Transcription
Somewhere Beyond the Sea, part two.
After the breakfast had been partially consumed, Arthur cleared his throat, causing everyone to look at him. Even Colli, who had settled into S's lap. Arthur chose his words carefully. "As you know, Lionus and I will be traveling over the next few days, and I want to make sure you all understand what we're doing."
"You're testifying," Fee said, in front of the, in front of the government.
"Yes, I am. I've been asked to provide an account of my time here on the island when I was a child."
Theodore clicked a question, a single word. "Why?"
"Because," he paused. "Then, because if there is a chance someone will listen and learn from the past, then there's a chance I need. That's a chance I need to take. You know of my history with the island, how I was brought up in this very house and how it ended."
"The cellar," S said quietly.
A flash of memory, screaming until his voice was fire raging around him, smoke thick and noxious, and he didn't push it away. He let it settle, gave it room to breathe, and though he felt the low thrum of decades-old anger, it smoldered rather than burned. The children didn't know everything about this time on the island, but they knew enough.
"Yes, the cellar. However, it wasn't just that. It was this house, the island, the people in charge who thought they knew what was best for the rest of us. They didn't."
"But you still came back here," Talia said.
"I did," Arthur agreed. "Because I believed, and still do, that places just like people can hold power over you if you let them. Unearned power that gives them the right to take, to decide how others should be treated simply because of who they are."
"Do you know what generational trauma is?"
"It's when one group of people goes through something bad," S said. "And then it affects the next generations, too."
"Yes, S. That's correct. Perhaps it's missing a bit of the nuance behind it, but for purposes of this discussion, it's enough." He looked across the table at Lionus, who smiled warmly and nodded. "I wasn't treated right when I was a child, but I was far from the only one. You've all experienced it for yourselves in one form or another. I wish I could take that from you, but I can't. And I don't know if I would have the right, even if I could. You are more than the sum of your parts, but your past is still that, yours. I wouldn't presume to take something from you that you might not want to give up, even if it's painful to think about. I want to do the next best thing. Use my voice to bring attention not only to this island but to others who might not have found their home yet."
"Are you going to talk about us?" V asked.
"I am," Arthur said. "Not in too many specifics, but I think it's important for people to hear just how far each of you has come. But take heart, my children, and know that your secrets are safe."
"He wants to brag about you," Helen said. "He's just too modest to call it as such."
Arthur snorted. "Yes, I suppose that's what it is. I do want to brag about each of you. S's words, Chanty as a bellhop, Lucy being an expert in all things music, Fee with her trees, and Talia with her garden. I bet no other wyvern has a horde as magnificent as Theodore's."
"We are pretty amazing," Chanty agreed. "You have my permission to tell them that I think now."
"Noted," Arthur said dryly. "But this isn't just about me or even us. It's about the wider magical world and what we want going forward. The changes that must be made, the laws that must be repealed to make way for a world where anyone and everyone has a chance to be free to do with their lives what they wish."
"That sounds like a lot of work," Talia said, tugging the end of her beard, something she did when she was thinking hard.
"It does," Arthur said. "Because it will be." He looked at each of them in turn. "I won't lie to you. The road ahead will not be smooth. No matter what I say, we say, there will always be be those who refuse to accept the truth. They surround themselves with like-minded people, and it creates an echo chamber that's not uh nigh on impossible to escape, a feedback loop that never ends."
"We must,"
"Aren't we doing the same?" S asked suddenly, causing everyone to look at him. He winced a little, started to slouch in his seat, but stopped before he could get too far. Instead of trying to make himself as small as possible, he sat upright, squaring his shoulders.
"Explain, S, if you please."
S looked down at his plate, picking up a fork and pushing around the remains of his breakfast. "We're surrounded by like-minded people. We all want the same thing or something close to it. Isn't that an echo chamber? How does that make us any different?"
"Excellent," Arthur said. And S flushed, lips quirking. "I don't think I've told you today how impressed I am by you. You were correct, which is exactly why I need to take our truth out of this house and into the ears of the people we don't trust to hear it yet. Even then, I prefer to think of standing before a vast lake on a windless day, the surface smooth until one of us, say you, S, picks up a stone and toss it to into the water."
"What happens then?"
"It causes ripples," Fee said.
"Yes," Arthur said. "And what if you, Fee, picked up your own stone and threw it in along with S and the rest of you did the same. The ripples would bounce off each other, spreading in new directions, growing as more people toss their stones in. And if we keep on doing it, who knows how far the ripples would reach in the end."
S nodded. "We keep on throwing stones until someone listens."
"I don't know why we just don't throw stones at them," Talia muttered. "Seems to be a waste of a good luck, good rock if you ask me."
"Because violence is never the answer," Arthur said.
Talia smiled sweetly. "But it could be the question."
"It can," Arthur aloud. "But I believe the greatest weapon we have at our disposal is our voices. And I'm going to use my voice for you and for me. Hate is loud. We are louder."
"What if they don't listen?" Fee asked. "What if they don't care what you have to say? What if they come here and try and take us away again?"
"They wouldn't get very far," Zoe said, the flowers in her hair opening and closing. "The island belongs to me as much as I belong to it. Should anyone try and come here with the thought of removing anyone from their home, they're going to have a rude awakening."
Arthur nodded. "And we have to try because if we don't, no one else will." He did not miss the surreptitious glance exchanged between Helen and Zoe. Theodore clicked and growled, tongue snaking out across his lip, his lips, eyes bright.
Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When he opened his eyes again, he found everyone watching him, waiting for his answer. He smiled gently and said, "No, Theodore. I don't believe it will affect the petition for adoption."
"Because you want to be our dad," Chanty said, out of the mouths of babes.
"I do," Arthur said. "More than anything in the world."
"It's going to be on the radio?" Fee asked.
"It is," Arthur said. "And I know you'll want to listen, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea."
"Why?" Talia asked. "If you're going to talk about us, we should probably listen to make sure you describe my garden right. Make sure you mention my begonias. I'm awfully proud of them."
"As you should be," Lionus said, glancing at Arthur, who nodded. "But these things can be complicated. Some of the questions Arthur will be asked might seem unfair or even rude. While Arthur and I are expecting this, it won't make things any easier," he smiled. "And if all goes well, we'll bring someone back with us."
