¯s head working. He was plenty brave if he had his pack to back him up or facing down a smaller opponent. This was not one of those scenarios. Immediately, his face went to one of concern.

    ¡°Easy there, friend! Can¡¯t you see she¡¯s just had a toss-up?!¡± Gimlet gently scooped me up, blankets and all. ¡°Help me right her chair, will you, please? Hit a rock and both of us just about took a tumble. Caught her just in time, I did.¡±

    The Captain nodded to one of her men, and one hand on his stick, he walked over and briskly righted the wheeled-chair before immediately returning to his place in the circle. Moron moved as though to run over, but the Captain¡¯s arm shot out as she gave him a stern look. She then sniffed and jerked her chin at Gimlet.

    ¡°Right. So who are you to her then?¡±

    Gimlet blinked as though it were the oddest question in the world.

    ¡°Me, miss? I¡¯m Jack Gimlet, Lorus¡¯s brother.¡±

    Beka snorted, ¡°Brother by another mother?¡±

    Gimlet pretended to be wounded, ¡°She may take more her mother¡¯s looks, aye, but we¡¯re both children of the same father.¡±

    I twisted the blanket in my hands angrily, knowing that he was referring to tribe law. Technically, upon reaching mating age at 12, I needed a patriarch to hand me over. Since I was tribe property, my ¡®father¡¯ was Chief Urtega, a man who¡¯d barely said more than two words to me the five years I was with them. The Captain seemed incredulous, the soldiers looked curious, Moron looked angry, Beka was skeptical. I¡¯d seen this before. If I let Gimlet talk, he would be carrying me out of here unopposed and probably gifted generous rations for both of us, my part which he would promptly sell off to a merchant for a swift profit. There would also be my ¡®homecoming¡¯.

    ¡°No,¡± I said softly. It was a risk, but hope is a funny thing. Even if it was the gutters of an unseen city, I had more hope of living my own life here. I tried again more forcibly, ¡°No!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that? Speak up, girl,¡± The Captain said sharply.

    Gimlet made a shushing noise, ¡°Ach, it¡¯s all right Lorus dear, ole Gimi¡¯s here for you. Your brother¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re taken care of. See miss! She¡¯s already getting agitated by all this. Let me take her back to my quarters and-¡°

    ¡°No!¡± I fairly shouted. ¡°Lorus has no brother! Lorus has no father!¡± I made an effort to push myself out of the chair, much to the concern of everyone. Gimlet made as though he was going to put a hand out to steady me, but I cried out, ¡°Don¡¯t pinch Lorus!¡±

    I had learned that one from bratty Davy as well. Only now could I appreciate his genius for getting me and his siblings in trouble.

    ¡°Steady on!¡± Moron yelled and pushed past the Captain to catch me and help me stand. Beka took my other arm to give me support.

    Gimlet gave me a sour look and pulled back, hands in the air to show he wasn¡¯t touching me. The effort took the wind out of me, and even with Moron and Beka I was tiring fast. My muscles shook, and I started sweating, but I could not let there be any ambiguity. Straightening, I looked Gimlet in the eye and said, ¡°Lorus will not go anywhere with that man. Never.¡±

    I expected to see more rage, more fury, but he merely raised an eyebrow, placid smile on his face. My words seem to clinch it for the Captain though.

    ¡°Right then. Finnias, Beka. Help Lorus back into her chair and take her back to the hospital. Inform Nurse Jane of activities, just in case she has overexerted herself. Gimlet, you will allow my men to escort you back to you own quarantine quarters-¡°

    ¡°Oh now miss-" he started to protest.

    ¡°If,¡± she continued over him, ¡°If you would like to petition for visiting rights, then you may visit the office of Domestic Facilitations in Quarantine Rules Affairs, the second quarter-block on the right from the east side entrance. Meanwhile, might I suggest that if you choose to have a heartwarming reunion with any other relations you may discover while in quarantine, do so by the proscribed laws and regulations your betters have put in place, and certainly be wiser than to do it behind the camp guards¡¯ bunkers. That will be all. You are dismissed.¡±

    I really did not want to go back into the chair, that insidious seat of vulnerability. It was mostly its fault I¡¯d been lulled into such a sense of comfort. The Captain was watching, however, and anything but meek obedience would have been taken as mutiny. I¡¯d already pushed my luck defying Gimlet. So, with a quivering sigh I collapsed back into the chair and allowed Beka to tuck me back in, Moron apologizing all the while for letting some wank just come up and stroll away with me.

    As expected, Nurse Jane flipped her cap and spent the rest of the evening cooing and bustling over me. I nodded or shook my head as need be to answer her questions, vehemently denying several times that Gimlet was any sort of relation to me at all, even if he was perhaps a rather bad or naughty one. I was finally allowed to eat and sleep once the interrogation was over. Lessons would be postponed for another day.

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    After my run in with Gimlet, I considered feigning illness or some other malady to avoid going outside again. The more I pondered it though, the more I was sure Gimlet would not just sit idle or give up. He wasn¡¯t the sort to let a rabbit that''s gone to ground spite him by holing up. If I didn¡¯t move first, he¡¯d find some way to smoke me out. If I couldn¡¯t figure out a way to be rid of him or out of his hands for good, he¡¯d just hound me until I was finally back in his grasp. I decided it was time to run again.

    Of course I¡¯d have to re-learn how to walk first. My first couple of tries were little more than standing, clutching the side of the bed, and trying to get my balance back. I did it quietly at night where I wouldn¡¯t have the concerned, pitying eyes of my fellow patients constantly on me. It was their opinion that I¡¯d never walk normally again without some sort of artificial support in place. Some had even suggested taking up donations. I refused. The wheeled-chair and soft bed had made me lazy in such a short time. That was dangerous. Comfort was dangerous. Pain, however, that was something I understood and could rely on.

    It took a couple days more, but soon I could stand without shaking, and if I kept my knees bent and weight mostly on my heels, I could shuffle forward, easily falling to the support of my hands and scrambling forward if I needed. On one of my first tries, the outside of my right foot clipped a bed leg right where my missing toe would¡¯ve been. I still felt it all the way through my bandages. Silently, I fell back on my cot, wordlessly screaming. I think Moron might have heard me thrashing about because he sat up suddenly and looked about. Twitching, I tried to lie still until he shrugged and rolled back over again. I would need to be more careful moving around in the dark.

    During the day, lessons were also re-attempted. This time Moron and Beka were accompanied by former wild-child Raikan, Nurse Jane¡¯s volunteer aid, to wheel me to and from classes. Hearing her chatter with Beka and flirt with Moron as we rolled along, I never would have guessed she was a Painted Flower from Tien Hong, the City in the Mist. I asked later what a Painted Flower was, and based on the amount of blushing from Moron and large, scientific words and overly complex explanation from Beka, I took it to be something like a comfort wife the Plainsmen would sometimes hire when they were near cities.

    ¡°I was an entertainer,¡± Raikan explained simply.

    ¡°Entertainer?¡± I shook my head, pondering.

    Raikan smiled broadly and squeezed both Beka and Moron in a rib-crushing hug I¡¯m sure she learned from Nurse Jane.

    ¡°However my client needed to be entertained, I would!¡± she laughed and let the two go, both now red-faced and rumple clothed.

    Raikan winked at me, ¡°But you know, Lorus, it¡¯s much nicer to be here where I only entertain myself and who I choose. That is nicer, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    I did not disagree.

    Lessons, as I came to learn, were a whole lot more of what I¡¯d been doing in the hospital ward to begin with, except there were about ten other children in there with me and Beka. Apparently, adults got their own classes in the evening. During the days those who were able bodied helped around Purgatory or in the fields. Moron decided to stay and attend lessons because he claimed he wanted to make sure I wasn¡¯t bothered by anyone and understood everything the speaker, Professor they called him, was saying. However, it seemed to be Moron spent much more time whispering with Raikan in the back, much to Beka¡¯s annoyance, than keeping watch or explaining things.

    By the end of the day my mind and body were exhausted. The evening was coming fast, lilacs and smoldering oranges already taking the sky. A little breeze floated over the silvery winter grass in the yard. All four of us paused for a second, feeling the cool air and looking for stars. Voices were singing somewhere:

    Little red canary in a golden house,

    Sing when you¡¯re happy,

    Sing when you¡¯re lost.

    The door is wide open,

    But the bird won¡¯t fly.

    Along comes a kitty cat and bye bye bye!

    Towards the middle Beka, Moron, and Raikan had begun to sing along. At the end ¡®bye bye bye¡¯, all three clapped their hands together then held them out palm up. After a pause, apparently they realized what they were doing and began laughing. I had no ideas what they were going on about.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve confused Lorus again!¡± Raikan giggled. ¡°Somehow I don¡¯t think Lorus got to play a lot when she was young.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Beka grinned, ¡°Lorus is still young. You don¡¯t know Red Canary, Lorus, but would you like to learn?¡±

    Even Moron perked up, ¡°Yeah! Come on! We don¡¯t have to be back until seventh chime. Let¡¯s see if the players are still there. It¡¯ll be good for Lorus to meet more people.¡±

    I don¡¯t know where they all suddenly got this idea that I needed my head filled with more meaningless names and faces, but all in high spirits they wheeled me around the corner to a grassy clearing with a large shade tree growing in it. Five girls, some a bit younger, one probably almost fifteen suns, were all sitting under the tree in a ring, one more person in the middle. Everyone in the ring had their hands out, overlapping, right hand sitting palm up on their neighbor¡¯s left hand palm up and so on. As they chanted the song, one girl took a bright, red stone in her right hand then clapped it to her left, into her neighbor¡¯s hand. She then did the same, so on and so forth, all in time to the chanting. I was so mesmerized by watching the little red stone fly around the circle that it wasn¡¯t until the ¡®bye bye bye¡¯ that I realized who the person in the middle was.

    ¡°Gimlet!¡± the name slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Gimlet stood up, back to me, hands over his eyes as he swayed back and forth while the girls all laughed and giggled.

    ¡°Red bird red bird, where have you gone?¡± he asked, slowly turning. ¡°The birdies are all worried and want you to come home!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not part of the rhyme!¡± one of the girls, a little blond headed thing giggled. ¡°You have to point and guess who took it now! You can¡¯t just ask!¡±

    Gimlets whirled on his heels, finger out.

    ¡°Then I¡¯m going to guess, my little bird is¡­There!¡±

    Of course he was pointing over their heads to where I was sitting. Moron and Beka were caught completely off guard. I¡¯m not sure they even recognized it was Gimlet sitting in the middle of the girls. There was something different about him. It took me a second to realize he¡¯d cut his hair. Gimlet had always kept it fluffy and a little curled in the front, but his pride, the long almost white blond braid he wore down his back was now gone. I could see just a few feathery duck curls at his neck as he leaned over and whispered in the older girl¡¯s ear. Her face pinked a bit, but she nodded and stood up walking over to us.

    Meanwhile, at least Raikan still knew what was going on. She put a steadying hand on my shoulder and raised the other one, halting the girl about ten steps away.

    ¡°Please, Nariann. No further. That man is not to have contact with my charge until both their quarantine is over. Do not be an enabler.¡±

    Nariann lifted her chin, ¡°You¡¯re not a Second yet, Raikan, and I¡¯m not your charge. Gimi just wanted me to give his sister a message.¡± She stared hard at me, her dull brown eyes glittering with emotion. I could just guess what ¡®Gimi¡¯ had told her. I tried to keep my face neutral.

    Raikan shook her head, ¡°This is not from me, Nariann. Tell Nurse Jane if-¡°

    ¡°He says he loves her, and he just wants her to know no matter what, he¡¯ll find her again no matter where she goes.¡±

    At her bold profession, the other little girls in the group shrieked and squealed, giggling and mock hitting Gimlet, who hid his face in fake embarrassment. I wish they really had hit him harder.

    I lowered my head and stared at my hands. From under my eye lashes I could see Nariann lift her head even higher, confident that she had shamed an ungrateful little sister. Raikan actually growled in annoyance. Her hand tightened on my shoulder. Gently, I reached up and placed my own, small hand over it. Then I lifted my head and gestured Nariann over. She arched an eyebrow but came.

    ¡°You will give Lorus¡¯s message to that man? To Gimi?¡±

    She smiled and shrugged, ¡°Sure, if you don¡¯t mind me repeating it out loud.¡±

    I nodded and gestured her closer. She leaned in, but I gestured her closer still. Finally, when she was in range my other hand swung out and around the back of her head, pulling her face close right next to mine so I could hiss right into her ear:

    ¡°Then you tell Gimlet he can go frack himself. You can tell him out loud: Go frack and die!¡±

    I let go and leaned back, face in my hands as though overcome by emotion, as Nariann staggered away. I waited until she got back to Jack, then her face turned red as she tried to make herself say the words. Instead, she got out just one word, ¡°Frack¡±, then burst into tears and ran away.

 Chapter 5: Glorianna is...?

    Chapter 5

    Other information you learn in New Castle citizenship classes: nobody knows exactly why the earth went to sleep. They are not even sure it had to do with the sterilization of the human species. All the RCFers, the retrochronofanters, archivists and historical reconstructionists are able to tell is that probably 100 to 150 years ago, that¡¯s what they call suns, the human species stopped reproducing. Obviously, it wasn¡¯t noticeable at first. A few small continental countries began dropping in numbers. Since it was all the most technologically advanced countries, everyone just thought it was a choice. By the time scientists realized that even the most virile and prolific of peoples were no longer conceiving, it was too late.

    All the modern medicine and conventional wisdom was to no avail. When epidemic after epidemic took the old and whatever young were left, panic swept the world. As a people, humanity entered the stages of grieving. Already in denial long enough, accusations began to fly against governments, science, conspiracies. Governance that had stood for centuries crumbled. Country raged against country. Scientific labs were burned and corporations dismantled and charged, accused of poisoning the soil and the populace that depended on it. It was a dark time for technology.

    Humanity never had a chance to reach acceptance and healing. In the midst of all the war, sickness, and disease, the earth gave up as well. Volcanoes across the globe did what so many men feared devices of war would do first: they blackened the sky. The earth cooled and winter wrapped the earth for a generation. Yet, humanity somehow persevered.

    The price, however, was a global dark age. Mistrustful of the faces that had lied to them and betrayed them, government, religion, science, and business, those who survived formed smaller roaming tribes. A few tried, with limited success, to rebuild cities and defend themselves from migrating marauders. The technology and medicine they might have been able to rely upon, abandoned them. The earth had changed.

    Principles that had long stood in place to help man rise from existence among the beasts were no longer dependable or downright dangerous. Fire, the ever constant companion of man in his ascent to master over the wild, now became a traitor and an enemy. Chemical compounds more complicated than basic cookery became poison. Electricity was death. The Gift of the Arcadians, as it came to be called, stripped us of everything that had made us the dominant species in the first place, reducing humanity to terrified savages.

    For three generations the earth slept. I can understand that. Mankind had done so much hurt and wrong to what they felt entitled to, I understand that she just rolled over and took a long sleep. While she slept, however, one man dreamed.

    Jonathan Halvman dreamed of a city of lights and a woman named Glorianna who would mother a new civilization.

    ¡°Glorianna is Halvman¡¯s life mate?¡± I asked.

    Beka was half asleep, her face smooshing into the heel of her hand, elbow propped on her desk. With a jerk her head slid off her hand and snapped upwards at my question.

    ¡°Wha-what?¡±

    I gestured to where the Professor droned on and repeated myself.

    ¡°Glorianna is Halvman¡¯s life mate?¡±

    Beka made an odd face and shook her head.

    ¡°No, uh Glorianna isn¡¯t real, she¡¯s-¡°

    ¡°What do you mean she¡¯s not real?!¡± Moron butted in indignantly. ¡°There¡¯s been a Glorianna in New Castle ever since its founding.¡±

    ¡°Not as a person though,¡± Beka huffed, ¡°Don¡¯t confuse her, Moron. It¡¯s complicated enough that-¡°

    ¡°Miss Beka! Master Finnias! Is there something you would like to share with the classroom?¡± Professor barked from the front of the room. I think he intended to embarrass and quiet my companions. Poor man.

    ¡°Beka said that Glorianna doesn¡¯t exist!¡± Moron declared indignantly.

    ¡°I did not! I said she wasn¡¯t real, ¡°Beka retorted. ¡°I was trying to answer Lorus¡¯s question-¡°

    ¡°Not existing and not real are the same thing, ¡°Moron interrupted. ¡°You¡¯re splitting hairs.¡±

    ¡°They are not, ¡°Beka snapped. ¡°You¡¯re splitting hairs.¡±

    ¡°Ah um, Lorus!¡± Professor shouted over their bickering. ¡°You had a question about Glorianna?¡±

    It did effectively halt the argument, but now the attention was on me. I glared back at Moron and Beka. Both stared back innocently. They had put me on the spot.

    ¡°L-Lorus wants to know if Glorianna is Halvman¡¯s life mate.¡±

    Professor pondered for a moment, pinching his bottom lip and looking up. I glanced at the ceiling just to see if there was anything there. There was not.

    ¡°Hmm, I see. Interesting question of semantics,¡± he nodded. ¡°My best answer is that Glorianna was not Halvman¡¯s so to speak; Glorianna is New Castle¡¯s life mate.¡±

    Satisfied with his answer, Professor gave an affirmative nod then turned his back on us so he could go back to lecturing.

    I should have known Gimlet would not give up so easily. As we exited the school house, he was there, this time waiting and talking with the Captain. She was still as stiff and starched as ever, but this time I noticed something different as she strode over to address us. Her ears were red.

    ¡°Evening all. Right, so this chap, Jacki here, says all he wants is some time to connect with his little sister-¡°

    ¡°Lorus is not Jack¡¯s sister!¡± I interjected.

    The Captain glanced at me and shrugged, ¡°Whatever. He filled out the right paperwork, and he gets at least fifteen minutes.¡± At this point the pink crept into the tops of her cheeks, and she couldn¡¯t help a look over her shoulder. Gimlet smiled back. ¡°Although, considering his patience during the process and he did have sort of a rough time at the start, you could see him for a little longer, say twenty or so if you like.¡±

    I sighed. It had already begun.

    ¡°Lorus is tired. Long day,¡± I murmured. ¡°We do this tomorrow?¡±

    Moron, Beka, and Raikan had been standing by in different postures of scowling, frowning in concern, and cool observation. Of course Moron was the first to speak.

    ¡°I say, Captain! This all rather turned about for you, isn¡¯t it,¡± he complained, ¡°Just last week you were saying how put off you were all these immigrants were always leaning on you for favors and special treatment. Surely you¡¯re not letting this one get to you.¡±

    Moron¡¯s face was a little too smug.

    ¡°Certainly not!¡± the Captain snapped. ¡°This man waited the duration, filled out the paperwork, and now he has legitimate quarter to seek a meeting with this charge! As far as special treatment, Scionsan Wiglaf, if you think those belching, fuming, polluting contraptions you¡¯ve got tucked in the thicket around Arsenal have gone unnoticed, you are sorely mistaken! In fact I think it¡¯s about time for another routine inspection of your shoal¡¯s labs and workshops, including the one built in the clock tower shell that you think no one knows about.¡±

    ¡°Hold on!¡± Beka protested. ¡°That¡¯s my shop, and you can¡¯t go mucking about in there it¡¯s, it¡¯s-¡°

    ¡°Non-regulation?¡± the Captain asked, one eyebrow raised.

    Beka¡¯s fists stiffened at her side.

    ¡°It¡¯s not finished! And it¡¯s not like you perimeter Regulars can keep your mouths shut whenever someone¡¯s working on a new idea! It¡¯s like you don¡¯t even know the meaning of the word ¡®discreet¡¯!¡±

    The Captain tossed her head, ¡°Oh really? Because secret inventions and designs are such important stuff, are they? Well, let me tell you, girly, we-¡°

    Suddenly, everyone was talking at once. It gave me a headache. The whole time Gimlet just smirked in the background. My move.

    ¡°Enough!¡± I shouted a bit too loudly.

    Everyone¡¯s head snapped towards me. I won¡¯t lie. I didn¡¯t mind the expressions of surprise and attention they wore. With all the long suffering dignity I could muster, I pushed myself up out of the wheeled chair.

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    ¡°Lorus will go talk with Jack. Lorus doesn¡¯t know if she can make it fifteen minutes yet, so Lorus would like to take a- a companion.¡±

    Moron nodded and stepped to my side offering his arm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry Lorus, I¡¯ll keep you safe from that ruffian,¡± he stared pointedly at the Captain. ¡°No matter what!¡±

    I shook my head and smiled gently.

    ¡°No. Lorus will take Raikan.¡±

    He wilted but moved so Raikan could take his place. I knocked on the top of my head and stuck my tongue out a little.

    ¡°It¡¯s just so if Lorus falls over, Raikan is the one who knows how to put Lorus¡¯s brain back in her head, right?¡±

    Moron and Beka both considered until grudgingly Moron nodded, ¡°I suppose you do need more medical assistance than muscle right now.¡±

    Beka snorted. What neither of them realized was that out of the three and judging from her background, Raikan was probably the best out of all of them in a pinch fight.

    ¡°I must interject here,¡± Raikan chose her moment to speak up, quietly but firmly. ¡°As you can see Lorus¡¯s condition has improved greatly. However, Captain, are we to put her continued recovery at risk because of someone¡¯s paperwork? He may have sued for 15 minutes, Captain, but as you can see her stamina is still not what it should be for a fully healthy individual. If this exertion were to cause a relapse, sending her back into seclusion in the hospital, don¡¯t you think this would be cause for a re-evaluation of the process, an audit even?¡±

    The Captain nodded, ¡°A reasonable concern, I suppose. Very well. Lorus does not have to stay the whole fifteen minutes. Just until she¡¯s too tired. That¡¯s settled, I have more important matters to see to.¡±

    Beka and Moron said they would meet me back in the hospital tent even though they were no longer living there. The Captain strode off, said something to Gimlet which made him smile and give a small, acquiescent bow of his head before she marched up to another woman with steely gray hair.

    I hadn¡¯t noticed this new onlooker before. She stood at the edge of the yard and gestured in my direction once the Captain caught up with her. I squinted at the gray-haired woman, wracking my brain. Did she seem familiar? Had I seen her before here? Someplace else? Where was else? But Gimlet¡¯s presence was non-ignorable. The gray-haired woman left, so I saved that puzzle for another day. Raikan took my arm to help steady me, and together we walked over to see Gimlet.

    He smiled when we got there and held out his arm, but Raikan shook her head firmly, her smile never slipping. Gimlet shrugged then turned his back on us and strolled off.

    ¡°Come on," he said over his shoulder.¡± There¡¯s a better view of the city from over here¡±.

    I was a bit curious. He¡¯d heard the Captain say I only had to stay until I tired of it. I could sit down on the grass right now and say I was too tired to go any further. All he wanted to do the first few minutes was ramble slowly across the lawn. I peeked at Raikan, but her expression was completely neutral. So we walked on.

    Finally, we did come to a place where a bench was set up between units facing in the direction of the city. He gestured. I thought about it, but then I saw his scheme. If I was sitting down, then there was no way I could get tired. He could talk as long as he wanted. I shook my head and turned back towards the way we had come, leaning a little more on Raikan as though the walk had taken a great effort.

    ¡°Have it your way, Lorus.¡± He stood silently for a few more moments. This was so strange. Usually, by now the threats or the shaking or the slapping, if not myself, then some object for demonstration or emphasis, had started. Instead we just stood there.

    ¡°Have you had a chance to really look at the city, Lorus?¡±

    ¡°Lorus has been sick in bed because someone nearly froze her to death,¡± I said flatly.

    ¡°Lorus has been sick in bed because she chose to sleep outside in freezing weather,¡± he retorted softly.

    I firmly shut my mouth. I should know better than to argue with Gimlet. That¡¯s how he gets you. So instead I turned and looked at the city or rather its walls, which were the only thing you could really see. It was massive.

    I tried to look from one end to the other, but I realized the tall gray wall, taller than three men standing on each other¡¯s shoulders and speckled with green, climbing ivy, stretched as far as I could see to my right and as far as I could see to my left. Just above it I could see rises of red, brown, and green rooftops, the different shingling of the houses built along the wall. It was as thick as a carpet of pebbles on the bottom of a stream. Here and there a tall, white tower popped up like a candle. Those had to be the furnace towers of the Thaumaturges that Moron had mentioned. Sure enough, every once in a while, one would give a great belch, and white plume of smoke would shoot out of it then drift away into the pink and purple evening sky.

    Suddenly, over the city rolled a low, warm bell chime, six times. All of one accord tiny lights appeared between the shingles like a chorus of fireflies rising from the field. I realized the city must be built on a hill, all the houses and buildings rising towards the epicenter. Even though I couldn¡¯t see it from here, I was sure it would be a magnificent place, the heart of New Castle, like a glistening pearl at the center of an oyster. Someday, I would go there.

    ¡°We should go there someday, Lorus.¡±

    I looked up at Gimlet. He was gazing at me with a look I¡¯d never seen before.

    ¡°I am glad to see you¡¯re getting better. Today I just, well-¡° he turned back to look at the city. ¡°Today I just wanted to see how you were really doing and find out if you might want to go to New Castle.¡±

    I blinked, puzzled, but tried to keep my face neutral. Did I want to go to New Castle? What kind of a question was that?

    ¡°It¡¯s a big city, Lorus, bigger than even the ones I¡¯ve been in, ¡°he smiled. ¡°I had only ever heard about New Castle, of course, from the men in the tribe. They don¡¯t think too much of Castelians and their obsession with civilization, as you can imagine. For a while, I too honestly thought they were a bunch of soft-headed sops, just waiting for a good push to topple their precious society. But then I got a closer look.¡±

    Gimlet paused then sat down on the bench, scooting to its end so he could be next to me. I stiffened at his sudden close proximity. It should have made me feel better to be taller than him, if only by an inch, but my legs really were getting tired, and I didn¡¯t want him to see me shake. Now that he¡¯d taken the bench, I couldn¡¯t sit down if I wanted to, not without asking him to move over. I cursed myself for the oversight.

    ¡°It¡¯s funny how you notice more when you take time to really look at something, isn¡¯t it Lorus?¡± Gimlet leaned over and pulled a blade of grass up from the bottom of the bench. ¡°You think you have the world figured out then one day you get a chance to really look close,¡± he pinched the top of the leaf and pulled back. A white flower popped out. It turned out it was actually a closed snow drop. ¡°Suddenly, there is more than you ever imagined in something you used to tread under foot.¡±

    He sighed and turned back to looking at the city, ¡°I would like to see what else New Castle holds, Lorus. I think I would like to become a Castelian.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± the word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it, but Gimlet just nodded.

    ¡°I know, I know. I¡¯ve been a Roadie all my life, a hunter, a tribe enforcer, and there¡¯s no engine I can¡¯t salvage or get restarted with the right parts. But I¡¯m beginning to wonder if there¡¯s more I could be than just a roving savage. I wonder if I could be a part of something better.¡±

    I didn¡¯t even bother to stop my bottom jaw from hanging open.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, Lorus, I¡¯m not going into this idea, eyes shut, ¡° Gimlet twiddled the snow drop between his fingers, whirling it back and forth. ¡°Even the small cities I¡¯ve been in have been strange and at times dangerous places. It¡¯s just a different sort of wilderness, Lorus, and as wonderful as its citizens or soon-to-be citizens may think it is, I know there are elements of humanity¡¯s darker side that even New Castle can¡¯t white wash.¡± He nodded in Raikan¡¯s direction, ¡°There are reasons some immigrants choose never to enter nor become citizens of New Castle.¡±

    I tried not to stare at Raikan who, except for my arm on her arm, I had almost completely forgotten about. She smiled but said nothing.

    Gimlet nodded knowingly, ¡°It would be an alien environment. They pretty much assign you a ward if you don¡¯t have any obvious talents. Life is stable but predictable. However, you integrate into an entire network of people, none of whom you know. You would be completely alone and isolated, lost in a sea of faces. However, that¡¯s a risk I think I¡¯m willing to take.¡±

    This was all getting too weird. Jack Gimlet wasn¡¯t trying to intimidate me. He wasn¡¯t even trying to cajole or persuade me to leave and go with him back to the Roadies. What was his game? Then he turned to me, and I suddenly got it.

    ¡°It would be a big, scary place to be alone in, Lorus. I¡¯m sure you could find companions eventually, but wouldn¡¯t it be better if you knew someone had your back?¡±

    Gimlet was going to follow me in to New Castle. No matter where I went, into the wilds or in to the streets of New Castle. There was no place he could not reach me.

    Gimlet stood up and pretended to dust himself off.

    ¡°Wellp, that¡¯s about all I had to say. Thank you for listening to me, Lorus,¡± he held out his hand. I had already placed mine in his before I realized it was too late. His hand tightened around mine as he suddenly pulled.

    There was a second where I considered screaming, hitting, biting even as he got closer, but then he whispered quietly, ¡°I will always find you, Bright Eyes.¡±

    Then it was over, and he let me go. I froze, a knot of nausea churning in my stomach.

    ¡°Have a good night, you two!¡± Gimlet waved as he strolled off down the path.

    I waited until he was around a corner and out of sight before collapsing onto the bench. For a few seconds I just laid there, quivering. I tried to fight off tears, but they always came too readily. My stomach was knotted almost as tightly as my fists as warring emotions clashed inside of me. Once I had myself back together, I gave one last shake then sat up.

    Raikan was there, staring out at nothing, pretending she hadn¡¯t seen my melt down. Slowly, I pushed myself back to my feet and tried to take a few steps down the path on my own. It was no good. I got a few steps then my knees gave out. Raikan was right there though, slipping an arm under my shoulders then scooping me off my feet in one smooth gesture. She was barely bigger than I was, but she carried me like I weighed nothing as we headed back to the hospital.

    ¡°Raikan-I-you can put Lorus down. I¡¯ll walk.¡±

    Raikan smiled, ¡°You would walk slowly, Lorus, and we need to get you back inside before you catch a chill. You¡¯ve already pushed yourself enough for one day.¡±

    At that I fell silent for a little while longer, studying my aid, who was so quiet and so helpful, yet there was obviously much more about here that I didn¡¯t know or understand. It was all hidden behind serene almond eyes and a face as calm as an untouched reflecting pool. It showed only what the world wanted to see and nothing of its depths.

    ¡°Raikan,¡± I asked softly, ¡°Why don¡¯t you want to move into New Castle?¡±

    Raikan¡¯s eyes slid side-ways to meet mine. For a second I could see past her eponymous smile.

    ¡°I have lived in cities nearly all my life, Lorus. In cities it is very difficult to find someone to be loyal to, let alone find someone loyal to you. Out here where I care for people, they care back, even if they leave me to go beyond the walls and start a new life.¡±

    I thought about what she said all the way back to my bed. Nurse Jane fussed a bit, but she was also proud that I was making progress. That night as I lay wrapped in my blankets I pondered what both Jack and Raikan said. It kept me awake much later than I would have liked to be.

    Early in the morning, however, I finally came to my answer. Neither one of their words mattered. Lorus did not have family. Lorus did not have friends. Faces and companions would come and go, and as much as they claimed to care, they really wouldn¡¯t. Loyalty was just another word for bondage, much like friendship. I would be fine in the streets of New Castle as long as I could get away from Jack Gimlet.

 Chapter 6: Wheres the Red Canary?

    Chapter 6

    The more time went by, however, the more it seemed like getting away from Gimlet by going to New Castle would not be possible. He did not come by every day, but he did come by frequently. Sometimes I was able to get out of it by staying after lessons and asking questions until the sun went down, but then that left Gimlet more time to talk to my companions. Bit by bit, glance by glance, I could see him worming his way into their graces.

    Until one evening I found myself sitting with Gimlet, Beka, Raikan, and Moron under a tree in the yard, with Moron going on and on.

    ¡°¡­unless you become a Bench Dog, Jack, or you actually might be better as a Rover! Then with me as the RCFer, Beka as Thaumaturge, and Raikan as Second we could secure clearance to go as far as the Wilmot Valley!¡± Moron had gone all glassy eyed. ¡°They say there are whole landfills and junkyards buried under layers of Mount St. Helen¡¯s ash that haven¡¯t been touched in over a century. Just think of the discoveries!¡±

    Gimlet mulled things over, ¡°And they pay top price for this stuff? These ¡®Grancestor Finds¡¯?¡± Moron nodded enthusiastically to the affirmative. Gimlet shrugged, ¡°Just not so sure about any position that likens to an extinct animal. Bench Dogs. Rovers. Doesn¡¯t sound like a position with high life expectancy. I could be the RCFer; considering I¡¯ve been up and down the coast more than half a dozen times, I¡¯d say I probably know it a bit better than you.¡±

    Moron shook his head, ¡°No, see that¡¯s why you¡¯d be a better Rover, someone like Tabby Porter. Rovers are all about exploration and travel. Retrochronofanters are the scholars of the expedition in charge of identifying technology and figuring out how it works.¡±

    ¡°Tabby Porter? Who¡¯s that? Some tour guide?¡± Gimlet snorted.

    Beka laughed, ¡°More like Finnias¡¯s crush, and he hasn¡¯t even met her in person!¡±

    ¡°I have too! There was that time at the Explorer¡¯s party where I was demonstrating my Arboreal Escalier. She was kind enough to climb up and unhook me after the darn thing jammed.¡±

    Beka rolled her eyes, ¡°So why would we be putting you in charge of getting technology to work correctly again?¡±

    Moron took a dignified posture, ¡°Because I have a patient yet inquisitive mind, unlike some whose methods of ¡®fixing¡¯ machines includes strapping on steel-toed boots and kicking them!¡±

    Beka shrugged, ¡°It worked didn¡¯t it?¡±

    Moron sighed and rolled his eyes back to Gimlet, ¡°Tabby Porter just happens to be one of the most famous and successful expedition Rovers in the city right now. If even half of her stories are true, then she¡¯s been across the Plains of Ruins to a formerly unheard of civilization, survived everything from dire turtles to wild elf attacks, and no one, not even a Regular¡¯s eagle eye can out shoot her with a bolt rifle. She and her crew, Lithium Shrike, Averly Fox, and Cuthbert Qa¡¯la, have made some of the most significant finds around New Castle to date, including evidence of retrochronatic societies similar to New Castle. They were the first yondering to affirm the existence of Tien Hong! And that is why you would be such a good Rover, Jack. You know the outdoors. You know handy obscure things, like engines. And you know how people really work.¡±

    Gimlet grinned, ¡°Can¡¯t argue with that.¡±

    ¡°What would Lorus do?¡± I asked. All eyes swiveled to me. It was the most uncomfortable I¡¯d felt in three months.

    ¡°Well¡­uh¡­¡±Moron stalled in the middle of his vision.

    ¡°You could be my backup,¡± Gimlet gave me a thumbs up. ¡°A good front man is important, but unless you have support and your back secure, any mug can just sneak up and whack you.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Beka wrinkled her nose. ¡°No offense, but Lorus is kind of¡­delicate. Adventuring might not really be her thing. Once you two are settled in New Castle, she may not want to venture out.¡±

    Was Beka kidding? Delicate? And here I thought she was the smart one of the group! I could feel my face begin to burn. It was one thing to work up a proper concern and urge to protect in these people. I was beginning to think it had gone too far.

    Gimlet nodded as though Beka had said something very wise, ¡°That is true, Beka. Well, what do you say then Lorus, you can keep a nice, tidy house for me and the gang, and we¡¯ll bring you back all sorts of pretty trinkets and baubles.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I shot to my feet, startling even quiet Raikan. ¡°No, Lorus will not be a housekeeper. Lorus will not be part of someone else¡¯s plan!¡±

    I fumed. Moron and Beka actually had hurt looks on their faces. Gimlet clucked and shook his head like a disappointed parent. My hands shook at my side. What should I do now? If I attacked Gimlet, what little sympathy and pull I would have with his now devoted fans would be gone. If I stayed silent, they would take it as a tantrum and forget it just as quickly. I pivoted on my heel and limped off.

    I could still hear Gimlet talking unnecessarily loud as I left.

    ¡°I told you all. Lorus isn¡¯t much of a joiner. Doesn¡¯t take well to people. She¡¯s kind of a wild thing, you know.¡±

    I made it to the housing blocks before I had to stop and lean against a wall. My endurance was getting better, but it was still only in bursts. There was a gray-haired woman in a black dress, with a strange dangle of elaborate chains at her waist, each ending in a different odd accessory, sitting on one of the benches, gloved hands folded in her lap. She seemed familiar as her beady black eyes assessed me. I supposed she¡¯d seen the confrontation between myself and Gimlet. Angrily, I straightened and turned on her.

    ¡°And who¡¯s looking at Lorus?¡± I growled.

    She eyed me coolly, ¡°I beg your pardon?¡±

    I huffed, ¡°Who are you looking at Lorus?¡±

    She took her time answering, ¡°First of all, my name is not Lorus-¡°

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Lorus knows that!¡± I snapped. ¡°Lorus is Lorus! Who are you?¡±

    With a sniff the woman drew a small, flat metallic case that seemed to be hanging from the jangle of chains at her waist. With a flick of her thumb she snapped it open and produced a small, flat paper rectangle, which she then handed to me.

    ¡°I, besides being someone who knows how to properly form a question and answer, am Irinia Crane, Second to Warden Catalyn Forsythe over Ward One,¡± she answered then continued with a tight smile. ¡°And I am to be the evaluator of this next batch of applicants all hopeful to become New Castle Cogs. I will judge who is suitable to be let into the city.¡± She pursed her lips, ¡°And who isn¡¯t.¡±

    Later on, safely tucked completely inside my blankets and rolled into a ball, I pondered whether it had been anything I had done to get myself into this situation. Where had I gone wrong? Everyone started out on my side. How did Gimlet reel them in so quickly and so easily? Later when Moron and Beka came by to apologize for leaving me out, I considered emerging from the blankets, crying to them, maybe even trying to explain to them again who and what Gimlet was really like. As they yammered on though, I knew deep in my heart it was already too late. They were not my friends. They never had been.

    This meant all of my plans of moving into New Castle to start a new life had to be scrapped. If Jack was in New Castle, I would not be. Even bands of wild elfs would be better than falling into his hands again. If I went along with it, this new group of people would willingly drop me into his clutches. However, if I blew my chance to be admitted to New Castle, I might never get it again. It was a very big city. Gimlet said it was like a wilderness in its own way. Once I got in, I could hide. That was something I was always very good at, even if I couldn¡¯t run.

    All night I tossed and turned. The immigration exam was in a couple of days. Would it be better to cut my losses and flee back to the wilderness, or should I do my best to gain admittance and hope beyond hope I could find some hidden niche in New Castle to carve out an existence? Beka and Moron must have taken my increased crankiness as worrying about failing the exam as their faces got more and more concerned, and they spoke to me less and less about moving to New Castle.

    One day Moron even said, ¡°You know Lorus, if you don¡¯t get in this time, it¡¯s not the end of the world. Plenty of immigrants have to try two or three times. And you could always come live in Arsenal in the meantime. Jack even said he would wait up if you didn¡¯t make it the first time.¡±

    I sighed and put my head down on my desk, ¡°Moron, stop talking please.¡±

    The exam had two parts: correct identification of common symbols and signs seen around New Castle, what they called ¡®words¡¯, and then one on one interviews in the afternoon. I thought I had done all right with the symbol identification. I knew which colors meant it was okay to cross a city trail, a road. I knew to look for red crossed sticks for medical, a mortar and pestle for a chemist for medicine, an owl for city enforcement drawn from the Regulars, a lizard for the ward salamanders where they safely kept coals alive for households, and a spoon for the Cog Kitchen where all registered cogs could collect their rations and grog for the week. There were more, but I felt for sure these were the most important ones.

    Nurse Jane ran our exam, calling out the location, leaving the lined up examinees to raise the correct sign. Behind her Irinia Crane and the Captain sat taking notes of our answers. I felt a bit odd watching the Captain. There were a few times where she glanced up at me then her eyes slid sideways to Irinia¡¯s check sheet then back to her own as she gnawed on a corner of her lip.

    By lunch break I was exhausted mentally and physically. During the pause, some of the younger girls decided to take up playing Red Canary, and soon I found myself unwillingly pulled in by Beka and Moron.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t be such a sour puss, Lorus,¡± Gimlet smirked, giving the brown-haired girl he¡¯d used before to send messages a pat on the head. ¡°Take pleasure where you can find it. It helps take your mind off unpleasant things, like not doing as well as you thought or not getting what you want.¡±

    I was more interested in the fact that the Captain hadn¡¯t left the classroom but had made some excuse about paperwork to stay behind. Gimlet had an exceedingly pleased air about him today. I stared hard at him, trying to figure out his angle of being all nicey-nice, worrying about how I was doing in exams. If I didn¡¯t make it into New Castle, that would certainly mess up his plans of gaining custody of me. Or did it?

    ¡­The door is wide open,

    But the bird won¡¯t fly.

    Along comes a kitty cat and bye bye bye!

    The red pebble slapped into my hand. Blinking, my head shot up, looking around the circle. In a second the brown-haired girl would turn around and point to me, catching the pebble. Then I would be put in the cage. I felt the world slow as brown-hair girl turned, her locks flaring out in the sun, teeth bared in a wide grin. She already knew where the pebble was. Of course it was a set up. Either way I would lose. Either way Gimlet would catch me. The game was over before it started. Like heck it was.

    ¡°The bird is there! You¡¯ve got the canary!¡± brown-hair girl pointed and giggled. She couldn¡¯t help but look over for approval from Jack who winked at her. I opened my eyes wide and held up both of my hands, palm up, empty.

    She blinked, and then stared hard at me.

    ¡°Where is it? I know you¡¯ve got it, Lorus!¡±

    I spread my hands and arms even wider, shrugging, ¡°Lorus no have. You got?¡±

    She huffed and put her hand on her hips then lunged for me patting about my hips and waist.

    ¡°I know you¡¯ve got it, Lorus! You¡¯ve stuck it in your pocket or something! Stand up! I bet you¡¯re sitting on it!¡±

    I obliged, slowly climbing to my feet to show I wasn¡¯t moving or stashing the pebble anywhere. Then I suffered the indignity of being frisked, up and down, every pocket, arms out, legs spread, she even went through my hair and looked in my ears. Uncertainly, she turned back to the rest of the circle.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t have it?¡±

    But now everyone else was staring about confused as well. Gimlet was looking particularly hard at me. I smiled wide like a cat with a good meal and gestured discreetly to brown-haired girl.

    ¡°Psst! Come. Lorus tell you where pebble went.¡±

    Cautiously, she came over.

    ¡°Closer!¡± I whispered.

    She stepped up, looming over me.

    ¡°Closer!¡± I hissed.

    She leaned in.

    Winding up like a sneeze, I slammed the top of my forehead into hers.

    ¡°ACHOOOO!¡±

    Brown-haired girl wailed and flailed backwards, holding her forehead and staggering back and forth. The group erupted into surprised laughter though everyone quickly tried to politely stifle it.

    ¡°She head-butted me!¡± she sobbed, burrowing her face in Gimlet¡¯s shoulder. There, let him deal with his clingy, dependent groupies. If he liked people so much, it shouldn¡¯t bother him to take care of them. As for me, they were too much trouble. I shrugged, pretending to be embarrassed.

    ¡°Sawy! Lorus allergic to butt-heads. Lorus go blow nose now!¡±

    Then I trotted off back to the classroom. When I got to the steps, I slowed. Irinia Crane was sitting there. She had probably been there the whole time. I considered saying something to her, trying to explain why even though she just watched me head butt a little girl in the face she should still consider admitting me to New Castle, but I couldn¡¯t think of a good answer really.

    ¡°Lorus,¡± her voice halted me in my tracks just as I opened the door. Irinia hadn¡¯t even bothered to turn, ¡°What did you do with the red canary? Where is the pebble?¡±

    I could have kept walking, but a sneaky trick like that is only fully enjoyed when someone else knows what happened. Still, this was the proctor after all.

    ¡°Let¡¯s just say the canary probably won¡¯t be able to return home for a few days.¡± I could feel myself begin to cat-grin again and licked my lips despite myself. Irinia¡¯s head turned in my direction, and as I disappeared in the door, I thought perhaps she laughed.

 Chapter 7: "You told it wrong..."

    Chapter 7

    I stepped in just as the Captain straightened up abruptly from the desk at the front of the room. I thought I heard the soft ¡°whomf¡± of a draw sliding shut.

    ¡°Ah-ha-ha good! Testers are done with lunch?¡± she laughed nervously. ¡°Are you the first interview? Fine then. Take a seat.¡±

    After a moment Irinia returned. She too visited the desk and drew out of it a stack of papers which she shuffled through until she came to one in particular. Pausing, she turned to look a moment at the Captain, who had taken a seat with a stack of papers as well. The Captain fiddled with a pocket on her coat and pulled out a small baggie with white paper and some dried leafy substance in it.

    ¡°I hope you weren¡¯t thinking to smoke, Captain,¡± Irinia murmured quietly. ¡°Smoking is prohibited in the school building.¡±

    The Captain shook her head but rolled some of the paper and leaves into short wrapped bundles anyways, ¡°Nope. Just planning for later, Second.¡±

    Irinia nodded, and then the interview began. I honestly cannot remember what we talked about. It was so odd watching this tension between the two women that I may have answered more honestly than I intended.

    ¡°So what can you bring to New Castle?¡± Irinia asked.

    Reality snapped back into place.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked. ¡°Sorry, once more please?¡±

    ¡°She asked what you think you can contribute to New Castle,¡± the Captain interrupted impatiently. ¡°Everyone plays a part here, you know. We Regulars are rough and ready; we defend the city from attack and keep order and law. Wardens and their family, Wardensans, coordinate the city. They keep the lore and laws of the city alive, negotiate trade, spread knowledge, and patronize the universities and crafters. Seconds help them out and stuff. Good help is hard to find, yadda yadda. Alchemists make medicine, poison, and brew beer. Thaumaturges make Thaumaturgic metal, tune weapons, and blow crap up. Bench Dogs are merchants and handy folk or turn to traveling and become Rovers. Cogs keep the city itself running, doing everything from minding the millet and hemp fields to grooming elk to keeping the salamanders running. Everybody has a part. Everybody fits in. Where do you fit in?¡±

    With a sinking heart, I knew there was just one answer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    The Captain snorted and raised an eyebrow at Irinia.

    ¡°But I could! Lorus could fit in any of those places though. Just-Lorus just needs a chance. Whatever you need Lorus to do, Lorus does!¡±

    Tears would not work on the Captain, and I doubted very much Irinia had any regard for them. I didn¡¯t feel like indulging in something so useless, so I shuffled outside and waited with the rest. I would not have minded if Moron or Beka had come over to speak with me, but they were holding their own discussion. Why was I waiting around? Annoyed with myself, I shuffled off, back to the hospital tent. Why do something as useless as sit around feeling sorry for myself? Taking a nap would be much more productive.

    When I returned to the hospital, however, I found my bed had already been turned over. There were new sheets and new pillows on it, and there was a new body in the bed. Some little sandy-haired boy with pocks all over his face and a constant runny nose was there taking up Nurse Jane¡¯s attention. Utterly put out, I stole a blanket from the laundry, found a sunny spot in the yard, and curled up.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t do it out of cruelty, Lorus.¡±

    Raikan¡¯s voice startled me back into a sitting position. I stared at her then rumbled and rolled over.

    ¡°Not so kind to leave Lorus out.¡±

    ¡°Did you really want to be a part?¡± she replied softly.

    I thought about it then rolled back her direction, ¡°I didn¡¯t-Lorus didn¡¯t not want to be a part. Lorus never really got the choice, did she?¡±

    Raikan smiled and crouched down next to me, ¡°Neither did I.¡±

    We sat there for a bit, waiting each other out. I had gotten too used to talking and having people listen, so Raikan won, and I said, ¡°I¡¯m tired of other people controlling my life.¡±

    Raikan nodded, ¡°I was too. That¡¯s why I decided not to go to New Castle. I may change my mind someday, but when I do, it will be because I want to.¡±

    ¡°I may not have a choice,¡± I sighed and laid my face on the ground. Nurse Jane would probably yell at me later for getting dirty. Then again, would she really even care about me once I wasn¡¯t in her ward? Probably not. ¡°If I go to New Castle, then there¡¯s an entire society telling me what to do. If I stay outside, then Jack will catch me again and make me do what he wants me to do.¡±

    ¡°Only two choices?¡± Raikan asked.

    ¡°Are there more?¡±

    ¡°When are there not?¡±

    I¡¯m sure we could have continued like that, but Nurse Jane came sweeping across the yard towards us.

    ¡°Lorus! There you are! They are announcing the candidacy results. Don¡¯t you want to know whether or not you¡¯ll get your citizen¡¯s pass?¡±

    I grumbled and pulled the blanket around me, but Nurse Jane clucked and picked me up under the armpits. For a second I dangled there like a grumpy kitten, curled into a ball.

    ¡°Now Lorus, you¡¯re a big girl!¡± Nurse Jane said gently. ¡°I expect you to act like one. Where¡¯s all that pluck and bravery you showed when you first arrived? Suffering all that discomfort? Being so eager to learn? Regaining your legs when you thought no one was looking? Come on now. Buck up!¡±

    I capitulated and straightened my legs out until my feet touched the ground. Nurse Jane beamed at me.

    ¡°Good girl! Come along then, ducky! We¡¯ll go together!¡±

    Before we left Raikan called after me, ¡°Lorus, just remember that even if you do make it, you don¡¯t have to accept, and even if you don¡¯t make it, you don¡¯t have to give up!¡±

    I¡¯m not sure what help she thought that would be, but I waved an arm at her like it mattered.

    It turned out each applicant was informed individually of whether or not they made the cut and passed their round of exams. Many had gone through already, with a few excitedly talking in groups, making gestures as grand as their plans for New Castle. There were some, however, that did not share their enthusiasm. I hadn¡¯t really kept track of families, but there were one or two huddled here or there with pained looks on their faces.

    The mothers cried or the fathers looked pained as the children clung to their shirt tails. A group of Regulars with stiff-backed books were making their rounds to these groups asking if the family would split, the member that had succeeded would get to enter while the ones that failed could try again in a month, or would the family stay together. It seemed the children almost always gained citizenship, and the Regulars assured the parents that their children would immediately be enrolled in school to give them a better chance of elevating to a degree rather than remain a cog. Sometimes one of the parents made it while the other did not. Then they would have to decide whether to go on ahead to establish a home in the hopes that the rest would soon be joining, or they stayed behind and waited.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Moron was actually making rounds of these fractured groups, shaking hands, offering condolences, working his angle.

    ¡°But did you know that after you pass through quarantine, you can actually apply to live in one of the Shoal villages? Take Arsenal, for instance, we actually have several retired Regulars and Rovers there as well as a working lab and pharmacy regulated only by our city elders. In fact, even though we¡¯re a Shoal now, paper work has already been submitted to start the process of integrating and raising our city to an actual Ward as soon as we find a sister Shoal to match. Isn¡¯t that exciting! You could make a home at Arsenal and still become a Castelian in the next few years without even having to retake the exam!¡±

    At one point, I caught his eye. After hesitating a moment, he smiled and headed in my direction. Moron never made it over though as my name was called, and I was quickly ushered back into the school house for what I hoped was the last time.

    The Captain, Irinia Crane, Colonel Whittaker, Lynwood, and Gimlet were all sitting there.

    Nurse Jane gave a sniff, ¡°What is he doing here? Candidacy meetings are confidential you know.¡±

    The Captain gave a dismissive wave of her hand, ¡°Well enough for most cases, Nurse Jane. You¡¯ve done a lovely job with healing up your ward, but the topic of her stewardship is one that needs to be addressed one way or the other.¡±

    Nurse tossed her head, ¡°And them? Colonel I appreciate your interest in the efficiency of our hospital unit, but certainly this case cannot involve you and your¡­¡±

    Lynwood stepped forward, face reddening, ¡°Private Chelsey Lynwood and RCF candidate, ma¡¯am. I¡¯m here acting as witness today.¡±

    The Colonel nodded, ¡°Quite right. I am not here in official capacity. Rather I too am acting as witness of sorts regarding this¡­particular candidate.¡±

    None of this made any sense to me at all. It did, however, set my stomach into a whole mess of butterflies and knots, or maybe knotted butterflies, or knots tied to look like butterflies. Either way, I could feel my palms begin to sweat.

    The Captain looked a little nonplussed.

    ¡°This is a candidacy hearing, not a trial. No offense, Colonel, but if not in official capacity, I am not clear exactly on your reason for being here,¡± She paused and shuffled the papers, nervously shooting a look at Gimlet. ¡°If this has to do with the circumstances surrounding bringing the child in, I assure you, we have already made provisions for her care.¡±

    ¡°Have you now?¡± Nurse Jane¡¯s tone was flat. ¡°So what exactly are Lorus¡¯s circumstances, and did she or did she not pass the exam?¡±

    ¡°Well that doesn¡¯t really matter,¡± Lynwood snorted. ¡°I mean either way-¡°

    ¡°Beg pardon private,¡± the Captain snapped. ¡°I was under the impression that Regulars from the 13th Ward received better training than to interrupt a superior or talk out of place, even if they think they can spurn generations of tradition and become an RCFer.¡±

    Lynwood sputtered, but the Colonel muttered, ¡°Bad show Lynwood, this means twenty demerits and extra duty back at the garrison.¡±

    She fell silent and glowered sullenly.

    The Captain smiled, ¡°Thank you. As I was saying, the, ah, transitioning time for Lorus has been rather short, her previous circumstances and living conditions considered, so it should not come as such a surprise that Lorus did not pass this round of exams.¡±

    I sucked in a breath. It was so blunt. But there it was. I had failed.

    ¡°You¡¯re saying she failed?¡± Irinia¡¯s voice was bland and flat. The Captain reshuffled her papers.

    ¡°Well, um, yes. The scores she received from the practical as well as from the interview-¡°

    ¡°Really? She scored near perfect on the practical.¡±

    The Captain held out papers for Irinia to look at everyone else crowded around them as the Captain kept talking.

    ¡°Those are the marks. From both graders¡¯ sheets. They do correlate, as you can see. As I was trying to say, even though Lorus did not make marks high enough to pass, with an official guardian she can be fast tracked to the front of the line for retaking the exam and being naturalized.¡±

    She paused and Jack stepped forward.

    ¡°Mr. Jack Gimlet, a mechanic and elder of his former tribe, has some association with Lorus and has agreed to adopt her in order to help facilitate her integration into society,¡± the Captain beamed. ¡°He received perfect marks on his practical as well as giving an exceptional interview. We would be honored to have his tactical skills among the Regulars, though Jack tells me his mechanical skills make him more interested in Thaumaturgical pursuits, particularly weaponry and explosive support for the troops.¡±

    It would have made more sense to me if she¡¯d said Gimlet claimed to be the reincarnation of the Spring Chicken Bunny and had the power to fly through the air on a frying pan. And oh yeah, he wanted access to their weapons and armory.

    ¡°He did give a very solid interview,¡± Irinia acquiesced.

    ¡°You cannot be serious!¡± Nurse Jane sputtered. ¡°This man is ruthless and a savage! Do you know what he did to poor Lorus?!¡±

    I felt my heart lift. He hadn¡¯t gotten to Nurse Jane!

    The Colonel tushed, ¡°Now Nurse Jane, we don¡¯t use words like ¡®savage¡¯ to describe our outdoor neighbors. They have their own sort of¡­organization.¡±

    Lynwood was fretting and huffing on the side, ¡°Now may I, Colonel?¡±

    He turned to the Captain, ¡°Was there anything more you wanted to say on this matter, Captain Harkness? A guardian, I believe you did say, would allow Lorus to be moved into the city sooner.¡±

    The Captain nodded, ¡°Indeed, sir. And, I would ask you all to consider the defamation of Jack just that. There is no evidence whatsoever of any abuse or harm from Jack done to Lorus. Keep in mind also that petulant children are prone to exaggeration when they think they can prey upon the sympathies or leverage others.¡±

    The Colonel gave a little tilt of his head in agreement, ¡°Quite right. The young can be somewhat impulsive, can¡¯t they? Well, Lorus, what do you say? Have you been stretching the truth a little? Playing with Nurse Jane¡¯s heart strings a bit? Wouldn¡¯t you rather go to a nice warm home with Jack over there, a nice comfy bed and toys to play with?¡±

    ¡°A what?¡±

    The Colonel¡¯s mustaches twitched, ¡°A toy, child. A plaything.¡±

    Like what Jack was making all of them into. I looked at Nurse Jane. Her chin was held high, but I could see doubt creeping into her eyes at the corner.

    ¡°Lorus would rather be a rabbit.¡±

    Gimlet actually snorted at that. He shrugged and made a gesture with his hand, basically saying, ¡°Have it your way. I¡¯ve already won.¡±

    A ¡®rabbit¡¯ in the Roadies is someone who chooses death over capitulation. On occasion there would be new slaves or prisoners the Roadies would take who would make themselves into barely living burdens. They wouldn¡¯t eat or drink anything, and you could beat or threaten them as much as you wanted, but they refused to move or do anything more than lie there and stare. Roadies hated them because they saw rabbits as those who refused to do whatever it took to live. It would be easier to ditch them on the side of the road, but the fear was always that a rabbit would somehow survive their self-inflicted starvation then come back for revenge. It was easier just to beat them to death early on.

    ¡°Well, bunny rabbit or not, we have indeed found a guardian for you,¡± the Colonel beamed.

    I took a step backwards. I hadn¡¯t tried running yet, but I might need to pretty soon.

    ¡°Lorus will not go with Jack!¡± I barked.

    ¡°No choice, Bright Eyes,¡± he chuckled, nodding his head at the desk. ¡°The Captain has already kindly helped me fill out the paperwork. Officially, you belong to me now, oh dear daughter of mine.¡±

    ¡°Bullocks!¡± Lynwood exploded and waved the Colonel off as he motioned her to soften her tone. ¡°You can¡¯t adopt someone what¡¯s already got a family! You told it wrong, Colonel!¡±

    ¡°Erhum, perhaps my statement was a little confusing,¡± he rumbled. ¡°But that¡¯s no reason to-¡°

    ¡°That¡¯s why I was so shocked when I saw you bouncing off that there elf and why I had to come back and see for myself,¡± Lynwood strode across the room and leaned down, getting in my face. I bared my teeth and considered head-butting her.

    She gave an affirmative nod though and straightened up.

    ¡°I don¡¯t forget faces once I¡¯ve seen them, especially if they have teeth in them. It¡¯s what will make me an RCFer. Doesn¡¯t matter what they¡¯ve done to try to cover up her eyes. I used to sit minding at her family¡¯s estate when she was ickle,¡± she grinned. ¡°Used to chew on the hem of my training togs you did while learning to walk.¡± Her nose wrinkled, ¡°You¡¯re still a bit wobbly.¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± the Captain interrupted, flailing her hands over her head. ¡°Colonel, what exactly is Private Lynwood saying here?!¡±

    The Colonel¡¯s eyes twinkled, ¡°Captain, Lorus here is actually Loris Forsythe of said family, of course. She went missing ten years ago, and it seems she at last has found her way home.¡±

    Lynwood smiled again and actually smacked me on the back, ¡°That¡¯s right, runt, you¡¯re actually already a child of New Castle. Welcome home!¡±

 Chapter 8: Welcome Home, Miss Loris

    Chapter 8

    At least half the room fell off their onions right there, the other half matched them in volume as questions and accusations flew back and forth.

    ¡°What in blazes do you mean she¡¯s already a Castelian?!¡± Gimlet demanded, finger indignantly in the air. ¡°That¡¯s utter bull¡ªspalt!¡±

    In the background the Colonel and Captain argued and gestured about paperwork and regulations as Lynwood stuck her nose in the air.

    ¡°I mean that she doesn¡¯t need you as family because she¡¯s already got one. I told you that we were here as witnesses today,¡± she looked over at Irinia and shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d honestly thought that was why you were here today.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Irinia asked. ¡°Why was that?¡±

    Before Lynwood could answer, Captain Harkness broke in again.

    ¡°Look here now! You¡¯re making lots of extrapolations. Yes, Lorus sounds like Loris, and you say you recognize her,¡± the Captain waved a dismissive hand, ¡°But that was nearly a decade ago. There is no way to tell if it¡¯s actually the girl! If this is a case of mistaken identity¡­well, it¡¯s Forsythe for heaven¡¯s sake.¡±

    The Colonel nodded, ¡°Indeed you are right. That is why I am here today as official custodian of the birth records and physical documents regarding Loris Forsythe. Obviously, many of the weights and measurements of her last medical exam will no longer be relevant, but there may be some distinguishing characteristics or marks that will help us decide.¡±

    So then it became an impromptu medical exam as they compared records and features. On the one hand I did share the same brown eyes, pale complexion, and mousy brown-gray hair the file described. But there was a problem when it came to freckles, moles, or other telling marks.

    ¡°Certainly does have an amount of¡­irregularities on her,¡± the Captain muttered, remarking on the scars left over multiple beatings and burnings.

    ¡°Yes, strange for one who just ¡®made up¡¯ their stories of abuse, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± Nurse Jane remarked dryly.

    The Captain stared back at her, ¡°She might have deserved it.¡±

    I thought Nurse Jane was going straight for the Captain¡¯s throat. Honestly, if she had, I¡¯m not sure who would¡¯ve won. The Nurse was a very formidable woman, after all. Luckily, Irinia Crane chose that moment to insert herself into the conversation.

    ¡°There is a birthmark,¡± she said. ¡°It would not have been recorded in the medical file.¡±

    Inquiring eyes turned to her, but she merely said, ¡°It was for family purposes only.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± said Gimlet impatiently, ¡°Where is this supposed birthmark? What? Is it a white on white fleck? A mole that just happens to disappear into her marked eyes unless you know it¡¯s there? A shocking brand on a no-no place we¡¯re not allowed to look, but you just happen to know is there?¡±

    Irinia regarded him coldly from her chair then lifted her gloved hand and placed it on the nape of her neck.

    ¡°It will be right here. If you lift up her hair, you will see a bright patch of skin the size of a thumb mark, rather distinctly I should think. It will look like a bird flying away.¡±

    The Captain took a step towards me, but Nurse Jane flexed her arms and stepped in between us. Gently, she turned me so my back faced the onlookers, then she lifted the hair from the nape of my neck. There was a collective intake of breath.

    ¡°Blimey!¡± Lynwood laughed. ¡°How¡¯d you know that was there?¡±

    Irinia allowed herself a small smile.

    ¡°As you said, that''s why I¡¯m here today. Of course I should know it was there. I am Irinia Crane, Second to Ward Catalyn Forsythe. I am the one who brought Loris into this world.¡±

    I think Gimlet knew there wasn¡¯t anything to argue past that. So he didn¡¯t. Captain Harkness, poor woman, put up more of a fight than him, probably feeling her credibility was on the line. Staring into Jack¡¯s eyes too long will do that. Turn you stupid that is. I¡¯m not sure how he does it, but it¡¯s an incredible trick. I wish I could do it.

    Before long they had the paperwork cleaned up, again, and I found myself bundled out of the school and actually carried by Nurse Jane as though she was afraid someone would again try to take her charge. At the edge of Purgatory near one of its entrances, the most amazing thing was waiting. I thought at first they were monstrous deer, maybe dire deer, though I hadn¡¯t heard of such a thing.

    ¡°Come along, Loris,¡± Irinia clipped as she stepped up into an enormous, black box with windows and doors mounted into it. She paused, ¡°This is an Elk carriage. The Forsythes normally use a single Elk hansom, but they wanted you to be comfortable on the drive home. Step up now!¡±

    I think my hands may have shaken a bit as I stepped on a low rung just under the door, but Nurse Jane was there, her hand on my back as she steadily helped me into the carriage being pulled by four real-live elk. I looked out the window at Nurse Jane, her face absolutely radiant with happiness. I couldn¡¯t figure out why.

    ¡°Lovely! Take care, Loris! Do write, and come by to see Raikan and myself any time you like! Oh you lovely duck! Bye bye!¡±

    Then we were off. It wasn¡¯t until further down the road that I realized I¡¯d been clutching the navy blanket I¡¯d stolen from the hospital the whole time. Irinia saw me lift it up and sniffed.

    ¡°Yes, well, that will need some cleaning. Although¡­¡± her eyes ticked critically from my head down to my toes then back up again. They did not like what they saw. ¡°As sterile as Nurse Jane keeps her hospital and her patients, their amenities are a touch Spartan.¡± She sighed, ¡°And bedraggled is only a fashion if you¡¯re some dandy Wardensan on Walkabout or self-imposed Hermitage, neither of which are appropriate looks for you at this point.¡±

    I looked at the blanket in my hands, giving it a small squeeze. My mind flailed about, struggled, drowned. I hadn¡¯t chosen this path either.

    ¡°I-Irinia-¡°

    ¡°Miss Crane, if you please,¡± Irinia Crane wagged a finger at me. ¡°You only refer to a Second by their first name if you employ them or you yourself are a Second.¡±

    I swallowed, getting a bad feeling, ¡°Miss Crane, who are the Forsythes? Who is Lorus-¡°

    ¡°Who am I, if you please,¡± she frowned. ¡°That baby talk has got to stop immediately. The only notable part of your interview was when you frankly stated you did not belong anywhere.¡±

    I tried again, ¡°I, uh, Miss Crane, then where does I come from? Do you really know me?¡±

    Miss Crane looked out the window.

    ¡°The Forsythes are the descendants of Willafred Forsythe, first ally to Jonathan Halvman, keepers and collectors of the Retrochronofantic collections, both Library and Vault. They also host Congress in their ward, Ward One when it is in session. They are very prominent and important, if unhappily small, but then all Warden families usually are.¡±

    I blinked uncomfortably then also turned to look at the window.

    ¡°You¡­¡±Miss Crane paused, musing over the word, ¡°¡­you are Loris Constantine Austin Forsythe. For all intents and purposes, the three-year-old daughter who wandered off one day during play time and vanished without a trace. Do I know you? Hmm, do I know you indeed?¡±

    For all intents and purposes? What was that supposed to mean? Out of the corner of my eye I caught Miss Crane looking at me again.

    ¡°I believe you will be Little Princess Loris-The Found Wardensan,¡± her finger tapped her lips as she considered it then gave her head a nod. ¡°Yes, I think that story will fit you to a tee!¡±

    She gestured back to the window, ¡°I believe you¡¯ll want to see this.¡±

    I looked back out the window, then gaped and stuck my whole top half out despite Miss Crane¡¯s hiss of annoyance. The wind from the amount of speed we traveled with was cold and delicious, just the thing to clear my clammy head. A shape I had only seen at a blurry distance rose before us. We were coming up on the entrance to the city.

    Purgatory had wooden walls and a maze of buildings itself built, so I was informed, to make it a buffer zone between the wilds and New Castle. Should any trouble start in the quarantine camp, the turrets of New Castle, equipped with all sorts of ballista, trebuchets, and other complicated sounding devices, were prepared to rain down fiery punishment on the offenders. None of the gates or entrances to Purgatory provided a straight shot to the doors of New Castle. In fact, our carriage had to thread up and down several  walled roads and a maze of gates before we found ourselves waiting in line at the east entrance of New Castle. Regulars, these in smart green and brown trimmed uniforms, were amicably stopping each entering group to check for papers and passes. This gave me time to look at the doors themselves. I will say one thing for Castelians; they understand the importance of first impressions.

    The walls, while already taller than three wagons stacked end to end, were also apparently built in stages. The bottom was a dirty gray and brown mottled stone, as though every available rock had been plied out of the fields to build it. On top of this was a rough, but more shapely red stone with flecks of pale blue and silver. The final top row was glistening white stone that caught the afternoon sun and really did make the city look like a crown. The jewel in it was obviously the door.

    Broad enough that two elk carriages could drive into it side by side, this pair were crafted from bronze covered wood. As we got closer, I realized that what I thought were artistic designs were actually thousands of wheels, cogs Miss Crane called them, all interlocked. These cogs all contributed to the operation of the door, but their burnished gleam certainly made them lovely to look at as well. I could have stared all day, trying to figure out what gear did what and connected where, but it only took a gesture from Miss Crane, and with a crack of the driver¡¯s whip, we were through.

    I could see why Gimlet described cities as just another kind of wilderness. As wide and open as the door and gate were, there were so many stalls and tents, barrels stacked in mountains, and opened crates displaying their wares while hawkers shouted, it felt like the walls were crushing in on me. And the noise! I pulled my head back inside the carriage and put my hands over my ears. From fish to fabrics to vendors swearing they sold authentic grancestor clothing and accessories, everyone had something to yell about. Even if they weren¡¯t pushing a sale, men and women here talked with their mouths all the way open, flashing teeth, what were left, and punctuating everything with that noise, laughter. I couldn¡¯t understand what civil conversation had to take place at such volumes. I wrapped my borrowed blanket tighter around my head.

    Miss Crane said something about it being a ¡°Market Day¡±, something like a miniature holiday for each week. Apparently, it was not an everyday occurrence that they allowed the main avenue to be crowded with so many tents and tables in such a way. She assured me that not all parts of the ward were as colorful or packed so full of noisy Cogs.

    Sure enough, even though I thought the way we were on would take us right up into the heart of New castle, it suddenly ended in a split; one had to go either left or right. As wide as the roads were, there was no direct road through New Castle.

    ¡°Well, unless you count those,¡± Miss Crane sighed and pointed up.

    As the noise had died down, I ventured to stick my head out the window again. The scenery had drastically changed. Instead of portable structures, the road was now lined with brown and red brick structures, row houses, Miss Crane called them. Apparently, these were the normal dwellings for the Cogs of New Castle. Between each row, however, there would occasionally span a beam no wider than a man that arched from one side of the road to another. Just as I was pondering what good  that would do, I saw a young boy with a leather satchel slung across his shoulders leap off the cusp of one building, hop onto the metal beam and run across it to the other side of the road as though it were no more than running along the ground. I laughed out loud.

    ¡°It¡¯s like squirrel-ways!¡±

    Miss Crane nodded, ¡°That was the post going by. They complained that the road ways took them too long for pressing deliveries, so the City Regulars approved them putting in overpasses so long as they got to use them as well. I¡¯m fairly certain more than just letters and law moves along them nowadays, though. Getting caught earns you automatic time in the Garden, so don¡¯t even think about letting me catch you up there.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the Garden?¡± I asked, watching the boy scamper off over more rooftops.

    Miss Crane wore a very prim expression, ¡°It¡¯s where individuals who forget the Law of Consequences and spurn the generosity of New Castle are sent. Everyone and everything has its place and its job. Ignore or disrupt that job or others, and you spend time under the watchful eye of the Regulars repaying your infraction and thinking to yourself in a small, modest cell about the consequences of your action.¡±

    I nodded. It was the punishment place, much like the Ayfortees¡¯ sweatbox. Miss Crane gave a tight smile.

    ¡°Rarely do Wardens or Wardensans spend time there, however.¡±

    I pondered that.

    ¡°Specially treatment?¡±

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    ¡°Not harsh enough,¡± she nodded out the window as we passed a tall, gray structure, long black marks streaking down its side. ¡°Warden families have a high honor and duty to carry out in New Castle. They must be held to a higher standard than its Cogs; therefore, each family has its individual ways of assuring its members stay in line. That¡¯s the Sumequi House, Wardens of Ward 12, our foundry coordinator and inspectors. Most of the Thaumaturgic iron for tools and weapons comes out of there.¡±

    She mused to herself as we drove on. ¡°Even though they¡¯re Wardens, many have their own pastimes and interests in other fields. It¡¯s rumored the patron of the house built a machine that rips your fingernails out for particularly egregious behavior.¡±

    I looked at my own hands. I¡¯d had smashed fingers or toes more than once. It was never pretty once the nail fell off. I looked back out the window.

    ¡°The catch is,¡± Miss Crane continued, ¡°the machine is self-operated. The punishee has to pull the lever to rip their own nails off as the whole family watches.¡±

    I nodded. Message received. I did find it interesting how the concept of punishment did not change that much from this so-called advanced society. As far as I could see, the lower classes still suffered corporal punishment while the ones at the top, believing somehow their ego or their honor was more precious, suffered only humiliation. I think I must have smiled at that. So I was supposed to be one of these Wardensans? They wouldn¡¯t be able to touch me. You cannot humiliate that which has no honor.

    ¡°Something amuses you, Miss Loris?¡±

    I shook my head, ¡°It seems everyone has a place and a job in New Castle, but this whole time I¡¯ve been wondering what exactly Wardens and Wardensans do?¡±

    ¡°Do? Well, I would think a great many might mistakenly think the Wardens and Wardensans don¡¯t do much at all. Look, we¡¯re passing through Ward 8 now. These are the Jenkins who are in charge of overseeing fabrics and textiles. You¡¯ll probably see a few of their children out front.¡±

    Indeed, the street we were on seemed strangely familiar as we passed another structure that I suspected had been a squarish house at one time. There were so many flags, poles, and awnings built onto the house that it looked like the rainbow of vendors'' tents at the gate had been rolled together on top of it.

    ¡°A ship! A ship!¡± Miss Crane laughed softly. A what? ¡°Look there, yes, they¡¯re out on the west mall playing cricket. Genviee is already sporting this winter¡¯s colors. A red-gold harvest pallet? I feel like we just saw that one. Maybe they¡¯ll change their minds.¡±

    I leaned out the window again, fascinated by all the billowing fabric and curious as to what they could want with the small, black bugs. Out on the grassy space around their house a group of about twenty were strolling about, some with large mallets slung over their shoulder, other chatting together, expertly balancing cups and saucers on one hand while their other hand, spangled in light-catching metal and gems, danced like a butterfly to emphasize their point. Small children shrieked and ran in and out between the legs of their elders, engaged in their own game. They were a truly splendid parade!

    The men wore dark charcoal pants and dark knee-length coats, but their vests were splashes of crimson, like red-bird berries against the snow. Some wore hats, others had hair that was so twisted full of bright metal it nearly stood on end. Most of them sported some pair of goggles on their head rimmed in brass, or if not goggles, then tiny lensed, multi-colored glasses that just barely perched on their noses above immaculately trimmed mustaches.

    The women, certainly not to be out done, looked like bejeweled lockboxes. Their tiny waists and ample bosoms were accentuated by leather corsets with so many buckles and latches I was positive it had taken them most of the day to get into them. Surely, they were just now emerging from their dressing chambers as the evening sun touched the horizon.

    Just as their menfolk sported somber colors accented with splashes of color, the women also wore muted tones of gray, brown, or black, but their fishnet stockings had metallic threads, and the lining of their grand trains, some sweeping behind them like exotic fishtails, even though the front was gathered in swoops a good distance above their knees, were lined with vibrant jewel tones, mostly red but some evening blues and pine greens swam through the bunch.

    As dashing as the men were in their hats, the women¡¯s version was stunning. Many also favored top hats, but theirs were tiny, dainty things bedecked with feathers, lace, and netting. Some even had gears or green and gold squares that Miss Crane said were genuine grancestor circuit boards clipped into their locks. One young lady¡¯s hair was so entwined with wires of all different colors, blue, red, yellow, black, white, and green, it actually made it fan out like a partridge tail behind her. She had shaped it into various waves and gravity defying coils, but looking at it, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure whether there was any hair left under it at all.

    ¡°They¡¯re butterflies!¡± I gasped remembering one magical spring with the Plainsmen, ¡°Do they-do they always dress like this? There¡¯s no ceremony?¡±

    ¡°No ceremony. They¡¯re actually dressed down today, must be a building week for them. Maybe they¡¯re expecting a return expedition? Yondering Crews sometimes bring new treasures. Mmmm?¡±

    Miss Crane returned a wave to a much more subdued woman who seemed to be hovering about all the human butterflies. I realized there were many more of these quiet people dressed in blacks and grays and browns expertly dodging wide flung arms and gesticulating hands in order to keep cups filled and dishes tidied.

    Then there was the boy in white. He probably wasn¡¯t actually a boy, gauging by his height, but he was dressed head to toe in white: white top hat, white military coat, white shirt, white knee breeches, white riding boots, even a white cane with a miniature spy glass mounted to it for the handle. He even wore a white bird mask, its beak ridiculously elongated to a silver point. The mask covered up half of his face, so I only caught a glimpse of his mouth smirking from under it above. The only color in his entire get-up was a shockingly jay blue neck scarf.

    ¡°Trochi¡¯s at it again,¡± Miss Crane sighed. ¡°White will never take off: it¡¯s just too much for a Cog to take care of on a daily basis. The cravat, however¡­I wonder if that¡¯s a new shade? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen just that tone before. Ambrosia will want to know.¡±

    Suddenly, she produced a notepad from her ridiculous array of dangles along with a stub of a pencil and began scribbling notes to herself before nodding and putting it all away again. Just before our carriage turned out of sight, I thought I saw bird boy¡¯s head turn towards our carriage. It might have been my imagination, but I thought perhaps he lifted his cane in a sort of salute. If he did, I¡¯m sure it was for Miss Crane. As we rolled up and down the streets, I noticed more and more people nodding at her or tipping a hat.

    ¡°So, what did you think of the Jenkins?¡± Miss Crane asked.

    I hesitated. What was I supposed to think of them? Were all Wardensans as flamboyantly arrayed as they were? Would I be expected to dress like that? My stomach hurt at the memory of the lockdown of corsets and waisters. It would be a lot harder to eat my fill wearing contraptions like that.

    ¡°Um, very pretty¡­not a lot of practical for work or hunting though. Lorus isn¡¯t-I¡¯m not sure how they can even work with those hammers in all of that.¡±

    Miss Crane nodded, ¡°Those are mallets, made for whacking little wooden balls, not for driving nails. The clothes are for seeing and being seen, not working or hunting. Right now the Jenkins are trying out their latest collection of dyes and fabrics for the winter months. Their big Joie de Vie fete happens at the end of each year. The Cogs will want a new look for the Snow Holiday.¡±

    I found myself staring out the window again.

    ¡°Yes, right now the little bits of tin absinthe green ribbons you see folk wearing is from the Field Holiday and Relay Day, held just a month ago for summer, but a good Warden is always a step ahead of his or her Cogs.¡±

    ¡°So, a Warden¡¯s job is to make his or her Cogs happy?¡±

    Suddenly, the cold forest and its isolation from the pressing throngs seemed very appealing.

    ¡°A Warden¡¯s job is to take care of their Ward. They have inherited the duty of carrying on the pride and functionality of the Ward, even if their original talent becomes outdated or no longer useful,¡± Miss Crane gestured up ahead as we passed through yet another set of gates.