"David," S said.
Talia rolled her eyes. "Of course, it's another boy. So many penises in this house."
"I don't have a penis," Chanty said. "It's more like a cloaca."
"What's that?" Fee asked.
"Oh, it's this thing where I don't know that we need to talk about our genitals at the table where we eat," Lionus said.
"I don't mind," Shanty said. "I like my body. It's squishy."
"Help to the Helen to the rescue. Yes, David. I hope you're as excited as I am for you to meet him. From what I've been told, he's blossomed in the care of the people he's with. Let's just say I think he'll fit right in here with the rest of you."
"This sounds suspiciously like a threat."
"That sounds suspiciously like a threat," Lionus mumbled.
Theodore chirped a question, bobbing his head up and down.
"I don't know," Arthur said. "For now, he's not being included on the adoption petition because we don't know if he'll want to stay. This could be just one stop on his journey, and it's if that's the case, we will welcome him just the same and make his time here a peaceful one. It's why we've worked so hard over the last weeks to get his room ready for him. Having a place to call your own is an important first step. The best I can say is that we'll need to take it one day at a time."
The timer on the oven dinged and Lucy's face lit up. "My sticky buns. Yay! Yay! Yay!" He pushed back from the table, knocking his chair over as he skipped toward the oven.
And that was the end of that. After they made quick work of cleaning up the kitchen, the children made Lionus promise he would close his eyes and keep them closed in preparation for receiving his Bert gift. He made a big show of it, bending over to allow Lucy to wave his hands in front of Lionus's face to prove he couldn't see. Lucy asked Arthur to do the same. The children led the way, followed by Zoe. Lionus's hand and hers. Arthur bringing up the rear, holding on to Lionus's hips. When they stood in the sitting room, eyes closed. Zoe, under instructions from S, positioned them to face what Arthur thought was the fireplace. In the darkness, Lionus's hand gripping his. He heard Lucy and Talia arguing over how long the countdown should be before he and Lionus could open their eyes. Lucy wanted to start at three. Talia wanted to start at 5 million. They pro compromised and decided seven would be good.
"Okay," Talia said. "Seven, six." The others joined in. "Five 4. 3 2 1!" Lucy shouted.
Arthur waited a beat to allow Lionus to open his eyes first. "It was his birth after all, and he knew he'd done the right thing when Lionus gasped, squeezing Arthur's hand tightly. He opened his own eyes and there hanging above the fireplace was the gift. Curved picture frames formed what appeared to be a perfect circle. The frames themselves were made of wood, each white with blue and yellow and pink flowers painted onto it. The right and left sides of the circle were made up of three photographs each. Lionus with each of the children. S and Lionus reading together. Lucy and Lionus in their pajamas, hands above their heads as they danced to Bethy Bessie Smith. Talia and Lionus in the garden on their hands and knees, a pile of weeds beside them. Chanty and Lionus standing in front of the hotel in the village. Chanty's bellhop hat sitting at a jaunty angle at top his head. Theodore and Lionus with their heads underneath the couch, their rears pointed up. Theodore's tail caught mid swing. Fee and Lionus walking hand in hand through the forest. Lionus wearing his explorer's outfit. The bottom of the circle seemed a little off compared to the rest. It was as if a frame was missing, especially seeing as how the photograph across the top was longer. The bottom frame held a picture of Zoe standing with the children in front of the house, all of them smiling wildly, widely. The photograph at the top of the circle had Lionus and Arthur center frame, dancing in Zoe's home with the children watching in the background.
Lovely. This lovely in ways Arthur wasn't sure he could articulate with any clarity. How could anyone look upon these or any children and only no fear? Especially when he saw what sat in the middle of the circle, another frame, this one square. Instead of a photograph, however, the frame held words upon a crisp white page.
"See me. See me for who I am. I am magic. I am human. I am inhuman. See me. I am a boy. I am a girl. I am everything and nothing in between. See me. You do. You see me. You recoil in fear. You scream in anger. See me, I bleed, I ache. You see me and you wish you hadn't. You wish I was invisible. Out of sight, out of mind, unseen, faded, unmuted or muted. You want my color, you want my joy. You want a monochrome world with monochrome beliefs. You see me and you want to take it all away, but you can't. You want me lost, but I am found in the breaths I take in the spaces between heartbeats. I am found because I refuse to be in black and white or any shade of gray. I am color. I am fire. I am the sun and I will burn away the shadows until only light remains. And then you will have no choice but to see me."
"Do you like it?" Chanty asked. "We worked really hard on it. Zoe helped with the photographs, but we did everything else."
Theodore chirped loudly. And Chanty added, "Except for the poem. S wrote that."
Arthur couldn't speak. The lump in his throat was far too large. Lionus managed for both of them. In a strangled voice, he said, "You did this for me?"
Talia frowned. "Yes, it's your Bert"? She squinted up at him. "Oh no, are you going scenile again? I knew 41 in human years was old as crap. Well have to put him into a home where we'll promise to visit, but then we don't."
"But he already has a home," Chanty said confused. "Why would he live somewhere else?"
Helen, standing off to the side, sniffled as she pulled a handkerchief from one of the pockets on her overalls. "They wanted to show you that you belong," Zoe said.
"I can see that," Lionus said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He laughed. "And it felt like the sun coming out after the rain. I when I lived in the city, I dreamed in color of places where the sea stretched on for miles and miles." He looked at each of the children in turn. "But what I didn't expect was that the color didn't come from the ocean or the trees or even the island itself. It came from all of you." He blinked rapidly, throat working. "This has been the best Bert. Thank you. You've made me the happiest I've ever been."
Lionus dropped Arthur's hand and rushed forward, scooping up as many of the children as he could manage. Three. while the others held on tightly to various limbs. Arthur waited until they began to pull away before speaking in a horse voice that he'd never heard come from himself before.
At the bottom, "Is there a photograph missing?"
S looked at him and said, "That's for David in case he wants to be up there, too. We didn't want him to feel left out when he got here."
Arthur closed his eyes and breathed.
Chapter 3.