    ¡°Here we¡¯re passing out of the outer Wards into the original seven inner wards. Our first is Ward Seven of the Lemonosov family, whose charge is the military. They make sure that all of our Regulars, in and out of the city, are coordinated and well-trained. Originally, their only concern was for the foot soldiers, but with recent developments in technology, they have begun having more to do with Ward Two and the Tower Thaumaturges. The new bicycle unit is a bit of an experiment in short range cavalry.¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    ¡°Bicycles,¡± Miss Crane made a wheeling gesture with her hands I didn¡¯t quite understand. ¡°I¡¯m told they were the unit responsible for bringing you in.¡±

    I shook my head.

    ¡°So there are thirteen Wards inside the city, and each family is responsible not only for keeping their Cogs happy but also for contributing something to the city?¡±

    ¡°I told you, it¡¯s not about making the Cogs happy,¡± Miss Crane looked out the window again. ¡°Several Wardens in the past have made decisions that made the Cogs very unhappy, which is why families like the Jenkins are so important. If Cogs keep the overall city running and the Called, those who pass the university exams to become an Alchemist, Thaumaturge, Regular, or Bench Dog, are springs, then a Warden must be the mechanic, constantly fine tuning, strengthening, and repairing wherever and whenever necessary.¡±

    I huffed and pulled myself back into my blanket muttering, ¡°Lorus doesn¡¯t even know this city. How can you fix what you don¡¯t even understand?¡±

    For a while we drove on in silence. Occasionally, Miss Crane would give another nod or wave out the window, and out of curiosity I would look. There were always smiling faces that would pause in mid-wave and stare back. The further we went, turn by turn, gate by gate, the more it felt like I was plunging into the heart of a  deep wilderness, twisting and winding until I¡¯d lost track of which street led to which. Apparently, there are no straight roads to anything in New Castle.

    ¡°Ah, now there¡¯s a sight for you, Miss Loris,¡± Miss Crane pointed out the window. ¡°We¡¯re going through Ward 4. This is where all of our carriage elk come from.¡± She paused and gave a small frown. ¡°I wonder if the Byron¡¯s know Giada is out with the stable hands or if she¡¯s slipped out again. The White Queen won¡¯t be amused.¡±

    I looked. This ward had a whole park in the middle of the buildings and row houses devoted to green pasture with a circuit road running its periphery. As we passed, an elk, even larger than the ones pulling our carriage, strained and bucked at the end of four different tethers. It yanked the hands desperately clinging to the ends first one way then another as they tried to dodge his massive wrack of horns.

    Into their midst walked a sun-bronzed woman, skin the color of teakwood. She had long, silver hair, plaited in two braids running down her back between very impressive shoulders. I was surprised to see such a young face staring with a burning intensity out of all that gray hair. She wore brown pants, suspenders, and riding boots, just like the men. Her hands kept low, I could see her lips moving but didn¡¯t hear what was said. After a few more kicks and a toss of his head, the buck stilled, ears flipping forward as she gently reached forward and stroked his shoulder.

    Her head turned suddenly looking towards me and the carriage. It felt like we stared at each other for a second.  Then the elk bellowed, and his front hoofs lashed out, nearly catching the woman. She leapt back just in time, but lost her footing and landed hard on her posterior amid alarmed shouts of, ¡°Miss Giada!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t fuss with me, you fools! Keep your attention on the buck!¡± she snapped. ¡°Keep your head and tighten that tether!¡±

    I pulled my head back into the carriage. Miss Crane¡¯s lips were thin.

    ¡°She really should leave that to the help. If the White Queen gets any more upset, Giada just may find herself stabled permanently.¡±

    Miss Crane¡¯s dark eyes probed mine.

    ¡°Not curious in the least who these people are?¡±

    I shrugged. Unless they had an immediate influence on my life, I didn¡¯t see why I should be.

    ¡°You used to play with Giada on occasion when the two of you were small. She¡¯s only a few years older than you, despite her gray. You seemed to think it hilarious to try to swing on her braids.¡±

    I turned my head back towards the window.

    ¡°White Queen? Lorus thought New Castle didn¡¯t have any royalty. That¡¯s what Professor said anyways,¡± I finally offered.

    Miss Crane nodded, ¡°Correct. It does not. ¡®White Queen¡¯ is actually the nickname for Lucretia Cassius, Giada¡¯s aunt and the current, childless Warden of Ward 5. They are in charge of currency and exchange. Lucretia¡¯s own son and Giada¡¯s older cousin went missing on their Walkabout two years ago. The only survivors of the party weren¡¯t able to say just what happened except the party was attacked and split up. The Cassius boy never should have been let out of the city, let alone his Ward. Unless the boy miraculously reappears or another scion is found, then the new Warden will be Lucretia¡¯s half-sister, Thesla¡¯s daughter, Giada Byron. And if anything happens to Giada, then the line of Cassius is well and truly ended.¡±

    I gawked. I was sure all that was supposed to mean something to me. I just wasn¡¯t sure what.

    ¡°So, if this son is so important, why not go find him?¡± I pondered what the Ayfortees or Roadies would have done. ¡°If enough metal was offered, any number of surrounding tribes or travelers could produce information, if not track the missing party itself.¡±

    Miss Crane shook her head, ¡°Wardens, once elevated, never leave their wards. The White Queen could not go looking for her son even if he was right outside the city gates. There is no doubt that exterior people would produce someone or something for the right reward, but all those who would recognize or identify the missing individuals are also under strict movement regulation.

    It is unusual for Wardensans to travel to other Wards for anything less than family business. To¡­secure their safety, any traveling Wardensans must have express written permission from their Warden. Nothing less will do. Traveling outside the walls, except on holidays or city business, is strictly prohibited. Thus, I was the one sent to verify if you could possibly be the lost scion of the Forsythes.¡±

    She gave a tight smile.

    ¡°It will be up to the family to affirm whether or not I was correct.¡±

    Now the pieces were beginning to fall into place. At the realization, my hands tightened and began twisting the blanket again. Once more I found myself pinned between two sides of a vice. If Miss Crane was right about my identity, then this carriage ride from the outside would be my last. Important families could not afford to lose children, especially not the same one twice. On the other hand, if Miss Crane was somehow mistaken¡­

    ¡°What happens if you¡¯re wrong? What if Lorus is not Loris?¡±

    She didn¡¯t seem to be listening any more though. It was then that I realized the carriage was slowing.

    We turned in a gravel drive, the white chalk from the rocks throwing a cloud of dust behind us. Evening had finally set in, so the first glimpse I had of the Forsythe house across the twilight lawn was of a shimmering, angular beast compiled of every style of architecture or building ever conceived to man. There were pillars on a wraparound porch, turrets, bays, windows of every shape and size, five different colors and types of stone riveted to wood panels and shingles with bronze and steel sheets. There was a room off to the side constructed of nothing but glass with a wild jungle of flowers and trees inside it, and in the center of the house a spire, like a needle to the moon, shot up out of the various roof tops.

    Lights had been put in every window, making it look like a hundred glowing eyes watched our approach. Apparently, they were expecting us. Two rows of house staff, all bedecked in starched whites and blacks lined the walkway up to the house, each holding their own candle.

    The carriage stopped, and soon after the driver opened the door. Miss Crane stepped down then turned around expectantly. I couldn¡¯t help but shrink back into the corner, much to her annoyance.

    ¡°Come along, Loris, your family is expecting you.¡±

    I blinked and slowly inched towards the door. Everyone seemed to be staring as cautiously I extended one foot then another from the carriage.

    ¡°Is that her?! Is that you?! Loris?! Loris!!¡±

    A woman in flowing golden robes suddenly burst from the house and flew up the walkway. I only had time to take one step back and bump into the already closed door of the carriage before she grabbed me and crushed me hard to her chest. I cried out and tried to push away, but it seemed like the golden woman was everywhere.

    ¡°Suffocating!¡± I squeaked.

    With a sob the woman set me back down and let me take a breath, but she didn¡¯t let go of my shoulders. That¡¯s when I realized she had black streaks all around her oil-colored eyes as though someone had stuck their fingers in charcoal and smeared it across her face. Startled, I touched my own eyes. For some reason that made her smile and give a sort of hiccup.

    From Miss Crane¡¯s look and the expecting stares of everyone else, I felt there was something I should say. I just didn¡¯t know what.

    ¡°L-Lorus is g-glad to meet you?¡±

    The woman¡¯s face crumpled, and she fell to sobbing on my shoulder and squeezing me again. My eyes shot to Miss Crane in panic. She sighed.

    ¡°Miss Loris, this is your mother, Lady Pilosa.¡± After a pause she turned towards the house.

    ¡°Welcome home, Miss Loris.¡±

 Chapter 9: Meet the Forsythes

    Chapter 9

    Her short ¡®Welcome Home¡¯ seemed to be the cue for everyone else to break free and cheer. I thought my heart would jump out of my chest at all the noise. Luckily, Pilosa, ¡®Mother¡¯ or ¡®Mumsy¡¯ as she kept insisting I call her, didn¡¯t seem to mind me mutually clinging to her arm as we walked through all the shouting and hurrahing to the house. She apparently took my shaking for excitement and emotion, not the near mindless terror I actually felt. If I¡¯d thought that I could bolt into a patch of bushes or into a crawl space under the house, I would have.

    Next came all the names. Yes, I know there were a lot of them before; there were even more now. Pilosa nattered on and on, and I was forced to shake the hand of every single person lining the walkway. I had so much humanity on my hands by the time we reached the door, it was all I could do not to run shrieking to the little pond in the front yard and plunge my arm up to the elbow into it. Then there were relatives.

    Once we made it inside, I barely had enough time to gawk at the entry. It was just as eccentric as the outside. Before I knew it I was shuffled into one of the most opulent rooms I have ever seen. It dripped luxury. They had rugs on the wall. On the wall! I was told they were called ¡®tapestries¡¯ . They looked just like pictures and covered up the fact that the walls also had deep burgundy and gold lines running up and down them. It seemed like a waste to me, having such rich colors on the wall and then doing everything to cover them up, but that pattern seemed repeated through the room-something colorful draped in something even more colorful or patterned.

    The couch was white with a green pattern that looked like fern fiddleheads, but they had lacey blankets draped over their backs and arms. There were five, little girls crammed on to it. Each girl seemed to wear exactly the same white, frilly dress, like the same person repeated into miniature five times. The chairs were the same way with various adults occupying them, all seeming to be preoccupied in taking tea.

    The tables were actual carved wood and had little feet, like wolves or catamounts, but they all wore white blankets as though they might catch cold. Any place a vase or figurine or statuette could be put, it was, regardless of the fact each wall had its own cabinet with real glass in it stocked with even more strange items I was later told were ¡®knick-knacks¡¯. These odd broken bits and partially carved stones, I was informed, were ¡®souvenirs¡¯ and memorabilia from Walkabouts and expeditions.

    Sitting in the largest, plumpest, and only unadorned leather chair in the room was a figure whose white hair and pale eyes reminded me unsettlingly of a female version of Gimlet. Despite the commotion and hubbub in the entry, the second we entered her presence, the banter softened to a burble before slowing to a hush. She did not bother to rise from her chair where she held a wicked looking set of needles with a light netting between them. I wondered what sort of a weapon this was as the more she clicked the needles together, the longer the net became.

    A large man dressed in brown and khaki with sandy hair rose from one of the couches and approached me. He took a circle of glass on a long, metal tether from his breast pocket and set it in place over his right eye, where it miraculously stayed in place. With a touch, the lens suddenly became three, each a different color that swiveled and shifted their order one after the other. He had a mustache nearly as impressive as the Colonel¡¯s, but this was more of a sweeper brush that twitched under his nose, much like the starry whiskers of a mole, as he regarded me. After a moment he straightened.

    ¡°So this is the Loris?¡±

    Pilosa put a protective hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°This is our Loris, yes.¡±

    The man straightened and swiveled to address the old woman in the leather chair.

    He announced loudly, ¡°Grandmother, this is the-¡°

    ¡°Yes, I heard you, Cebis!¡± she snapped. ¡°I¡¯m old, not deaf. Something your scions might do well to remember at the breakfast table.¡±

    ¡°Hm? Quite.¡± Cebis turned back to me. ¡°I, young Loris, am your Uncle Cebis. The regal woman you behold knitting in the chair is your Great Grandmother Catalyn.¡± He paused, giving weight to his words. ¡°You are one of the only families in New Castle to actually have a Great Gran of any sort, but she¡¯s a determined and crusty matron, memory like an elephant too, downright Nixonian, so don¡¯t do anything you don¡¯t want her remembering and reminding you of for the rest of your life.¡±

    Great Catalyn snorted and waved her hand, ¡°Get on with it Cebis, or she¡¯ll drop from boredom if not from exhaustion.¡±

    Uncle Cebis¡¯s mustache ruffled in annoyance, ¡°Quite. Moving on. You have, of course, already met your mother Pilosa. Well, over in this chair, this paragon of gentility and motherhood  is your Aunt Silvia, mother to your cousins over here on the couch, from oldest to youngest, tallest to smallest, Abbi, Blanche, Cori, Danse, and Eyrie, with hopefully a little ¡®Fauna¡¯ or ¡®Ford¡¯ on the way.¡±

    Aunt Silvia was a downy-haired woman with ringlets and large eyes that seemed perpetually on the verge of tearing up. She sat with her hands perpetually on her small belly, cheeks reddening, and she spoke in a high, whispy voice. I thought perhaps she might be having a spell.

    ¡°Oh Loris,¡± she cooed, ¡°We are ever, ever so glad to have found you!  Your mummy, Pilosa, is ever so excited to have a child of her own now!¡±

    I felt Pilosa shift behind me as she leaned forward and murmured in a low voice, ¡°Bunny, dear, you make it sound as though Loris hadn¡¯t been my own all along, but I suppose that¡¯s to be expected. It¡¯s not like a breeder wife has all that much time to pay attention to anything but her own. How is Vickers, by the way, Cebis?¡±

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    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what just transpired, except that there was some mutual exchange of unpleasantness, judging from the horrified look on Silvia¡¯s face, the sudden stiffening of everyone else in the room, and Great Catalyn¡¯s warning, ¡°Pilosa!¡±

    Pilosa snorted and waved her hand, stepping around me and into the room. She put her hands on my shoulders then knelt to face me, her skirts pooling out around her. She had shockingly dark eyes, almost black on black. It made them look huge. They shimmered now with excitement or expectation. I wasn¡¯t sure which made me more nervous. Pilosa seemed a very loud woman for me to be related to.

    ¡°Loris, sweetness, how old do you think you are? Do you remember your age?¡±

    I averted my eyes, but everyone in the room was looking at me. The little girls on the couch all looked like miniature versions of their mother. Their hair color ranged from blond on the eldest who regarded me with a bored expression to red at its darkest on the youngest who was draped over the armrest, almost asleep. They had almost as much lace and fabric on them as the couch they crammed on to. They were all now conversing with each other in hushed whispers, about me no doubt.

    ¡°Lorus has thirteen years.¡± After all, I was old enough to mate.

    Pilosa grinned. She had huge teeth.

    ¡°Very good, Loris, you remembered!¡± She patted my head and smoothed my hair. ¡°This means you have been missing for almost 10 years. This end of November is your birthday. You will turn 14. That¡¯s an important age for a New Castle child.¡±

    She turned to look expectantly at Great Catalyn whose face remained neutral. She did give a slight nod of her head, which Pilosa took as agreement. She gave a little squeal and then suddenly grabbed me and squeezed me again.

    ¡°So in a month, thirty days, we¡¯re going to have a big birthday party for you! But not just any party. Since you missed ten years of us celebrating, we¡¯re going to have a party for all ten years of missed birthdays! It will be an all day, all night party!¡±

    I had no idea what I was supposed to say or do, but obviously Pilosa was very excited by this prospect.

    ¡°Th-that sounds good?¡± I was going to have to find out what a birthday and party were very quickly.

    ¡°I know!¡± Pilosa clapped her hands together. ¡°It will be the event of the season! It will be bigger than White Day!¡± She laughed and put a hand over her mouth. ¡°The other Wardens and Wardensans are going to freak!¡±

    I looked around the room, an uneasy smile on my face, but now only the pack of cousins seemed to be looking at me.

    Pilosa patted her cheek, ¡°Give your Mumsy a kiss, Loris. Then we¡¯ll send you off to bed.¡±

    I felt my face grow hot.

    ¡°L-Lorus doesn¡¯t know ¡®kiss¡¯.¡±

    There was a laugh from the couch. One of the little girls in the middle, Danse I think, grabbed her sister¡¯s face next to her and mashed her own face against her cheek. It reminded me unsettlingly of what the Roadies called ¡®necking¡¯ or ¡®getteneton¡¯. Usually, much more touching followed.

    ¡°Like this, Loris!¡±

    That close? I looked at Pilosa in horror, but she smiled and patted her cheek again. What was this ¡®kiss¡¯ for anyway? I hesitated, but now everyone was staring again in expectation. Frowning I slowly leaned in then took a breath and mashed my nose into her cheek.

    ¡°Oh! Eh, well, almost,¡± Pilosa laughed in surprise. ¡°More like this, my sweet.¡±

    She leaned her face in next to mine, but I felt her lips press against my cheek and make a soft smacking noise instead of her nose. I pulled back, startled and put a hand on my cheek. She hadn¡¯t bitten me, so I wasn¡¯t marked, but then what was the purpose of that?

    ¡°Ladies and Gentleman, I suspect it has been a rather long day for young Loris,¡± Miss Crane announced from the back of the room. ¡°She will most assuredly benefit from sleep.¡±

    Great Catalyn nodded, ¡°Indeed. It is well past the hour I usually retire. Very well. Pilosa, you no doubt will want to introduce Loris to her quarters and attendants. Silvia, good evening to you and your daughters. Cebis, a moment more, if you will. Crane, a glass of the Chambliss.¡±

    As of one accord, everyone in the room nodded to Great Catalyn and said, ¡°Yes, Warden Forsythe.¡±

    It was with great relief that I was finally steered back out of the room. It felt like hours going up twisting stairs and down winding hallways. The inside was just as crazy and mismatched as the outside. I thought perhaps I would be put in the same room as my cousins, but they all went filing past, the littlest one, Eyrie, squeaking, ¡°Nigh night!¡± before disappearing down the hall.

    After that, I was taken into a room as big as the hospital ward I had been staying in. There was only one bed in this room though. It was a strange piece of furniture that even had its own tent held aloft by four posts as though to stave off rain. Three women suddenly appeared, and before I could fight, they had my shirt over my head, britches off, and a long, white shirt back over my head. It was something they called a ¡®nightgown¡¯.  Apparently, this was not just something that the Forsythes did. They claimed all Castelians dressed similarly for bed, as though it were an occasion.

    Finally, the lamps were extinguished, and with one more bizarre kiss on the cheek from Pilosa, I was left alone. Without the lamps, the room was nearly pitch dark. That didn¡¯t bother me. I had been put plenty of places with no light. As my eyes adjusted and I peered about the space, I realized it was the first time in over three months that I had been left completely alone. My hands fumbled about with the sheets, clawing them closer to wrap around me. There was so much empty space. At least in the woods I could burrow into a log or hide under a rock. In Purgatory there was always another body within arm¡¯s reach. As many blankets as I pulled around me, I still felt soft and exposed.

    It was so quiet. There was no breathing from fellow patients. There was no creaking of tent poles or branches overhead. It was a still night, so not even the wind blew past the window. I felt I could hear the loud thumping of my own heart. For a moment I thought about calling out to Pilosa or maybe Miss Crane. What came out of my throat though was such a sad squeak, it immediately made me feel ashamed.

    So, quietly pulling one of the blankets with me, I slipped out of bed then under it. The tight space under the boards was much more comfortable. Once I had my back against the wall and the blankets wrapped around me, I could at last quiet my thoughts and drift to sleep.

 Chapter 10: The Alchemist

    Chapter 10

    Someone was screaming. Jolted out of my warm, fuzzy dream, I thrashed for a second in all the blankets I had wrapped around myself, frantically trying to free myself. Feet pounded back and forth, and I heard doors opening and slamming as voices shouted. I froze half way out of the blankets. Were we under attack? Suddenly, my mind flashed to Gimlet¡¯s face as we were driving away. What would he have done once I was whisked out of his grasp? Just stick around New Castle? No. No one ever stole anything from Gimlet without earning his wrath. I shivered and rubbed my shoulders. He had returned to the Roadies and convinced them to attack. The whole tribe had descended on New Castle, and now they were here to punish me!

    Suddenly, the skirting around the bottom of the bed was lifted, and Miss Crane¡¯s face appeared. I shrunk back and pulled the covers around my head.

    ¡°I should have known,¡± she sighed. ¡°Call off the alarm, and for heaven¡¯s sake, someone pick Brissi up and give her smelling salts. The child is just under the bed!¡±

    A second later Pilosa¡¯s anxious face replaced Miss Crane¡¯s.

    ¡°Loris? Sweety? What are you doing under your bed, hon? You¡¯re supposed to sleep in it.¡±

    ¡°Maybe savages don¡¯t have beds,¡± I heard someone mutter in the room before Pilosa angrily hushed them.

    She turned back to me and held her hand out, ¡°Come on Loris. It¡¯s time to get dressed and start your day!¡±

    I shook my head adamantly, ¡°They¡¯ve found Lorus! They¡¯ve come to take her away!¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Pilosa¡¯s face was shocked and worried. ¡°Who deary?¡±

    ¡°Jeter has a broomstick,¡± I recognized the voice now as that of Uncle Cebis. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just scoot it around under there and coax it out.¡±

    ¡°Cebis! Say another word, and I¡¯ll use that broom stick on you!¡± Pilosa snapped. ¡°Can¡¯t you see something¡¯s frightened her?¡±

    ¡°Pish posh. It¡¯s just a little unfamiliar, like a stray fox,¡± Uncle Cebis complained. ¡°Leave it under there. It¡¯ll come out when it¡¯s hungry. You have affairs to attend to.¡±

    Pilosa looked back at me, ¡°I hardly think starting breakfast qualifies as an ¡®affair¡¯. Go eat already if you¡¯re so hungry. Goodness knows you get grumpy when your blood sugar is low. I¡¯ll be down in a bit.¡±

    Uncle Cebis didn¡¯t seem inclined to argue and left. After a few moments so did the rest of the pairs of feet I saw shuffling about the room. Quiet again, I took the opportunity to curl back up in my blankets and go back to sleep.

    Some time later I became aware of more feet, but I dismissed them as Pilosa or Miss Crane checking up on me again and closed my eyes. A second later a wave of frigid ice water engulfed me and soaked into the blankets! Stars it was cold! I cried and squirmed to free myself from the soaking blankets just as another pail full of ice water gushed under the bed smacking me full in the face. Coughing and sputtering I slithered out from under the bed.

    ¡°Ah ha!¡±

    Two boney fingers immediately latched on to my right ear, pinching hard.

    ¡°My truant pupil emerges at last!¡±

    I lashed out, sputtering and trying to get hair and water out of my face, but the fingers just pinched harder, making me yell.

    ¡°Miss Shrike!¡± Miss Crane said sharply, ¡°I hardly think this was the coaxing Lady Pilosa had in mind.¡±

    The pinching fingers let go, and I stumbled across the room. Once my eyes were cleared, I looked for a place to hide. Miss Crane and another woman dressed head to toe in a deep burgundy, the Shrike I assumed, stood next to the bed. The Shrike was younger than Miss Crane, but she had just as severe an air about her thin countenance. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a tight bun that just made her face look even more angular. She stood, arms crossed, one hand holding a bucket, one eyebrow arched, partially smiling as she watched me back into a corner.

    ¡°Indeed. My cures rarely work just the way my patients think,¡± she demurred, slightly inclining her head. ¡°I am Alchemist Lithium Shrike, your tutor for this morning. Loris, are you going to ready up on your own, or do I need to powder you and dress you like a doll? You¡¯re already an hour late to our lesson.¡±

    I hissed and made a feint for the door.

    ¡°Lorus already took all the lessons!¡±

    Despite her sweeping skirts, the Shrike was surprisingly fast. She blocked my escape, hand shooting out to grab me again. I deflected it and took a swing, much to Miss Crane¡¯s horrified exclamation, then dove for the bed. I almost made it, but the Shrike latched on to my ankle and yanked me out again. She had a grip like iron! Writhing like a snake, I curled back, trying to bite her prissy, gloved hands. She¡¯d been waiting for me. Her other hand opened up, and she puffed a white powder right into my face.

    Immediately, my muscles gave up, and I flopped backwards, twitching against the side of the bed while the Shrike and Miss Crane stood and clucked disapprovingly above me.

    ¡°I see what you mean, Irinia,¡± the Shrike shook her head. ¡°Excellent reflexes and some partial strategic ability, but losing some of her toes has affected her balance and reaction time. That¡¯s something you should have Fox look at later.¡±

    She turned her focus back to me, ¡°Lesson one for taking on an Alchemist, young Loris. If you¡¯re going close quarters, always wear a gas mask.¡±

    The Shrike turned away and headed to the door, ¡°I¡¯ll send Frawilde and Brissi to help make her ready, Irinia. I¡¯ll be waiting in the conservatory.¡±

    She paused and seemed to consider, ¡°Actually, Loris, we¡¯ll make that lesson two. Lesson one should be if you¡¯re taking on an Alchemist, always be early. See you in ten.¡±

    In my current state, I really couldn¡¯t do much more than flop around as the attendants, Frawilde and Brissi, quickly selected a white shirt and brown skirt and stockings for me. I was more than a little horrified when Brissi held up a leather corset. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t manage much more than a gurgle of protest. Miss Crane seemed to understand though and shook her head.

    ¡°Better start with the waister, ladies. She¡¯s still young, and her bones may not be done growing yet.¡±

    So instead, just my guts were squeezed against my spine by some sort of a lace up belt. I could feel sensation coming back just about the time they finished buttoning up my shoes. I considered for a moment making for under the bed again, but when Miss Crane pointed out that Shrike¡¯s Alchemist bag carried quite the variety of chemical coercions and nasty tricks, I thought I might as well play along for now.

    The conservatory, I found, was the strange glass room with the jungle inside of it that I¡¯d seen the night before. I still wasn¡¯t comfortable in all the layers. The shoes they¡¯d squeezed my feet into had a devious little rise on the heel. I¡¯d already had enough trouble relearning to navigate around my missing toes, and now these dratted shoes were throwing me off again. The attendants left me to make my way to the center of the indoor forest, instructing me just to stay on the path until I reached the middle. The second they were out of sight, I plopped down on a rock and pried the shoes off. I sighed in relief as soon as my feet were free and decided to discard the socks too.

    ¡°I might have something in my kit for that if it¡¯s starting to rub.¡±

    I whirled around, but there was only greenery that I could see. Suspiciously, I crept over to a particularly large plant that resembled a fern but had bright red spots all over it.

    ¡°Not that one, deary, that tends to make you hallucinate a bit if you get it in your eyes. The prickly one with the golden points. Over next to the coxydilias umbrosia though why they decided to plant those next to each other, I¡¯ll never understand.¡±

    I finally located the Shrike. She was above me in something that looked like an elm tree, scraping a bit of moss off into a jar. How had she gotten up there in those skirts?! She had on goggles and an odd black contraption over her face that looked like the snout of a badger mashed with that of a pig. It was held on with straps and buckles, giving her quite the alien appearance. I decided it was an improvement on her normal face. She finished her scraping, screwed a lid on the jar, then hopped out of the tree, her skirts billowing around her like a bell flower. I wondered if she actually hovered a few seconds before touching down lightly before me and pulling the mask up.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°A lovely specimen of elipticum sporophyta  right before it blooms. Quite the gem. At times you Wardensan families don¡¯t even know what you¡¯ve got under your noses,¡± she smiled and walked over to a prickly plant then took out a pair of shears and carefully cut away a stalk. I pulled my feet up as she broke it in half with a wet sound and began squeezing the ends.

    ¡°Now, now, it¡¯s just common aloe. It¡¯ll make what¡¯s left of your feet a little more comfortable.¡±

    I frowned and pointed to the mask now hanging under her chin. What was that strange thing for? Was she trying to scare a tree?

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you have more words in you than you¡¯re using,¡° Shrike arched an eyebrow.¡° Use them.¡±

    I huffed and pointed again, ¡°Lorus wants to know why you wear a mask for the tree.¡±

    ¡°Better,¡± she cocked her head, ¡°but the correct form is I want to know. You¡¯re not three anymore. Do better. Try again.¡±

    Now I knew she was toying with me. I turned my back on her and busied myself picking lint and scabs on my feet.

    She laughed, ¡°Oh ho! Prickled someone, is that it? Ask me correctly, and I¡¯ll tell you about more than my anti-pollanate respirator.¡±

    ¡°Lorus has never been an ¡®I¡¯,¡± I grumbled. ¡°Only prideful people say I, I, I.¡±

    Shrike nodded, ¡°Exactly. I have a great deal of pride as a Castelian. As should you. There is no reason to lie and hide it under false modesty. You better get used to it. You¡¯re going to be an ¡®I¡¯ for quite a long time now.¡±

    That had to be the most confusing argument I¡¯d ever heard. But she did have a point. I had noticed that everyone in New Castle used ¡®I¡¯ when referring to themselves. Even the cog scrubbing the floors after Shrike dumped water all over the place grumbled, ¡°I wish ¡®ed at least used some o¡¯ that alchemy juice to dry it up faster so I ¡®udn¡¯t have so much to tidy!¡± If I was going to blend in, I would have to learn to sound more like them. I glared over my shoulder at Shrike.

    ¡°I think your mask is dumb. And so is your face!¡±

    She nodded and stuck her thumb out. I took this to be some sort of an insult, so I stuck my thumb up at her too.

    ¡°Well, Loris, I am glad to hear both that you have grasped the proper use of ¡®I¡¯ and that you are so certain that you ¡®think¡¯. Your thoughts in particular are irrelevant and ignorant, but that¡¯s why I¡¯m here, I suppose. This,¡± she said, touching the mask then pulling it back on to her face, ¡°is an anti-pollinate respirator, standard model for collecting flora samples that could be toxic if aspirated.¡±

    I blinked, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°If you breathe it in you die, sort of like the powered Oleander¡¯s Kiss I used on you earlier.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    Shrike laughed, ¡°Oh that won¡¯t actually kill you.¡± She paused and considered. ¡°At least I don¡¯t think that dose will, but you haven¡¯t been exposed to it very much I imagine, so¡­how are all your limbs and motor functions feeling?¡±

    Shaking a little bit I wiggled my toes, finger, and nose. Everything seemed operational. I looked anxiously back at Shrike, who had her hand over her mouth. She was laughing at me again.

    ¡°See!¡± she said gleefully. ¡°If you¡¯d had this ¡®silly mask¡¯ when I powdered you, you wouldn¡¯t have fallen over like a limp sock puppet!¡±

    ¡°But you were using it on a tree! That¡¯s-¡° I paused in the middle of my protestation. Shrike was giving me that look again, just waiting to laugh at me.

    ¡°That¡¯s what? Stupid? Silly? Illogical?¡±

    I kept my mouth shut and waited.

    ¡°Ever since the Big Sleep, nature has gone back to being dangerous and unknown to mankind,¡± she crouched down next to my feet which I had unknowingly put back on the ground. She squeezed some goo from the plant she¡¯d cut. It was quite cold. ¡°There are some plants that have continued to be helpful, thank goodness, but others have developed new weapons of fighting back. I¡¯m not sure we can blame them after all our grancestors so blithely did to them. Go ahead and rub that in. See if the irritation doesn¡¯t go away.¡±

    I did as she said and waited for her to continue.

    ¡°Thanks to the Arcadians, simple principles that our grancestors built their whole world upon no longer operate the same way. Plants that we had cultivated, like maize and wheat, turned toxic due to the very concoctions early alchemists, scientists they were called, used to try to make them stronger. Animals that had been domestic for millennia suddenly died off, leaving only a few feral survivors. Simple physical reactions, like electricity, were lost or became dangerous, such as trying to start a fire.¡±

    ¡°Who are the Arcadians?¡±

    ¡°Who were the Arcadians,¡± Shrike paused and gave it more thought. ¡°They are the ones we¡¯ve decided to blame the Big Sleep on I suppose. In a way they¡¯re both the heroes and the villains and the end of our grancestors. On the one hand, it is because of their intervention, the Arc, the project was called, that any of humanity was able to survive the Hundred Year Winter, but no one denies that something they did changed the dynamics of earth¡¯s atmosphere. Now only the simplest of technologies work, or as we are taught in Cog School, ¡°Push, pull, turn, burn- those are the laws that all cogs learn.¡± There must be a price for every achievement, an equal trade. The Arcadians accomplished great feats, but in return we now live in a world where even lighting your stove fire to boil a beaker is a dangerous thing.¡±

    ¡°But how did they do that? And what was it like before the Arcadians?¡±

    The Shrike smiled, ¡°Well, now. Aren¡¯t we full of questions? This is good, I suppose, since you¡¯ve only got thirty days to try to make Wardensan. I wonder how they will proceed with the testing?¡±

    ¡°Testing?¡± that sounded ominous.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she nodded. ¡°The Forsythe family may claim you as its own, but not all those born of a Warden¡¯s family become Wardens or even Wardensans. Everyone has to earn their ribbons. This is not some outdated system of progenitorship. No nepo-babies here, thank you. You must earn your place in New Castle by merit. See why it¡¯s so important to show up to lessons on time? And how are your feet now by the way?¡±

    I swallowed, trying to keep up with the new information. Of course. How could I have thought disappearing into a new city would be so easy? There was no way a society like this would just want any wild waif wandering into their city and making herself at home. I would have to prove myself. It all went back to the Captain¡¯s question. What could I really bring to New Castle?

    ¡°Mm, feet feel better. H-how does Lourus-how do I prove that I deserve to stay in New Castle? What happens if I don¡¯t pass the test?¡±

    ¡°Deserve to stay in New Castle? Well, I¡¯m not sure deserving is so much the question as contribution. You see advancement only happens through refining the product. That¡¯s why Alchemy is really the true science, despite its many dangers. A human by themselves may be a humble concoction, but put through life¡¯s experiences and combined with other like-minded individuals, society blossoms and continues to turn out ever more contributing, refined individuals. That¡¯s why Wardens and Wardensans are so important. They are in charge of keeping all of New Castle¡¯s history, laws, and traditions. They assure forward progress by patronizing the right creators and innovators, and they inspire all those around them to be just a little bit better than they were before. So what do you think, Loris, do you feel you could be inspirational?¡±

    I just stared at my hands in dismay until I felt a hand on my shoulder. Even though her face was serious, Shrike¡¯s eyes still smiled.

    ¡°Fret not, young Loris. Thirty days is enough time to lay down strong beer and good cheese. Either way, you will not be turned out of the city. You might just find your purpose humbler than your origins,¡± she gave me another thumbs up, which I quickly returned in confusion. What was this gesture then? ¡°Well, I think that¡¯s enough alchemy for one day.¡±

    I shook my head, ¡°Lorus still has much- I still have much more I need to ask! What is the test? Does everyone take it? What do Lorus have to do?¡±

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry dear. Your lessons for today aren¡¯t over by any means,¡± she was now staring past me, all smiles gone, a stern frown sliding into place. ¡°It¡¯s just our time together is done. I¡¯ll be back later.¡±

    The Shrike stiffened as a tall, red-headed gentleman with pointed chin-whiskers came strolling up to us, swinging a cane and whistling a jaunty tune. He wore a navy blue vest and silver suit and seemed to glide as he walked.

    ¡°Hello there, Lithi. Indoctrinating another one I see,¡° he offered his hand as Shrike rolled her eyes and gathered her bag. ¡°Greetings there little one, I¡¯m-¡°

    ¡°An unapologetic gearhead and insufferable bore!¡± Shrike snapped. ¡°Loris, please take this man¡¯s instruction with a grain of salt. Thaumaturges are somewhat notorious for being myopic and self-focused.¡±

    ¡°Really, Lithium?¡± he drawled dryly. ¡°I¡¯d always heard Alchemists were so hyperopic they couldn¡¯t see the sidewalk in front of them, too busy staring at stars to miss stepping in the well. The lot of them are usually so pickled on their own home made brews they imagine they¡¯ve solved the Arcadian¡¯s gift.¡± He turned back to me and tipped his hat. ¡°Thaumaturge Averly Fox, a pleasure.¡±

    Shrike huffed, ¡°Indeed, Mr. Fox, not that I haven¡¯t seen you imbibing substantial quantities of such brews yourself. And how is that plan for air travel coming along?¡±

    Mr. Fox made a face, ¡°Low blow, Lithi.¡±

    ¡°Miss Shrike, if you please,¡± she smirked, ¡°On that, how are your newbs doing?¡±

    ¡°Six out of ten at least passed their prelims, unlike someone else¡¯s frosh. And on the topic of dirty cracks, is Mr. Baughtry coming back for a second term?¡±

    ¡°Indeed! Mr. Fox, your skills of observation are only surpassed by your statement of the obvious!¡± Shrike shook her skirts and put her nose in the air. ¡°Loris, make sure you tend to your studies. Good day to the both of you!¡± And in a swirl, Miss Shrike was away, leaving myself and Mr. Fox to stare after her.

 Chapter 11: The Thaumaturge

    Chapter 11

    ¡°That woman spends far too much time with spoor and not nearly enough in good company,¡± Fox muttered, his beard seeming to grow even more pointed. ¡°Well, little Loris, let¡¯s adjourn to the garage. All these trees make me feel itchy. You can tell me what you¡¯ve covered with Shrike as we go. And here, is this your sock over here on this bush? Where are your shoes?¡±

    I thought about it, ¡°Trees can be dangerous and refinement is the way to success. Lorus doesn¡¯t want to wear socks and shoes. They hurt.¡±

    Fox snorted, ¡°Refinement! As if. Well, forget everything Shrike told you on that. Sounds like we¡¯ll have to cover the Laws of Transference. Again. Alchemists always think everything is about just getting the right mix. It¡¯s not, I tell you. It¡¯s a matter of attunement. If you are in sync with your environment, then it operates for you. None of this blending, mixing nonsense. Augmentation, that¡¯s the way to go.¡±

    He offered me a hand up off the rock and glanced at my feet.

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right. You¡¯re the one without the wee piggies. Well, hop-up. We¡¯ll see if I haven¡¯t something in my magic bag to replace those.¡±

    ¡°Hop where?¡± I looked around, but Fox had turned his back to me and now held both his hands over his shoulder.

    ¡°Grab on and hop.¡±

    I wanted to say ¡®what¡¯, but the word seemed to make Shrike so cranky. Still confused I put my hands in his and carefully gave a little jump. Fox pulled up on my arms and leaned forwards. With a squeak I plopped on his back like a baby possum, legs swinging and dangling awkwardly.

    ¡°Wrap your legs around my waist. What¡¯s wrong? Never had an elk-a-back ride before?¡±

    ¡°No! Loris hasn¡¯t even been on an elk! Ever!¡±

    I wriggled a little more until I could swing my feet around and hook them at the ankles in the front. Then we were off. Fox took a few steps then as soon as we were out of the conservatory and back into the tiled halls, Fox¡¯s stride suddenly became a glide. I looked down. He had wheels on the bottoms of his shoes! I could see them as he pushed off now and then, propelling us down the hall.

    ¡°Why walk when you can roll, eh?¡± he chuckled.

    At one point we flew past the staircase just as my cousins were coming down. They froze open mouthed as we rolled by. Abbi, the oldest¡¯s, turned bright red as her mouth turned into a frown. I couldn¡¯t help myself. I laughed. It was strange hearing that noise coming out of my throat.

    Mr. Fox talked with me about the history of New Castle, much of which I already knew from immigration class, but for him the true triumphs were in the determination of the builders. Every generation was an upgrade from the one before. The walls, built originally from rubble scavenged from fallen grancestor cities, were layered testimonies  of the Castelians¡¯ determination to stay, even after being burned down at least three times. Fox grudgingly admitted the Alchemists may have contributed somewhat to the second and third layer of the walls, which not only were fire repellant but also slick and unscalable in the last third.

    The city had not suffered an invasion for at least three generations since Great Catalyn¡¯s time as gradually the surrounding peoples who chose not to strive for the Castelian vision learned that the lunatics they once scoffed at for stopping daily for tea and scones were now outstripping them in technology and resources. Even the Roadies had learned a harsh lesson about trying to pilfer from the rich hemp and amaranth fields around the city.

    ¡°That¡¯s why our friends out in the Shoals and Purgatory are so important. Much as the city dwellers may hem and haw, they provide a buffer and contact with the outside world. It would be easy to wall ourselves off completely, but no technology survives in a vacuum. I¡¯m sure Shrike would say something about necessary participation for evolution, but the Shoals and Purgatory allow us a way to build our city in the world but not fall back into its savage ways,¡° he smiled as he folded up his measuring stick and stuck it back in his overcoat. ¡°That should do. You¡¯re a very good client. I should have these banged together in just a few days. Just one more thing. Open your eyes wide and hum for me please.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what he was about, so he demonstrated. It looked pretty ridiculous, and I wondered if he was making fun of me, but with a little coaxing I copied him. Then Fox gently placed his hands on my temple, fingers spread across my forehead. His eyes half-closed, he began harmonizing with me.

    ¡°Wh-what are you doing?¡± I asked a little uncomfortable.

    ¡°Tuning,¡± he answered, eyes still slits. ¡°Hum for me again.¡±

    Awkwardly, I did, and after a moment he nodded and took his hands away. He took a moment to write a few things down in a leather bound notebook then gave me a wink.

    ¡°Tuning. Every Thaumaturge can do it, but some are better than others,¡± he gestured to a nearby workbench where shiny tools that looked like they¡¯d barely seen a day of work laid gleaming and waiting. ¡°In our grancestor¡¯s day mass quantities of everything was made: tools, clothes, shoes, weapons. Even vehicles were mass produced, marvelous machines that could move without elk, gear only. Ever since the Arcadians reset the world¡¯s mechanics, simple machinery is really the only dependable ones we have any more: Push, pull, turn, burn. These simple actions are the basis for all of our technology.¡±

    I shook my head, ¡°Not burn, though. Burn will get you blown up.¡±

    Fox smiled, ¡°¡¯Light¡¯ will get you blown up. Something has happened to the initial conversion of matter to energy. Our grancestors had weapons called guns that operated on a fast exchange of chemical and mechanical energy that propelled something called a bullet at deadly rates of speed.¡± He shook his head. ¡°After the Big Sleep, the rate of mechanical failure and misfire increased to nearly 50% every time a gun was used. That¡¯s why Castelians use bolt rifles, a modernization of the ancient crossbows. The original crossbow design is still very effective, but with our Thaumaturgic lever-load, they can fire more rapidly and accurately without the risk of it exploding in their faces. But-¡°

    He paused.

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    ¡°But what?¡±

    Fox shrugged and picked up one of the wrenches from the bench, ¡°But there¡¯s still a deterioration rate. As long as a bolt rifle sits on the shelf it hypothetically works beautifully with no problems, just like all of our other tools. The minute it is used, it begins to decay. It¡¯s as though our touch itself has a rotting effect. Tools, clothes, any machine really, has to be regularly maintained or replaced at a rate based on how complicated its construction was. That¡¯s why our cogs are so important really. They keep everything clean and working properly with constant fine tuning.¡±

    That was a new thought for me. Of course I had seen the cog attendants all over the house cleaning and scrubbing every inch of it. I never realized it was preservative, not merely vanity on the parts of the Forsythes.

    ¡°But you still haven¡¯t explained ¡®tuning¡¯,¡± I pointed out.

    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± Fox pulled out a strange glass device, much like the one Uncle Cebis carried around. ¡°Tuning syncs a machine or device¡¯s deterioration rate to its user. It¡¯s kind of like putting a cup of tea on top of an out-of-tune piano that some louse is banging about on. If left unattended, the vibrations will shake the poor teacup right off the surface, spilling all its glorious contents. However, if you have a tuner come along and tune the piano, there are less vibrations and shivers, and it takes longer, if ever, for the tea cup to be broken. If you have a well-tuned instrument along with a master player, vibrations can be nearly eliminated to some really outstanding results.¡±

    He pointed at my feet, ¡°For the construction of artificial limbs and prosthetics, it is essential to have the replacement as well-tuned to the user as possible,¡± he winked, ¡°You can imagine how inconvenient it would be to have your arm falling off at a constant rate.¡±

    Indeed I could.

    I would like to say the rest of the day was as interesting as spending time with the Alchemist and the Thaumaturge, but after mid-day dinner, Miss Crane had quite different plans. Apparently, there was a whole slew of studies called ¡®reading, riting, rithmatic¡¯ that all cogs, let alone Wardensans were supposed to know. The littlest cousins Danse and Eerie were too young, but Abbi, Blanche, Cori, and myself were laden with notebooks and charcoal pencils then sent to some place called the Atrium.

    Apparently, it was actually a big collection of junk the Castelians had collected over the years that they found interesting or important, leftovers from a technological golden time. It was part library, part museum, part storage and display for the various nick-nacks adventuring Castelians brought back from their Walkabouts on the outside. Only the first Ward had such a thing. To me it looked like the same lunatic designer of the Forsythe house had been let loose on the Atrium as well. I commented as much to Abbi.

    ¡°You really are slow, aren¡¯t you?¡± she sighed and tossed a lump of her corn silk hair impatiently over her shoulder.

    ¡°Lorus isn¡¯t slow! I¡¯ve run a lot faster, probably longer than you have in your whole life!¡± I grumbled.

    She exchanged a look with Blanche and Cori who tittered in unison then made a strange twirling gesture with their fingers at their temple.

    ¡°Not running, you¡¯re slow in the head, Loris,¡± she pointed to a row of plain looking cog houses, much like all the streets of them I¡¯d passed on my ride into the city. ¡°All of these buildings, including the row houses the cogs live in, have been here for over a century. Each ward gets to decide what style they want to design in. Since Forsythes were the original heart of the council that decided to rebuild in what our grancestors called the Victorian era, we are also keepers of all the collections of traditions. It¡¯s a point of pride for every Forsythe to add some new detail to one of our structures. It was actually our great, great, great, great aunty Nebula who first started the Atrium.¡±

    ¡°Apparently, the other Wardens were squabbling all the time about who would get to keep the books and stuff they found, so she would store it until they could decide. Whenever arguing would get too loud, she would slip off to her atrium for tea and to study the newest find. She had to add more and more wings to her shed to keep all the things the Wardens kept bringing but couldn¡¯t agree on keeping until actually finding Aunty Nebula became quite a chore. One day she just disappeared into the atrium and never came back out. Ever since then, any recovered artifact that can¡¯t be peaceably agreed on storage goes to the Atrium.¡±

    I shrugged, ¡°Lorus still doesn¡¯t see why we have to go there.¡±

    ¡°You really are thick, aren¡¯t you?¡± Abbi and her sisters exchanged pained looks. ¡°Look, you¡¯ve been missing for ten years, gallivanting about who-knows-where, and while that might be fine and all if you were a Rover or a Regular, you¡¯re not. You¡¯re a Forsythe¡­at least that¡¯s what they say. And you have the very important job of learning and keeping all the traditions of New Castle, which means you have to fill that empty, thick, slow skull of yours with all the knowledge we can possibly fit in it. Dunce!¡±

    Abbi went to emphasize her point by giving me a rap on the head. I¡¯d dealt with her type before though. I knew the gesture as soon as her arm raised, so I simply side-stepped and let her own momentum carry her past, stumbling over her own feet.

    ¡°Now who¡¯s the dunce? Dunce!¡± I retorted then took off running.

    ¡°Loris! Loris! Get back here! You¡¯re going the wrong way!¡± one of the cousins yelled.

    But even without toes, running was something I knew I would always be better at than them. I bolted down the cobble street, wind in my hair, feeling the freedom of movement, even with those ridiculous skirts and shoes. I didn¡¯t know where I was going; I just went. I ran, faster and faster, and I just knew I had left those snobby cousins behind in the dust.

    ¡°Is that really as fast as you can run?¡±

    Cori was jogging next to me, arms tucked behind her back, not even breaking a sweat. Blanche trotted on my other side and giggled.

    ¡°Abbi wasn¡¯t kidding! You really are slow Loris! Come on, you¡¯ll make her mad if you skip out on lessons.¡±

    I skidded to a stop looking in dismay at them.

    ¡°How-how? Are you really that fast?¡±

    Blanche shook her head, ¡°It was like watching you move in slow motion. At first we thought you were making fun of Abbi, but you really looked like you thought you were whizzing along.¡± She wrinkled her nose, ¡°Guess it makes sense now how the Roadies caught you when you ran away.¡±

    ¡°Ran away? More like walked away!¡± Cori laughed, looping her arms through Blanche¡¯s as they turned away.

    ¡°If you¡¯re late to lessons, Professor Qa¡¯la will make you stand with a book on your head the whole time,¡± Blanche said as they walked off.

    ¡°Or, he¡¯ll make you stand on your head on a book and everyone will see your under things!¡± Cori added. The two laughed like squirrels, like it was the funniest thing they¡¯d ever heard.

    Depressed, I shuffled my feet and started following after them. But then I thought, why should I? I would be in trouble either way. Apparently, I had lost much more of my edge than I originally anticipated by moving to New Castle. It was making me soft. Slow. Why bury myself in books and useless junk when obviously I needed to learn more about how to survive in this new environment? They would come after me again as soon as they realized I wasn¡¯t following, and they would probably just get bossier when I didn¡¯t do as I was told. I needed some place I could hide, some place I could get away.

    I looked up, hoping it would be here in Ward 1 as well. At that moment a mail carrier went flying overhead. The funny thing is she still wore skirts and a bodice, though admittedly not nearly as fancy as anything the Jenkins were wearing. Apparently, mail carriers don¡¯t worry about anyone looking up and catching a glimpse. That was just what I needed though. If I couldn¡¯t out run them, I needed to go someplace they couldn¡¯t or wouldn¡¯t follow. I began to climb.

 Chapter 12: Mechanization and Machinations

    Chapter 12

    Perhaps I could not outrun my cousins anymore, but toes or not, I was betting I still had more guts. They seemed like the sort who always followed the rules and did just what they were told. Sure enough, I had just made it to the top of the building moving from window to window, up corner bricks and finally to the roof escape ladder when all three of them came back, looking and calling for me. I hid out of sight on the roof until, agitated, they left to look elsewhere.

    My main concern for climbing onto the rooftops had been to escape the streets below. When I had a chance to stand up and look around, I realized it was probably the best move I had made so far. New Castle spread out like a glittering gem before me. It was a great, dazzling machine where everyone had their place, and everyone knew where they were going. The heart of New Castle, a giant white dome, wasn¡¯t in Ward 1, but it was right next to it. Everything seemed to radiate out from that point. For a while I just watched, fascinated, as rivers of people flowed up and down the avenues, pulling their handcarts or pedaling rickshaws and pedicabs for larger cargo or human transportation. I saw a little two-wheel contraption painted bright green and purple pulled by an elk at a brisk trot go whisking by, so I decided to follow.

    Carefully, I made my way across the roof. The moment of decision came when I reached the first skyway bridge. From below they had looked impossibly thin and narrow. That impression did not change much now that I was looking at it up close. A sudden clatter of feet alerted me to the approach of someone else. Hurriedly, I ducked behind a roof top. A letter carrier, the girl I had seen earlier was dashing back along her way. I looked out over the rooftops to see where she might be headed. With a jolt, I realized there was another letter carrier, a boy this time, running towards the walkway from the opposite direction. Well, this would be interesting. If two carriers reached the bridge at the same time, who got to go first?

    It turned out, they both did. Without even missing a beat, the lad yelled ¡®hi¡¯ just as the girl shouted ¡®lo¡¯. Then with a great leap, he did a handspring just as she tucked and rolled under him. The two landed opposite and kept running as though nothing had happened, never slowing at all. My mouth may have been hanging open a little longer than I intended.

    If two, soft cogs could pull a stunt like that off, there was no reason I, the wild Loris, should not also be able to master the skyways. Cautiously, I put my hands on the bridge then stepped up. The second my shoes hit metal, I knew it was a mistake. These dratted things were just too slick on the bottom. If I slipped even a little, I would certainly pull a header right over the edge. For a while I pondered trying to figure out how the mail carrier¡¯s had run so well. Looking closer at the walk way gave me my answer, something I reluctantly would have to acknowledge Jack for. He was the best tracker in the tribe, after all, and he could never help explaining just how he came to his brilliant conclusions. Even though the sides were made of metal, the bridge itself had a strip of wood boards running down the middle with just a little bit of a gap in between each. I could also see the dust of footprints on the edge where the roof was riveted to the bridge. Their shoes had odd ridges on the bottom of them, probably to give better grip. The bottoms of my little button up shoes were completely smooth. They would have to go.

    Without a thought more, I peeled off my shoes then my socks. Much better! A second later I was back up on the bridge and with determination set off across. I found going a little faster actually helped. I knew where I wanted my feet to go, so as long as I kept up momentum, I could trot across just fine, toes or not, since I stayed mostly on the balls of my feet anyways. When I slowed down to hop off was actually when I began wobbling and had more problems staying upright.

    In no time at all, I caught up with the strange two-wheeled elk carriage. It turned out it was heading for the great white dome in the middle of New Castle. The Circus, as the signs indicated, was a road so large six whole elk carriages could parade about it shoulder to shoulder, and that appeared to be what everyone came here to do. The wide road looped all the way around the center dome, thirteen different roads spinning off it in their respective directions. There was also a large, green lawn with four different fountains and statues around it, all of heroic and noble looking people, some of them on strange horn-less elks. I think I remember them being called ¡®horses¡¯ in lessons. It seemed like a very popular spot. There weren¡¯t only Wardensans out in their carriages looking splendid in all their bizarre colors and get ups, but all sorts strolled and chatted around the Circus.

    I spotted what I presumed to be a class of Alchemists crawling about on the lawn with magnifying lenses as another woman in flowing blue robes stood in their midst and lectured on the cultivation of this particular winter rye. A few Thaumaturges scoffed while rolling by on their own wheeled shoes. One had something that looked like a sail sticking up out of his bowler, which as he explained to his mates, would allow him to skate by without all the work of moving his legs.  Unfortunately, a rather large gust of wind caught his sail  at that moment and propelled him unhappily into a nearby fountain. Luckily, for him, half a dozen of his friends immediately produced ¡®insta-dry¡¯ apparatuses. I was alarmed how many of them employed open flames. It seemed many of the city¡¯s cogs were also enjoying my same pastime of people watching. They dressed more utilitarian, and although in smaller batches, many sported similar colors and fashions of the gleeful Wardensans whizzing around. I couldn¡¯t believe how happy everyone seemed. It all rather took me back. Then the clock chimed.

    It seemed the dome was one large, mechanical clock house. What I hadn¡¯t been able to see from my vantage point was that panels around the dome actually slid open, and as far as I could tell, full scale figures, completely automated, did a funny dance and whirl, bowing and arching as their cogs and paint gleamed, before disappearing back into the dome. It was so delightful, I found myself clapping my hands in appreciation to the music their bronze bells played.

    However, as the sun dropped lower and the last notes of the cheery chime echoed over the hill, I realized this had implications for myself as well. As if on cue, all of the cogs lolling on the walkways and all the Wardensans prancing around the circus turned towards their respective avenues and left. Everyone from the performers on the green to the maintenance men cleaning the fountains around the hub picked up their gear, smiles on their faces, and headed home. I had better do the same if I didn¡¯t want to be ratted out by my cousins.

    Hastily, I stretched out my limbs again and took off across the rooftops. I had a pretty good sense of which direction I needed to head. The only difficulty was making speed while still dodging letter carriers and Regulars. I hadn¡¯t seen any for most of the afternoon, but now that the city was shutting down for the evening, I had a feeling the presence of the city¡¯s night watch, the Owls as they were called, would soon emerge to watch over New Castle¡¯s doings at night.

    Since New Castle prided itself so very much on its innovative technology, I was a little curious as to how all the street lamps for the different wards came on at night. I knew the hearth and kitchen of each home could be restarted or stoked by sending a cog to the city Salamander run by the university and kept lit by efforts of both the Alchemists and the Thaumaturges. But did that mean every single lamp in New Castle was also lit by the scholars? Soon enough I had my answer.

    ¡°Lights on! Lights on! Wick ups here! Wick ups here!¡±

    An ancient, little man with a barrel on his back as large as he was slowly made his way down the street with the aid of a long, brass walking stick. When he reached the corner he pushed a button on his walking stick, and suddenly an extra length of pole shot out, doubling its length. On the end of this was a small glow of a lit ember. The man took some time checking the bottom of the street lamp. He pulled out a hose connected to the barrel on his back and took a few minutes to top off the tank in the bottom of the lamp. Then when all seemed right, he held the ember up to a little, white wick inside the lamp¡¯s glass case and with a small hiss, the lamp came on.

    About that time a little boy came trotting out with an oil can.

    ¡°Oy Mac! Wick me up, Lamplighter?¡±

    He handed the lamplighter a few coins in exchange for a twist of wick and a fill up of oil from the barrel before they parted ways with a merry ¡°Good evenin¡¯¡±. I wondered how many lamps the one lamplighter tended, but I had just made it to the next row of houses before I saw another one, a woman this time, also lighting a lamp. It seemed every street had at least one lamp lighter, and every street had at least twenty lights. Besides making for an ever present glow making, it also made it much easier for me to navigate. It also meant quite a few cogs had the duty of keeping the city lit.

    I wondered if this was their only job or if the lamplighters tended to other things during the day? It occurred to me that if things didn¡¯t work out with the Forsythes, I could make a very good lamplighter, especially if they got to sleep all day and spend most of the evening lighting lamps and passing out oil.

    Up here above the city, I finally had the opportunity to marvel at all the Castelians had accomplished. Since Ward 1 was so far up the hill, I could actually see other Wards spreading outwards like the petals of a rose. When I stopped for a moment and really squinted, I could just about see past Purgatory to little lights and rises of smoke that I imagined would be the Shoals. Moron would be out there somewhere. So would Beka. I wondered how they were doing. Did they ever think of me these days?. The Shoals had their own towers and chimneys, much smaller than New Castle but impressive in their own right. I was sure Moron would say something like that then Beka would roll her eyes and say something about creating even better chimmeys.

    Off to one edge, I thought I spotted something like a speckled goose egg nestled in the trees. I held up my thumb, trying to judge the scale. It would be enormous! Nearly as large as a Warden¡¯s house. Was that someone¡¯s project? Would Beka be interested in something like that? It seemed designed to blend into the foliage, so maybe it was supposed to be a secret, like Beka and Moron¡¯s workshops.

    For an odd moment I actually felt a bit lonely and found myself wondering what Beka and Moron were up to. How had Beka done on her entrance exams? I never found out whether or not she had made it. If she had, did she manage her dream of becoming a thaumaturge? If she had, what was Moron doing? Would he be lonely? I shook my head partially disgusted. Most likely they had both completely forgotten about me as soon as I was whisked away.

    But then there was also Nurse Jane and Raikan. Nurse Jane seemed like she wouldn¡¯t mind if I visited. Then again, it was her job to be nice to everyone. Raikan was the same. They too had probably forgotten me as soon as I left. For a moment my eyes stung. Angrily I ground the back of my hand into them until it came away wet, but the stinging stopped. There was no reason to dwell on Purgatory. I needed to focus more on making my place in New Castle. If only there weren¡¯t so many blasted rules!

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    With a sigh I picked up my pace, remembering how hysterical the staff had been upon my disappearance earlier in the morning. If that¡¯s how jumpy they were to sleeping under the bed, I could only imagine their reaction to me ditching lessons at the Atrium and running across the rooftops. I reached home just soon enough to glimpse the back of my cousins disappearing inside the front door.

    Drat! No way to head them off there. There were also no skyways that connected directly to the Forsythe house, so I couldn¡¯t duck in an upstairs window to make it look like I was there all along. It took more maneuvering, but I launched myself into a close enough tree. I tumbled a little bit, but eventually righted myself and began crawling along its limbs until I could get closer to the house. I planned to drop into the back garden area and explain I was exploring them since I was homesick for the forest. It was the best I could come up with.

    ¡°Who-who¡¯s there?¡±

    I froze and looked down the length of the tree branch I was wobbling on. I hadn¡¯t realized that the furthest tips hung above a window. With my weight on it, they were softly scratching on the pane. When no one else called out, I began making my way downwards again.

    I was quickly running out of sturdy branches to step on. If only there hadn¡¯t been someone in the room with the window, I might have been able to slide down into it. As it was, my best bet was getting as low as I could then dropping into the bushes. I carefully scooted towards the end of the branch so it would begin to tip down, closer to the ground. It again scraped across the window ever so lightly. Whoever was sitting on the other side of it must have been either waiting for it or had incredibly good hearing. The window slid open. I froze and tried to hide in the foliage as much as possible.

    Then an angel leaned out. One of the Ayfortees tribesmen had tried once to explain the notion of an angel to me. In my limited experience, they sounded much like the Roadies¡¯ version of fairies; they just lived in the clouds instead of fields of mushrooms. The one thing both beings had in common was their unearthly beauty. I never understood what that meant until the white, glistening face leaned out the window, head ringleted by a halo of dark, cherry wood twists, like fine fingers of ivy. What really captivated me, however, were the eyes. They were golden, like the color of honey, and they shone as if they saw things that I could not.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting. I¡¯m ready,¡± the fairy angel creature said breathlessly then held out a hand.

    So enraptured was I while staring at this ethereal being, I barely registered that the bending branch I was on had kept bending. From behind me there was a loud crack, and suddenly my weight dropped. I gasped and grabbed another branch to stabilize, but it was too thin and snapped in my fingers.

    ¡°Jump!¡±

    I looked up. The fairy-angel had one arm out, leaning out the window. It was as though everything slowed to a crawl. I jumped, using the bounce of the branch to propel me towards the window.

    Somewhere in the house someone was screaming. It sounded like the voice from this morning. Below, the cog gardeners ran as fast as they could, but they were barely moving from my perspective as they searched the grounds. Wind blew and birds flew by the sunset colored clouds, but all I saw were the golden eyes I was on a collision course for.  A hand as delicate as the teacups my relatives used raised slowly, like it was moving through water. For one second our fingers touched then interlocked. Then time restarted. I hadn¡¯t jumped far enough.

    With a gasp I felt my weight drop, and I plummeted. However, the fairy-angel was still holding onto me. I don¡¯t know how those birch-thin arms found enough strength, but they gave a mighty pull. It just enough for me to get an arm and one hand on to the sill of the window.

    ¡°Look out! I¡¯m coming in!¡± I grunted as my body thudded against the side of the house then I kicked my legs, feet scraping against the wall as I began pulling myself up.

    ¡°You can¡¯t! I¡¯ll go get-¡°

    But with another grunt, I pushed myself up then rolled in the window on top of my savior, much to the surprise of the fairy-angel. I slid off onto the floor. For a second I sat there puffing and panting as the fairy-angel and I stared at each other. I waved my hand nonchalantly.

    ¡°See, not nearly as hard as climbing rooftops.¡±

    I sat up as a commotion reached the door of the room. I scanned the room quickly for a hiding place. It was extraordinarily plush, even more lavish than my room. This one had all sorts of strange gadgets and gizmos all over the shelves and floors. Some had wind-up parts. Others were shaped like animals and had wheels attached so they could roll across the floor. The ceiling was strewn with glittering constellations and an evening skyline over a forest painted across the walls. Dangling from the ceiling cross beams were tiny, metal birds with jeweled eyes. In all the loveliness, however, I couldn¡¯t find a place to hide. The door opened.

    With a grunt the angel fairy grabbed a heavy blanket, threw it over me, and then sat on me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡±

    I had no intention of that, even though this creature was now lounging in my lap, incredibly light for being nearly as tall as I was, as far as I could tell. From under the blanket I heard the door finish creaking open.

    ¡°Master Bentley!¡± a breathless voice started, ¡°we¡¯re so sorry to interrupt you sir, but¡­¡± they hesitated.

    ¡°Really Brissi? Can¡¯t you see I¡¯m in the middle of something here?¡±

    I decided the voice was a he, young, and at the moment very whiny, but definitely a ¡®he¡¯, even though I had never heard of a male of any type being this pretty.

    ¡°I know, I know, Master Bentley, it¡¯s just¡­well, your sister Loris has gone wandering again, and we were told to check everywhere.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Bentley asked dryly. ¡°So somehow this Loris magically guessed where I was secreted away, stole the key to this wing from the Iron Crane, slipped past all the Regs disguised as butlers, unlocked three more doors to get here, and slipped in without me knowing. Or maybe she walked through walls? Or flew in?¡± His tone turned to mocking, ¡°Really, Brissi, I know the Iron Crane orders you about like a doll on a string, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯d mind you exercise a little common sense now and then, don¡¯t you?¡±

    I actually felt a little sorry for Brissi. Bentley was saving me from more trouble, but she was just doing her job. The more I heard him talk, the more he reminded me of Gimlet.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m so sorry Master Bentley!¡± Brissi sounded nearly on the verge of tears now. ¡°I-I just, I-I¡¯ll go now¡­¡±

    Bentley nodded, and I could imagine him giving the same sort of dismissive wave Gimlet was prone to.

    There was a pause, but I didn¡¯t hear the door close.

    ¡°Ah, Master Bentley¡­¡± she was still here.

    ¡°What Brissi?¡± There was genuine impatience in Bentley¡¯s voice.

    ¡°It¡¯s just your chair. I don¡¯t remember it-¡°

    ¡°Oh yes!¡± Bentley stood up, and for one terrifying moment my heart pounded as he put a hand on my head. ¡°I made it this afternoon. I wanted something a little more ergonomic, a little more close to the ground so I could work on my posture and all. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not very aesthetic yet, a bit homely really, but what can you do with found junk? Now, if Mother would agree to let me attend the Thaumaturges-¡°

    ¡°Ahh I see! A ground chair,¡± Brissi¡¯s nervous laugh interrupted Bentley¡¯s long explanation. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you know Lady Pilosa¡¯s orders. But I¡¯m sure we could have better parts brought up here if you tell us just what exactly you need.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying, Brissi!¡± Bentley actually stomped his foot. I was half afraid he¡¯d forget I was there and smack me in the head. ¡°How can I know what I need for my inventions if I never get to see what people are making and creating?! Hmm? I swear, you never hear a word I say!¡±

    Brissi was rescued from another lengthy lecture by someone else calling to her down the hall. She hastily excused herself then darted away. I heard one more pair of feet enter the room and shuffle around. Bentley groaned and griped some more, and this time a male voice answered him as Bentley made a show of flopping back onto his ¡°chair¡±.

    ¡°Find anything, Daly?¡±

    The man hesitated then answered, ¡°No sir. But one of the gardeners thought he-¡°

    ¡°Then you should go check in the garden, Daly. Seriously, it¡¯s like you cogs have nothing better to do than bother me all day. Go away already!¡±

    And poor Daly left as well, shutting the door behind himself.

    For a few minutes I continued sitting there as still as possible. It seemed like Bentley had no intention of moving, so I flipped the blanket down and glared at him.

    ¡°Oy! Lorus is not really a chair. Get off!¡±

    There was a pause, then I heard Bentley sound rather pleased from the other side of the blanket, ¡°But I¡¯m rather comfortable. Even if your legs are a bit lumpy.¡± Bentley grinned at me then picked up a book and pretended to be absorbed in it.

    ¡°Lorus show you lumpy legs!¡± I bounced my legs and knees up and down jostling Bentley off my lap.

    ¡°Ow! Ow! Ow! Not so hard, Loris. I¡¯m delicate you know!¡± he complained as I dropped him on the floor.

    I snorted and stood up brushing my skirt off.

    ¡°Not too delicate to push other people around. If Bentley worries about getting hurt, he better be careful who he pushes.¡±

    We eyed each other for a bit. His eyes didn¡¯t seem so golden now, more of a tawny brown. There was something eerily familiar about his face though. I just couldn¡¯t put my finger on it. Then something occurred to me.

    ¡°So you already know about Lorus? Lorus didn¡¯t know about you? Why you not there with other cousins last night when Lorus arrive?¡±

    Bentley made a noise of disgust then rolled over on his stomach to push himself up.

    ¡°Of course I already knew about you. The cogs have been talking about nothing else for the past month.¡±

    He walked over to the window. At some point he¡¯d pulled it closed, but now he pushed it back open and studied the tree I had sprang from. With a sigh he turned back then put a wide smile on his face.

    ¡°Of course I know all about you. You¡¯re, Loris, my fake sister.¡±

 Chapter 13: Another red canary

    Chapter 13

    I¡¯m sure he meant for the words to have much more effect on me. Indeed, there was an expectant knot of fear that I realized had been hanging there for the last few days, just waiting for someone to say what he just did. I wasn¡¯t really a Forsythe. I wasn¡¯t really meant to be here. I was a fake. However, in the wild, fear is the cue for everyone else to tear you apart. This kid had nothing on Jack¡¯s power of intimidation. It did irritate me a little though.

    I raised an eyebrow, something I¡¯d seen Irinia Crane do and decided it would be a good look to add to my arsenal.

    ¡°Oh really? How did you come to that conclusion?¡±

    Bentley shrugged and stuck his hands in his pocket before walking past me to a pile of tin Regulars on the floor.

    ¡°I did have a sister a long time ago. We buried her. She died of pneumonia. I was just two at the time, but it¡¯s my very first memory, standing next to her grave.¡± He looked up at me, eyes cool but pushing back just a little bit. ¡°You can go look if you want. It¡¯s at the bottom of the garden in between the hydrangea hedge.¡±

    ¡°Maybe Lorus feels like staying here.¡±

    Bentley shrugged and turned his attention to the pile of miniature Regulars.

    I crossed my arms and wandered around the room poking the different objects with my toe. It occurred to me these might be the things I had heard Beka and Moron discuss and that even the Colonel referenced, toys. But what did Bentley do all day with these things? He didn¡¯t seem all that enthusiastic about the miniature Regulars he was lining up in a row to face off against a strange metal lizard with movable joints. There was a pile of blocks neatly stacked nearby in the shape of a castle. I nudged one corner of it, and the whole wooden city collapsed.

    ¡°Steady on, Loris! Seriously!¡± he snapped. ¡°If you¡¯re going to be a bother, just leave already!¡±

    I grinned, ¡°For saying I¡¯m a fake Loris, you still call me that name.¡±

    ¡°First of all,¡± he huffed, ¡°that¡¯s because you¡¯re pronouncing it wrong. That¡¯s the first thing that proves you¡¯re not Loris. It¡¯s Loris as in ¡®kiss-kiss¡¯, not Lorus as in you bore us. Secondly, the only reason you¡¯re here is because Mother hopes if the family has you for a Warden candidate, they might finally let me out of the house.¡± He sighed in long suffering, ¡°I¡¯m just not sure I could in good conscience allow them to hand over the management of the entire Ward to such an unruly Mogli child, even if it did secure me my freedom,¡± he finished with a glare.

    I blinked trying to process what he had just said then knelt next to the blocks and began rearranging them. I knew who Warden Catalyn, my grandmother was. I figured the next one to take over would be my Uncle or possibly Pilosa. That¡¯s how it worked not just in the Ayfortees but the Roadies and Plainsmen. Why would a child ever be considered for leadership?

    ¡°Mother, you mean Pilosa?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I mean Mother, Mumsy, mommer-wommer, whatever ridiculous name she wants to be called now,¡± he sighed. ¡°And that¡¯s another point. You don¡¯t even treat your family like family. I say, that¡¯s not bad. Did you do all that from memory?¡±

    I looked where he was pointing, at the blocks, and shrugged.

    ¡°Not that hard. Just put them back how I saw them.¡±

    Bentley dropped into a crouch next to me.

    ¡°Yes, but there¡¯s over one-hundred twenty of them, all with different pictures on the side,¡± he pointed to one that had a yellow canary painted on it. ¡°Are you saying it¡¯s just luck you put them back exactly as I had arranged them?¡±

    I shrugged but then sprang to my feet.

    ¡°Ah! Lorus almost forget! The canary!¡±

    Bentley¡¯s eyes widened. I pointed to the back of my neck.

    ¡°Lorus has a birthmark on her neck like a red canary. Miss Crane knew it was there when not even Lorus knew because she said she delivered Lorus,¡± I smirked, but Bentley didn¡¯t seem that impressed. He walked across the room to a chest of drawers and pulled a mirror out of the top before walking back across and handing it to me.

    ¡°Come over here next to the full-length and take a look. Tell me what you see.¡±

    With some little dread, I did indeed walk over to the full length. It was odd seeing myself from head to missing toes. For a while I just stared at myself. I could see why Bentley would not want to accept me as any sort of relation to himself. My hair was the color of wood; his was like dark amber. My face was filled with freckles, my arms ruddy on top from my time in the sun; his was as pale and smooth as milk. His eyes glowed like little candles; mine were so dark they almost looked like nothing but iris, two black holes. Bentley was staring at me then gestured impatiently.

    ¡°Here, like this, moron!¡± he grabbed my wrist and yanked my arm up to position the smaller mirror behind my head.

    I yanked my arm away, ¡°Lorus not Moron! And Moron is a heck of a lot nicer and smarter than Bentley!¡±

    Huffing I held the mirror behind my neck and, with a little heart-fluttering delight, finally caught sight of the red birthmark. It was indeed there, unmistakably in the shape of a flying bird. I sighed in relief.

    ¡°You know someone named ¡®Moron¡¯?¡± Bentley snickered.

    I rolled my eyes and handed him back the mirror.

    ¡°Not named Moron. That¡¯s just what Lorus calls him. He¡¯s-¡° I had to think for a little bit. ¡°He¡¯s Finstuff Wigold Treadgus something something from Arsenal! Lorus met him in Purgatory!¡±

    Bentley seemed genuinely shocked.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been to Arsenal? All the ways to the Shoals?¡± His voice was shaky.

    I hadn¡¯t, but this suddenly seemed like something very desirable. I lifted my nose and gave an affirmative nod.

    ¡°And Beka! A Thaumaturgist! We took the test at the same time, and now she¡¯s going to be famous and build stuff that blows up! Just like Shrike and Fox!¡±

    Bentley scowled then waved his hands through the air like he was clearing a cloud.

    ¡°Well good for you! You know people. And get to go places. And do stuff,¡± he snorted and turned away. ¡°Good. For. You.¡±

    He started pulling up his shirt. I stood there awkwardly then took a few steps back.

    ¡°If Bentley wants to go to sleep or take a bath, just say so.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    He shot me a look. I raised my hands.

    ¡°What?! Taking off your shirt for no reason is strange!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not taking it off! Help me pull it up in back. It takes a lot of effort,¡± he huffed.

    Awkwardly, I stepped over and with one hand pulled up the back of his shirt. Was this really that much of an effort for him?

    ¡°There! You see! Or do you think that¡¯s just a big coincidence as well?¡±

    At first I didn¡¯t know what he was talking about, but when I spotted it I yanked the shirt up further nearly knocking him over.

    ¡°Hey!¡± he cried out. ¡°Take it easy! I told you, I¡¯m delicate.¡±

    On top of his left shoulder blade was a birthmark- a red bird in flight, exactly like mine.

    Blinking, I stood up. Families might share similar features, faces, noses, and eyes, but in my limited understanding of reproduction, they didn¡¯t share exact markings. Hesitantly, I touched the back of my neck. Bentley turned around and pulled his shirt down, more irritated than smug.

    ¡°There. You see? It¡¯s not a birthmark. It¡¯s a tattoo. They probably put it on you while you were sleeping,¡± he awkwardly reached across his body with his right hand and touched his own mark on his left shoulder. It made him look like he was hugging his own thin, tiny chest. ¡°That¡¯s how I got mine. After my sister died, I took to sleeping in Pilosa¡¯s room. For some reason I didn¡¯t understand, my shoulder was hot and itchy, and it made me cry, so she let me stay.  It was summer time, and it was muggy, so I kept pulling my shirt off even though she kept making me put it back on. Then one day she was giving me a bath. When she pulled me out to dry me off, I saw her looking at something behind me in the mirror. That¡¯s the first time I saw it. When I looked up, Pilosa¡¯s and my eyes met. After that she never let me in her room again.¡±

    He walked over to a shelf full of books, pulled a few down, flipped through one or two, then apparently found what he was looking for and brought it over.

    ¡°Here, see? It says a master artist can finish a small piece like that in less than 30 minutes, and colored ink is no problem.¡±

    The book had a picture of a hand holding a strange contraption in it. I didn¡¯t recognize the long tube or fancy gizmos hanging off the back, but the sharp needle at the end of a metal pen I did. Add in a hammer to chisel it over and over into my face, and that was the first tattoo- the first thing I could remember as well. I winced and touched my cheeks, but Bentley took it as a sign of my acquiescence.

    ¡°You see? My guess is all Forsythes have one, something to sort of brand our own,¡± he said in a forced light tone. ¡°Just in case we get lost or need to identify a body.¡±

    We stood there silently for some time. It was eerie and compelling, and there was a large chunk of time I didn¡¯t remember after being shot and having my toes amputated. Still, I had gone through so much. If I capitulated here, it would be the end of my chance to carve out a comfortable existence.

    I shook my head, ¡°You¡¯re missing the obvious though. You say you got yours when you were little? I may not remember it, but what¡¯s to say I didn¡¯t get mine when I was a baby?¡±

    Bentley shook his head adamantly, ¡°No! Look how vibrant and red yours is compared to mine. Of course it would fade over time. Yours should be more faded than mine, especially considering how much you¡¯ve been outside.¡±

    He sighed and put his book away, ¡°You aren¡¯t a Forsythe. You never have been.¡±

    I stared at him and then back at the full length mirror. It would be easy to believe he was right. But then what? And then what had been my purpose here in the first place?

    ¡°So what is Lorus supposed to do?¡±

    Bentley rolled his eyes, ¡°You really do talk like an idiot, you know? I told you, it¡¯s Loris. If you¡¯re going to pretend, at least do a convincing job of it.¡± He pondered for a second, chin tilting up as though pondering, one finger tapping his chin.

    ¡°I know!¡± he brightened. ¡°You¡¯ll become my servant! You can be my Second!¡± he nodded at the genius of his own idea.

    ¡°Your what?¡± I asked, but I already knew where he was going, even as he adopted the same patronizing tone and eyes half-shut mannerism that Jack always took.