The train arrived right on schedule. Early on a Sunday morning, a black steam engine with half a dozen blue and green carriages and tow. The sky looked angry, the sun's rays casting the thin clouds in a furious shade of red. It appeared a storm was brewing as the children gathered before Arthur and Lionus to say their goodbyes.
"You'll listen to Zoe?"
"Yes," he said with an undercurrent of nervousness unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
"You won't give her any trouble?"
Lucy smiled prettily. "Oh, we wouldn't dream of it. Cross our hearts hope to die."
"That's what we're concerned about," Lionus said. "No death, no destruction, and I'd better not hear from Zoe that there were explosions of any kind."
"I'll make sure nothing blows up," Said Theodore on his shoulder, nipping at his ear.
"Shouldn't be too hard now that Talia doesn't have grenades anymore."
"I still haven't forgiven you for that," she Talia said, glaring up at them.
"You have to miss us," Lucy demanded. "And you have to call me every hour so I can tell you what I did the previous hour in great detail."
"You have to bring us back presents," Talia said. "And if one of the presents, say for a beautiful, talented gnome, happens to be twice as expensive as the others, then we'll just have to deal with that."
Theodore growled, and Lionus assured him if he found any discarded buttons, he'd bring them back for the wyverns horde. Theodore was so pleased he took to the sky, wings spread wide as he circled above them, his shadow stretching along the ground. While the others continued to tell Lionus what he and Arthur could and could not do, S looked at Arthur and jerked his head. They stepped off to the side of the platform near an orange courtesy phone that hung from a post.
"What is it?" Arthur said. "Did something happen?"
S shrugged. "No, it's not like that. It's" He looked away out into onto the rolling dunes, rising beyond the platform, thin reeds bending in the warm breeze. "I just I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Anything," Arthur said with a nod. "Always."
S took a deep breath and said, "We're going to listen to your testimony on the radio."
"We talked about it. Did you?" Arthur asked. "All of you?"
"Yes." He should have expected this. And though a prickle of unease danced along the back of his neck at the idea of them listening, it was no match for how proud he felt. He knew how hard this must be for S. For all the progress he'd made, S still had moments of extreme doubt.
"And you're all in agreements. Agreement?"
"Yeah. Uh, we are," S firmly, even as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He sighed. "You confuse me sometimes."
Arthur chuckled dryly. "It's not the first time I've heard that."
S arched an eyebrow. "Might want to work on that then. Cheeky. You want to protect us from the people who don't like us, and I get it. I do. But then in this next breath, you tell us we need to use our voices because those same people should know who we are. A conundrum," Arthur agreed.
"You can't protect us forever," Said. And the sorrow Arthur felt was sharp, a dagger through the heart. "I know you want to, but how else are we supposed to learn? How am I supposed to help you fix what's broken if you shield us from everything?"
"You are a child," Arthur said. That unease changing from a prickle to a full-on thrum. "All of you are."
"I'm 15," S reminded him. "If that's a child, fine. But even then, I we won't be for long. You say you trust us. Doesn't that mean you should trust us to make some decisions for ourselves?" He glanced over Arthur's shoulders shoulder at the others, Chanty's vibrant voice echoing across the platform. "This is about us, Arthur. Don't we have a right to know what's being said?"
"You do," Arthur said quietly. "S I" He shook his head. "Yes, you do have the right." He laid his hands on S's shoulders. "If this is what you want, then I'll support it. All I ask is that you allow Zoe and Helen to be present to help you all make sense of it. And any questions you have for me or Lionus will answer them upon our return."
S nodded, obviously relieved.
"Is that all?" Arthur asked carefully.
S cleared his throat, gaze darting around. "I know we talk about it about you adopting the kids," he winced. "And I know I'm probably too old for it"
"Doesn't matter if you were one or 100," Arthur said. "You would still be mine as much as I am yours. Nothing will ever change that."
S exhaled sharply as he sagged. when he looked back at Arthur at, not up, seeing as how he was almost as tall as Arthur now. His vision was clear, sure, and he said, "I didn't know my parents. They were gone before I could remember anything about them. But you're here. You said you would be, and you've kept your word."
"And I meant it," Arthur said.
The train whistled sharply, signaling an imminent departure. Arthur turned toward it, only to jerk his head back when S blurted, "We love you. You know, we don't say it very much, but we do."
Arthur pulled S toward him, wrapping his arms around the boy as tightly as he could. S gripped his back, forehead on Arthur's shoulders. "I know," he whispered.
And I, an attendant, a burly fellow in a snappy uniform with two rows of gold buttons down the front, leaned out from the train and called, "All aboard, fi, final call for those leaving Marcus."
They hugged the children for the last time and lifted their luggage, two suitcases between them, as they headed for the train to find their seats. But as the train began to pull away, Arthur did not sit. He hurried from carriage car to carriage car as the train picked up speed, waving frantically to the children as they ran next to the tracks. Theodore coasting on the wind. Soon the train proved to be too fast and the children stopped. He leaned out the window and shouted, "I love you, all of you." Whatever they said in reply was lost to the sounds of the train and the warm wind. Bowing his head, he struggled to control his breathing. He looked up when a gentle hand squeezed his shoulder. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
"I've never left them before," Arthur whispered. "I didn't expect it to be so hard."
"Leaving is never easy," Lionus said, laying his forehead against Arthur's back. "But knowing they'll be waiting for us to come back, we'll make it that much sweeter when we do."
Arthur turned and gathered Lionus up in his arms. "It's as if I've left my heart behind." He felt Lionus smile against his throat. "I've never seen you so out of sorts before, you delightful man. They will be well because you taught them how to be. Come now, calm, even breaths. The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can return home."
Midway through their journey, the first raindrops began to fall. The city was, as Arthur remembered, from his youth, extraordinarily loud. Cars trapped in gridlock streets, people bustling on the sidewalk, umbrellas up against the rain that fell in droves, the black and gray of the metal buildings gloomy under a darkened sky. Stepping off the train, Arthur entered a different world, one where he was a stranger. He couldn't smell the salt of the ocean, couldn't hear the crashing of waves against rocky cliffs. The stench of petrol and rubber mingled with the sounds of honking horns, and part of him, the child trapped in the sh cellar, screamed at him to get back on the train.