    ¡°My Second,¡± he explained slowly as though to a child, ¡°Every good Warden has one. I have delicate health. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve never left this wing of the house. I¡¯m obviously better suited to run things than you, and certainly not those bubble headed cousins of ours. You know their mom is a bunny-wife, don¡¯t you?¡± he added conspiratorially. ¡°Cebis only married into the family. He¡¯s not blood. His first wife, Aunty Vickers, the real Forsythe, couldn¡¯t produce. She was ¡°released¡± so that he could pick up Sophie. It was too late for him though. Pilosa had already popped out me and Loris, so unless I kick-it or disappear, his scions will only ever be Wardensans and married off to other Wards.¡± Bentley pondered, ¡°Though I suppose he might get a Warden-gran out of that if he¡¯s lucky. It looks like it¡¯s going to happen to Ward 5.¡±

    ¡°Anyhow, when I¡¯m Warden, I won¡¯t be allowed to leave the Ward. Gone to nest, if you will. So, I¡¯ll need someone to run errands and do my bidding, just like the Iron Crane does for Granny. Of course, we¡¯ll still need to polish you up. Seconds are supposed to be the silent right hand of their employer, masters of protocol and discretion, facilitators of good relations. You-¡° he pointed a disdainful finger at me. ¡°-are a rough-hewn rock. The Iron Crane has deemed you the Lost Princess, which is pish posh but good PR, one thing she does sneakily well. You¡¯re more like a Jungle Child, Mogli among people for the first time. Even cogs have more sense of propriety than you. For crying out loud! You don¡¯t even wear shoes! You¡¯re like some dirty little barefoot elf! But don¡¯t worry, with proper schooling, I think you could become an asset to the family. You already show much prom-¡°

    I had wondered just how long Bentley was going to prattle. Once he started talking about all the things he expected a Second to be, all the things he would expect me to be, I came to a conclusion. He was not just like Jack. He was Jack. A tiny, whiny, puny, pushy miscreant who had all sorts of plans and designs for everyone else just as soon as he figured out how he could use them and bend them to his will. At that point, I decided to show him emphatically that I was not interested in being part of his plans.

    Stepping forward I slid my hand into the front of his shirt, thumb still on the outside. From there it was a short stride to body check him, pushing my forearm against his chest and slam him against the wall. The air wooshed out of him and for a second there was blissful silence as he just wheezed, and I stood there smiling at him.

    Then he caught his breath.

    ¡°You brute! What are you doing! I¡¯ll scream! I¡¯ll-¡°

    ¡°Have a very hard time breathing in a second if you don¡¯t shut up,¡± I snapped, pushing my hand holding his shirt up and against his chin, forcing his mouth shut. With my weight against him, it would be very hard for him to draw a proper breath. This wouldn¡¯t leave any marks or bruising, something I unfortunately also learned from Jack Gimlet. If Bentley was going to try to be a master of manipulation, there were certain lessons I would have get in early.

    He wheezed as though considering still screaming.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I said through clenched teeth. ¡°You think escaping a bunch of soft cogs would be difficult? Try escaping a whole tribe of Ayfortees or Roadies.¡± I touched my face tattoos. ¡°If they catch you, they make sure you never forget it.¡±

    I leaned my face close to his to where I could smell his breath. He smelled like milk and soap. I took an exaggerated sniff.

    ¡°Wild? I don¡¯t think you even know what that word means. I¡¯ve been beaten, chased, frozen, marked, and sold. I have been other people¡¯s property all my life. I have seen things that would make that little rabbit heart inside your chest stop dead. Here I have a chance to live, to thrive, and if you threaten that in any way, if you presume being your slave would improve my life in any way,¡± I leaned forward and bared my teeth. ¡°Then I will make sure you disappear. Just like your sister Loris.¡±

    I dropped Bentley and strode back over to the window, making sure to take my time. My hands were shaking; I felt heady as blood pounded in my ears. I realized that if Bentley had tried to fight or struggle, I would¡¯ve had no problem hurting him. For a moment I just stared at my hands before reaching up and opening the window again. Turning around made me feel a little queasy.

    The angelic look was back on Bentley¡¯s face even though he was now sitting in a heap on the floor, one hand rubbing his sternum. He didn¡¯t say anything, just stared intently, lips partially opened like the words he wanted wouldn¡¯t come out. I shook my head fiercely and stepped up into the window. He was not my brother. I couldn¡¯t let myself get sucked in.

    ¡°One last point to consider,¡± I said as nonchalantly as I could. ¡°Let¡¯s say your theories are right. So I¡¯m not your Loris. I¡¯m just some wild savage brought in by luck so one branch of the family has more leverage over the other. Considering all that, and considering that Irinia Crane works for Catalyn, the current Warden of this Ward, that means she was working under orders, doesn¡¯t it? So Catalyn Forsythe, not Pilosa, was the one who decided I would be a Forsythe.¡±

    Bentley blinked, and suddenly the light dimmed in his eyes. He stared flatly at me. I made myself grin.

    ¡°Yep, you¡¯ve got it, kid,¡± I continued. ¡°I¡¯ve noticed that for all the people that live here in New Castle, you don¡¯t really see a lot of weak or infirmed. Why is that I wonder? In the wild, weak offspring are culled at birth. Weakness only breeds in weakness. As humane as Castelians claim to be, they¡¯re not idiots. If you want a society to thrive, you don¡¯t make the broken your leaders and breeding stock. You choose someone who can survive.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not here to serve you, Bentley. I¡¯m here to replace you.¡±

    And then I flung myself back out the window.

 Chapter 14: Supper with Pilosa

    Chapter 14

    In my mind it was a much cooler exit. The window was lower than I had started, so I would be able to jump back to the tree, grab a lower branch with my hands, and let myself back to the ground. Turns out, tree branches are really tough to hang on to when the bark strips off in your hand. I did manage to execute part of my plan, but the branch snapped off at the trunk. So instead of gently gliding to the ground, it broke, and I swung through the air, bounced off the trunk, and went flying off the other side into the bushes. I laid there for a second doing a limb check to make sure everything was still connected and working. Because of that, I did get to see Bentley¡¯s astonished face at the window, looking for me a second later. Since I¡¯d taken the broken limb off the tree with me into the hedge, there was no immediate evidence of my escape. I expected him to yell, maybe scream for help, but after a second, he just gave an irritated shake of his head and closed the window.

    Once everything checked out, I gave a sigh of relief and crawled out of the bushes dusting myself off. I had just enough time to creep into the backyard and find a secluded corner to be ¡°discovered¡± in by swarming cogs, still determined to find me. Based on the voice, I thought this might be the man, Daly, who had interrupted Bentley looking for me earlier. He seemed absolutely relieved to find me and escort me back into the house where I pretended to be ashamed and contrite as Pilosa scolded me in front of my cousins who stood smugly by.

    ¡°But Lorus was just trying to find Hydrangeas for Mumsy!¡± I sniffled, lowering my head and pretending to wipe a tear. ¡°They said it was your favorite.¡±

    All the blood drained from Pilosa¡¯s face, and Uncle Cebis even paused and put down the paper he was reading, one eyebrow arched inquisitively.

    ¡°L-Loris, darling, who told you I like Hydrangeas?¡± Pilosa knelt down and took out a handkerchief to dry my dry face.

    I didn¡¯t answer her, but rolled my eyes over to peek at my cousins, particularly Abbi, who met my stare smugly, but then whose eyes widened as Pilosa followed my gaze. I quickly looked away and pretended to rub my eyes.

    Pilosa sighed, ¡°Oh Abbi, that¡¯s really not very nice.¡±

    Abbi waved her hands frantically in front of her,¡° Auntie Pilosa! I didn¡¯t! I would never tell Loris, that-¡°

    ¡°Abbi!¡± her father snapped then straightened up. He adjusted his cravat and nodded at Pilosa. ¡°Pilosa, I think all the girls are worn out. Day¡¯s antics and all. Why don¡¯t we let them have some supper in their rooms,¡± he stared hard at Abbi who started to protest before being cut off again, ¡°And give them a little time to clean up and cool off. Hm?¡±

    Pilosa held a hand to her head as though she had a headache and just nodded.

    ¡°That sounds fine. I¡¯ll have Gilly bring mine up, and I¡¯ll eat with Loris in her room. Is that all right, sweetie? Then we can have some time together, just the two of us?¡±

    I nodded then upon dismissal slunk from the room, shooting just one more backwards glance at my cousins, all of whom were scowling at me now. I knew it wasn¡¯t good practice to make so many enemies so soon, even if they did come in all bows and frills. For some reason, I did feel just a bit smug.

    Later in my quarters, I was brought a very tasty supper on a small table put up just for me and Pilosa. Even though Pilosa seemed to think it a modest affair of soup and an elaborately stacked dish called ¡®sandwich¡¯, I decided I liked it much better than dining with the rest of my relatives. Pilosa spent most of the meal correcting me on my eating manners: elbows off the table, dear, don¡¯t chew with your mouth open, love, swallow your bite before talking, sweet. But she also kept up a constant rambling story about life in New Castle, occasionally asking questions about what I thought of this or that.

    Most of the names or places she mentioned I had no idea about, so it became easier just to nod or shake my head as I stuffed as much of those lovely sandwiches in my face as possible. Really the variety was incredible, from apples and cheese, to smoked salmon with a type of spread. There was even one with meat on it, a savory, wild flavor that one of the cogs said was real beef that had been brought all the way from the Salt Flats. I had no idea what kind of creature a Beef was, but I wanted to make it my friend and eat it. It boggled my mind that one could go so far and bring food home that was so delicious! It really made me reconsider my decision to stay in New Castle. Apparently, there was all this fantastic food out there just waiting to be discovered! My mouth fairly watered at the thought of all the exotic dishes.

    It was about then that I realized conversation had stopped. Pilosa just sat looking at me, her eyes shimmering with tears. Had I done something wrong? I quickly checked and yanked my elbows back off the table.

    ¡°Sorry, Mumsy,¡± I muttered. ¡°Lorus forgot.¡±

    I made a bonking motion like I was rapping myself on the head. Pilosa laughed then burst into tears startling me. What had I done now? Then suddenly she was around the table and had me in a crushing embrace just like the night before.

    ¡°Oh Loris, I¡¯m such a bad mommy! You must hate me so much!¡± she wept. I could feel her tears soaking into the top of my head, and I was having a hard time breathing again. Awkwardly, I patted her and tried to pull my head up for air.

    ¡°Lo-Lorus doesn¡¯t hate Pilosa! I don¡¯t hate Mumsy!¡± I finally managed to get my face free and pushed back to get some space. ¡°If you¡¯re a bad mommy for losing me for ten years, then Lorus is a bad child for not coming home sooner!¡±

    Pilosa laughed again through her tears, but she did take a handkerchief out of her dress¡¯s pocket and after dabbing her tears blew her nose so loudly it reminded me of trumpet swans in the morning.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a dear, sweet, thing, Loris!¡± she sighed and caressed my head. ¡°I really have missed having a child I could spend time with.¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    I said nothing, but it made me wonder about Bentley. He said he was never allowed to leave the house, so what did he do all day? What did Pilosa do all day?

    Pilosa patted me on the head then lifted up a lock of my hair to move it behind my ear. She examined my face for a moment.

    ¡°I know!¡± she suddenly brightened. ¡°Let¡¯s do something with this lovely, long hair of yours before you go to bed.¡±

    I was a little skeptical about what this something would be. I honestly wouldn¡¯t mind cutting it off, but I had never really had much luck getting ahold of the tools on my own. Pilosa rang for assistance, and soon the three women from the night before appeared with all sorts of odd implements and tools. Pilosa pointed some out as brushes and combs, tools she said I would be using on a regular basis from then on. Others were pins, ribbons, and an odd thing called a barrette. Since I was going to bed, the ladies decided to just brush my hair out then put it in braids. That way when I shook it out in the morning, I would have a wave in my hair.

    I wasn¡¯t so sure about this, but Pilosa seemed very confident in her handling of scissors. I just sat mutely and tried not to wince too much as the sharp shears got closer and closer to my face. She trimmed the hair over my forehead back, making a little fringe over my eyebrows she called ¡®bangs¡¯. They had so many ridiculous terms for hair. I couldn¡¯t really keep count.

    The brushing was quite nice, but I wasn¡¯t so sure about the tugging and pulling. I thought I had a tougher scalp from all the times the tribe¡¯s kids had pulled my hair while I was minding them, but the smaller piece Pilosa teased out of the mass had a way of making my skin prickle. She spoke soothingly every time I winced, so I tried to sit still to please her.

    When she finished, one of the ladies held up a mirror so I could see. Pilosa had divided my hair into four braids. Somehow these braids now made four loops behind my head, two arching over the top like ears, two more that swept below my neck, covering up my birthmark, or tattoo, I noticed.

    ¡°Lorus had no idea you could do that with hair!¡± I marveled.

    Pilosa laughed, delighted, ¡°I can do much more than a few simple braids.¡±

    She hugged me from behind. I wondered how much she would be doing that as she tucked a few wisps back in place.

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to have girl time more often,¡± her eyes lit up. ¡°Of course there are all sorts of things I¡¯ll have to teach you about being a lady. The hair, the dress, the proper way to handle a knife or sword, how to shoot a wrist bolt gun, where to stow your tonics or poisons.  I think you¡¯re a bit too young for makeup just yet.¡±

    She considered our faces in the mirror that one of the assistants were still holding up. Lightly, she drew her finger down my face, just next to the little triangle under my right eye.

    ¡°Although, we may be able to make exceptions,¡± suddenly she stood shaking her head, one hand on her cheek. ¡°No, no that¡¯s no good! The bold do not hide their uniqueness. Rather we should make it an enhancement!¡±

    She smacked her fist into her other palm for emphasis, making me jump just a bit.

    ¡°That¡¯s it! By the end of the party, everyone will want charcoal eyeliner and eyeshadow! No one has done a really dusky eye for some time now. It can¡¯t all just be about the clothing and accessories,¡± Pilosa nodded to herself, seeming pleased. ¡°All right dear, Mumsy needs some time to think to herself. Will you be alright getting ready for bed with Winnia, Solta, and Dajshi?¡±

    I nodded to the affirmative and tried to smile confidently. Either way, Pilosa swept from the room in a swirl of golden skirts and enthusiasm. Self-consciously I touched my eyes. It was true. No matter where I went, they would always make me stand out. I pondered. If tattoos could be added, could they be taken away? Of all people, it was probably Bentley that knew the answer, but he probably wouldn¡¯t be talking to me any time soon.

    ¡°Begging your pardon, miss,¡± one of the ladies, Solta, spoke up, ¡°I don¡¯t know if they bother you, but we all think your eye marks are rather lovely. They really make your eyes stand out. The three of us were actually considering using charcoal pencils to try something similar with stars or crescent moons. Would that bother you?¡±

    I looked at her blankly, making poor Solta redden a little around the ears. I had never thought of my shame marks as anything but that-shameful for not running faster and escaping sooner. Here Castelians actually saw them as a fashion statement. I tried to put on a smile.

    ¡°If you really think it looks nice, Lorus not mind. Let me know how it turns out?¡±

    That answer seemed to make them all very happy and excited that somehow they might be ahead of fashion, another concept I was still struggling with. Lost in my own thoughts, I didn¡¯t put up any fight as they made a bath for me, carefully pinning my hair a little higher so it wouldn¡¯t get wet. The tub was enormous. I could have paddled about in it like a small pool if I wanted to. I stayed in the warm water until it became cool, and Winnia called out to me to see if I was still all right. Reluctantly, I pulled myself out and wrapped up in a lovely, soft robe they had left for me.

    After that it was into the long night gown and, after a glass of warm milk, into bed. Then the lights were turned out, and I was alone again. I sat for a few minutes just staring into the darkness, trying to process everything I had learned that day: the birthmark, the missing child, the need for a Warden heir, though they had at least six spares, the clothes, the manners, the lessons, the learning. I sighed and pulled the covers around me. The room was still too big. Everything was still too big.

    Or maybe I was just too little. Part of me knew I shouldn¡¯t do it, but I couldn¡¯t be comfortable until I was back under the bed nestled in my little corner. I found the scratchy blue hospital blanket and rolled it into a pillow under my head. My thoughts fuzzed and drifted, and soon I found myself doing something I had never done before. I dreamed.

    I was running away.

    I was on the plains. It might have been evening, but the sky was gray, covered by snow clouds. The flakes themselves were falling softly but thick. I could see my breath before me and knew I should be cold, but I felt nothing. That frightened me, so I ran faster, but the hills just stretched further, up and down and up and down.

    Finally, I came to something like a swamp. There were tall, brittle reeds that would snap and cut my legs as I tried to wade through them. Still I felt nothing. Except I was shaking now. Behind me I could hear voices. I couldn¡¯t tell what they were saying, but the pitches were beginning to rise in volume.

    I ran faster, but I kept breaking through the ice on top of the marsh. The freezing mud sucked on my ankles and hands. The shaking was even harder. It started in my spine, rattling through my muscles and bones, like I was one of the swamp reeds being shaken apart in an angry fist.

    Suddenly, something brown fluttered in between the branches. A hazel little bird, maybe a wren or a finch, perched on a reed just arm¡¯s length away. As I looked at it, it ruffled its feathers.

    It looked so fluffy, so warm. I felt if I could just reach out and touch it, the shaking would stop. I reached my hand to try to get near it. Then it burst into bright, red flame.

 Chapter 15: Edumacating with Tabby Porter

    Chapter 15

    This time when Brissi shrieked, they at least checked under bed first. Dajshi sighed and pulled on the blankets, slowly dragging them and my entwined body out. I was fine with just lying there on the floor until she mentioned my first lesson of the day was already here and would I want them to come up to my room. If it was Shrike, I could only imagine how she would react to me being late again, so springing up, I threw on some pants, shirt and jacket, much to Winnia and Brissi¡¯s dismay, no corset or waister, then ran down the stairs.

    I headed to the Conservatory where Shrike had wanted to have lessons the other day, but she wasn¡¯t there. Just to be sure I checked in the tops of the trees as well as low hanging foliage. I was surprised how many plants I recognized after getting a closer look. The little signs staked or planted next to each called them by different names than what I knew them by, such as Redcurrant- Ribes rubrum the sign said. To me they would always be birdberries, and I greedily stuffed my face with them. Waking up late meant I¡¯d had to skip breakfast again. It might be worth it waking up on time to get three full meals a day.

    On another row I found a Chinquapin tree, or what the sign called a Chestnut- Castanea dentate. It wasn¡¯t the biggest of its kind I had seen, but it was still rather impressive to see a tree I knew grew taller than the houses of New Castle here inside the family Conservatory. The lowest branches were still over a man tall, but the bark was old and rough enough that I thought I could climb it. I wondered what they would do when the branches finally reached the ceiling. Would they open the roof or just cut the tree down?

    I could see the delicious little potato nuts in their spikey coats peeking out between the leaves. I looked around. Still no sign of Shrike nor anyone else for that matter. Without another hesitation I pulled myself up the tree. My enthusiasm soon dwindled though. Though a few had begun to split, most of the chestnuts were still firmly entrenched in their spiny little pods. Frustrated, I carefully picked one, juggling the pin cushion before letting it fall to the ground. No good. I would have to get a knife or a rock to wrench it open.

    As I shifted to begin climbing down, I felt eyes on me. I checked the ground and the entrance. There was a rapping sound on the glass wall. When I looked up I nearly fell out of the tree.  There was a woman hovering in the air nearly as high as I was on the other side of the glass. She gave me a rosy-cheeked smile and waved. Stunned, I hesitantly waved back. She flashed a huge smile of white teeth then gestured to something. I looked around then I realized she was pointing to the chestnuts. I gingerly held one up, trying to show her how spiny they were, but she just gave a thumbs up and gestured, sticking a bunch of them in my pockets. I imagined how painful it would feel if I lost my grip on the way down the tree and fell on a pocket full of spiny chestnuts. I shook my head, but she just gestured again then pointed down to her feet.  I looked down to realize she was not hovering in the air; she was standing on the back of a great gray elk who was also peering in the window while calmly chewing a mouth full of verbena from the outside garden bed.

    She gestured again, and I was sold. Eagerly, I stuffed my pockets with as many of the close-lipped spike balls as I could handle then half-climbed, half- slid down the tree taking care to make sure my feet hit the ground and stayed steady. After giving myself a cursory dust off, I found a door that led to the outside and trotted out into the yard. When I got there I wasn¡¯t sure what to think. She was certainly like no other Castelian I¡¯d met yet.

    ¡°Mornin¡¯, sprite! I¡¯m Tabby Porter, here to get you edumacated and what not. How about them chestnuts?¡±

    Tabby Porter sat backwards on the elk, her legs swinging like a child¡¯s at a picnic as she held out her hand expectantly.  Her hair was pulled back in a single long, black braid which snaked down her back until it touched the elk¡¯s flank. She wore no other adornment on her head, just a dark blue kerchief around her neck. Where other women around the ward insisted on stockings or at least puffy pants they called bloomers, Tabby wore fitted breeches that buttoned at her knee, blue and purple striped socks and ankle boots. This all went marvelously with the long brown leather duster she wore that didn¡¯t do much to cover the holster and carbine; although currently, both the side arm and boltgun I assumed went in the sling on her back were absent.

    I walked up and wordlessly handed her the chestnuts. Not even flinching at the spiny cretins, she deftly pulled out a pocket knife and began peeling away the protective shell before popping it into her mouth and munching happily. She continued peeling and munching without offering any to me.

    ¡°Hey! Lorus wants some too!¡± I complained.

    She grinned and tossed me the next one she cracked.

    ¡°I was wondering if there¡¯d be a service fee,¡± she said, her mouth still full of chestnuts. ¡°Well, kiddo, you brought me breakfast, so what do you want to learn about today?¡±

    ¡°Euhhh, if you¡¯re the teacher, aren¡¯t you supposed to decide what the lesson is?¡±

    Tabby shrugged and cracked another nut.

    ¡°Sounds like Shrike and Fox have already been here. Honestly, I¡¯m not really sure why they asked me to stop by. I¡¯m a Rover, not a scholar. I don¡¯t even live in New Castle anymore. Most of the time I¡¯m on the road or in the Shoals helping with their livestock.¡±

    I thought about it then I pointed to her elk.

    ¡°How about that?¡±

    She pointed to its butt, ¡°What about it?¡±

    ¡°Can you teach me about elks?¡±

    Tabby brightened and held out her hand, ¡°Sure thing! Now that¡¯s something I know a bit about! Grab hold!¡±

    I should have known better, but I reached out my hand and with a yank she pulled me over the elk¡¯s hind quarters and on to its back with her. Somehow she managed to flip around so she was facing forward. With a clicking noise to the elk, it lurched and we were off.

    I had seen much from my trip across the rooftops. Being up there gave me a sense of freedom being above it all. Down in the streets of New Castle was a different story. As we flew up one street and plunged down another, I found my hands growing sweaty with the worry we¡¯d trample someone.  Even at the pace we were moving though, it seemed everyone knew their place- a beat in time to a dance I hadn¡¯t yet learned.

    ¡°As long as you stay in the middle of the street, whether it¡¯s driving an elk or pulling a rickshaw, everyone else moves around you,¡± Tabby explained. ¡°It¡¯s like being surrounded by a swarm of bats. They all know what they¡¯re doing. You¡¯re better off keeping your course, not getting jumpy, and just trusting them to dodge around you.¡±

    Indeed on either side of us foot traffic flowed, and except for the occasional well-timed dart across the street, cog to Warden moved around us as our elk swam down the road.

    ¡°This is Watson, by the way,¡± Tabby pointed to our elk. ¡°I thought about bringing Sherlock, but he can be a bit high strung, and I was hopin¡¯ I could talk you into a little exploring. Have you seen the city center yet?¡±

    I started to say yes, but that might incriminate me so I said, ¡°Not up close.¡±

    Tabby nodded and we veered off into a narrow alleyway. While the roads and avenues were broad, obviously made for vehicle traffic, the space between buildings was barely wide enough for a man to pass. Tabby grunted as Watson passed a little too close to a wall, scraping her toe against it. She patted him on the shoulder anyway and clucked to straighten him out.

    ¡°Sherlock¡¯s a little better at these ways than Watson. Ole Watty¡¯s a bit fluffy, aren¡¯t you boy? Like your oats a bit much,¡± she tapped my knee. ¡°If you¡¯re worried we¡¯re getting a bit close to the walls, feel free to throw your legs up over mine like a possum. I¡¯m wearing riding leathers so scrapes don¡¯t bother me. Glad you wore pants though!¡±

    I nodded but kept my legs to myself. Although, it occurred to me how useful riding leathers would be, especially for other activities like climbing trees or falling out of them. Then we came to a dead end, or so I thought. The alley ended in a low connecting wall that boxes and garbage waiting for collection had been stacked against.

    ¡°Right, hold your seat and make sure your grip¡¯s good. Here we go!¡±

    With a cluck Watson gave a little hop then actually leaped onto one of the wooden boxes. I stifled a shriek as I felt his back end drop, but Tabby clapped one hand over mine now frantically clinging to her waist. She gave a chuckle then a sound like, ¡°Hiyup!¡± and Watson sprang straight in the air, touched off the top of the wall, then leaped over the other side into another ally way.

    ¡°Bet you never thought about going through the city by going over it!¡± Tabby laughed.

    ¡°Well, not just that way,¡± I managed catching my breath and disentangling my legs, which had somehow also wrapped themselves around Tabby¡¯s middle in our jump over the wall.

    ¡°Yup, but the fastest path between two points is a straight run, or something like that. It was one of Fox¡¯s observations.¡± Tabby nodded and pointed towards Watson¡¯s feet. ¡°Not every elk can do it, but Fox made my boys some fancy little shoes. Hated them at first they did, but now, except straight up a wall, they can go just about anywhere,¡± she paused to calculate. ¡°Depending on how tall the wall is, I won¡¯t even rule that out. Hey, here we are!¡±

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    I wanted to get a better look at Watson¡¯s feet, but about then we burst out of the narrow alley right into the thick of sunlight and traffic. Another elk pulling a hansom bellowed at Watson who flickered his ears and bellowed back as he picked up a trot and joined the flow of other carriages, hansoms, pedicabs, and rickshaws. The noise was already monstrous, and it was so early in the morning too. Besides the clamor of voices, all vehicles had funny little trumpets on them. It seemed their riders or drivers took no end of delight in squeezing the bulbs attached to these to make a high pitched honk as they careened past each other, jockeying for position on a loop that never ended. I felt bad for the rickshaw pullers running on their own two feet pulling customers through the bustle. At least the pedicab cyclists sat a little higher pulling their carts behind them, wheels flashing with little bits of tin for decoration. But neither of the human powered types of cabs seemed at all worried about the snorting and bellowing competition.

    ¡°I would think everyone would want to ride an elk. Why so many vehicles?¡± I asked. ¡°All they do is clutter things up.¡±

    Tabby nodded, waving to someone who called her name.

    ¡°Not everyone can afford an elk. They¡¯re a little scarce in their own rights. That¡¯s why really only Warden families or the very well-to-do scholars have them.¡±

    ¡°But you have two!¡± I pointed out then considered. ¡°Does that mean you are well-to-do?¡±

    Tabby chuckled, ¡°I¡¯d certainly call myself well-off, but not in the way most Castelians would think. Sherlock, Watson, and I are a special case.¡±

    Once we entered the circle around the central dome, it seemed like everyone knew Tabby and shouted her name. It was a little off putting, but she just grinned and waved back as cart after carriage pulled by and greeted her. Tabby would exchange a few words, they would stare curiously at me, and then they would pull off to be replaced by another.

    ¡°You could always introduce yourself,¡± Tabby suggested. ¡°I¡¯m sure Pilosa will fuss about you not being kitted out spectacularly, but she wouldn¡¯t mind you introducing yourself to a few of the Wardensans. After all, once you turn thirteen you can take driving lessons. Then you can join the grand parade.¡±

    A man in blue striped pants with a white apron and white hat waved at us from the side walk and held up an odd pastry shaped like a ring.

    ¡°Hey Tabby! Heads up!¡± he called then threw two of the pastries to us over the traffic. Tabby deftly snagged them out of the air and handed one, still very warm, to me.

    ¡°Thanks for the doughnuts, Bill! I owe you!¡±

    He grinned and gave her a thumbs up, ¡°Nah! Visit any time you like Miss Porter!¡±

    The Circus, the loop that ran all the way around the dome, was massive. I hadn¡¯t realized just how long the circuit really was from up on the roof tops. It also housed quite a few shops, some with the most interesting gadgets and gizmos in them. Tabby said they were pretty high end, but that more of the middling Alchemists and Thaumaturges or dabbling Wardensans visited them as a reason to see people and be seen. Apparently, the most expert in their field had secret sources and vendors that they frequented, some of those shops staying open predominantly because of one patron¡¯s contributions.

    I sighed, ¡°So that really is all Wardensans do. Just trot about throwing coins here and there and looking pretty. How wonderful.¡±

    Honestly, it didn¡¯t sound all that terrible, but I had decided I would much rather be riding elk-back with Tabby, than strutting about in too-tight clothes or pretending interest for something for which I really had none.

    ¡°You make it sound so bad!¡± Tabby chuckled, ¡°Eh, true most Wardensans seem to be a pretty useless bunch, but that doesn¡¯t mean you have to be.¡±

    I was a little stunned to hear her agreeing with my assessment so easily.

    ¡°I was told that if I become a Warden, I¡¯ll never get to leave the Ward again! Even as a Wardensan, I¡¯ll be corralled for the rest of my life, just in case they need a spare!¡± I complained.

    Tabby rolled her eyes, ¡°And here seeing you up that chestnut, I¡¯d thought you¡¯d figured a thing or two out for yourself. You¡¯re really that much of a GND?¡±

    ¡°A what? What do you mean?¡± I looked away just as another carriage drove by waving. I waved back. This seemed to utterly thrill the boy and girl in the cart who turned to begin excitedly talking to each other.

    ¡°Girl Next Door-GND, Goody-Two-Shoes-GTS, Daddy¡¯s girl, Pollyanna, Loli; pick your character. Besides coming to ride about the Circus for their Grand Parade, you suppose all these young, virile Wardensans just stay put in their own Wards like good little boys and girls?¡± Tabby asked.

    I looked around at the other travelers. Some matched each other¡¯s speed, and I realized they were actually carrying on conversations between carriages.

    ¡°¡­meet at the Pennywhistle later?...¡±

    ¡°¡­found a great new wax joint. They even play authentic dub¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­thought Alchy Torty¡¯s brew a smash better than that stuff Alchy Boron foisted on us¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­Trochi¡¯s having another little thing in Ward 3 tonight. You¡¯re going, right?...¡±

    I blinked, suddenly feeling like I had been listening in on a private conversation. But, if they didn¡¯t want anyone overhearing them, why do it in public?

    ¡°But Wardensans aren¡¯t supposed to go to other wards unless they have express written permission,¡± I frowned. ¡°How do they get past the Regulars at each gate?¡±

    ¡°Ah, you caught some of that, did you?¡± Tabby grinned and we veered off the Circus back down another broad road then into another narrow alley. ¡°What makes you think they use the gates?¡±

    My eyes widened. I tried not to look up at the skyways. And here I¡¯d thought it was my own sneaky discovery. Although, it was difficult to imagine some of the Wardensans with their slick shoes and belted on corsets flinging themselves across the rooftops.

    Tabby pulled up at a small shop with multicolored bottles dangling in the window. She swung down off Watson and gave me a hand doing the same. The shop was not nearly as bright or flashy as the shops on the Circus, and when Tabby opened the front door, a wave of strange odors flooded my nose and set me to sneezing.

    We walked in and Tabby waved to a bored looking middle-aged woman behind the counter.

    ¡°Hey Joy, what¡¯s good with you this week?¡±

    Joy shrugged and waved a hand lethargically, ¡°Same ole, same ole. Levonovich hasn¡¯t come by for his order yet. Della is late on her delivery. Haven¡¯t heard hide nor hair from Tommy what said he¡¯d bring me a whole crate of amaranth. Shrike stopped in though.¡±

    She glanced at me.

    ¡°Babysitting today?¡±

    Tabby shrugged, ¡°Edumacating. Mind if we use the hatch? I¡¯ll look into Della¡¯s delivery, if you like.¡±

    Joy returned the shrug and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder.

    ¡°Sure thing.¡±

    Tabby nodded at me, and I followed her around the counter into the back store room. It was a veritable maze of stacked goods. We wove around barrels, boxes, and crates until we came to a curtain partitioning the wall. Tabby pulled this aside, slid the wooden screen to one side and stepped through. On the other side was more storage, but the boxes were stacked in tidy towers and practical pyramids. Tabby read a few of the names on the boxes then grabbed two and pushed them back through the curtain shaking her head.

    ¡°Della should be better about that. ¡®S a good way to start a squabble,¡± Tabby stood up and dusted her hands on her pants. ¡°Well that¡¯s settled. Come on, Loris.¡±

    Perplexed, I followed her deeper into the store room. How far did this go? We reached another door then through that strolled out into another shop. This one was much brighter with every imaginable variety of soap piled on tables, wrapped in paper, or available to carve off a large block as big as my head.

    Tabby waved at another middle aged woman standing behind the counter who brightened and cheerfully waved back.

    ¡°What¡¯s good this week, Sorrow?¡±

    ¡°Ooo everything! My shipment of lavender came early, and Stan was such a sweetheart he threw in an extra bushel, so I can sell the rest on special around the holidays. Everyone loves that scent! And Della swung by for something, and we had a lovely talk about her mum and dad, and she says her brother¡¯s thinking to come up to the City for the next field day, and that he and my little Everly should meet because they have so much in common! Really, it¡¯s been such a splendid week. Oh, and Shrike came by earlier. Were you looking for her?¡±

    Tabby waited patiently for the woman to finish then shook her head, ¡°I suppose she¡¯s heading for tea. That¡¯s all right, ¡®Row, I¡¯ll catch her at the White Tree.¡±

    ¡°Oh, ah, and you¡¯re taking her there?¡± Sorrow whispered behind her hand as thought I couldn¡¯t hear.

    Tabby nodded, ¡°Part of her Edumacating. Figure the best way to help her learn the ins and outs of New Castle is to show her. Let her draw her own conclusions.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see, that does make sense. Salt with the sweet, you might say,¡± Sorrow beamed then turned to me. ¡°Well, good luck then dear! Would you like some soap to take with you?¡±

    I shook my head, but she pressed a bar smelling of lavender into my hand and smiled. Tabby wished her a good morning then headed for the front door. Outside, we were back into another street and once again into the bustle of traffic, this time on foot. Tabby hooked her arm through mine and pulled me along at a brisk pace. Now that I was on foot level, I realized the road actually had two heights. The middle of the road was a good step down, while most of the foot traffic stayed on the narrower but higher walkways to the outside. As long as I didn¡¯t fall off the sidewalks or no elk jumped out of the lane, traffic did indeed move along briskly and smoothly.

    After a few more streets and just as I was thinking to complain about my feet hurting, we pulled up at yet another little shop front. This one had a huge bay window in the front. Inside, I could see a couple of individuals in long, black robes with red or blue trim sipping an amber liquid and gesturing adamantly to each other. Over the heavy oak door hung a wooden sign painted a deep ochre with a white tree bearing one golden apple in the middle of it. Without hesitation Tabby stepped in and gestured for me to follow.

    ¡°Stay close, and as a rule, don¡¯t say anything until somebody says something to you. Oh, and don¡¯t make eye contact, and if you do, don¡¯t stare, but don¡¯t look scared.¡±

    I swallowed and blinked my eyes trying to adjust to the dim lighting inside as I followed after.

    I hadn¡¯t made it two steps in before a large meaty hand attached itself to my shoulder and spun me around.

    ¡°Just a second, twerp!¡± A large man just as broad and sturdy as the front door, a pipe puffing furiously like a chimney clenched in the corner of his mouth, pointed to another sign just inside the door. ¡°No brats! I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯re not 16 yet, so scram!¡±

 Chapter 16: At the White Tree

    Chapter 16

    I squeaked and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

    ¡°Lorus is not a twerp! Lorus is here with Tabby Porter! ¡°

    The man just scowled and began steering me towards the door.

    ¡°Oy! Here now Zoe, young Loris Forsythe there is with me!¡± Tabby came trotting back.

    ¡°Forsythe, eh? You¡¯re bringing kids in here and a Wardensan to boot?¡± Zoe grumbled. ¡°What have I told you about bringing your work with you, Tabby? Is she at least potty trained?¡±

    I looked up indignantly, but Tabby waved her hand and gave me a look.

    ¡°Oh come on, Zoe, everyone knows this is a mission bar. If you don¡¯t want people bringing their jobs here, then you ought to take down your work board. I¡¯m just showing her the important parts of New Castle. The White Tree is a very important establishment, Zoe.¡±

    Zoe huffed and rubbed his grizzled chin. The pipe swung from one side of his mouth to the other, then back again. Before he looked back down at me and scowled, his grip on my shoulder tightened painfully.

    ¡°All right, just this once, but you better not tell any of your dithering Wardensan pals about this. All I need are a bunch of dandies sneaking in, thinking they¡¯re slumming it and disturbing my customers. As long as you¡¯re here, you¡¯ll conduct yourself like an adult, you here?¡±

    I scowled back but nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯re too young for the brew we carry, and we don¡¯t carry milk ¡®cept for tea. So you can have that or a glass of cider. That¡¯s it. No crying, no whining, no snitching, and if you pick a fight, you fight it yourself,¡± he continued. ¡°Got it?¡±

    I nodded again. He looked at Tabby.

    ¡°What¡¯s a matter with her? She a mute or something?¡±

    ¡°Lorus can talk!¡± I protested indignantly. ¡°Tabby just said I had to mind my manners.¡±

    That, at last, made Zoe crack a smile, and he let go of my shoulder. I resisted the urge to rub it as he stalked off.

    ¡°Well, at least she can follow orders. Just don¡¯t start nothin¡¯,¡± he said, disappearing down another hallway. ¡°Unless you can finish it.¡±

    Tabby rolled her eyes, ¡°Ward treasure indeed. Zoe Hammersmith- retired Rover and crankiest cuss this side of Ward 3.¡±

    I blinked and looked up at her, ¡°We¡¯re in Ward 3? How did-¡°

    Tabby hushed me with a smile and put a finger over her lips and winked.

    ¡°Come on Loris, back this way. I think the crew is all here.¡±

    I followed Tabby through the maze of nooks and partitions. The White Tree was a fantastic place to hide in. Even though the common area was one large room with the ceiling raised in the middle to at least two stories, it had been divided into a series of alcoves and nooks with walls of carved wood. Many had windows or stained glass mounted in them, giving a sense of privacy. Even though most of the tables in these alcoves were already filled with patrons, chairs crowded around worn but sturdy wooden tables, it wasn¡¯t loud. Everyone kept their voices down.

    At the back of the room Tabby paused at another door, this one with a figure on elk back. The figure was clad head to toe in gleaming metal armor, carrying a long swallow-tailed banner divided black and white down the middle. He or she rode a rearing white elk. I say ¡®he or she¡¯ because the helmet¡¯s visor obscured the rider¡¯s face, but curling brown hair flowed out the back. At the top of the door was written in tall, golden lettering: ¡°Knight¡¯s Retreat- Seasoned Adventurers Only.¡±

    ¡°Technically, you¡¯re not really allowed in here unless you¡¯ve had an epic Walkabout or ten under your belt,¡± Tabby explained then slapped me on the back. ¡°Then again, I¡¯d say it sounds like most of your life has been an epic Walkabout. So welcome to the club!¡±

    Inside was a lovely and comfortable room with plush, dark green carpet and a large bay window with cushioned seats in the back. A large, round table as big as my bed was pushed into the center of the room, and the side that didn¡¯t line up with the window seats had leather arm chairs and stools pulled up to it instead. In the middle of the table was painted a blue globe with green and tan splotches on it and little gold lines and lettering. I wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was supposed to be a picture of.