Lionus bumped into him from behind, grumbling under his breath about the never-ending rain. "Remembered my umbrella for once." He glanced up at the clock hanging against the far wall of the train platform. Arthur did the same, and saw it was the middle of the afternoon.
"The hotel, then?" Arthur asked, taking Lionus's suitcase so he could open the umbrella. With the umbrella sorted, Lionus took his suitcase back. He looked at Arthur, that funny little wrinkle in his forehead making an appearance. "I I have something to show you first. Will you come with me? We'll have to take the bus."
Arthur would follow him anywhere and told him as much. Lionus rolled his eyes, though he couldn't hide a smile and said, "Be sought fool. Come on."
The trip on the bus took almost 40 minutes. Lionus promised the journey to the hotel wouldn't take half as long as after. Arthur, for his part, didn't mind, fascinated by the way everyone standing swayed each time the bus came to a stop at a light. They were for a brief moment all the same. The farther they went, the more the bus emptied, and though they had seats available to them, Arthur told Lionus he preferred to stand after the long train ride. For some reason, enjoying the simple act of being on a bus, something he hadn't done in years.
"We're approaching our stop," Lionus said, reaching up to pull the cord hanging from the ceiling. A bell sounded from somewhere near the front of the bus, which began to slow, turning into a pull out pull out off the road next to a small stand. The rain hadn't lessened. Lionus and Arthur had to jump from the last step on the bus to the sidewalk to avoid a large puddle. As the bus pulled away, Arthur waved. No one waved back.
"They don't care," Lionus said.
"Perhaps," Arthur replied. "Still, it's only polite." He took in their new surroundings. The building of buildings of the city rose in the distance, hulking giants reaching toward a slate colored sky. Around them, a neighborhood of middle-class housing, singlestory h homes made of brick and wooden paneling. It was much quieter here, the traffic nowhere near as severe as it had been closer to the city center. The only sound came from the splatter of rain and a dog barking somewhere.
"This way," Lionus said, and the umbrella o the umbrella open. They began to move down the sidewalk. Lionus quiet, tension making his shoulder stiff. Arthur wanted to ask where they were going, but got distracted by the trees that lined either side of the road. They didn't look like the trees back on the island. Even though it was summer, the leaves were dull, dark, as if all the color had been sapped from them. It was off-putting in ways he couldn't describe, and he was about to tell Lionus as much, but before he could, he saw a street sign that led farther into the neighborhood. "Herm's way," it read.
"This is where you lived," he said.
"It is," Lionus said in an ecliptto Hermes way, a box-like Lori driving past, splashing water near their feet. Arthur found it odd that no light seemed to be on in the darkened houses. Even if people are were at work, wouldn't they want to come home to brightness rather than shadows? It didn't take long for them to reach their destination. Lionus stopped in front of the house. 86 Hermy's way. It wasn't much. Small brick at its base with paneling in a dark shade of blue. A porch with white railings complete with a rocking chair tucked away safely out of the way rain. And there were flower beds, but they held no flowers, just misshapen bushes that could use a trim.
"This is it," Lionus said quietly, but he didn't look at Arthur. He stared at the house with an expression Arthur didn't like, a tinge of sadness that made him look older than he was.
"It's lovely," Arthur decided.
"Is it? It's small," Arthur admitted, looking at the back at the house. "I didn't know it how it contain all that you are."
Lionus was startled into laughter, eyes bright. "I'll have you know I've lost half a stone. I didn't mean it that way and you know it. I happen to love those stones lost or found. It's just it's not you. It was Lionus said perhaps no longer but this was my home. You're still the owner. I am." He nodded toward the house next door. "Mrs. Clapper lives there. Her nephew is in the process of purchasing the property but he and his new husband went abroad and were waiting for him to get back to finalize everything. We don't need to go inside, but there's something I need to do."
"What's that?" Arthur asked as they made their way up the walkway toward the house.
Lionus ducked his head. "I made a promise."
"We do that, don't we? Make promises."
"We do," Lionus said as they stopped in front of the porch, the rain tick, tick ticking against the umbrella. "Could you set out luggage on the Could you set our luggage on the porch out of the rain? According to Talia and Fee, this shouldn't take long. and a promise to those two is one to keep," Arthur said, having an idea of where this was going. He took Lionus's suitcase from him and climbed the steps, setting it near the door. When he went down the steps, Lionus held a small cloth pouch in his left hand, the other gripping the umbrella. He looked up at the house, shook his head, and stepped off the walkway into the overgrown grass. Arthur followed him, stopping when he did in front of the empty flower beds. Lionus handed Arthur the umbrella and pulled the green string that held the pouch closed. Inside, Arthur could see a pile of seeds, some oval in shape, others square, all black with speckles of white on them.
"Okay," Lionus said. "V and Talia told me that I don't even need to plant them." He poured a handful of seeds into his hand, bouncing them once, twice before sprinkling them along the flower beds. After empty emptying the pouch, Lionus stepped back from the flower beds with a frown, foreheadlined. "They said it should only take a minute or two."
"What should?" Arthur asked with great interest. He peered down at the seeds lying in wet soil. They rested where they'd fallen, and if anything was supposed to happen, he couldn't see what it was. Until, that is, one of the seeds began to wiggle. As Arthur looked down on in an amazement, he was reminded of sand fleas the children dug up on the shores. Little gray crustaceans with tiny legs scrambling for purchase. The first seed burrowed into the ground, followed by another and another until all of them were digging in near silence. When the last one disappeared, a little bubble appeared above the hole it had created. It grew and grew until it was the size of an apple. Then it popped, and in this insignificant explosion, Arthur felt a familiar rush of magic, a mixture of gnomish and sprite, so green it felt like the birth of life. The ground rolled beneath their feet, a low tremor that rattled the railings on the porch. Lionus grabbed Arthur's hand, pulling him back as the soil, where the first seed had disappeared, parted, a small stalk pushing through, a shade of green that was startling in this colorless place. He heard a groaning sound, and his eyes widened when more plants burst through the soil. When all was said and done, it took less than a minute. Where once was a barren, muddy nothing, now grew dozens of flowers in pink and blue and white and orange. The leaves and stalks so green they looked plastic. The flowers rushed toward the sky, bursting open, soaking up the rain. The centerpiece was a large sunflower, at least 7t tall, the bloom wide. It was unexpected, stunning in its simplicity for something that was undoubtedly a complex piece of magic. He knew the children were powerful. Wasn't that why they'd been sent to him to begin with, but having such evidence never failed to knock the breath from his lungs.
"I'm nervous," Arthur said quietly.
Lionus smiled as if he were expecting the confession. "You're doing the right thing." He leaned against Arthur, a warm, comforting weight. "Be nervous, Arthur. Be frightened. I am too."
Knowing what they were to face the next day, Arthur and Lionus decided to make it an early night. The return bus trip was mostly uneventful with one particular exception, a newspaper discarded on a cracked seat. Arthur's own face stared back at him in black and white, though decades younger, his straw-colored hair longer, a cocky twist to his smile. Above the picture, stark words in black type, "Who is Arthur Parnasses?" below that in smaller type landmark testimony from a magical being.
"Who indeed?" Arthur said to no one at all.
"All right," Lionus asked, coming up behind him.
"Athor turned, blocking the newspaper. "Let's sit farther back."
By the time they were back in the city, darkness had fallen. The rain had lessened to a miserable drizzle, and even though it was summer, the air had a chill to it that reminded Arthur of winter on the island. They picked up takeway. They picked up takeaway. Lionus shuddering when Arthur asked for extra brown sauce. "No accounting for taste," Lionus said with a sniff as if he hadn't gotten more ketchup than was necessary. They took their meal to the hotel a couple of blocks down from the restaurant. The hotel, the rose and the thorn, was an old thing. On a busy street corner, it loomed above a white stone building with a black facade inlaid with gold designs of a rose surrounded by prickly thorns. The bellhop, a young lad with a unibrow and a crooked smile, opened the door for them, bowing as he welcomed them to the hotel. They had chosen the rose and thorn for its proximity to Bandandy Bro Bandicross, the governmental building where Arthur would be giving testimony. It would make for an easy trip come morning. Making quick work of getting checked in, tipping their young bellhop h handsomely, they hurried to their room, laughing when both reached for the phone as soon as they'd set down their luggage. The call home lasted 30 minutes, given that each of the children wanted to give a complete accounting of how they'd spent their Sunday. Though heartened to hear their voices, Arthur felt a desperate urge to flee this place, to spread his wings and fly until the rain had stopped and the air smelled of the sea. Especially when Chanty asked if they'd met David yet, and if he was tall. The reason Chanty asked, he explained, was because he'd read yetis could grow upward of 10 feet, and he thought that would be extremely helpful when something was on the top shelf in the kitchen. Arthur replied that he would report back just as soon as he'd met David himself. When they hung up with promises to call again in the morning and again in the afternoon and again at night, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, staring off into nothing, his meal halfeaten and now cold. Regardless, he didn't have the stomach to finish it.
Lionus went into the L after the call, and when he came out, he had a funny look on his face, button-down shirt halfopen, revealing sparse hair on pale skin. Arthur frowned. "What is it?"
Lionus shook his head, bringing a finger to his lips. Moving quickly, he went to the radio sitting on the desk across from the bed. He flipped it on and spun the dial across the stations until he found little Anthony singing about the tears on his pillow, the pain in his heart. Turning the volume up as loud as it would go, he motioned for Arthur to follow him. Arthur rose from the bed without question, Lionus leading him to the hall closet. Opening the door, Lionus shoved him inside, pulling the closet door closed behind him. He could barely make out Lionus's face in the darkness.
"A little light, if you please," Lionus whispered loudly.
Arthur brought up his hand, and a small bloom of fire rose from the tip of his index finger, flickering as if a wick had been lit. Lionus's face was illuminated as he leaned forward. "Who knew we were staying at this hotel?"
Arthur blinked. "Zoe and Helen, the children."
"Why?"
"One of the light bulbs over the sink was out. I thought it was dead until I saw that it wasn't screwed in all the way. I tried to fix it, but it wouldn't go in any further. I figured something was blocking it, so I poked around in the fixture and found this." He lifted his hand, turning it over so the palm faced the ceiling. Sitting in his hand were shards of black plastic mixed with silver, none bigger than the half moon crescent on his fingernails. Next to the shards, a green wire detached.
"What is it?" Arthur asked, peering down at Lionus's hand. "A bug?"
Lionus muttered. "Or it was until I destroyed it. Someone wants to listen in to whatever we say."
"Truly," Arthur asked, shocked into a bright dark bark of incredulous laughter. "There's a little that's a little much, don't you think?"
"You don't know the government like I do. I wouldn't put it past them to do something insidious to try and get a leg up on tomorrow. He bounced the plastic in his hand. The reservation was in my name. They could easily have found out where we were staying, which means that we were put into this room for a reason." Arthur finished for him. He leaned back against the closet wall, mind worrying. Could there be more?
"I have no doubt," Lionus said. "We need to change rooms. No, we need to change hotels."
"Or," Arthur said thoughtfully, pushing himself off the wall. "We could give them a show."
Lionus's eyebrows rose. "What did you have in mind?"
They stepped out back into the room. Little Anthony, having given way to Paty Klein. Perfect. He took the pieces of the broken device from Lionus, setting them aside on the desk. He turned slowly, right foot dragging along the floor in an arc before he snapped to attention, one arm across his chest, the other at his back. He bowed, never taking his eyes from Lionus. When he rose, he asked, "May I have this dance, my good man?" He held out his hand in invitation just as Paty Klein began to sing about seeing the pyramids along the Nile, watching the sunrise on a tropical aisle.
Lionus rolled his eyes in exasperation, but his lips quirked. "Now, really, but what about we can worry about tomorrow or we can dance? I know what I want."
Lionus watched him for a moment. Then, "Who am I to refuse such an offer?"
Arthur pulled him close, hands on Alinus's hips. Lionus put his own hands over Arthur's shoulders, fingers in the back of his hair. They began to sway back and forth, feet shuffling on green carpet. Leaning his forehead against Lionus's, Arthur whispered, "Let them listen to what joy sounds like. Maybe they'll learn a thing or two."