    ¡°You¡¯re late, Miss Porter!¡±

    The Shrike was perched in the window seat, legs folded under her, cup of tea balanced on one knee, book in one hand; the other arm was extended to lie on the table with her coat sleeve pulled up. Averly Fox sat at the table with his back to us, his oculars on, scrutinizing it. Upon spotting me lurking behind Tabby, Shrike gave a low cough causing Fox to look up startled.

    ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought your work with you again, Porter,¡± Shrike shook her head and pulled up her sleeve, slipping back on a lace glove.

    Tabby grinned and walked over to a window in the wall. She slid it open and hollered through, ¡°Oy, Aethel! A pint and a cider for us, will you?¡±

    There was an affirmative shout from the other side, and Tabby took a seat at the table gesturing for me to do the same.

    ¡°Conversation was interesting, and I figured she could learn just as much at one of our pow-wows than me lecturing her on it.¡±

    The Shrike sipped her tea, setting it down again so gently I didn¡¯t even hear the dish clink.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s much better. Thank you, Fox,¡± she continued to stare at me over her tea. ¡°So, Miss Loris, you prefer Miss Porter¡¯s company over mine or Fox I see.¡±

    I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and the leather made an odd noise.

    ¡°N-No, it¡¯s not that. It¡¯s just that Lorus-¡°

    Shrike gave another one of her soft coughs.

    ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡­¡± and I honestly couldn¡¯t come up with a reason. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. I do prefer Tabby Porter. She doesn¡¯t try to drown me!¡±

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Tabby and Fox laughed. Shrike sniffed and lifted her nose a little higher.

    ¡°At least you¡¯re honest. I can¡¯t abide lying just to please someone,¡± she stared into her tea cup. ¡°It¡¯s so sycophantic.¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what illness had to do with it, but I made a mental note to be very careful with my choice of words around Shrike. About then Tabby¡¯s order arrived, and I had my very first taste of cider. Beyond the initial tartness, I found I liked it very much and was a bit sorry when I polished it off so quickly. Tabby eyed my empty glass and kindly ordered me another. Shrike suggested I try sipping this one.

    ¡°Try savoring it. It makes the experience last longer, and you don¡¯t end up sounding like a yak sucking mud at a watering hole,¡± She demonstrated with her own drink.

    ¡°Speaking of lingering,¡± Tabby interjected, ¡°Where¡¯s Professor Qa¡¯la? The good Prof isn¡¯t usually late.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, seems he¡¯s been having a bit of a time with one of his interns,¡± Fox chuckled. ¡°Even though the gel says she wants to be an RCFer, she can¡¯t seem to keep track of time when she¡¯s in the stacks. He actually found her sound asleep in the Z¡¯s the other day.¡±

    Tabby laughed, and even Shrike managed a smile.

    Just then the door opened and a most peculiar man burst in, his arms overflowing with rolled up paper and a satchel slung across his back.

    ¡°Ah! Speak of the devil!¡± Fox nodded and kicked out a chair. ¡°What¡¯s good, Cuthbert? Lynwood sleeping on the job again?¡±

    Cuthbert Qa¡¯la was a very tall man, even taller than Fox, and he had dark, unruly hair, but a very neatly trimmed mustache that curled like two whiskers. It wasn¡¯t the fact that he was dressed in a top hat and tails with dove gray striped pants nor the fact that his undervest seemed incorrectly buttoned that caught my attention. It was that every inch of his tea-toned skin that I could see was covered with tattoos. Though some had faded with time, the myriad of colorful designs and pictures captivated me. The longer I stared, the more I realized they were stories, great battles, romances, discoveries, losses, and victories. I leaned forward unconsciously trying to get a better look at his hands.

    ¡°Not just intern troubles, I have one particular student who keeps dodging lessons,¡± Qa''la¡¯s baritone rumbled.

    I realized he was looking directly at me.

    ¡°The Loris Forsythe, I presume?¡± he held out a massive paw of a hand.

    I hesitated. Every time I gave my hand to someone, something bizarre or uncomfortable happened. Tabby nudged me.

    ¡°Come on now. It¡¯s bad luck to snub an RCFer. You don¡¯t want to insult your professor twice, do you?¡±

    Cautiously, I extended my hand.

    ¡°L-Lorus is sorry-¡°

    Again that cough from Shrike. I tucked my chin down and glared but tried again.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for skipping your lessons, Professor Cuthbert Qa''la.¡±

    He gently took my hand and held it for a moment then moved it up and down before releasing it.

    ¡°Just ¡®Cuthbert¡¯ is perfectly fine, Wardensan Loris. Although, I do wish you¡¯d come see me at the Atrium. It is not nearly as scary or icky as you might think.¡±

    I sighed and looked away, muttering, ¡°Everyone has something for Lorus to learn. Books, plants, gears, tea, elks.  I think my head might explode or leak.¡±

    Cuthbert¡¯s face crinkled in a charming smile that reached all the way to his eyes, ¡°Indeed, the acquisition of knowledge can be intimidating. That is why I have all these,¡± he pointed to his hands. ¡°They are my ¡®souvenirs¡¯, memories that, though they are not mine, help me remember a bigger, more important narrative.¡±

    I looked at the tattoos covering his hands, and he pulled up his sleeves to show me they extended further up his arms. It made me wonder if he had tattoos on every inch of his body, even ones no one else could see. My face felt suddenly warm.

    ¡°Souvenirs?¡± I found myself touching my eyes. ¡°Why would you want to remember other people¡¯s memories? What if they¡¯re bad memories?¡±

    Qa¡¯la took his place at the table.

    ¡°Because, Loris, sometimes there are more important things to preserve than the self. Sometimes bad memories are just as important to our learning as the good memories. That¡¯s why this crew was originally assembled,¡± he gestured to the rest of the table. ¡°Through our many Walkabouts and adventures together, we observed that though people enjoyed the good parts of New Castle and our tales of exploration, they were also dangerously close to forgetting the bad parts.¡±

    I sipped my cider and looked at him skeptically, so he continued.

    ¡°What would you say, Loris? Is life in New Castle good? Is it better than being outside?¡± he asked.

    I nodded emphatically, ¡°Of course! There¡¯s no one trying to kill or eat you inside New Castle.¡±

    Qa¡¯la nodded, ¡°Yes indeed, it might seem that way. But did you know there have been times in the not so far past that was not true? When Ward fought against Ward, and the stones themselves were stained red with the blood spilled both inside and out of the walls?¡±

    I shook my head. Tribe warfare? Something like that had happened in New Castle? I knew Plainsmen had many various clans and groups, and sometimes they clashed. The Ayfortees also periodically warred against their mortal enemies, the Aythertifyvs. How on earth could such soft and gentle people have turned against themselves? Everyone seemed to work so well together, like a harmony, or as Fox said, a well-oiled machine.

    Qa¡¯la was nodding, ¡°Indeed, that is why the watchful care of the Wardens and the Wardensans is so important. When a Ward¡¯s population grows too large, it ¡®buds¡¯ and sends off a delegation of individuals to start a new Shoal. They fund and support their Shoal for however long it takes for it to become established and become a new Ward. That¡¯s how all of the outer wards, eight through thirteen have been cultivated, like a mother caring for her child. But did you know not everyone likes that amount of care and attention? Not everyone has been happy in New Castle.¡±

    It was Fox this time who gave a warning cough and gave a purposeful stare to Qa¡¯la.

    I thought of Bentley, how arrogant he was, but how sad as well and how he chafed at being cooped up at the house all the time, even if it was for his own good. I could imagine some people getting a similar feeling from being in the city all their life. I pondered briefly my own fate. If I really was a Wardensan, I would stay in this comfortable nest for the rest of my days, whether I liked it or not. Would I someday yearn for beyond the walls again? Raikan¡¯s face suddenly came to mind. Wistfully, I wondered for a moment what she and Nurse Jane were up to.

    Qa¡¯la began unrolling some of the papers he had brought with him and used small pins to keep them in place on the table top.

    ¡°It¡¯s important to keep the dark times of New Castle at least in the back of our minds as well as the bright times. It helps us spot signs of decay or unrest, but at the end of the day, it is the Warden and their families¡¯ duties to address it. This means that anyone in those families must be just as acquainted with their past as any RCFer so that they can contribute to New Castle¡¯s future. Does that make sense, Loris?¡±

    I turned the glass of cider in my hands. I had managed to make the wonderful beverage last longer this time. I didn¡¯t understand everything Qa¡¯la was getting at, but I did get its not entirely subtle message that I needed to start showing up for lessons. However, it did bring one question to mind.

    ¡°Qa¡¯la, do you think Lorus has something to contribute to New Castle?¡±

    Shrike coughed again. Impatiently I turned on her.

    ¡°Drink more tea, Shrike! You cough much more than any sick fanatic! You peck more than the Iron Crane!¡± I snapped.

    Shrike stuck her nose in the air as Qa¡¯la, Tabby, and Fox burst out laughing.

    ¡°Oh ho! She¡¯s pegged your cousin, Shrike. But ¡®Iron Crane¡¯? Haven¡¯t heard that one in a while. Wonder where she picked that up?¡± Fox elbowed her, jostling Shrike¡¯s tea which received an angry hiss.

    Qa¡¯la wiped a tear out of his eye as he tried to smother his laughter.

    ¡°Oh dear, that temper could get you in some trouble, Loris. Best mind it,¡± he smiled though and placed a hand on my head. ¡°Do I think you have something to contribute to New Castle? Indeed I do. Probably much of what I think I also bring to New Castle. Perspective. I wasn¡¯t always a child of New Castle myself, and much of my understanding comes from the fact that, like you, I was not raised entirely within the safety or the confines of its sturdy walls.¡±

 Chapter 17: Glitch mobs and Glinting

    Chapter 17

    On the elk ride home I pondered Qa¡¯la¡¯s statement. He wasn¡¯t a Castelian either. He had grown up in the wilds, like I had. A sudden bump from Watson as he took a leap over a fence made me bite my bottom lip which I had been chewing on while thinking things over.

    I looked up but didn¡¯t immediately recognized where we were.

    ¡°Tabby, are we-¡°

    ¡°Whist,¡± she shushed me .¡°We¡¯re just taking a bit more scenic route.¡±

    The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Cautiously, I turned my head to look over my shoulder. Three people in grays and browns trickled over the wall we had just cleared then immediately disappeared into the shadows.

    ¡°Cough loudly and say ¡®excuse me¡¯ then face front,¡± Tabby instructed.

    My head swiveled back and forth, but I did what she said. As we passed another shop front window, Tabby gave an annoyed whistle between her teeth then abruptly made Watson cut to the right down a narrow alley. He still moved at a fluid trot, but I could feel him tensing even as Tabby¡¯s shoulders tightened.

    ¡°Caught someone¡¯s attention, we have,¡± Tabby muttered out of the corner of her mouth. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking for confirmation on Glitches for months now. If I knew all I had to do was trot you around town¡­Hold tight.¡±

    A sudden rubbish heap lurched to its feet, a face appearing out of it, mouth grinning, ¡°Penny for pi¡¯ance, love?¡±

    Watson huffed and shot forward, but I still felt fingers brush my ankles. I couldn¡¯t stop the gurgle coming out of my mouth and immediately hiked my legs up and over Tabby¡¯s lap as we zigged down another alley. The dread washed in as I saw shadows rise ahead then crowd into the tight alley. My arms tightened around Tabby, and instinctively I ducked my head into her back. Tabby just grunted and gave Watson a sharp kick.

    Without missing a beat Watson lengthened his stride. I thought we would bowl right into the Glitches, but instead Watty leapt into the air, stretched out and actually flew right over their heads. Upon landing he lashed out and planted a sharp kick on one Glitch¡¯s chest before bolting down the next street.

    The way widened a bit, but the chase was not over. I couldn¡¯t tell who or what these people were. Men, women, beasts, or monsters, they dressed in anything and everything, but all of them wore a strange contraption across their face. It reminded me of Shrike¡¯s weird mask. Thinking of it suddenly made me want one of my own. I tried to express my concern to Tabby.

    ¡°Miss Porter, should we-¡°

    ¡°Not yet, Loris, we¡¯re not out of the weeds yet. Keep your head down and shirt ready.¡± And with that she was off. It was like running through a mushroom patch. Every Glitch within sight suddenly reached into their frocks and pulled some cord. The alley erupted into a noxious, yellow cloud.

    ¡°Shirt!¡± Tabby screeched, pulling her neckerchief up over her face. ¡°Oh, I shoulda known the devils would have something for me.¡± Her laugh grated. The warmth was gone.

    Tabby¡¯s head swiveled to check on me. I gagged and pulled my shirt up higher. Something was getting to me. I swear Tabby¡¯s pupils had dilated to black pools that nearly filled her eyes. What was left of the iris had turned red and burned like the end of an ember stick. My eyes watered as I strained to see where we were running. I had to find a way out. My lungs were burning. Watson bellowed and hacked. I could only imagine how he felt running through it.

    ¡°Up!¡± I remembered the squirrel-way over head. Surely, there had to be some way to reach them from here. Could elk¡¯s climb ladders? How about all of these metal staircases hanging below the windows?

    ¡°Elks can¡¯t run up walls,¡± Tabby panted.

    ¡°Yours can!¡± I was almost certain of it. ¡°You¡¯re Tabby Porter! If anyone can do it, you and Watson can!¡±

    She didn¡¯t reply. So I just hung on and kept my face buried in her jacket. The smoke was starting to clear, but we were heading into a dead end. Despite what I¡¯d said, there was no way out. The Glitch mob was going to get us.

    ¡°Tabby-¡°

    ¡°Hang on like it was your last breath, Loris,¡± I barely heard Tabby¡¯s low growl. ¡°Here we go!¡±

    Tabby gave a loud war cry and spurred Watson one more time. He did not wait but kicked his heels and gave an extra burst, roaring back and springing at the wall before us. As wide as my eyes were, when I scrunched them closed, the world lit up in my head. In a flash three red trails ran up the wall.

    The first, we nearly made it to the top, but the combined weight of Tabby and I pulled Watson over, and the three of us plummeted back down like stones.

    The second, just as we reached the top, Watson faltered. As he fell Tabby wrapped her arm around my waist and lunged at the wall. She grabbed the roof and turned her head away as Watson cried and fell backwards into the Glitches with a sickening crunch.

    The third, we reached the roof just as Watson¡¯s back legs fell out from under him. Tabby let go and fell sideways, smiling kindly as she pushed Watson to scramble over the ledge of the roof. I watched her face all the way before she crunched into the middle of the mob.

    Despair filled me. It was like time slowed. We were only half way up the wall. The threads were getting ready to divide. I had to get away.

    ¡°Throw me!¡± I screamed.

    But Tabby was gripping Watson¡¯s fur, her hands deep in his ruff, like they were melting together. We were so close it wrenched the breath from me, but then I felt gravity go out from under us. My heart choked into my throat. All Tabby¡¯s choices would lead to disaster- so I made the choice myself. I let go.

    Then something I hadn¡¯t seen happened. Even as I fell backwards, Watson and Tabby sprang off the wall, arcing backwards over the heads of the Glitches. A laden elk could not run up a three story wall, but apparently it could do a backflip. What?!?!

    I only realized a heartbeat later that Tabby had grabbed my legs and was riding reigns-free down the alleyway. I bumped along, stretched out over Watson¡¯s rump as we took another jump, curved over some trash cans, and then blazed a trail into wider roads. After a few more confusing bumps and walls, I bounced upright. The return home was full gallop and in silence.

    We reached the Forsythe house only to find none other than black-haired girl, Chelsey Lynwood waiting on the stoop, odd look on her face, fist raised in mid-air as though about to knock. When she spotted us sliding off Watson, she changed her mind and came striding across the lawn. As she came closer, I realized she had a bundle tucked under her arm, my socks and shoes that I¡¯d discarded and left on the roof tops the other morning.

    ¡°I say, Loris! A word with you a moment,¡± Lynwood marched up and held out my discarded annoyances. ¡°Are these yours? I found them in a most peculiar spot. On the rooftops over Dandelion street. Now how do you suppose they got there?¡±

    I looked around uncomfortably and shrugged.

    Lynwood huffed, ¡°You mean to tell me you have no idea? None at all? I say, that¡¯s rather peculiar, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°Ay indeed,¡± Tabby butt in. ¡°Almost as peculiar as an intern who can¡¯t meet her Professor on time or who slacks off in the stacks and takes naps instead of studies.¡±

    Much of the color left Lynwood¡¯s face and Tabby nodded.

    ¡°Just saw Cuthbert a little while ago. I¡¯m fairly sure he was heading back to the Atrium, probably to check up on his intern to make sure she hasn¡¯t scarpered off to nosey someone else¡¯s business.¡±

    Lynwood¡¯s mouth worked silently a few times. She took a step forward then a step back before pushing the shoes into my arms. In a soundless shriek she bolted for the gate where a bicycle leaned against the wall like a drunk.

    ¡°Shifudoo! How long ago did he leave the inn?¡± she wailed, clambering on to the bike.

    ¡°About twenty minutes! Ride fast and head in the side and you may yet beat him!¡±

    Lynwood waved thanks and took off as Tabby chuckled to herself.

    ¡°Although,¡± she mused, ¡°Cuthbert normally uses the side entrance when he¡¯s slipping back from a long lunch so as to avoid nosey interns.¡± She winked at me, ¡°It¡¯s funny watching guilty people trip over each other.¡±

    That seemed very shrewd. I would have to remember that. More importantly, as I rubbed my eyes, I would have to remember to get my own face mask, should any more Glitches appear. For that matter, I had no idea when my next lesson with Shrike was. A light hand on my shoulder stopped me before I stumbled into the house.

    Tabby wasn¡¯t looking entirely at me but more off towards the city. Her eyes seemed to have gone back to normal; although, there were deep circles under them I hadn¡¯t noticed before.

    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll be wanting to tell your family about today¡¯s adventures.¡± There was a touch of weariness to her voice.

    I thought about it and frowned.

    ¡°Loris doesn¡¯t see as it¡¯s their business.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Tabby¡¯s eyes slid back towards me.

    ¡°Would you mind if I told Qa''la, Shrike, and Fox?¡±

    I shrugged, ¡°Tabby should tell Tabby¡¯s story to whomever Tabby wants. Loris has learned that just because you tell someone your story doesn¡¯t mean they want to listen or believe you.¡±

    ¡°But how do you know who wants to hear your story until you tell it?¡± Tabby took her hand off my shoulder and swung back up onto Watson. ¡°And Loris, sometimes there are more options than what you see in front of you.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    Tabby suddenly turned red and shook her head, ¡°Sorry squirt! I¡¯m tuckered out from today. You worked me good! Shrike will be pleased.¡± She nudged Watson.

    ¡°Is Tabby coming again tomorrow? More elk riding?¡± I hated the anxious note in my voice, but she smiled and shook her head.

    ¡°Not on the rotation. As a bit of advice though, don¡¯t keep Qa¡¯la waiting a second time. He may not seem like it, but Shrike learned her methods of tutelage through him. A cold bucket of water would be the least of your problems.¡± And with that she was off, leaving me more perplexed and ravenously hungry.

    When I went in, the attendants seemed genuinely both relieved and annoyed. Each greeted me cheerfully by sight even though I couldn¡¯t name half of them. Then they each reminded me that dinner was in an hour, and I would be expected for this evening¡¯s meal. I was a little skeptical of their smiles, but the underlying threat of ¡°disappointing the family¡± if I didn¡¯t make it to dinner was evident enough. I was getting better at navigating the labyrinth of hallways, but it still took me a few tries to find my door. Considering how convoluted every hall and passage was in this house, I pondered devoting a day just to exploring the interior. I¡¯d always thought the outdoors offered me the best possibilities for hiding or ducking away. The best place to avoid my family and obligations might actually be right under their noses.

    When I reached my room, I found two paper envelopes on my bed containing two letters. Looking around, I hastily shoved them in a top drawer of my desk then went to clean up.  It was too early in the day for a full bath, but they did have a rinse stall where I could pull water and suds myself off.

    Scraping absentmindedly at the scars on my feet, I pondered who the letters might be from. I knew of letters because they were very popular things to receive in Purgatory, especially if they came from someone inside New Castle. It was the next best thing to being there for some of them. Had someone from Purgatory written to me? Maybe Nurse Jane was checking up on me, or maybe Beka or Moron had changed their minds about who the better person was, Jack or me? I could only find out by having someone read them to me. Perhaps I could have one of my tutors read them for me. At the thought of bringing the envelopes to either Shrike or Fox though, I shook my head, violently spraying water about the stall. I shivered and dumped the rest of the bucket over my head. They were nice enough people, but I knew it would immediately lead to more questions about why I didn¡¯t read them myself. I pondered as I dried off. What other answers were available to me?

    Dinner was absolutely amazing! If I had known what I was missing before, I would have gotten my act together and made sure I was present long before. My cousins were particularly talkative, nattering on and on about what they¡¯d done that day, what they learned, who wore what at the Circus, who was going where with whom. Just when I was about to be annoyed, I realized as long as they talked, no one seemed to mind how much food I was stuffing in my face. Aside from the occasional comment from Pilosa, ¡°Elbows off the table, Loris; we are not animals¡±, though I never saw an animal eat from a table, it seemed attention rested solely on whomever was talking. Occasionally, conversation would steer towards me, but I learned I could be ¡°polite¡± and point to my mouth, indicating it had food in it. No one here multi-tasked, so they would wait patiently for a few minutes for me to chew and swallow my food or more often get tired of waiting and move back to one of the girls. I did feel a little bad; there was so much food on their plates that they¡¯d barely touched. But then Cori complained about having to eat fish again, and all sympathy was lost.

    At a certain point, however, even my cousins ran out of things to say, and despite my best efforts to keep it full, my plate was nearly cleaned. I had just picked it up with the intent to lick the rest of the gravy off when Pilosa turned to me.

    ¡°So what did you do today, Loris dear?¡±

    My tongue was still sticking out, but I realized this did not qualify as a full mouth. With a sigh I set my plate back on the table and stared hard at it, willing it to fill again. I couldn¡¯t out wait the family this time. There were no more excuses or rolls, so I replied, ¡°I learned to ride an elk, I guess.¡±

    I really hoped the one answer would be enough, but it turned out actually riding elk and not using them to pull a cart was something rather unique. So then I had to answer another barrage of questions, carefully avoiding mention of the Glitches, all while suffering through watching the wait staff remove the leftover food and dishes from the table. I did manage to snatch a roll from Blanche¡¯s plate she hadn¡¯t quite finished and tuck it in a pocket, but the rest of that wonderful meal walked off to the kitchens and bins. So wasteful!

    I felt a little bit better after dinner. Instead of heading to bed, as I was wont to do, I was hustled into the sitting room where I had originally met the Forsythes for something called ¡®family time¡¯. As far as I could understand, this meant the adults sat at one end of the room drinking beverages the children were not allowed to touch while the children were ushered to the other to sit quietly and try not to die of boredom. My cousins, apparently, all had their routine. The smallest played with little lined blocks they set end to end and called roads and drove their elk dolls along. Abbi and Blanche tucked themselves into a window and giggled behind their respective books. I drifted into the room, not really sure which group to join.

    ¡°¡­can¡¯t believe someone could make that sound so boring!¡± Abbi tittered behind her hand, glancing up as I passed before her and Blanche. I glanced at them sideways before making my way to the wall of books that took up one end of the room. For a few moments I stared dolefully at them before reaching for one that had a squiggle that looked like a snake on it. If I was lucky, there would be more illustrations and pictures inside.

    ¡°I have the first volume in my room if you want to borrow it.¡±

    I turned. Blanche was pointing towards the book in my hand. Not really sure what to do, I flipped through the pages. No pictures.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay. Lorus thinks it¡¯s not that exciting anyways.¡±

    From the sudden crestfallen look on Blanche¡¯s face and the red-eared indignation on Abbi¡¯s, I knew I had said something wrong.

    ¡°Not that exciting?!¡±Abbey exploded. ¡°The Fabulous Journeys of Mr. Fox Volume II include tales of the Cursed Expedition as well as Letters from Tien Hong. Those are classics among¡­¡±

    I waited as she trailed off. ¡°Among?¡±

    Abbi tossed her head and raised her book over her face.

    ¡°Among readers with a discerning taste in literature.¡±

    Little Cori snorted from the rug where she busied herself running over Danse and Eerie¡¯s legs with a stuffed elk, much to their delight.

    ¡°Or readers who fancy Mr. Fox.¡±

    ¡°Like you¡¯re one to talk, Cori,¡± Blanche butt in. ¡°All you ever read are the picture books or the comics Da gives you from the Scrips.¡±

    It sounded like a chipmunk fight as five squeaky sopranos all voiced their opinions on the merits of reading the weekly spread versus the penny books sold at the corner store. The grown-ups didn¡¯t even seem to take notice as they had their own, adamant discussion about qualities of brew going on. I decided the commotion would be a perfect time to slip unnoticed from the room.

    I should have learned my lesson from riding with Tabby. You can¡¯t predict what you can¡¯t see. You also can¡¯t dodge it. As I turned to take one more furtive glance at the room to make sure I wasn¡¯t being followed, something flew out of the corner of my vision. I had just enough time to register before it beaned me, hard, between the eyes.

    ¡°Ow!¡± I stumbled back, gripping my forehead. Apparently, mother¡¯s ears are fine tuned to one particular sound. In a flash Pilosa was hovering over me, peering with concern as she tried to pry my fingers away from my forehead.

    ¡°Loris dear, is everything alright? What happened?¡± she asked. ¡°Let Mumsy see.¡±

    Impulsively, I stepped back but just bumped into the door. Beyond Pilosa¡¯s shoulder I could see the cousins staring guiltily about. Abbi in particular had a horrified look, empty hands pressed to her face. She had a mean throwing arm for someone who did nothing but flounce around telling stories and reading books all day.

    I pointed at the cousins, ¡°Loris was talking with the cousins-¡° and suddenly it just felt like too much work ¡°-and not looking where Loris was going. Bang, right into the door.¡±

    I stuck out my tongue a little and knocked on my head, ¡°Sawy. Didn¡¯t mean to startle Mumsy.¡±

    Pilosa laughed and shook her head, the cousins joining in nervously.

    ¡°Oh dear, my clumsy little Loris. You must get that from your father, poor man.¡± She ruffled my hair a bit then reached down to pick up the fallen book at my feet. ¡°Here you are, luv. You head upstairs, and I¡¯ll be there in a minute, right after I trounce Cebis at this hand of Euchre.¡±

    I glanced back at the cousins. Abbi wasn¡¯t making eye contact. So I shrugged and left the room, relieved to have an easy out. Finding my room was not so easy. I took a couple of wrong turns, not that it wasn¡¯t educational. It just left me wondering what these hallways full of well-furnished but empty rooms were for. Who lived in them?

    As far as I could tell, Uncle Cebis and Aunt Silvia had one whole wing to themselves. Catalyn had an entire tower. Pilosa lived in the same wing as where they had Bentley squirreled away, and I had a room near the heart of the house, closest to the kitchens and the staff quarters. The significance of this was not lost on me, especially since Brissi the maid stood fidgeting outside my door once I finally located it.

    I eyed her. How rude would it be if I just pushed past her into my room? She was so lost in her own world muttering silent words to herself, I actually made it all the way to the door and pushed it open before her head shot up, eyes wide in recognition.

    ¡°Oh! Miss Loris! Do you have a moment, miss? I have a message,¡± she cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered, ¡°From Mr. Bentley!¡±

    I sighed, partially closing the door.

    ¡°It can wait, Brissi? Lorus is really tired tonight.¡±

    She hemmed and hawed a bit then another thought came to me, and I handed her the book.

    ¡°Look, first Brissi, give this book to Abbi. Tell her sorry Loris walked off with it. Very exciting book, Loris is sure. Then Loris will listen to Brissi¡¯s message.¡±

    Brissi stopped as soon as I handed her the book. She bobbed a short curtsey and turned on her heel. It seemed as long as you gave her a direct order, this maid was the picture of confidence. It made me wonder what about her message had her so worked up. Genuinely curious, I stepped into my room.

    There were another two letters on the table. Once again I tucked these into the top drawer. Tomorrow I was supposed to see Professor Qa¡¯la at the Atrium. Maybe there was a way I could surreptitiously ask him to glance over them. I should at least find out who was so frantically writing to me. My mind leapt to the Glitches, and suddenly the hairs on my neck prickled. What if it wasn¡¯t a coincidence? What if these letters were a warning? So far as I knew Gimlet didn¡¯t make a practice of writing letters, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t start.

    At that moment Pilosa swept into the room in a swirl of gold and black, a cascade of cloth thrown over one shoulder and a tray balancing two steaming mugs in the other hand.

    ¡°Loooooooris! Change out of your things. Mumsy has a surprise for you!¡±

    I had just enough time to slide the drawer shut and spin around before Pilosa was simultaneously shoving one of the mugs into my hand and pulling down my britches. Why was this woman so strange?!

    ¡°What?! What is this?¡± I sputtered after taking a sip of the mug.

    Pilosa winked, ¡°That¡¯s Turkish Coffee, darling. Drink up! We have an exciting night ahead.¡±

    I stared dolefully at her. Two more maids came into the room with brushes and combs in their hands.

    ¡°It¡¯s not bed time?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, dear!¡± Pilosa laughed. ¡°It¡¯s only eight in the evening! We¡¯re going out on the town!¡±

 Chapter 18: A Night at the Tilted Mill

    Chapter 18

    It was like my day started all over again. In a flurry of hands and skirts, I found myself re-dressed in fuzzy brown skirts and a close cut leather jacket with a bronze scarf. They scrubbed my neck, pinned my hair up, and stopped just short of powdering my face. Pilosa thought it would spoil my natural innocence, so instead they rubbed some rouge into my cheeks before lacing those obnoxious shoes back onto my feet.

    In a short breath-span when Pilosa vanished to summon our transportation, I suddenly found Crane at my side. She pushed a tightly wrapped bundle into my hands. It was a dangler, just like hers, only with far fewer accoutrements. This just had a whistle, mirror, and knife.

    ¡°I trust you have the discretion to know what these are for and when to use them. Mind yourself,¡± her eyes never left my face as she clipped one of the chains to my waistband and tucked the items into a pocket on my leather jacket.

    Then Pilosa was back, and we were out the door and loaded into a two person elk-hansom, much like what I¡¯d seen running around the circus. I looked about curiously for a driver, but Pilosa was the one who held the reins.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure riding elk around New Castle is a stunning adventure, darling,¡± she drawled, ¡°But if you¡¯re going to make a scene in New Castle, you learn to drive your own elk. Thane, hyup!¡±

    With a short bark, Pilosa snapped the reins and Thane leapt forward. We tore out of the front gate. Crane might have raised a hand in a baleful salute, but she was gone in a blink. It was only a moment before we were racing up the lamp-lit boulevard to who knew where. I gripped the seat with both hands, wishing it were the safe back of an elk instead of some rickety trap dragged behind it. Pilosa glanced over and laughed when she saw my wide eyes and bared teeth.

    ¡°I know! Isn¡¯t it fantastic, dear?!¡± Suddenly, she pushed the reins into my hands. ¡°Here! Show Mumsy what you learned today!¡±

    I yelped and tried to push the reins back as we veered from the road. A few unlucky cogs shouted as they flung themselves out of the way.

    ¡°Elks can¡¯t run up walls!¡± I shrieked, yanking back towards the road. Thane bellowed and corrected his run. Pilosa laughed the whole way down the road then finally took the reins back as we reached a wall gate.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so heavy handed, Loris. It hurts Thane¡¯s mouth,¡± She pulled Thane up and pulled out a small compact mirror, taking a second to check herself before applying more rouge to her lips. ¡°Let Mumsy do the talking here. Right? Good.¡±

    I sat quietly as Pilosa trotted Thane up to the gates, singing a hello to the guards posted. I thought she would make some excuse to sneak by, but no, she made a big deal about introducing me, her long-lost daughter to the guards, Aaron and Laurel, yet more names I would be expected to remember. She then had to catch up with them about their families and what had been happening in the lanes of Ward 1, 2, 3 and so many others. Apparently, not only do the Regulars possess the best military skills, they also keep the best gossip. After a few minutes of trying to pay attention to the conversation, my attention drifted.

    Across the street one of the lamps had been missed by the lamplighters. It stood dark, an oddity in New Castle¡¯s flawless illumination. I thought that was rather sloppy for such a simple job. It made the street just in front of it quite dark. The row houses still provided plenty of light, but still, should another lamp go out- just then another street light went out. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I half stood to get a better look. Just a few paces down from the extinguished light, I thought I saw a shabby form scuttle away. They were trying to stay in the shadows, but they made the mistake of glancing back over their shoulder just once to see if they had been observed. Something gleamed over the lower half of their face.

    ¡°Well, someone is getting antsy, so we had best go. Catch you lovelies later!¡± Pilosa trilled then snapped the reins. ¡°Wave bye-bye, Loris.¡±

    I raised my hand but more to point to the two streetlights that had been put out. The two regulars smiled and raised their hands back, completely missing my gesture. Were they not concerned about Glitches as well? It occurred to me that might be something only Tabby and her crew knew about. I lowered my hand and decided to bring it up next time I saw her. Something else occurred to me.

    ¡°Loris thought Wardensans had to have paperwork to move from ward to ward. Why did those sentries let Pilosa-Mumsy by?¡±

    Pilosa snorted, ¡°As if any ward could hold Pilosa Applewite.¡± She reached over and pinched my leg above the knee, making me jump.  She laughed, ¡°Elk bite! Oh my little Loris. Don¡¯t worry. Aaron and Laurel weren¡¯t being careless. They¡¯re some of the top Rams out there. I suppose they¡¯ll explain it to you eventually, but your Mumsy is not actually a Wardensan. Your dear papa was. And just to make it absolutely clear, your Uncle Cebis and Aunt Silvia are not Wardensans either.  Since my family is in Ward 3, I get open access, and you as my scion get to come with me.¡±

    I thought about the many back doors and sky-ways that crossed the city. It suddenly seemed very absurd to me that anyone stayed put in their ward at all. My thoughts didn¡¯t go much further than that as we turned onto the main thoroughfare through Ward 3. I had seen its shops and backstreets during the day. I was very glad to see it now at night.

    The lamps in Ward 1 were purely functional, and though stately in their bronze sentry along the street, they did little more than cast a pool of yellowish-green light just far enough to skip to the next lamp post light.

    In brilliant contrast, Ward 3 at night everything was art, and everything glowed. The lamp posts themselves resembled everything from trees to dancing figures barely clad, to long-necked birds dangling their lamps on a chain. Some clever craftsman had added colored glass to some of the globes, so along with clean white lights rimming the buildings, there were blues, reds, and greens flickering on the glistening street. As we trotted along, one of the tiny, white, building lights burst in a short shower of glass and fire. I squeaked in alarm, but Pilosa just snorted and waved as the building¡¯s resident shook their head and climbed up the side of the building to stomp out the flames and screw a new glass bulb in place.

    All along the streets music sang seemingly from every door and window. People conversed and strolled along, arm in arm, but the pace here moved to a slower beat. There wasn¡¯t as much order as Ward 1 either. People would just stop in the middle of the walk occasionally and twirl. At one point, a group had gathered in a circle around a trio of couples who twirled in a blur then suddenly all the women leapt into the air and flew above the crowds helped by a well-timed boost from their partners. I was so busy watching the performers that I didn¡¯t see our location at the end of the street until Pilosa nudged me.

    ¡°That, my dear Loris, is the Tilted Windmill, the heart of the Ward of Devoted Arts,¡± She squeezed my hand, and for a second I was afraid she¡¯d pass me the reins again. ¡°The crafters may have their universities and the Seconds their academies, but those devoted to the arts of joy in the school of life have the ¡®Milli Lights¡¯.¡±

    I had no idea what she meant, but if the Tilted Windmill was a place to learn about life, then it certainly was the most decorated and elaborate establishment I had seen yet. The building was as tall as any manor around, at least 3 stories tall. I was surprised I hadn¡¯t spotted it while on top of the roofs. Built like one of the towers along the outer wall, it was a mix of wood and stone construction that had been gilt and strung with gas lights from top to bottom. The oddest accoutrements that I could not figure out were four, giant, slow-turning paddles attached to the top floor just below the roof. The most alarming aspect, one which seemed to not bother anyone else bustling in or out its front door, was the fact that all three stories looked to be leaning to the right side. This meant the pivoting paddles swung low over the heads of the pedestrians in the street. I would recommend anyone passing under its arms on an elk to duck and remain cautious.

    Once we arrived, it didn¡¯t take Pilosa long to hand off Thane¡¯s reins to a young girl wearing a red sash. There seemed to be several children standing about for the express purpose of walking off with people¡¯s elks. The idea made me nervous, considering what Tabby had said about the worth of the fantastic beasts, but Pilosa just laughed and tipped the girl a bronze coin.

    Two well-dressed attendants in blacks and striped ties pulled open the doors for us as soon as we approached. Pilosa didn¡¯t bat an eye and swept in like the matriarch of a village. I followed watchfully in her footsteps. Inside was an absolute madhouse.

    I thought the walls on the inside might lean as well to match the exterior. They did, but they leaned the other way. My sense of balance reeled as I followed her into an enormous oak paneled hall full of tables, dancers, and a stage with a red curtain with gold fringe at the end. The ceiling went up all three stories with balconies of looker-ons for each. Any surface that could have light or color added to it, did. Suddenly, there was a shriek from across the hall. A man with a preposterous mustache,like a squirrel clinging to his upper lip, wearing a bright purple, striped suit with ridiculous tails leapt off the stage and ran across the hall, arms in the air the whole way.

    ¡°Pilosa Forsythe! You Tart!¡±

    I didn¡¯t know what kind of an attack this was, but I fumbled in my coat for the knife Crane had given me. Pilosa just rolled her eyes and threw open her arms.

    ¡°Passeri! You insufferable pompous ass! How are you, dahling?¡±

    I thought they would collide, but just short the purple Passeri wiggled his fingers above his head. Pilosa giggled, and the two engaged in the strangest hand shake I had ever seen. They twirled around for a few seconds, and then Passeri spun Pilosa like a dancer before dipping her backwards over his arm, one of her legs kicking up like a flag behind his shoulder. Upside down and grinning like an idiot, Pilosa remembered me. She extended an arm in my direction.

    ¡°Oh! Passeri dear. This is my daughter, Loris Forsythe.¡±

    Passeri¡¯s mustache twitched as he pulled Pilosa back on her feet then offered his hand to me. I stared at the outstretched hand until Pilosa coughed quietly. What was it about Castelians catching a cold in every social situation?

    ¡°Loris does not twirl,¡± I said, but by way of compromise put my hand in his.

    Passeri had a loud, booming laugh, but he did not twirl me.

    ¡°The Loris does not twirl? Oh but she may yet! A pleasure to meet you, my niece, I¡¯m your Uncle Passeri.¡±

    I looked back at Pilosa.

    ¡°Another uncle? How many does Loris have?¡±

    Pilosa shrugged and hooked her arm through Uncle Passeri¡¯s after he let go of my hand.

    ¡°We¡¯re not entirely sure. Pappy Applewite was a very prolific artist. Between bunnies and babies, you may be related to half of Ward 3.¡±

    My head swam. I had that many relatives?! No, that was only if I proved to actually be related to Pilosa and Bentley. I wasn¡¯t sure what other reason the Forsythes would have to claim me, but then I thought about the Roadies and their pride in large families. They were very cautious, however, about knowing who was whose parent. Too many family to family breedings produced weak stock, they said. That¡¯s why givernings were so important. New blood always held the potential for increase. Were the Castelians so confident in their families they didn¡¯t even keep track? Maybe that¡¯s what I really was, fresh blood.

    Pilosa took my silence as concern and pulled me close in a hug.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, dear! There is only one Loris, and you will always be the most special to me.¡±

    I scratched the back of my head, uncertain how to respond. Passeri nudged Pilosa.

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll need to convince her dear.¡±

    Pilosa threw her head back and laughed.

    ¡°Oh no, I couldn¡¯t, Passeri. It¡¯s been ages! And besides I¡¯m here to show Loris how to have a good time.¡±

    Passeri wiggled his eyebrows at her. I had to agree. It was obvious that whatever it was, Pilosa wanted to do it.

    ¡°Come now, dear,¡± Passeri tushed, ¡°it would be a crime for you to come all this way and not give the Scrips something to buzz about. And besides, I think young Loris would rather enjoy it. Don¡¯t you?¡±

    Pilosa wrinkled her nose and looked at me.

    ¡°He does make a good point, doesn¡¯t he?¡±

    I shrugged, and Pilosa took that as agreement. She giggled and grabbed my hand, dragging me through the tables to one up front, right next to the stage. I looked around, uncomfortably aware of all the other curious onlookers staring at us. Pilosa squeezed my hands, gave a wink, and then trotted on stage. I looked for Uncle Passeri. He was finishing a conversation with one of the red-sashed children from out front, who looked the direction of the stage with an astonished look, before darting out the front door. Passeri clapped his hands, and suddenly the lights everywhere but the stage went dark. A single beam shot from the second floor, flooding Pilosa, now perched on a velvet swing suspended from the ceiling by gold ropes, in a pool of golden light. In her gold and black dress, I had to admit, she looked absolutely stunning, like some exotic bird. When the first notes of a violin drifted out from behind the red curtain, the voice my mother sang with was absolutely magical.

    I¡¯m gonna do all the things for you

    A girl wants her mom to do

    Oh, baby

    I¡¯ll sacrifice for you

    I¡¯d even do wrong for you

    Oh, baby

    Pilosa winked at me from the stage as she kicked her heels up swinging a lazy arc from one end of the stage to the other. The table next to me went crazy, squealing and clapping their hands together so loudly I could barely hear the song any more.

    ¡°Oh my stars! I can¡¯t believe the Swing Siren came back tonight to sing!¡± A corseted, feather-hatted woman at the next table fanned herself furiously. ¡°Dee Anna is going to absolutely die!¡±

    Her gentleman companion gave a hearty ¡®here here¡¯ in agreement, then adjusted the lenses on his nose as Pilosa swung back to our side of the stage, bending  backwards off the swing  to tousle my hair.

    ¡°Yes, and I do love this arrangement,¡± the man said, leaning forward even further. ¡°Just wait until the bass drops!¡±

    I didn¡¯t understand exactly what he meant until Pilosa hit the chorus, and the red curtain behind her opened up to reveal the rest of the band that joined in with a bone-shaking horn and drum accompaniment.

    Every minute, every hour

    I¡¯m gonna shower you

    With love and affection

    Look out! It¡¯s coming in your direction

    And I¡¯m-I¡¯m gonna make you love me!

    Oh yes, I will

    Yes, I will

    I¡¯m gonna make you love me

    Oh yes, I will

    Yes, I will

    I was mesmerized. Every gesture, every glance, every word went straight to my heart. I¡¯m not even sure why I looked away. I guess I wanted to know if anyone else was seeing this. Did they realize she was singing for me? Just for me, a miserable little spit one day, but now-As I gazed around the room, I realized every other person there was staring with open admiration at my mother. Something warm fluttered in my chest. Then, at the edge of the crowd just next to a pillar, I saw a young woman with a long braid, gray as elk fur, lean over to her companion and say something.

    ¡°She¡¯s not that good.¡±

    The warm feeling left immediately. I stared. Her face was familiar. Something about her made me think of elk. More importantly, how dare she not love Pilosa!

    I stared harder, trying to catch her eye so I could try out that steely look of disapproval Crane had perfected.

    ¡°Oh come on Benni, she¡¯s sitting on a flipping bench! How hard can it be? It¡¯s not like buck breaking. You want a real challenge; I¡¯d love to see her look so regal and prissy on the back of a green buck.¡±

    Thinking little otherwise, I slipped out of my seat and slipped quietly around the edge of the room. Everyone was so focused on Pilosa, besides a few annoyed hisses when I blocked their view, no one minded me as I slipped up on elk girl.

    ¡°I dunno, Giada. I¡¯ve never heard the Supremes remixed to a double-step. Even if it was pre-rehearsed, you have to admit her vocal reverbs are stunning,¡± the shorter, curly haired-girl accompanying elk-girl Giada seemed to have some taste. When Giada tossed her hair in the air and whipped around for the staircase heading for the second floor, I suddenly remembered where I¡¯d seen her before. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, Benni. Pilosa and her brother can beat-box all day for all I care. The real joy-makers are the established families who have been long unacknowledged for their contributions to d¡¯esprit Glorianna, without whom the city might as well be naked.¡±

    The curly headed girl laughed, ¡°Might as well be naked? Oh ho, I wonder what dashing Wardensan I¡¯ve heard that from before. So that is the reason you dragged me out of the stables instead of Encabel? Was there someone in particular you were hoping to catch a glimpse of this evening?¡±

    I paused halfway up the stairs behind them. I thought I had recognized Giada from my carriage ride into the city. My one glimpse of her calming the elk buck hadn¡¯t been enough to tell me who she really was. Giada protested but stood at the railing of the second floor overlooking the stage.

    Pilosa and Passeri were finishing the song together, Pilosa literally flying circles around him. I felt a momentary pang of irritation that Pilosa had not seemed to notice I was missing. The song ended to thunderous applause. Pilosa blew kisses to the audience and sauntered off stage only to be immediately surrounded by dozens of admirers all wanting to speak with her.

    I looked back at Giada. It all seemed very silly now to be cross at her, but she had provoked me to leave my seat.  I watched her braid twitch back and forth as her head swung one way then another, looking for someone. Still, perhaps some small retribution was in order. My hand reached for it of its own accord. Then someone else¡¯s hand covered mine.

    ¡°Gently, small paws, I don¡¯t know if Miss Byron will appreciate you playing in her tangled locks.¡±

    Both Giada and I whirled around at the same time. A young man, with blue and gold paint around his eyes and dressed in a fantastic blue overcoat that had what looked like gold fiddleheads all over it, stepped back and gave a short bow. He smiled and tipped a silky brown hat at us. Giada sputtered and seemed at a loss for words. It took me a moment, but the raised hat and that wide smile put the pieces together for me.

    ¡°You¡¯re Trochi Jenkins, from Ward 7,¡± I stated.

    Trochi raised an eyebrow. It glittered.

    ¡°Indeed, I am Wardensan Trochi. Have we met before, small paws?¡±

    I pondered.

    ¡°I saw you from my carriage as I rode into the city. You were playing at hammers and balls with your family. You were wearing a white bird mask then, but I recognize you from your teeth. Your smile is distinct.¡±

    Both Benni and Trochi burst into laughter as Giada and I exchanged uncomfortable glances. I looked to Giada to reprimand them. She was older than I was after all. As a near matriarch, she should have issued a much sterner rebuke. Instead, Trochi wiped a glittering eye, pulled off his hat and peered into the bottom of it before daubing his face a few more times and replacing it on his head.

    ¡°Ladies, small paws, I apologize. You have most unexpectedly caught me, well, not expecting such charming company. I beseech you; will you join me and my Crew in our private box?¡±

    I hesitated. Pilosa hadn¡¯t noticed I was missing yet, but that didn¡¯t mean she wouldn¡¯t eventually. Considering the mornings I had chosen to sleep under the bed instead of in it, I wasn¡¯t sure what she would do if I wasn¡¯t still at the table she¡¯d placed me at when she did finally notice.

    ¡°Loris is supposed to be downstairs at the table, waiting for Mumsy. Loris-I- I¡¯m not sure-¡°

    ¡°Yes!¡± Suddenly, Giada was by my side, an unwelcome hand on my shoulder. ¡°We-it-I would love a chance to accompany you to-that is-we accept your invitation.¡±

    I looked up at her.

    ¡°We do?¡±

    I had not seen such a look since Shrike gassed me into submission the first morning I met her. Whatever turned it on, Giada had no problem imposing the full force of her position now that it was obvious she very much wanted to join Trochi in his quarters.

    ¡°Fine. But if everything goes stinky, it is Giada¡¯s responsibility to get Loris home again safe,¡± I grumbled.

    Giada nodded curtly.

    ¡°Of course. You have my full protection-¡° here she hesitated as though something occurred to her. ¡°You call yourself ¡®Loris¡¯? Why do you refer to yourself in the third person? Is this some new trope the RCFers have discovered? What did you say your family name was?¡±

    Trochi suddenly leapt in, waving his arms and shushing us.

    ¡°A game! A game! Don¡¯t spoil it, oh fierce Giada! Come come come! Into my box!¡± he winked at me. ¡°And don¡¯t spoil anything.¡±

    He ushered us down the hall to a very beaten looking wooden door that just had a single plate of brass on it. I squinted at the words. Again with the strange squiggles. Trochi knocked a jaunty little rhythm on the door before there was a click. The plate swung aside for a second and a pair of eyes rimmed in green looked out.

    Trochi tipped his hat, ¡°Get bent you sodding louse.¡±

    There was an affirmative grunt, ¡°Good to see ya, Troch. The Kicks are, well¡­ Kicking our-¡°

    ¡°Tsh tsh tsh,¡± Trochi gestured towards Giada, Benni, and myself. ¡°We have company. I¡¯m vouching of course.¡±

    Purple eyes rolled but then vanished again behind the brass plate before the door clicked open.

    ¡°Welcome back, Trochus Badochus. Ladies? Welcome to La Kahj.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure what I wasn¡¯t supposed to spoil, so upon entering the room I stood very uncomfortably just behind Giada looking about.

    Whereas the room at the White Tree Inn where Tabby and her Crew gathered had been relatively clean but comfortable with its wood table and padded benches, this room reminded me of our drawing room all over again. Every wall was covered with various trophies and trinkets. The chairs, though their fabrics looked quite busy and expensive, were also worn with numerous patches and stains. In contrast to the careworn rooms of furniture in the Forsythe house that stood with a quiet accord, this furniture, though bright and interesting to look at, seemed quite thrown together. In short, it was a mess.

    I found myself staring at a tall, brown chair with fuzzy lines all over it then back at Trochi. Somehow I could not resolve the two. Then I realized people just as odd-ended as the furniture were actually draped across them, cards in hand and several colorful bottles being passed between them. A pair paused at the back, feathered darts in their hands, several more darts lodged in the floral paper on the wall and in a particular painting of a staunch looking patriarch. Trochi sauntered into their midst, barely stepping across a pile engaged in arm wrestling while chugging pints of something, to collapse in a large, tawny, wing-back chair, very plain by contrast.

    ¡°Look here you rotters!¡± He grinned and purposely kicked over one of the bottles to much protest. ¡°I¡¯ve brought us some guests. Slick up!¡±

    A dozen and a half bored stares flitted over to us then after a moment, one of the girls lounging on a sofa pointed and announced in a loud voice.

    ¡°I say! You¡¯re Giada Byron of Fourth ward, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Giada nodded and moved forward briskly to offer an outstretched hand.

    ¡°I am. A pleasure to-¡°

    ¡°Point to Kick Mob!¡± sofa girl giggled and clapped her hands. She had spirals of hair that looked like great golden coils running down the side of her head.

    An older boy next to her rolled his eyes. ¡°What? The White Queen let you off your lead?¡°

    ¡°Point to Punch Mob,¡± Trochi announced quietly.

    ¡°Or maybe not? Sent you along with a hand? Getting a bit of fresh air? No, she¡¯s on the pull, boys! Look out!¡± another girl with red gem-like dots around her eyes shrieked.

    ¡°Point to Kick Mob,¡± the girl on the sofa said, smiling at Trochi. ¡°Two one.¡±

    Giada froze. I could see her neck muscles twitched.

    ¡°I beg your pardon? And you are?¡±

    I¡¯ll give her credit. From the ripple along her forearms and upper arms, I¡¯m pretty sure Giada was not up to begging anyone¡¯s pardon. I couldn¡¯t honestly say why she didn¡¯t reprimand this stranger who dared to insult her at their first greeting. But I was beginning to understand, through coughs and long, meaningful stares, that Castelians put a good deal more faith in what they could do to each other in words rather than out and out beating them. Such a bother.

    The girl didn¡¯t bother answering but tossed her golden locks and rolled her eyes at Trochi.

    ¡°Trooooooooooo-keeeeeeeee, you promised not to bring any more boring people into the Sanctum.¡±

    Trochi sat, one leg dangling over an arm of the chair, one hand over his mouth as though trying to suppress a laugh.

    ¡°Now Justice, haven¡¯t I always told you it was your impatience that leads to making bad judgements? First it was the chemise, then plaid, and now? What are these? Cooling coils in your hair?¡±

    One of the boys with streaks of paint on his face snickered, ¡°Punch Point, two.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so fast-trashy,¡± Trochi waved his hand. ¡°Now scoot your double-wide over and make room for our guests.¡±

    There was some ¡®Ooooing¡¯ and ¡®Punch point three¡¯ as the spiral hair girl, Justice, glowered at the boys on the floor then at Giada respectively. So far I had managed to go unnoticed.

    Justice made a loud and visible show of shoving herself off the couch and onto the floor as Giada, Benni, and I shuffled uncomfortably over. I opted for sitting on one of the arms of the couch, closer to the door and with my feet still touching the floor. Trochi nodded.

    ¡°Lady Giada and companion, my dear small paws, please allow me to make introductions and apologies for my reprobate Crew, Justice, Mercy, Faith, Gracie, Charity, and Fideo Jinkins accompanied by their respective plus ones for the evening.¡±

    ¡°Ah, very nice to meet you Wardensans Jenkins,¡± Giada gave a cursory head bob. Benni did the same.

    ¡°Jinkins.¡± One of the girls, a scrawny little thing with straw hair corrected from another chair.

    ¡°I said Jenkins,¡± Giada smiled tightly.

    ¡°Jinkins,¡±chimed in two more siblings.

    ¡°Not Jenkins?¡± Giada looked truly lost.

    ¡°Jinkins!¡± all but Trochi enunciated firmly. Trochi spread his hands and shrugged then looked at me.

    ¡°Yes, Jinkins. But, my fair siblings, can you guess who I¡¯ve brought you?¡±

    The eyes in the room stared at Giada and Benni then swiveled to look at me. I found myself suddenly smoothing imaginary wrinkles on my jacket. It was Justine again who snorted and shrugged.

    ¡°Some little waif from Ward 7? Let me guess, a bunny with no name but seems to have an incredible talent for design?¡± She did a slow down-to-up look over me, taking the time to pick an apple up from a bowl just in arm¡¯s reach and bite into it, never breaking eye contact. ¡°I take it back. Judging from the crayon scribbles around her eyes, she has no style sense whatsoever.¡±

    A little juice escaped the corner of her mouth as one of the girls tallied, ¡°Kick three.¡±

    Justice took her time daubing the dribble with a colorful handkerchief pulled from her blouse. ¡°Trochi, you really have to stop trying to impress us with your foundlings. Weirder is not better. Oh, don¡¯t do that dear. They¡¯re atrocious enough to look at without your smudging them.¡±

    I had not realized that my hands had actually crept up to the tattoos under my eyes. The raised skin under my eyes suddenly felt hot.

    I was across the rug and in Justice¡¯s face in just a leap. Justice sneered and pulled back.

    ¡°Leave off, brat!¡±

    I thought about hitting her, but I grabbed one of her hands as she was pushing herself back and spit in it instead. Justice squealed in rage and tried to pull away, but I slapped her hand to my face, rubbing it hard into my eyes.

    ¡°Is it smudging, Justice? Is it?!¡± I demanded. ¡°Rub harder, Justice, ¡®cause Loris is pretty sure it¡¯s still not coming off!¡±

    I snarled and dropped her hand. Justice curled up like I was a snake, but the rest of the room suddenly flocked around me. I bared my teeth and batted their hands away as they tried to touch my tattoos.

    ¡°Oh my gosh, Trochi! It¡¯s her! Isn¡¯t it?¡± I think it was Fideo who wheezed. ¡°It¡¯s the Wild Princess! You brought her to us!¡±

    The sudden crush of people was too much. I sprang back then clambered behind Giada and Benni on the couch to get out of reach of the Jinkins siblings plus twenty. Suddenly, confronted with Giada and Benni¡¯s sharp ¡®Ere now!¡¯ they backed up a few steps.

    ¡°Match and point! Good show, Fideo! Good eyes!¡± Trochi burst out laughing. ¡°There, there now. Let her get her bearings. Here, Loris, want a chestnut?¡±

    Trochi raised his hand. I was getting suspicious, feeling he was enjoying this all too much. He tossed the nut in my direction, so I snagged it out of the air. It was already peeled so I popped it in my mouth and sat sullenly chewing it. It was a poor apology for sicing his demented cronies on me. Heavens, if only Bentley had half their intensity.

    One of the siblings had produced a notebook, Fideo, the boy again. He squinted every once in a while and held his thumb up as the other sisters murmured in his ears.

    ¡°¡­ geometric design, almost ridiculous, but when you look, it accents her eyes, like woodknots.¡±

    ¡°¡­bronze, brown, burn-out velvet. That has to be Pilosa.¡±

    ¡°¡­but the shoes, very practical. Moveable. You think she dances? That¡¯s Crane I warrant.¡±

    Self-consciously I pulled my legs up under me. Trochi threw me another chestnut. Giada turned her head very slowly to look over her shoulder to where I was perched.

    ¡°I say, Loris. That is your name? Loris?¡±

    I nodded and bit into the nut.

    ¡°Yes. Loris is Loris.¡± I tried to remember what else Crane had said during our carriage ride. ¡°Loris used to pull on your braid when Loris was littler.¡±

    Trochi barked another laugh.¡°And so you still seem to be trying to do today. What do you say, Giada? Care to try your Serendipity against this wild critter?¡±

    Giada scowled at Trochi. ¡°For a Wardensan, Trochi Jenkins, you do engage in some rather vulgar topics.¡±

    Trochi shrugged and tossed me another nut. I was feeling a little better and more curious about just what Fideo was writing in his notebook. Would I be able to read it? Probably not, but it was still obviously something in relation to me. I craned my neck to see, but Fideo just scowled and pulled the notebook closer to him.

    ¡°Loris wants to see!¡±

    Fideo¡¯s features darkened, but he looked over his shoulder at Trochi. Barely looking at his brother, Trochi gave a slight nod. Fideo sighed and turned the notebook around. It took me a second, but once I saw the triangles I knew what I was looking at.

    ¡°It¡¯s Loris, but it¡¯s not Loris.¡±

    Fideo turned angrily on Trochi who softly tried to hush his brother.

    ¡°You said I was getting better! They¡¯re still never satisfied. Fracking Wardensans!¡±

    I slid half-way down the couch squeezing between Giada and Benni. Pointing towards the sketch Fideo had turned around, I tried to explain what was missing.

    ¡°Loris sees face, hands, don¡¯t know what that sweepy, leafy stuff is, but Loris¡¯s feet aren¡¯t right.¡±

    Fideo snorted. His sisters rolled their eyes as one patted him on the shoulder.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Fi-Fi. We understand what you were going for.¡±

    Another one of the sisters turned on me.

    ¡°It¡¯s a design concept, Loris. It¡¯s not about how you look now. Fideo was trying to come up with something you could wear in the future.¡±

    I blinked and looked at them, and then to Giada and Benni, who seemed to be in some sort of a stupor, and then back to Trochi, who threw me another chestnut. He nodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s true, ma bete. That¡¯s how I earned my place in the family. The ability to see the future,¡± he smiled and winked, ¡°and dress accordingly.¡±

    ¡°Loris sees that,¡± I still wasn¡¯t being clear. ¡°Loris sees the face, hands, all that Loris can understand.¡± I pointed to where my feet had more strappy things wrapped around them. My feet looked perfect. ¡°But those are wrong.¡±

    The entire Jinkins mob let out a groan.

    ¡°I told you! Sandals are never coming back as long as there¡¯s snow on the ground for more than eight months of the year!¡±

    ¡°Bathing suits are surging!¡±

    ¡°Who wears a bathing suit?¡±

    ¡°For wearing in the bathtub!¡±

    In irritation I pulled at the laces on my boots. It was infuriating. I looked from Benni to Giada. Why were people so useless?

    ¡°Help Loris,¡± I grumbled at Giada. That seemed to register something. She snarled and pushed me towards Benni.

    ¡°Do it yourself! Whelp!¡± Giada angrily pushed herself off the couch and stormed out of the room. Benni was left with my feet in her lap, looking helplessly between my shoes and the door her mistress had disappeared out. She made as if to leave.

    ¡°Help Loris! Shoes off!¡± I commanded.

    Benni flapped her hands helplessly then went to furiously tearing at the shoe laces and leathers until my shoes popped off. I stretched my toes inside their stockings with a sigh of relief before yanking my socks off as well and hopping to my feet.

    ¡°There? Now Fideo understands? Loris¡¯s feet are not right!¡±

    I¡¯m not sure what I expected, surely not the outcry of disgust and wonder that followed.  Evenings like this made me long for Purgatory where apparently injury and deformity was the norm. One of the little girls actually shrieked and collapsed into a pile of pillows. I looked down to check my toes hadn¡¯t started oozing for some reason. They had not. I rolled my eyes. Typical Castelians totally overacting. Fideo, to his credit, just stared mesmerized at my feet.

    ¡°They¡¯re-they¡¯re so small! The profile would be¡­miniscule. An elf-toe.¡± He suddenly turned away and flopped on his stomach furiously scribbling.

    Trochi laughed and stood up before sauntering over to the couch and plopping down where Giada had been just a few moments before. His hand reached beyond me to brush Benni¡¯s shoulder who sat up as though she¡¯d been goosed.

    ¡°Oh ladies, how can I ever thank you? You have truly brought my Crew and me great entertainment this evening,¡± he smiled again. It was such a nice smile, and yet it was bringing up other smiles I did not wish to remember. ¡°How can I repay you, my pet?¡±

    That was perplexing. Repay him for what? Benni, on the other hand, suddenly shot to her feet, causing Trochi to let out a little ¡®aww¡¯.

    ¡°Thankyou WardensanJenkinsforyou hospitalityyouhavebeenmostgenerous!¡± And suddenly she shot for the door, leaving me to look back at Trochi. Sitting on the couch, he was still tall enough to nearly look me in the eye while I was standing. He arched an eyebrow at me.

    ¡°Well, little pet, it looks as though our company has abandoned us. You are the only brave one remaining. Quell surprise! Non?¡±

    Trochi¡¯s arm curled behind me and rested on my shoulder. His Crew was absorbed in revising their design concept. Giada and Benni had fled, even after their promise to get me back safely. I stared at Trochi, at his colorful clothes, at his smiling mouth, at his glittering eye-liner, at his black eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re not Jack.¡±

    The words startled me and confused Trochi.

    ¡°What?¡±

    We didn¡¯t get much further because the door suddenly burst open. Giada, out of breath as though she¡¯d run the stairs, leaned against the frame. She had actually burst through the door!

    ¡°Giada! My lady,¡± Trochi beamed and threw his arms open, hastily removing his hand from my shoulder. ¡°You return to us!¡±

    Giada glared.

    ¡°First of all, who the hell do you think you are, Trochi Jenkins, skipping wards like you¡¯re some post carrier, keeping company with this ill-mannered cog-ilk, jealous, ladder scaling wanna-bees. Who, even if you did ascend, are obviously just trying to ride your coattails, the bunch of uninspired, loafing, ill-tempered ferals! Bunch of bunny making glitches!¡± She took a breath, barely long enough for the room to freeze. ¡°And secondly, she is not your pet, you womanizing poor excuse for a twentieth century low-budget downer cross bred with a cravat! You egotistical, self-absorbed, pompous, randy ass hole!¡±

    Giada fairly roared the last half as she stormed across the room, grabbed me by the back of my jacket and hoisted me over the back of the couch.

    One of the girls sat up, ¡°Five points Kicks! Power play, Giada!¡±

    Wardensan Giada just growled and dragged me towards the door only pausing once to snarl over her shoulder.

    ¡°And by the way, there¡¯s a raid on. The Owls are here.¡±

 Chapter 19: Raid!

    Chapter 19

    I suppose it was the utter calm with which the Crew responded to the eminent threat of impinging authorities that impressed me the most. After hastily throwing the rest of whatever liquid was in the colorful vials into a nearby potted plant, the siblings and company grumblingly collected their belongings and shuffled towards a curtained window on the far wall. Justice paused as her siblings threw open the window and began clambering one by one out the window.

    ¡°Wardensan Byron, Wardensan Forsythe, a pleasure. I hope you will remember this evening as a noteworthy occurrence and hold not our words nor manners against us but our actions for us.¡± She winked then threw her leg over the sill before vanishing through the curtains, leaving only Trochi to tip his hat to us.

    ¡°I hope you ladies will excuse me. I need to see my siblings safely off. A pleasure, Giada. A bientot, ma bete.¡±

    Giada stepped forward and gripped my shoulder unpleasantly tightly.

    ¡°She¡¯s not your-¡°

    At that moment there was a large deal of shrieking down below. Everyone else froze, and then a black hat with black plume popped up into the window. The man grinned widely.

    ¡°¡¯Ello birdies, up past our bedtime, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Now the rest of the Crew really did scatter like a flock of birds. There were already Owls at the door and coming in the window, but plenty of the young folk had dashed for the walls, slamming wood trim or wrenching certain light fixtures. Hidden doors and panels suddenly popped open all over the place. Giada grabbed my arm and dove for the nearest opening, barreling over a shorter lad on the way through.

    ¡°Stall them, Benni! Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll spring you in the morning,¡± she yelled at her bewildered companion.

    ¡°But Miss Giada!¡± Benni wailed, but was cut off by the panel slamming back in place. The tunnel was almost large enough for me to stand, but Giada and the one other boy who had made it in had to stoop. Breathing heavily, we followed it down until it forked. I had no idea where we were. Between the walls perhaps?

    At the intersection the boy darted past us to the right. Giada¡¯s arm shot out and collared him before he could get very far. He let out a wail of dismay.

    ¡°Oy, Giada! Lay off will you? If I get nabbed by the Owls, the Uni will suspend my allowance for a month!¡±

    Giada squinted, ¡°Alchy Torty, is that you? From Ward Nine, was it? How did you end up falling in with this lot?¡±

    Torty flailed about, ¡°Gaw, how else do you suppose they get their bevvies up here? It¡¯s a scratch for scratch deal. Now let me go! I¡¯m gonna get skinned!¡±

    Giada yanked him roughly back again, ¡°Not until you tell us where all this goes and how you¡¯re getting out.¡±

    Rolling his eyes Torty, flailed a little longer, but the elk-breaker was more than a match for him.

    ¡°Ow! Fine! Amazon! The right heads to the theater just next to the boxes. If we dash along the rows and stay low, we can slip out the side fire scape while the Owls are busy shutting down the bar.¡±

    Giada nodded. ¡°And the other way?¡±

    Torty shook his head, ¡°It just goes deeper in, the kitchens and the private bar. The Owls always make a b-line there. Even if it¡¯s a little more exposed, the theater exit is better.¡±

    ¡°Right, theater it is,¡± Giada gave my arm a tug. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Loris.¡±

    I walked a few steps then stopped. Giada looked back in exasperation.

    ¡°Loris, come on! Speed is key here!¡±

    I grimaced the pointed at my bare feet.

    ¡°That just it. Loris¡­¡±I felt myself tearing up. I could hear Blanche and Cori in my head, laughing, ¡°Loris isn¡¯t speedy.¡±

    Giada and Torty looked at my feet.

    ¡°Frack.¡±

    ¡°Wellp, Halvman¡¯s luck be with you!¡± Torty said and suddenly sprinted away down the passage.

    Giada swiped at him but just cursed and let him go. Quietly the two of us stood there and looked at my feet. They were looking a bit red. Giada suddenly nodded then grabbed my hand and pulled me the other way down the passage.

    ¡°Where?¡± I asked.

    Giada didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Where we go? Where you take Loris?¡± I demanded.

    Giada looked back over her shoulder. ¡°Is that really how you talk? I thought it was just an affectation Pilosa had you pick up. She was always one for theatrics.¡±

    I growled and tried to yank my hand away, but the woman had a grip like Crane. At the next split Giada paused and listened. I could hear shouts and boots pounding around, both above and below us. Giada turned right and motioned me to be quiet. A little further down the tunnel ended in a flat wall. After searching about a bit, Giada found a knot hole and put her finger in it. With a light tug, the wall swung inwards a crack.

    Giada squinted out then quietly closed it again.

    ¡°All right, Loris, here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do. This opens into a Butler¡¯s pantry then the prep kitchen. When we go through, I¡¯m going to boost you onto the top of the cabinet. You¡¯ll have to be careful and not knock any of the plates or glasses, but the top has a lip. Lay down in there and as soon as everything quiets down, you should be able to slip down and right out the kitchen door-¡°

    ¡°Wait! You¡¯re leaving Loris?!¡±

    Giada wasn¡¯t my favorite, but she had said she would get me home! What if Pilosa was still looking for me? What if the Owls had gotten her? Would she be in trouble? Giada was shaking her head.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not abandoning you, but we¡¯ll slow each other down at this rate.¡±

    ¡°You mean Loris will slow you down. Like Benni.¡±

    Giada blinked, ¡°Benni? What? Benni¡¯s my Second. It¡¯s her job to make sure I don¡¯t get into scrapes. Well, technically Second in training, but she¡¯s a sight better one than Encabel who- Why am I telling you this?¡± She shook her head. ¡°Look, if you can¡¯t run, you hide, okay?¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I nodded grudgingly. Yes, I should have known that.

    ¡°So you¡¯ll hide on top of the cabinet until it quiets and the staff leave?¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t Loris stay in the tunnel?¡±

    ¡°Really, with all those doors flying open in the den, every bird out for themselves? They¡¯ll eventually be down this tunnel too. Best to make them think we cleared out and let them run past.¡±

    I sighed. Giada was making a lot of sense.

    ¡°Okay. Loris will stay on top of the cabinet. But then what? Giada was supposed to get Loris home!¡±

    Giada nodded,¡± Once you do get out, head out to the street and look for the yellow lamps. Those are elk hansoms for hire. Flag one down and give them this.¡± She pulled a coin out of her pocket. I thought it was a standard stamp, but I could feel a difference in the raised image. ¡°Tell them ¡®The True Free Always Wander¡¯ then give them any address in the First Ward except your own house. They¡¯re supposed to keep mum, but you never know who¡¯s on the take. You¡¯d better pull your collar up a bit too, though I suppose your eyes are a bit distinct.¡±

    It was quiet for a moment as we stared at each other. Then a soft noise, like cloth across wood, made both of our heads whip toward the depths of the tunnels.

    ¡°Go!¡± Giada hissed and gave me a shove as she yanked open the panel. I slipped through and immediately looked for the cabinet. It was right in front of me and easy enough to scale the bottom surface. Carefully, I put my foot on the higher shelves, pulling myself up. A sudden boost from below sent me the rest of the way with a small squeak that I immediately suppressed. I scrambled around then peeped over the edge. Giada was looking anxiously up at me. She gave me a thumbs up, which I wryly returned. Then she slipped out the other side of the closet and into what I imagined was the kitchen. A heartbeat later the panel slipped open again. This time an Owl cautiously poked her head out. I pulled back, cramming against the wall and curling into the smallest ball I could.

    Below was absolute silence. I thought perhaps the owl had left. Then a gloved hand shot over the lip and grabbed on to the top of the cabinet. The breath stuck in my chest as I watched another hand join it. The knuckles tightened as the Owl started to pull themselves up. Something fell to the floor in a tinkle of glass.

    Suddenly, the door banged open.

    ¡°Owl! Halt! In the name of¡­-Cassidy! Seriously? What are you doing up there?¡±

    The hands vanished.

    ¡°Oy! Sorry, Lieutenant Roberts, I thought someone was being sneaky. Someone came through here, and I thought I heard a bit of bumping on their way out.¡±

    There was a chuckle.

    ¡°They were clever. Sorry Cassidy, she must have rattled stuff to stall you. Some of the boys saw her shoot out the back door. At her clip, no way you would have caught her in a foot race any¡¯ow.¡±

    There was a bit of grumbling as the two Owls abandoned the pantry. For a very, very long time I lay there with my hands over my mouth and heart.

    As Giada predicted the noise did eventually quiet down. Just when I thought I was ready to try a descent, the pantry door opened again. I had to stifle a scream. I was beginning to get restless lying up here. Worse than that, I was tired. The adrenaline was wearing off. I did not want to fall asleep on top of a cabinet at the Tilted Windmill. It took me a moment, but I suddenly realized the voice I was hearing below was Uncle Passeri. Gleefully, I sat up and took a breath.

    ¡°Do you lot fancy a pint with your platters? Least I can do after all your trouble tonight.¡±

    I ducked. Behind Uncle Passeri was a trio of Owls. A few blithely accepted his offer as he carried the plates back out into the kitchen.

    ¡°So Passeri, think you could get your sister to sign a print for me after she finishes chewing you a new one?¡±

    I could hear Passeri chuckle.

    ¡°Oh don¡¯t worry about it. Pilosa loves the attention. You know the saying; the only bad attention is none at all. When we re-open in a month, she¡¯ll be all over it. Probably want to do the whole scandal all over again.¡±

    There were clinks of glasses and ¡®here here!¡¯ all around.

    ¡°All of you laugh,¡± One of the Owls grumbled. ¡°It¡¯s not you sitting and doing the paperwork for the next four weeks and having your tail chewed by angry  Wardensans who want their hidey-hole back.¡±

    The group laughed at him, hooting and making rude comments.

    Another chimed in, ¡°For all their, ¡®We must make sure to uphold the moral responsibilities our grancestors forsook¡¯ they¡¯re just a bunch of bubs, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Watch it Neil, those ¡®bubs¡¯ still sign our pensions,¡± the first Owl growled.

    ¡°Yeah! But it¡¯s we who do all their cleaning up!¡± another complained.

    ¡°Ay, but the hand feeds the mouth that nourishes the body,¡± Passeri consoled. ¡°Pilosa fits right in with them, and quite frankly, her flamboyancy fits just fine with my business plan. Things were getting a bit sluggish around here with the new Juke Joint just open a block away. Next month, they¡¯ll be beatin¡¯ down the doors, hoping to see the Swinging Siren before things shut down again.¡±

    There was another round of toasts.

    ¡°What about that brat of hers? You think it¡¯s legit?¡±

    There was a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence. Glasses clinked. Someone cleared their throat. Finally, there was a sigh from Passeri,

    ¡°I dunno, Joe. The thing¡¯s half wild and mostly incoherent. She¡¯d fit just perfectly into Warden Forsythe¡¯s machinations.¡±

    A tightness I had not felt since failing the Purgatory entrance exams gripped my guts.

    ¡°But then again-have any of you caught the Loris yet?¡±

    There was an embarrassed murmuring of ¡®no¡¯ followed by another epidemic of embarrassed coughs.

    ¡°So she¡¯s at least got Applewite wiles, if nothing else. And her eyes do look like Pilosa¡¯s when she was a gel.¡±

    I decided not to hate Uncle Passeri.

    For being on the job, the Owls spent a good half hour sitting with my uncle. Or whatever he was. Did Pilosa know her own brother had called the Owls on her? I sat there chewing my fist, growing sleepier by the minute. Suddenly, I heard a door shut and realized the crowd had finally, really cleared out. I sat still a few more minutes just to make sure it wasn¡¯t a trick before peering over the edge. Slowly, I let myself down, pleased that, unlike the Owl Cassidy, I could slide past the plates and cups with no noises at all.

    I took a moment to stretch. It was alarming just how many of my joints decided to pop. It was a good thing everyone was gone. They¡¯d have thought someone was making popping corn from the strings of cracks and pops I made.

    In the kitchen it was dark and silent. Even though all seemed right, I still took my time sliding down the rows and feeling my way around stools and tables. I studied the door for a moment before taking a breath and twisting it open. No one jumped out, so I slipped into the alley way.

    Outside it was dark, but not as much as I thought it would be. I thought it was all the lights in Ward 3, but as I found my way to the main avenue and stood shivering in the morning mist, I realized it was because the sky was already starting to lighten with dawn.

    ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± I muttered out loud. I looked left and right down the street. ¡°This is ridiculous!¡± I repeated louder. And how was I supposed to get home now?

    There was a sudden clack of hooves and out of the mist an elk hansom appeared. It was bigger than the trap I had ridden with Pilosa but much smaller than the Forsythe carriage. A gentleman in a top hat with goggles and a strange mask over the bottom of his face pulled up and tipped his hat at me.

    ¡°¡¯ello, luv. Where to?¡±

    I paused and looked for the coin Giada had given me.

    ¡°Um, the wild free always wander? Could we go to the First Ward, um¡­-Atrium?¡±

    The driver nodded and hopped down, pulling open the door for me.

    ¡°Of course, luv. Anything for Miss Lorus. Hop in!¡±

    Relieved, I nodded wearily and stepped up into the car. It was only as he shut the door after me with a click, that I realized I hadn¡¯t said anything about who I was.

    ¡°You know Loris?¡±

    Someone moved in the shadows on the other side of the carriage. A shape leaned forward and smiled.

    ¡°Of course, bright eyes.¡±

 Chapter 20: The Atrium and RCFers

    Chapter 20

    I think Jack knew I would scream. I don¡¯t think he knew I would pull the small knife at my waist and try to stab him in the face. He caught it, and there was a small scuffle where he slammed me against the side of the carriage until I dropped the knife. That left the whistle.

    It wasn¡¯t the best, but, regardless, Jack Gimlet did not expect to be stabbed in the hand with a whistle by the Lorus. In this small box, I could not hide, so I ran. I surged to the other side of the carriage and after finding the door locked, squeezed myself out the window. I pulled up short for a second as Jack grabbed at the chain the whistle was attached to, but the craftsmen knew their work. In my panic I kept going. The thin chain broke, readily releasing me out the window and on to the roof.

    I had seconds. I knew it. The cab driver whirled around in his seat then dropped his whip as he grabbed the roof of the hansom. In a moment he would be upon me. My eyes darted everywhere looking for a solution. Then, like the arm of an angel, out of the mist it came: the windmill paddle.

    The cabby pulled himself up, but I had already taken the two steps I needed to launch myself off the roof and onto the wooden arm from the Tilted Mill. My breath caught as I jerked upwards. Below, Jack gave a shout I was all too familiar with. He stood in the street below alternating between cursing the driver for being slow and waving his arms at me.

    ¡°You little idiot!¡± he added in some new curse words I hadn¡¯t heard before. I credited them to his time in New Castle. Apparently, there were some things my tutors still hadn¡¯t taught me. Towards the top of the arc, I began repeating some of the words as well. At some point the arm would flip. Then I would be pointed head down back towards earth, and Jack.