Chapter 4.
Bandandy Cross stood ominously before them, a Gothic revival building made of darkened stone and constructed in the latter part of the 18th century. Two towers rose on either side of the pointed gar gable, and a layered ark of old sat above the massive double doors. The rose window above the archaval was made of stained glass, a five-pointed star at its center. The building was beautiful and menacing at once. Low curls of fog crawling across the letters and sidewalks. Arthur and Lionus stood opposite Bandicross, watching the gaggle of reporters gathering on the front steps, most of them holding either a camera or a microphone in addition to an umbrella. There were at least two dozen of them, but they were outnumbered by something Arthur did not expect. In the streets blocking traffic, a crowd of people from all walks of life, the old, the young, magical and human. They held signs lambasting the proceedings. And as Arthur and Lionus looked on, a chant picked up, "Magical rights are human rights. Magical rights are human rights." Cameras clicked and flashed. Reporters shouted questions that went unanswered as the crowd yelled and marched in a wide circle. Beyond them rows of barricades lined with police holding back counterprotesters spewing filth in the form of jeers, teeth bared in furious snarls, snarls. They too held signs, some displaying that old chestnut. See something? Say something.
"We could try and get in through the back," Lionus said, sounding worried. "We have time."
Arthur shook his head. "I won't hide, Lionus. To do so might give the notion that I'm ashamed. I am anything but. No, we will walk in through the front doors with our heads held high and prove to them that we will not be intimidated."
"But what if someone harms means you harm?"
"Then they will see what I'm capable of," Arthur said in a hardened voice. "I am a child no longer. I can handle myself."
"I know," Lionus said, sounding rather helpless. "But I don't want anything to happen to you." Arthur said. "Shortly after you came to the island, you rightly took me to task for keeping the children from the village. You said something I've never forgotten. That the longer the children stay hidden away on the island, the harder it would become for them. That the island wasn't forever and that world outside was waiting."
"That certainly sounds like me," Lionus said begrudgingly.
"And I assume you're taking the point I was making about the children and applying it to yourself."
"I am," Arthur agreed. "When we live in fear, it controls us. Every decision we make is smothered by it. I refuse to live like that any longer. I have every right to walk in through those front doors same as everyone else."
"You do," Lionus said, and I wouldn't dream of taking that away from you. My apologies if it sounded like that's what I meant. I'm just worried."
"Yes." Arthur reached over and straightened Lionus's tie, smoothing it in down the front of his chest. He had on a black suit, the first time he'd worn one since leaving Diccomy permanently. His tie was a lovely shade of reddish orange, the color of fire. It was not lost on Arthur the reason Lionus had picked that tie in particular, a little sign, a burst of flame in the muted gray of this rain drenched city. Arthur too wore a suit, his coat and trousers were navy blue, his dress shirt covered in blooms that reminded him of Talia's garden. The top plastic button at his throat had been replaced by a brass one sewn on with his with care. His tie was a wonderful shade of green, not unlike a certain bellhop. His shortened trousers revealed gray socks with little puffy Pomeranians on them pinned to his shirt, a small gold leaf plucked from a tree on the island grown by a forest sprite. On his jacket, a pocket square black with little red devil horns on it.
"Just be careful," Lionus said. "Listen, watch. Don't give more away than you'd get in return. And for the love of all that's holy, do not mention the animal skulls Lucy collects, especially to the reporters. Professionalism, Arthur. It's all about professionalism, even if we have to fudge the truth a bit."
Arthur kissed his forehead. "Noted. Come, the sooner we arrive, the sooner we'll be finished."
With Lionus at his side, Arthur held his head high as he crossed the street, stepping around the standing puddles on the road, fastening the buttons of a suit coat. A heavy set man with curly hair and crooked teeth saw them first. He stood on the third step. An ancient camera hanging around his neck by a leather strap. His gaze moved across the crowd, landed on Arthur, stuttered, then moved swiftly to Lionus. His eyes widened as he looked back at Arthur.
"Arthur Parnasses!" he yelled, nearly falling as he stumbled down the steps. His camera came out and flash flash. "Sir, is there any truth to the rumors that the Antichrist is plotting the end of the world?"
The effect on the crowd was instantaneous. A brief moment of silence, as if all the world held its breath, and then an explosion of noise as everyone turned toward them. Reporters, protesters, counterprotesters, all shouting at once. Microphones and signs raised. Arthur and Lionus were swarmed. people reaching out, touching Arthur's shoulders, his arms, his hands, his back. Lionus squawkked angrily as someone bumped into his hand, knocking him forward. Arthur managed to keep him upright as they pushed their way toward Bandandy Cross, questions being shouted at them from all directions. Beyond them, the counterprotesters hurled vitriol, screaming, "See something? Say something!" over and over again.
They managed to reach the steps of Bandandy Cross, climbing halfway before Arthur stopped, turning around. He held up his hands as cameras flashed. Lionus stood next to him, their arms brushing together.
"I'll keep this brief," Arthur said, raising his voice. "I am honored to have been invited to Bandandy Cross today to speak of my history with the department in charge of magical."
"Where is the Antichrist?" someone shouted. Though he couldn't see who it was. It sounded like the man who'd spotted them first. "Can you promise he's not going to split the planet open like an egg?"
"Oh," Arthur said. "I highly doubt it. You see, he's still learning how to crack chicken eggs properly, so I expect it'll be quite some time before he's ready for planetary destruction."
Every face stared up at him in shock.
"Remember what I told you about your sense of humor?" Lionus hissed him. "Now is not the time to try and be funny."
"Try," Arthur huffed. "Ouch." He raised his voice once more. "That was a poor attempt at humor. My apologies. To answer your question, Earth will not be destroyed today or anytime in the future," Lionus added loudly.
"Too right," Arthur said. He saw a girl of perhaps 10 or 11 standing in the crowd between a man and a woman who appeared to be her parents. In her hands, she held a glittery sign that read, "Magic makes the world beautiful." She waved shily at him and he winked in return, causing her to grin wild widely.
"Dana Jurgens," a woman said, stretching her microphone toward him, her perfect teeth on full display in a shark's grin. "The daily view, Mr. Parnasses, why are you here today?"