    I tried to kick my leg over the arm, which helped a little, but I was still heading towards the down swing, and my arms were getting really tired really fast.

    Below I heard a sudden shout. Out of the mist something like a blue butterfly darted. It clambered up on top of the elk hansom and did the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. He punched the cabby, leapt, to the reins, and nearly ran over Jack as he pulled the hansom under my descending ride. The butterfly stood up on the seat and looked up. It was Trochi!

    ¡°Loris! Jump! I¡¯ll catch you!¡±

    I¡¯m pretty sure the words I wanted to scream were, ¡°Not for all the chestnuts in New Castle you lunatic!¡± But by then I was upside down and swinging fast, all of my weight was working against my arms. As hard as I tried to hang on, the downward momentum snapped my feet off the arm and over my head, wrenching my hands from the fabric as well. I shrieked.

    But I hit something soft. I don¡¯t think Trochi expected me to weigh so much. The two of us piled into the top of the carriage, and for a moment I just lay there on top of him, shaking and looking for words of thanks I could not find.

    A cursing from below put both of us back in motion. I thought I saw a hand grab the side of the bench. I scrambled off Trochi. I had just a second to slip beside him on the seat before he cracked the reigns on the elk. With a kick and a buck the beast took off.

    I¡¯m not sure what I expected. Somewhere in the morning mist a howl like a wolf on the plains cut through my skin to chill my bones.

    ¡°Looooooooooorus!¡±

    If there was any more to Jack¡¯s strangled howl, I did not hear it. I shivered and realized Trochi was likewise quivering next to me. He looked over, but his attempt at a brave smile cracked somewhere in the middle.

    ¡°Well, that was an incredibly narrow scrape. Do you always spend such exciting evenings out, Loris?¡±

    I shook my head and opened my mouth but had to reconsider.

    ¡°With Jacl around, Loris can never tell.¡± And of course I could never tell how the evenings around the Ayfortees campfire, however cold or hungry, seemed almost welcomingly boring compared to falling off buildings and running from Owls.

    ¡°So who is this Jack character anyhow? A cabby? You could have Giada look into that for you.¡±

    ¡°No. Jack would rather eat elk than ride it. Jack was the other one.¡±

    ¡°The other one?¡±

    Trochi was looking curiously at me. He shrugged and popped the reins once more.

    ¡°Well, it is very foggy out. That should make our homeward journey a bit easier.¡±

    Indeed, Trochi seemed to know just as many by-ways and slip-throughs as Tabby Porter. We didn¡¯t even have to go over any walls or up buildings before finding ourselves back in Ward 1 and in front of the Forsythe house. Trochi hopped down then helped me down as well. He glanced for a moment at the house. Only three lights were on, two downstairs and one in an upstairs window. Lifting his hat off his head, Trochi leaned forward and wrapped an arm around me before putting his mouth next to my ear.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget me too soon, will you Loris?¡±

    I put my hands in front of me. He was terribly close but not letting go.

    ¡°Of course not. Trochi helped Loris. Loris will not forget that.¡± I felt there was more I should say but wasn¡¯t sure what he was expecting. ¡°If Trochi ever needs-¡°

    ¡°Invite me to your birthday.¡±

    I looked up. Through the mist of the evening, some of Trochi¡¯s eye makeup had begun to streak. It made it look like tear tracks running down his face. Impulsively, I reached up and used the corner of my sleeves to wipe it back. Trochi smiled.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s embarrassing. I hate it when my mascara runs.¡± Trochi tipped his hat and gave a bow then swung back up onto the hansom.

    ¡°Loris will invite Trochi.¡±

    He paused and tipped his hat again. This time the smile reached all the way to his eyes. Something felt very warm inside my chest, and my face felt hot. I was probably catching a cold, so I waved and hurried inside.

    Crane was waiting in the foyer. She didn¡¯t ask any questions or say much, and she even shooed away Brissi and some of the other maids who came to see who had come in so late. I could hear Pilosa laughing and regaling someone with tales of the evening in the sitting room. Did that woman ever sleep? After cleaning and drying off, Crane put me in some dry clothes and helped me crawl into bed. She paused in the doorway for just a moment.

    ¡°Did you enjoy your evening, Miss Loris?¡±

    I grunted, ¡°Loris would prefer warmer, quieter evenings,¡± I couldn¡¯t stop the yawn that interrupted, ¡°but seeing Mumsy sing was very wonderful.¡±

    Crane nodded, ¡°Yes, she is. Lady Pilosa always has quite a few eyes on her.  It¡¯s almost as though she can¡¯t help but draw attention. You should be prepared to draw no little attention yourself, young Loris.¡±

    Swaddled in blankets and worn out from my night in Ward 3, I didn¡¯t even have time to ponder Crane¡¯s words. Much to the household staff¡¯s relief, I slept soundly in my bed the rest of the night.

    When I woke up, it took me a few moments to identify the wooden sounds of drawers sliding open and shut. Peeping through half-open eyes, I watched one of the maids, Brissi it was, sliding some of the drawers on the desk open then after a glance, closed again. I didn¡¯t know what she was looking for. Maybe someone else visiting the room had left something behind. There was a tap at the door and the poor gal made the clumsiest scurry I¡¯d ever seen for the closet. Crane poked her head in and looked straight at me.

    ¡°If you want to enjoy breakfast before your lessons at the Atrium this morning, Loris, I would suggest rising sooner rather than later. I¡¯ll send one of the girls to help you dress,¡± she shook her head, muttering, ¡°I thought Brissi had already come up. Where has that girl got to?¡±

    Curious, I slid out of bed and padded across to the closet. All seemed quiet, so I threw the door open. No one was there. Blinking, I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. Breakfast was waiting, and I didn¡¯t want to delay that any longer, not if it was  going to be a whole day of being talked at for lessons. I did my best to pick out what I thought looked suitable and left the mystery of the vanishing maid for later.

    My efforts were mostly accepted by Crane who only insisted I add a printed jacket to the affair to add a little more color, something Pilosa sleepily endorsed on her way up the stairs as she yawned and sipped a cup of something bittersweet.

    Once again I found myself in the company of my cousins on the way to the Atrium. As we stepped out the front door and into a crisp and sunny day, I pondered giving them the slip again and absconding to the roof tops. I still felt there was much more I could learn about New Castle by walking in it rather than staring at it in books or dusty relics. That notion was immediately squashed as Abbi stepped up and looped her arm through mine like we were the best of buddies. Blanch and Cori did likewise and brought up the rear.

    I watched Abbi chew on a corner of her bottom lip as we walked along. She had something to say, and I wished she would just say it.

    ¡°I say, it¡¯s a rather nice day out, isn¡¯t it Loris?¡±

    I turned my head to look at her smiling face.

    ¡°What is Abbi mad about this time?¡±

    Behind us Cori and Blanch started snickering as Abbi did her best to look indignant.

    ¡°Nothing! I¡¯m-I¡¯m not mad at anything!¡± She paused, ¡°But I do wish you would be a little more discreet if you¡¯re going to go slumming it.¡±

    I thought about the Tilted Mill with its dazzling lights and velvet upholstery. The image of Passeri greeting Abbi the same way he greeted Pilosa tickled me for some reason.

    I snorted, ¡°If Abbi thinks the place Pilosa goes to sing is a slum, then Abbi has some major perspective issues Loris isn¡¯t even going to touch.¡±

    Abbi huffed, ¡°Look, I¡¯m sure Uncle Passeri¡¯s place is decent, but some of the company who frequent there- well, they just don¡¯t have the right kinds of adventures. You see?¡±

    ¡°Uncle Passeri¡¯s is decent? Has Abbi even been there?¡± I demanded.

    She reddened in the face.

    ¡°Of course not! In the first place, everyone knows proper Wardensans always get permission before traveling between wards. And secondly, I¡¯m under age! And so are you!¡±

    I waved my free hand dismissively at her.

    ¡°Loris had permission.¡±

    ¡°From whom?!¡±

    I shrugged, ¡°From Pilosa, of course.¡±

    Abbi rolled her eyes and looked back over her shoulder at the cousins.

    ¡°Really, Loris? You know Pilosa¡¯s not a Forsythe. She¡¯s an Applewite.¡± Then she tossed her curls like she¡¯d just declared herself the winner of her own imaginary race. I looked over my shoulder as well at Blanche and Cori. They caught me looking at them. Blanche gave me a blank stare, but Cori stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes. I nodded. So that was the angle.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Loris sees Abbi¡¯s concern.¡±

    She shot me a skeptical look.

    ¡°Do you?¡±

    I nodded, ¡°Abbi has been in New Castle much longer than Loris. Abbi knows much better than Loris how things in New Castle are supposed to work.¡±

    Abbi nodded and hesitantly smiled, ¡°Yes. Yes you do understand. As Wardensans the rest of the Ward, from Cogs to Seconds, look to us to be the example of what a good New Castelian should be. Your behavior wouldn¡¯t be that bad if you were a Bench Dog or even someone¡¯s Second, but for a Wardensan, you¡¯re making us look like-like Shoalfolk!¡±

    It took all of my might and resulted in Blanche plowing into the back of me, but I skidded to a stop, yanking my arm from Abbi¡¯s. With cousins like this, I began to wonder if Bentley¡¯s hermitage in his room wasn¡¯t self-imposed.

    ¡°Remind Loris again, Abbi. Who are Loris¡¯s parents?¡±

    Abbi gawked for a moment before pulling herself up.

    ¡°According to Ward Caitlyn, you are the first daughter of Wardensan Royce and entertainer Pilosa Applewite.¡±

    ¡°And what was Royce¡¯s family name?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°What was my father¡¯s family name?¡±

    Abbi blinked at me then answered evenly, ¡°Forsythe. Royce Forsythe was third son of Granddame Catalyn¡¯s first son, Petre''s son.¡±

    ¡°And your father¡¯s name?¡±

    Abbi blinked at me. She had the same big, brown, cow, doe eyes her mother had, yet she lacked all the cunning of her sire. I had learned to keep very careful track of sires and dames while living with people desperate for offspring.

    ¡°At least Loris has one parent born in the Forsythe family.¡±

    Abbi looked like I had slapped her. Mechanically, she turned and walked away. Blanche and Cori both looked at me with something between fear and disgust as they ran after her into an enormous, white marble building.

    Left suddenly on my own again, I was very tempted to turn on my heel and either head home or go explore the city some more. Unfortunately, at that moment a light but practiced hand alighted on my shoulder, spinning me about.

    Chelsey Lynwood smiled brightly at me. One hand was raised in greeting, the other curled around a pair of shoes tucked under her arm.

    ¡°Miss Loris! I say, this is good luck.¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°You would not believe this most curious item that I found atop the butler¡¯s pantry at the Tilted Mill the other night after documenting the Owls¡¯ raid.¡±

    My eyes shot left and right then to the door the cousins had just disappeared through. It was time to make my own escape.

    ¡°Sorry! Loris is late for lessons! Don¡¯t want to keep Professor Qa''la waiting!¡±

    That actually froze Lynwood in mid-stride, so I took the opportunity and hustled through the door as well.

    The moment I stepped inside the heavy wooden door, I was glad I had decided to enter on my own. From the outside the Atrium barely looked larger than a shed. Inside, however, halls held aloft by magnificent pillars starred out in seven directions, each lined with the wreckage and skeletons of our grancestor¡¯s past. I didn¡¯t know what half the items were, but they were fabulous!

    There were huge carts that looked like they were made out of glass and stone and ran on metal wheels.  From the ceiling there were pieces and parts of rooms filled with chairs that had the remains of a long, flat arm sticking out one side. I wandered over to look at a drawing of what the rest of it was supposed to look like. Even though I couldn¡¯t understand the writing, I understood the context of the clouds and the birds. Our grancestors flew! No wonder Mr. Fox was so frustrated!

    Further on there was a gallery of limbs. I know it sounds odd, but there were some of the most perfect arms and legs, and even a jar of glass eyes on a shelf. More portraits celebrated a time when standing too close to a fire and getting an arm blown off didn¡¯t result in permanent disfigurement but an upgrade to a finely tuned arm made out of machines. Or, if one lost their legs, one could drive an elk-less chariot or even be fitted out for incredible, spring-loaded mechanical legs. Suddenly, losing my little toes didn¡¯t seem like such a bother.

    Apparently, our foreparents loved light because everything seemed to have one or a lens or a peculiar glass eye staring out of it. The curators for the Atrium had taken care in lighting little candles inside of some of the glowing boxes and orbs to show how they might have looked. Many had one side removed so their rainbow colored wires could spill out like copper guts for the curious to speculate over.

    There had never been time when I was out in the woods and wastes to ponder the bits of scrap metal or smoother-than-stone but brittle and colorful as leaves material some called plastic. Now, standing in the middle of the history of success and failure of my species, I felt very detached and peculiar. I wanted to know who these people were, yet I couldn¡¯t fathom how they thought or even how they began to come up with some of the things I was looking at.

    ¡°Astounding, inspiring, and yet ultimately tragic. Weren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I whispered before stopping to think. Startled at my own voice, I whirled around to find Professor Qa¡¯la smiling from the entrance of another hallway.

    ¡°I am so glad you finally made time to come see me, Miss Loris.¡±

    Now I was doubly caught. I wasn¡¯t sure where to look so I pointed up at the flying things overhead.

    ¡°Does Professor really think grancestors could move a whole building through the sky? Sometimes people make stories bigger than they really are.¡±

    Qa¡¯la smiled. It made his eyes crinkle all the way to his fuzzy ears.

    ¡°I do indeed. And those ones there are called aeroplanes. They were more of a flying trolley than building,¡± he pointed to a bank of windows suspended in a white wall. Below it in a glass case was an enormous yellow foot with wings on the heel against a field of blue. I stared at it. Winged feet. They walked on clouds!

    ¡°That one is from something called a ¡®blimp¡¯. It¡¯s actually a much rarer specimen. Apparently, our grancestors liked their speed, so not as many invested in casually floating through the clouds.¡±

    I nodded enthusiastically until I saw a picture of it. I tried to spot where people would take off for their stroll through the clouds, but the big floating egg seemed to be just another transport. I studied the picture for a while, puzzling over it. Finally, I remembered what was bothering me.

    ¡°New Castle has one of these sky blimps?¡± I tried to remember what I¡¯d seen from the rooftops of New Castle. I wasn¡¯t quite sure how to describe it. ¡°Gray and green, with kind of blue speckles? Or maybe another piece for the Atrium?¡±

    Qa¡¯la looked at me curiously. For a moment he was very still, almost like he was looking through me.

    He answered with some hesitation, ¡°A blimp? No, now of course sky travel has been the ideal of many a thaumaturge, so there¡¯s no saying it isn¡¯t someone¡¯s little project. Why even our own Mr. Fox has dabbled with the idea of balloon flight. He even once bet Ms. Shrike that he could sail one of his projects around the entirety of New Castle and the Shoals in less than eight hours. He even convinced her to come on board!¡±

    Qa¡¯la started chuckling and had to remove his glasses before wiping them with a handkerchief.

    ¡°What happened?¡± I began pondering just how Fox was going to get one of those big, round orbs to pull them aloft.

    ¡°Well not nearly as much and yet entirely more than Fox had predicted for, really!¡± Qa¡¯la put his glasses back on his face. ¡°On lift off, one of the warmers filling the main envelope with hot air ignited, as they are prone to do, and the lovely silk chute went up like a moth in the flame. However, not all of it burned. As it was a windy day, there was just enough gust to catch what was left of the fabric and haul it off, basket in tow. Fox leapt clear, but apparently Lithi was caught up inspecting some form of reed beetle that had bored into some of the basket weaving. Fox ended up chasing his balloon with the basket and a very vocal Shrike from one end of Mural fields to the other, all the way out past Bubaker Shoals before it caught in a stand of trees and let Lithi stagger out. Didn¡¯t take her long to recover enough to pop poor Avery one though. Ah, to be young and high spirited like them again.¡±

    Qa¡¯la knelt suddenly and rolled up the leg of his right pants. I thought he might be adjusting his socks, those itchy things Castelians insisted on. I saw that my speculation as to just how much of Qa¡¯la was covered in tattoos was probably correct. He pointed to a small splotch on his calf surrounded by other squiggles and ambiguous shapes. Upon squinting I realized it was indeed a basket on its side with some sort of patchwork quilt heaped next to it. To the side a red fox and little brown bird seemed to be looking on in amusement.

    ¡°It was also the first time I heard Lithi laugh since the Byron Expedition debacle. I thought it was worth noting.¡±

    I looked at the faded image and snorted.

    ¡°Must have been a long time ago at all when Shrike last laughed.¡±

    Qa¡¯la shook his head, ¡°Oh no, all this was just last summer.¡±

    He rolled his cuff back down.

    ¡°It¡¯s just the ink is not as good in this one. It was a whim, really. The Crew was all back together and what not.¡± Qa¡¯la sighed, ¡°Shrike would scold me for being whimsical if she knew. But then even bad tattoos outlast the Halcyon days.¡±

    I was not entirely sure what he meant by that and what it had to do with tattoos. His deflated balloon was fresher than both mine and Bentley¡¯s canaries, but the birds definitely looked better. I debated showing him mine and asking his opinion, but the conversation moved on as he suddenly strode away.

    ¡°Come along, young Loris. It¡¯s time we make good on the precious hours afforded to us.¡±

    Qa¡¯la gave me a cursory tour of the Atrium. It did indeed seem more like someone¡¯s endless, sprawling storage shed, or as Qa¡¯la called it, a museum. But I could also see where the object would cause some contention between Wards who seemed truly to covet anything and everything their grancestors had developed then discarded.

    At last we arrived at the main hall of the Atrium; the actual atrium of the place had soaring ceilings of stained glass and choruses of potted plants and shrubs. A pair of long wooden tables ran down the middle of the room at which I spotted Abbi and the other girls along with some other children pawing over open books and making scribblings on paper next to them. Occasionally, Abbi would glance over to answer a question from a little one or look over Blanche or Cori¡¯s work. It looked stupendously boring.

    ¡°And this, my dear Loris, is where we will have future lessons. We are all in free study right now, but most of the time I regale the class with stories of New Castle¡¯s past, and we work together to better explore the prestigious and noble society of New Castle.¡±

    I nodded mutely. Not only were there less of lessons in New Castle than Purgatory. Now it seemed there were more, and they involved even more tedious things.

    ¡°Today, however,¡± he continued, ¡°we have a special request for an individual lesson. Step this way please.¡±

    At that he had my full attention again. Qa¡¯la paused before another heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.

    ¡°Curious?¡±

    I nodded, probably too vigorously. Qa¡¯la grinned, a little mischievously I might add.

    ¡°It seems the Iron Crane feels your studies may have been¡­lax in a certain area. She insisted that a private tutor be added to your already impressive roster to assure smooth progression of your other studies.¡±

    My mind raced. What oh what had Crane noticed? Was it my table manners? I thought I did better the last time. I didn¡¯t even take food off of Danse¡¯s plate when it was obvious she wasn¡¯t going to eat it. Dress? But Brissi and the maids took care of that? Maybe it was the reading thing. I winced. It had to be the reading thing.

    ¡°Ah, I see you are perhaps recalling an incident last night where you returned home at a rather late hour missing your dangler.¡±

    Qa¡¯la pushed the door open, and I followed him, blinking, back out into the muted sunlight. I shivered a bit as a damp wind descended out of the low hanging gray clouds. It felt restless and alive in contrast to the stillness inside.  Just beyond the stoop was a nice, lush yard of green grass. In the middle pacing back and forth as she pinched her bottom lip and muttered to herself, was Chelsey Lynwood. The minute we stepped forward, her head snapped up. The worry on her face suddenly melted to cheer.

    ¡°Oy! Loris! You¡¯re my pupil? Right on!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    Qa¡¯la put what he probably thought was a comforting hand on my shoulder. It felt like a bear paw propelling me forward.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so alarmed, Loris. Lynwood, though her heart is devoted to the stacks and further the purpose of RCFers, really is an outstanding soldier and stalwart member of the Regulars Special Exploratory Unit Hares¡¯ Mounted Bicycle Cavalry! You¡¯ll be training with her today just to make sure you don¡¯t come home ever missing anything more than a dangler.¡±

    ¡°What?!!¡±

    That was what Crane found lacking in my education? That was what she thought I was lax in? Defending myself?! Did the woman not realize that my entire time outside of New Castle had been nothing but learning to survive by any means necessary?!

    ¡°Not much of a talker, is she?¡± Lynwood frowned but then shrugged. ¡°Ah well, means you won¡¯t be interrupting me as I explain. All right, Prof. I¡¯ve got this.¡±

    ¡°Go easy, Lynwood. Remember, doing it right means learning it right-¡°

    ¡°Means only having to do it once,¡± she rolled her eyes. ¡°I know, Prof.¡±

    Qa¡¯la¡¯s mouth made a straight line.

    ¡°Did you just roll your eyes at me, intern Lynwood?¡±

    Her spine snapped into place as she saluted smartly, eyes up and far from reproach.

    ¡°No sir! Professor, sir. I was merely inspecting the grounds to check for any debris that might interfere with the curriculum!¡±

    Qa¡¯la harrumphed, ¡°Good to be thorough. I had just thought of a section in the Wax wing that might be in need of a good dusting. All those nooks and crannies deserve thoroughness, don¡¯t they, Lynwood?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely, sir!¡± Lynwood stood at attention until Qa¡¯la shook his head and strode back inside.

    ¡°I leave the Loris in your capable hands then, Lynwood.¡± Just as he passed inside the door, I thought I saw a corner of his mouth quirk upwards. ¡°Sometimes you are entirely too easy, dear gal.¡±

    For a moment after Qa¡¯la left Lynwood continued to hold her salute then after confirming that the yard door really was closed she dropped her arm and gave her whole body a shake.

    She grinned at me, shoulders wide, hands on her hip.

    ¡°All right then, squirt. Let¡¯s see what you can do.¡±

    Then she hauled off and punched me in the forehead.

 Chapter 21: Serendipities

    Chapter 21

    ¡°You punched me!¡± I tried to keep the squeal out of my voice as I rolled on the grass clutching my forehead, but it wasn¡¯t working. ¡°You-you freaking punched me in the head you turd nerfer!¡±

    Lynwood frowned, ¡°Oh come off it. It hurts my hand more than your head to punch that dense rock of yours.¡±

    I sputtered angrily, but Lynwood just shrugged and flapped her hand.

    ¡°All right, back on your feet.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You say that a lot. Back on your feet, squirt! If you can¡¯t dodge a hit, we¡¯re gonna start with at least teaching you how to take one.¡±

    ¡°No! This is a terrible idea! Crane really did put you up to this!¡± I back peddled across the lawn.

    Alas, Chelsey Lynwood, while being a mediocre RCFer and hasty shot with a bolt gun, was indeed an able and swift-footed Regular. She cut off my retreat, and with another insufferable grin aimed a kick at my torso.

    My nerves shot through the roof. It was like being chased through camp all over again. I could see the boot coming, and of their own volition, my arms and legs tensed, and then snapped me into a roll the second her foot left the ground.

    Her eyes narrowed, ¡°Ooooo? Interesting. Better dodge that time. But can you do it again?¡±

    I was still crouched in the grass. This time she launched an overhead punch set to wrack me on my noggin. I rolled again, but she had anticipated that. Her foot was coming up then down into a stomp on my stomach. As quickly as I pulled my legs in, I¡¯d be trapped between either her fist or her foot. My brain screamed. My fingers dug into the ground as I pushed up like a plank and levered myself sideways. I have no idea how I¡¯d actually pulled it off. Suddenly, Lynwood stopped and pulled up.

    ¡°All right. That¡¯s enough of that. If we¡¯re to continue, you better pull in your Glint.¡±

    I wheezed and curled into a ball. She was going to beat me to death. I was sure of it.

    ¡°Oy! Do you hear a word I¡¯m saying?¡± Lynwood dropped to a crouch and poked me in the side. Snarling, I grabbed her hand and sank my teeth into her wrist.

    Instead of screaming or drawing back, she just grinned and patted my head with her other hand.

    ¡°There now. I knew there was something still in there.¡±

    I realized I was biting into leather wraps rather than skin and quickly spat it out as I clambered back to my feet. What should I do? Was this punishment for going out with Pilosa? Did Crane really think I needed lessons in this sort of violence? Was this something all Forsythes went through? My mind suddenly went to Abbi or Blanche undergoing this sort of treatment. It made me want to laugh. Or scream.

    ¡°Well squirt, you got your beans back in your gourd yet? Tell me when you¡¯re ready to go again.¡±

    ¡°What?!¡±

    Lynwood actually laughed at me.

    ¡°I said tell me when you¡¯re ready to go again.¡±

    I mustered all the command I could, ¡°Lorus is not ready. Ever! Lynwood punched me in the head! Lynwood stomped Lorus¡¯s guts! What in-in everlasting fracking level of wracked earth does Lynwood think she is doing?! What is Crane thinking?! Crane is trying to kill Lorus?! Please! Poison food works better!¡±

    Lynwood shook her head, ¡°I only konked your noggin a wee little bit. Come on. I told you it hurts me more to punch your tough coconut like that than it hurts you to take it. And you dodged both my kicks and stomps. If I really wanted to put you out of commission, I¡¯d have to get a much better tag to your temple or throat. You were doing good. Just don¡¯t go flashing your Glint.¡±

    I glared at her.

    ¡°What¡¯s a Glint?¡±

    Lynwood actually cocked her head.

    ¡°Euh? They haven¡¯t talked to you about-? I mean, you are about thirteen, right? So, you must have started noticing that-well- I mean,¡± She paused, ¡°I mean when you started growing up you-¡°

    Lynwood¡¯s face flushed a bright red, and suddenly she dropped to her heels to shuffle closer to me and whispered, ¡°You mean no one¡¯s talked to you about Serendipities?¡±

    My stare must have said enough. Lynwood shot to her feet.

    ¡°Oh no! Oh no no no no! Professor, you set me up! Didn¡¯t you?!¡± she paced back and forth a few more times before settling back into a crouch next to me. ¡°Seriously? You¡¯re not just taking the piss out of me? Your mum never warned you about Glinting in public? Don¡¯t go flashin¡¯ it around? Don¡¯t make a panic at the disco? Good girls don¡¯t Glint? No?¡±

    Cautiously, I shook my head. Lynwood looked around.

    ¡°Criminately! I always thought I¡¯d be explaining it to some junior in the Academy. Not my kid neighbor. I don¡¯t even get a drink for this, do I?¡±

    I rolled to a seated position.

    ¡°Loris knows a good place in the fourth ward if that would make Lynwood feel better.¡±

    ¡°It does not,¡± she stared flatly at me, ¡°The fact you know more pubs in the fourth ward than I do seriously makes me question your current education.¡± She sighed and put a hand to her face. ¡°But then again, the Iron Crane did request me as your combat tutor specifically, so I should have been warned.¡±

    The Crane again, working circles in circles.

    ¡°But what about Loris Glinting? And saran tippies?¡±

    ¡°Serendipities,¡± Lynwood answered automatically then groaned. ¡°Agh! Okay, so how much do you know about human reproduction?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You really like that word.¡±

    ¡°Loris has a lot of questions!¡± I snapped. Lynwood arched an eyebrow.

    ¡°About human repro-¡°

    ¡°About New Castle!¡± I waved my hands in the air. ¡°Loris knows about ¡®bumping uglies¡¯ and storks and getteneton. Then babies come, and much screaming, and then the babies and baby daddies is screaming too. So what?¡±

    Lynwood took a deep breath.

    ¡°So, when Castelians are-¡° she snorted, ¡°what was that phrase? ¡®Getting it on¡¯? Occasionally, the Arcadians¡¯ Gift shows up. And you end up with not only a Castelian, someone inherently well suited to mind the world to begin with, but someone whose traits benefit society in a particularly helpful way, a serendipitous alignment of genes if you will.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Lynwood¡¯s hand suddenly flashed up. A finger jabbed straight towards my face. I froze, but her finger was moving very, very slow, so I leaned left. I realized too late that  her right hand and finger were already in place to anticipate me. A very wet finger suddenly intruded into my left ear.

    ¡°Wet Willy!¡± Lynwood guffawed as I shrieked and clawed at the moisture in my ear. I thought I had dodged her. How had she known?!

    Lynwood smothered her own mirth.

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem, squirt. As soon as I know you¡¯re going to Glint, that is, use your selective advantage to dodge, I can predict which way you¡¯ll dodge and-¡° she waggled a shiny finger at me, ¡°-prepare for it. So it¡¯s neat that you have Serendipity. Most Castelians do, probably ¡®cause we take our raising of families very seriously. For most they may not have realized it yet, or it might be something small, like being able to tell different Grogs apart, solely on taste. Just don¡¯t Glint in public. It¡¯s like flashing your duffs. Don¡¯t give away what you can¡¯t take back.¡±

    I fumed at her a few more moments, hand on my ear.

    ¡°Loris still does not understand ¡®Glinting¡¯.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Lynwood looked at the sky for a moment then stood up and walked over to the edge of the yard and gestured for me to come too. ¡°Okay, how about this. Point to any face you see out there, and I¡¯ll tell you who they are.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t sure where this was going, but I brushed off and followed her over to the street. It was mid-day so there were quite a few strange faces bustling up and down the streets and walks. I picked an average looking man with gray and black hair dressed in blue striped pants and a leather apron over his clothes bustling down the street looking over a clump of notes.

    I pointed, ¡°Him¡±

    ¡°Alchy Kojiro Anderson. Fifty-two, single. Instructor Alchemist, Maestro level.¡±

    Perplexed I pointed again, a woman this time.

    ¡°Her.

    ¡°Cog Trulia Lawrence. Thirty-four. Seamstress. Rabbit wife to Wardensan Figero Lambrose.¡± Lynwood frowned. ¡°Funny to see her up here in Ward One.¡±

    ¡°That group over there by the fountain.¡±

    ¡°Thaumers Geoff Trotsky, Beatrix Whitehorse, John Ng, and Taleah Adealewoh. Probably taking a break from mid-terms. Hope they meet Fox¡¯s expectations.¡±

    I shook my head not understanding what her familiarity with faces had to do with anything. Then she turned her head towards me. Her pupils had grown so large the black had nearly overcome the iris. As the light hit, it seemed for a second her eyes glinted red, much like I¡¯d seen the glowing eyes of wolves in the night. The sight really took me back. It also reminded me of my wild ride with Tabby Porter. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to say.

    ¡°And that one is Yves Coutier, a cog from the  Seventh Ward, probably up to snoop for Meechan again. That¡¯s Engvall von Ritter, another Alchemist. Tawn Epstein, Myriann Hoffer, Petre Keeyowah-¡°

    ¡°And you know all these people?¡±

    Lynwood shook her head. She reached up and wiped some red fluid from her eyes. Was that blood?

    ¡°Not at all. Memorized them from the sketch albums in the barracks. Of course seeing them in real life puts the face with the name,¡± she smiled and tapped her teeth. ¡°Bones can¡¯t lie. They can try to pull teeth out, stuff their face, change their hair, whatever. That¡¯s why I keep telling the Colonel I¡¯d really be great with the RCFers, identifying old photos of grancestors and piecing together who¡¯s a descendant of whom. Your bones are the truest piece of you, which is also why it¡¯s ever so important to keep your Glinting to yourself.¡±

    The air seemed to go out of Lynwood a little, ¡°Take me, for instance. Once the Colonel found out I could identify a face I¡¯d seen only once, he insisted on putting me on the Shoal detail to look for convicts on the run. It¡¯s hard to argue my Serendipity would be better spent in a library when they know that about you. And my family is five generations from the Thirteenth Ward, Purgatory overseers and wall keepers. My fate¡¯s been sealed in my genes since the beginning, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Is that how Lynwood found Loris?¡±

    She nodded a little guiltily. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to admit it because it would enforce the Colonel¡¯s decision just that much more, but it did come in handy that time, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    Lynwood gave a curt nodded then clapped me on the shoulder.

    ¡°Well, enough fiddle-faddle. Back to the lesson. I may have overdone my demonstration a bit. Keep that in mind, Loris; everything has a price, especially your Serendipity. The cost isn¡¯t the same for everyone, but you¡¯ll know it soon enough.¡± She stepped back into a ready posture.

    ¡°This time, no Glinting, or if you¡¯re going to do it, don¡¯t stare directly at a person. Look a little to the side or at a shadowy place so it¡¯s not so obvious.¡±

    ¡°Loris will try, but Loris doesn¡¯t know what she¡¯s Glinting in the first place.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± Lynwood blinked. ¡°I would have thought you¡¯d noticed by now. But then I guess out in the wilds you wouldn¡¯t really encounter many other Serendipities. So tell me, when you saw my lovely foot coming for you, what went through your head?¡±

    ¡°Move,¡± I stated bluntly.

    Lynwood snorted, ¡°Before that. How did you know which direction to go, especially since I already had a follow up?¡±

    I pondered, ¡°Well, Lynwood slowed down, so Loris had time to move away.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± Lynwood nodded, ¡°I didn¡¯t change my pace at all, but it seems your Serendipity slows what you can see, gives you a little extra time to react.¡± She pondered, ¡°It seems like I remember stories of your old man having something similar. No one was sure, of course; he was too much a gentleman to Glint in public, but he had an uncanny knack for knowing just what people were up to. Some said he could actually read minds or predict the future. That¡¯s what made it so odd when he vanished.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I asked, startled.

    Lynwood nodded, ¡°Exactly. Back to lessons.¡±

    The rest of the afternoon was spent going over basics and putting names to things I had already learned on some level or another but now had sequences in which to make them work. First we went over things called ¡°break falls¡± or how to jump down or get knocked down without getting more hurt than necessary.

    Then we went over basic punches and kicks. Those I found interesting because Lynwood explained how to predict where or when a person would kick or punch based on the weight they shifted through their body. Lynwood called this ¡°Reading Body Language¡±, and though I felt I knew a lot of it already, we found out that if I actively read where another strike was coming from, I didn¡¯t Glint or need to use my Serendipity, which I was still foggy on just what triggered it in the first place.

    On the way home I found myself being tailed by Abbi, Blanche, and Cori again. Abbi refused to walk next to me, and when I tried to slow down to let them go ahead, I just found myself flanked then hustled along by their uncomfortably close proximity. I eyed little Cori to my left. If I konked her on the head the way Lynwood had gotten me, I might be able to break past her into an alley. But then I remembered the last time I tried outrunning the cousins.

    Abbi snorted, ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re still smarting from Lynwood¡¯s lesson.¡±

    I eyed her over my shoulder and shrugged, ¡°Nothing worse than any lessons Loris received from the Ayfortees.¡± A wicked thought wiggled into my mind. ¡°Plus we talked about some grown up things.¡±

    Abbi tossed her hair, ¡°What? Like your proper duty to the family?¡±

    ¡°Loris is not sure she should mention since Abbi is only ten.¡±

    ¡°I am not! I¡¯m eleven and three-quarters! Why if it weren¡¯t for you and-¡° Abbi suddenly tripped over air and stumbled into silence. Curious.

    ¡°So¡­Abbi is older than Bentley?¡± I ran over the numbers Bentley gave me about ages and when Uncle Cebis and Aunt Silvia started having children. Something didn¡¯t add up.

    ¡°So you met the monster, huh?¡± Cori asked.

    ¡°The monster?¡±

    Blanche nodded, ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯d call him when he was still coming to the nursery. Either that or Little Lord Stinky Pants.¡± She laughed in her hand. ¡°He really hated that one.¡±

    ¡°Loris can see why. Cousins really think Bentley is that bad?¡±

    Cori actually shouldered into me and giggled.

    ¡°Well you¡¯ve met him, right? How long did it take before he started scheming you into his grand plans to take over New Castle?¡±

    ¡°Take over New Castle?!¡±

    Abbi made a rude noise.

    ¡°Please, Cori, you give him too much credit. That¡¯s probably why his head is so fat in the first place. Le Petit Prince, quell un pet a feu. He talks big, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed he never goes to the Atrium. He¡¯s never had to take lessons with the Regulars. Why should he? That¡¯s what we¡¯re for. The spares.¡±

    ¡°Abbi-¡° Blanche tried to soothe her sister¡¯s bitterness.

    ¡°Pah! I¡¯m fine, Blanche, it¡¯s just-ugh! A Warden is supposed to be kind, charitable, gracious, honest, loyal to his or her Ward and a picture of esprit de Glorianna to the very end!¡±

    ¡°You memorized that from the textbook, didn¡¯t you?¡± Blanche murmured.

    Abbi waved the comment away imperiously.

    ¡°He¡¯s self-centered, patronizing, and arrogantly assuming in every sense of the word.¡±

    I was afraid to make eye contact with any of the cousins, but somehow Cori seemed to sense this. She gave me a grin and crossed her eyes while sticking her tongue out. I snorted.

    ¡°Oh it¡¯s fine for you to laugh! You¡¯ve got a foot up on him. Why, if he doesn¡¯t defer to you as first born you could, I don¡¯t know, you could exile him from the ward.¡± Abbi¡¯s face brightened. ¡°I say, there¡¯s an idea. Loris, what are your thoughts exactly on-¡°

    ¡°Ah-ah, what does Abbi know about Glinting?¡±

    Her flushed face and loss of wind almost perfectly mimicked Lynwood¡¯s response. Blanche actually veered away a little, and Cori clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. Nothing much else was said for the rest of the walk home; though, from the little ¡®hurrumphs¡¯ and stops and starts, I could tell Abbi wanted to say something.

    When we arrived at the house, something felt off. There wasn¡¯t anyone to greet us; although, Brissi paused as she went bustling by, giving us a pained look as she welcomed us home and suggested we take lunch in the conservatory after we had changed. I didn¡¯t really understand why another change of clothes was in order, but when Cori stretched and mentioned about getting into something more comfortable, I had no objections.

    As I was heading down the hall to my room, I met Brissi again, coming the other way. I wondered if she had been in my room again.

    ¡°Oh Miss Loris! You haven¡¯t got anything to do with this, do you?¡±

    I paused and looked at the woman. Her mouth was pursed as her eyes swept up and down the halls, scanning for something. It looked far less like nerves and more like irritation.

    ¡°Loris is not sure what ¡®this¡¯ is, but Loris has been at the Atrium all morning getting punched in the head.¡±

    ¡°Have you?¡± Brissi snorted then quickly covered as she curtsied and hustled down the hall. ¡°Apologies Miss. I hope, er, it was educational.¡±

    ¡°Very.¡±

    I watched her head down the hall, muttering something under her breath, before I stepped into my room. After quietly closing the door, I stood there for a slow count of ten, listening to my own breathing. I wasn¡¯t alone.

    They were trying to be quiet, and if I hadn¡¯t been listening for it, I might have missed it. But where were they? I scanned the furniture, the closet, the bed.  My eyes narrowed. I took a couple casual steps into the room then sprang up as high as I could before landing hard, square in the middle of the bed. The frame shook so hard, for a second I was afraid it was going to fly apart even as I continued jumping up and down, making the joints shriek. Apparently, that worried the intruder just as much.

    ¡°Oy! Oy! Alright! Stop it! Loris! The bloody bed¡¯s going to come apart! I¡¯m getting out! I¡¯m getting out!¡± I rolled over in time to see a golden mop of hair wiggle out from under the bed. Bentley rolled over on his back, panting, arms out. He grinned up at me.

    ¡°Hullo, Loris. Surprised to see me?¡±