He leaned forward until his mouth was inches from the microphone. "I was invited."
The skin under her right eye twitched, but the skilled facade held. "And why were you invited? Out of everyone in the world, why you?"
"That's a question for those sending the invitation, don't you think?" She wasn't to be deterred. Even as the other reporters began to shout their questions, her voice rose above
Them, pointed, unignorable. Is it because you're a phoenix who has found himself in possession of some of the most dangerous children ever known?
The other reporters fell silent. "Possession?" Arthur repeated, eyes narrowing. "They aren't things. They are people just like you and me, and they are no more a danger than any other child in the world."
"That's not quite true, though, is it?" Dana said. "Other children can't do what those in your care can. Our readers deserve to know what you're going to—what you're doing to keep the magical youth contained."
"Contained," Lionus said. "Contained? Do you hear yourself? My God, what is wrong with all of you?" He puffed out his chest, glaring down at the reporters. "You should thank your lucky stars that Arthur Parnasses agreed to even be here. He's already done more than you ever will, and you can quote me on that. Good day."
He began to turn toward the Bandy Cross entrance. The reporters instantly shouted more questions. He looked over his shoulder, mouth curved in a bland smile, and said, "Good day." Then he pulled Arthur up the stairs, muttering under his breath about nosy, busy bodies who knew nothing about anything.
"Ah, professionalism," Arthur teased, trying to settle his nerves. "A lost art."
"Shut it, you," Lionus grumbled. "They were frothing at the mouth. It's only going to get worse from here."
The interior of Bandandy Cross was just as impressive as the exterior had proven to be. The vated ceilings of the lobby were high, thick wooden beams crisscrossing at least 50 feet above a cream stone tiled floor. Rain pattered against stained glass, and Arthur wondered what it would look like in sunlight, a kaleidoscope of fractured color. It felt impressive, but artificially so, as if anyone who stepped into this great hall was supposed to be intimidated by all the pomp and circumstance. Instead, it left Arthur as cold as the walls and floors appeared.
Rows of people in suits and dresses and fancy hats looked in lines before stood in lines before security guards situated behind high wooden desks that set them at least a foot and a half above those wooden credentials they were inspecting. The lines appeared to be moving at a good clip with a mixture of reporters and the public, all of whom had earned a place at the hearing by lottery. According to Lionus, there was a great interest in the proceedings and they'd supposedly had tens of thousands of entries into the lottery. All told, Lionus expected an audience of hundreds, a mixture of the public, the press, and those with official government positions.
Arthur understood why. It wasn't every day that a magical being was invited to speak against government programs designed for magical beings. They were deciding which line to stand in. Lionus saying they couldn't wait long as time was already growing short when a nervous-looking Desi woman appeared before them wearing a plaid skirt and a black blazer. Her inky black hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She held thick folders in her arms, paper sticking out, the edges bent.
"Arthur Parnasses?"
"Lionus Baker."
"Yes," Arthur said wearily. "I mean," Lionus said wearily.
"My name is Larmina," she said. "I've been asked to bring you inside."
Lionus frowned. "And who's doing the asking?"
She glanced around, head turning as if on a swivel before she leaned forward, dropping her voice. "A friend."
"Interesting," Arthur said. "I would have thought us without friends here."
Lina blanched. "Not all of us are," she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Please, if you'll allow me, I'll take you to where you're supposed to be."
Arthur studied her for a moment. For her part, she didn't look away. "Your lead."
Then relieved, she said, "Thank you. I promise it'll be worth your time." With that, she spun on her flats and marched toward a security guard near the far white right wall. The young guard had no one in his line with a sign behind his desk that read, "VIP only." They reached the desk right as Lina said, "There with me."
The guard's eyes widened, his bushy eyebrows rising to his hairline as he leaned forward over the desk. "Is that—yes?" The man seemed to have a hard time tearing his gaze away from Arthur. "Are you sure about this, L? If they find out, it's both our horses on the line."
"Duncan," Lina said. "We talked about this. They won't. Let us in. We don't have much time."
"I know. I know." He waved them through. "You may pass. Stay with Lina. She'll show you where you need to be."
Lina led them into Bandandy Cross, up a set of stairs, through an open doorway, into a long hall with burnt orange carpet and doors lining the walls. Name plates sat next to each of the doors bearing names Arthur recognized from the papers. Politicians who made lofty promises without follow through. She stopped in front of a pair of golden elevator doors with guards on either side. She nodded at them as she pressed the button. Glancing down at the small gold watch on her wrist. She said, "Shouldn't be long now." She looked to Arthur, then making sure he was watching, turned her gaze toward the guards, then back to Arthur. He touched the side of his nose in response.
A moment later, the doors opened with a flat chime. Lina stepped inside, motioning for Arthur and Lionus to follow. Once inside the elevator, Lina pulled a chain from her blouse. Attached to the end was a small silver key two inches in length, its teeth serrated. She put the key into a lock on the panel, twisting it before pressing a button without a number on it. The elevator began to rise. The second floor, the third, the fourth, and Arthur was about to demand Larmina explain herself when she reached out again, this time slapping her hand against the large red button to the left of the panel. The elevator shuttered around them before groaning to a stop between the fourth and fifth floors.
Lormina said, "This is one of the few places in the entire building where we can speak without risk of being overheard. Everything, including most elevators, is under surveillance. Cameras everywhere."
"But not here," Arthur said, looking up at the ceiling. "No cameras, as far as he could tell."
"No," she said. "This one is different. It goes to the floor of enigmatic situations."
"No cameras, no listening devices. Hush-hush meetings occur here, out of sight, away from prying eyes, privileged information, need to know only. And yet here we are, stuck in an elevator," Lionus said.
"Because they would know," Larina said. "At least this way we can pretend the elevator malfunctioned and no one will be the wiser."
Lionus folded his arms. "I appreciate your sensitivity to certain manners, but the fact remains we don't know you. You could be working for—"
"My wife is magic," Lurina blurted, cheeks splotchy. "She can. It doesn't matter what she can do." A fierce pride filled her voice. "There's no one like her. I would do anything for her."
"Even work in a place like this," Lionus murmured.
"Especially work in a place like this," Lina report retorted. She blanched. "Apologies."
"No apologies necessary," Lionus said. "It wasn't a slight against you, merely an observation." He chuckled dryly. "I know quite a bit about."
"What is your wife's name?" Arthur asked.
"Minnie," Larmina said.
"She must be someone special to have earned such devotion."
"She is," Lina said. "And I—Oh, blast at the time. Please just listen. I have to get this right. She trusted me to."
"Who?" Lionus asked.
"Miss Dorene Bladwell," Larmina said.
Lionus startled. "What? The secretary for EUM. That Dorene." The one Lionus had once referred to as Miss Bubblegum, Arthur realized.
Looking relieved, she said, "Yes, her. She would have been here to greet you herself, but there were other matters that required her attention. She's been since reassigned. I'm not at liberty to say to what department, but you should know that things aren't always what they seem. Miss Bodwell came across certain information about what you can expect during the hearing. She felt that sharing it might even the pitch."
"Why should we trust you?" Lionus asked. "Or her. For all we know, you're working with the government to find out what we know."
"She thought you'd say that," Lina said, which is why she wanted me to give you this." She folded back the pages on her clipboard and pulled out a small square piece of fabric. She held it out to Lionus.
Huffing in exasperation, Lionus snatched the Profer gift out of Lina's hand. He looked down at it and froze.
"What is it?" Arthur asked.
Lionus turned toward him with a stunned expression. He held up the object, and it took Arthur only a moment to recognize it. "A mouse pad." The picture creased and worn, showing a white sandy beach with ocean waters so blue they seemed impossible. Or they would at least if Arthur hadn't seen such an ocean only yesterday. Across the top, in stylish cursive lettering, a question, "Don't you wish you were here?" He did. And desperately.
"So," Arthur said as Lionus's bottom lip wobbled. "You spoke of this. You said it was a little escape."
"Yes," Lionus said horarssely. "It was one of the few things I had that made Dcomi bearable." He looked down at the mouse pad, tracing the white caps of the waves with a finger. "It felt like a dream." He turned back toward Lim Larma. "Larmmina, we're listening."
"The hearing has been upgraded," Lina said as the elevator creaked and groaned around them. "You will be facing four parliamentary parliamentary members in the council of utmost importance."
The blood drained from Lionus's face. "Surely you just—"
"I wish I was," Lina said solemnly. "Word came down uh early this morning."
"What is that?" Arthur asked. He'd never heard of such a thing. But then he wasn't as versed in government nomenclature as Lionus was.
Lionus began to pace in the small confines. "It's ridiculous is what it is. There are levels of councils depending upon the situation. Council of insignificant propositions, council of moderate ideas, council of serious inquiries."
"Ah," Arthur said. "Clear as mud."
"Yes, yes," Lionus said distracted. "It's the government. What do you expect? Transparency is a fanciful lie they tell constituents to distract them from the truth. The council of utmost importance is reserved for the direct direest circumstances. It's one step below terrorism investigations."
"It's not all bad," Lina said as if she felt guilty for relaying the information. "Two of the council members have signaled their support for repealing some of the laws pertaining to the magical community."
"Some," Lionus said, "but not all."
Lina laughed without humor. "You were an employee of the government not too long ago. Have you already forgotten how things work?"
"I haven't," Lionus replied. "But that's why we're here—to light a fire under them. Figuratively or literally."
"You haven't told us anything we didn't already know," Uh Arthur said. "Janine Routder." The name was familiar, but Arthur couldn't place the name to a face. Lionus didn't have that problem.
"The Minister of Education. What does she have to do with anything?" Sensing Arthur's confusion, he added, "Former teacher, one of the youngest ever elected, moved up quickly, amassing powerful friends." He made a face. "I had no dealings with her myself. But I heard things about her that left me cold, though it didn't get very far. For a time, she supported legislation that would have made it illegal for children who come from queer families to talk about them, saying that it would only confuse children who came from proper families. There were even rumblings about coming down hard on parents of transgender children seeking medical care."
"So, everyone in the government is mostly terrible," Arthur said.
"Mostly," Lina said, "but it's gotten worse with her. She's going all-in on the so-called issue of the day. Some are of the opinion that she's been radicalized, but that implies an external force played a role. Ms. Bloodwell doesn't believe that to be true. She thinks Miss Routder or Routder's sudden interest in all things magic has another endgame in mind. Rumor has it that she has her eyes set on the ultimate prize."
"Which is?" Arthur asked.
"Prime Minister," Larmina said gravely, "and all that power that comes with it."
"And why are you helping us?" Arthur asked, curiosity winning out over his growing discomfort. "Same with Miss Bodwell."
"Because something has to be give. Something has to give before it's too late," Larina snapped, and this time she did not apologize. Arthur's opinion of her rose swiftly. "I fear we're on the cusp of either salvation or destruction. And if I don't do everything I can to make things right, then how can I go home and look at my wife? How can I stand before her and know that I failed her? I refused to let that happen." By the time she finished, she was panting, but she did not back down.
Lionus hesitated. Then, "If what you're saying is true, how has Diccomy not discovered you or Dorene?"
Lina laughed bitterly. "Because we understand how the minds of men work. Give them a little smile, touch their arm, hang on their every word, and they believe they're God's gift to women." Her face suddenly changed, going from a flat mask to big eyes and pouty lips. When she spoke again, her voice was in a higher register. "And that's all we are, pretty girls without a thought in our heads." The facade melted, replaced by steel. "That's the funny thing about those in power. They underestimate everyone beneath them, even knowing their secrets are heard by someone."
"It's still quite the risk," Lionus said, uh said.
"A time will come," she said, "when all of us will have to make a choice between what is right and what is wrong. I worry that time is closer than we think and I don't know that we're prepared. If router continues on the path she's on, then no one, not you, not your children, no one is safe. This hearing isn't meant to be a condemnation of dcomy or da extremely upper management or the practices of said departments, past, present, or future. It's a PR campaign."
"To what end?" Lionus asked.
"The complete and total annihilation of the reputation of one Arthur Parnasses."
Arthur and Lionus exchanged a glance. When Arthur looked back at Larmina, he said one word and one word only. "Why?"