Beautiful Chaos
Page 65
Nothing about this place was familiar. Even the power in the air—buzzing, like a downed electrical wire—felt different.
There was an alcove across the room, with a small balcony. Five windows ran the length of the wall, stretching higher than the tallest houses in Gatlin, framing the room with soft light that crept through the billows of sheer fabric hanging over them. Thick golden drapes hung at their sides, and I couldn’t tell if the breeze blowing through the windows was a Caster or a Mortal one.
The walls were paneled and curved into low benches near the floor. I had seen pictures like these in my mom’s books. Monks and acolytes sat on benches like this to pray.
Why was I here?
When I looked up again, the room was suddenly full of people. They were wedged onto the entire length of the bench, filling the space in front of me, crowding and pushing from all sides. I couldn’t see their faces; half of them were cloaked. But all of them were buzzing with anticipation.
“What’s going on? What are we waiting for?”
No one answered. It was as if they couldn’t see me, which didn’t make sense. This wasn’t a dream. I was in a real place.
The crowd moved forward, murmuring, and I heard the banging of a gavel. “Silentium.”
Then I saw familiar faces, and I realized where I was. Where I had to be.
The Far Keep.
At the end of the hall, Marian was hooded and robed, her hands tied with a golden rope. She stood in the balcony above the room, next to the tall man who showed up in the library archive. The Council Keeper, I heard people around me whisper. The albino Keeper was standing behind him.
He spoke in Latin, and I couldn’t understand him. But the people around me did, and they were going crazy. “Ulterioris Arcis Concilium, quod nulli rei—sive homini, sive animali, sive Numini Atro, sive Numini Albo—nisi Rationi Rerum paret, Marianam ex Arce Occidentali Perfidiae condemnat.”
The Council Keeper repeated the words in English, and I understood why the people around me were reacting this way. “The Council of the Far Keep, which answers only to the Order of Things, to no man, creature, or power, Dark or Light, finds Marian of the Western Keep guilty of Treason.”
There was a piercing pain in my stomach, as if my whole body had been sliced with a giant blade.
“These are the Consequences of her inaction. The Consequences shall be paid. The Keeper, though Mortal, will return to the Dark Fire from which all power comes.”
The Council Keeper removed Marian’s hood, and I could see her eyes, ringed with darkness. Her head was shaved, and she looked like a prisoner of war. “The Order is broken. Until the New Order comes forth, the Old Law must be upheld, and the Consequences paid.”
“Marian! You can’t let them—” I tried to push through the crowd, but the more I tried, the faster people surged forward, and the farther away she seemed.
Until I hit something, someone unmoving and unmovable. I looked up into the glassy stare of Lilian English.
Mrs. English? What is she doing here?
“Ethan?”
“Mrs. English. You have to help me. They have Marian Ashcroft. They’re going to hurt her, and it’s not her fault. She didn’t do anything!”
“What do you think of the judge now?”
“What?” She wasn’t making any sense.
“Your paper. It’s due on my desk tomorrow.”
“I know that. I’m not talking about my paper.” Didn’t she understand what was happening?
“I think you are.” Her voiced sounded different, unfamiliar.
“The judge is wrong. They’re all wrong.”
“Someone must be at fault. The Order is broken. If not Marian Ashcroft, then who is to blame?”
I didn’t have the answer. “I don’t know. My mom said—”
“Mothers lie,” Mrs. English said, her voice void of emotion. “To allow their children to live the great lie that is Mortal existence.”
I could feel my anger building. “Don’t talk about my mom. You don’t know her.”
“The Wheel of Fate. Your mother knows about that. The future is not predetermined. Only you can stop the Wheel from crushing Marian Ashcroft. From crushing them all.”
Mrs. English disappeared, and the room was empty. There was a smooth rowan doorway in front of me, recessed into the wall as if it had always been there. The Temporis Porta.
I reached for the handle. The second I touched it, I was on the other side again, standing in the Mortal tunnel, staring at Liv.
“Ethan! What happened?” She hugged me, and I felt a flicker of the connection that would always be between us.
“I’m fine, don’t worry.” I pulled back. Her smile faded, her cheeks turning bright pink as she realized what she had done. She swung her arms behind her back, clutching them awkwardly, like she wished she could make them disappear.
“What did you see? Where did you go?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I know it was the Far Keep. I recognized two of the Keepers who came to the library. But I think it was the future.”
“The future? How do you know?” The wheels were already spinning in Liv’s mind.
“It was Marian’s trial, which hasn’t happened yet.”
Liv was twisting the pencil tucked behind her ear. “Temporis Porta means ‘Time Door.’ It could be possible.”
“Are you sure?” After what I’d seen, I hoped it was more of a warning—some sort of possible future that wasn’t set in stone.
There was an alcove across the room, with a small balcony. Five windows ran the length of the wall, stretching higher than the tallest houses in Gatlin, framing the room with soft light that crept through the billows of sheer fabric hanging over them. Thick golden drapes hung at their sides, and I couldn’t tell if the breeze blowing through the windows was a Caster or a Mortal one.
The walls were paneled and curved into low benches near the floor. I had seen pictures like these in my mom’s books. Monks and acolytes sat on benches like this to pray.
Why was I here?
When I looked up again, the room was suddenly full of people. They were wedged onto the entire length of the bench, filling the space in front of me, crowding and pushing from all sides. I couldn’t see their faces; half of them were cloaked. But all of them were buzzing with anticipation.
“What’s going on? What are we waiting for?”
No one answered. It was as if they couldn’t see me, which didn’t make sense. This wasn’t a dream. I was in a real place.
The crowd moved forward, murmuring, and I heard the banging of a gavel. “Silentium.”
Then I saw familiar faces, and I realized where I was. Where I had to be.
The Far Keep.
At the end of the hall, Marian was hooded and robed, her hands tied with a golden rope. She stood in the balcony above the room, next to the tall man who showed up in the library archive. The Council Keeper, I heard people around me whisper. The albino Keeper was standing behind him.
He spoke in Latin, and I couldn’t understand him. But the people around me did, and they were going crazy. “Ulterioris Arcis Concilium, quod nulli rei—sive homini, sive animali, sive Numini Atro, sive Numini Albo—nisi Rationi Rerum paret, Marianam ex Arce Occidentali Perfidiae condemnat.”
The Council Keeper repeated the words in English, and I understood why the people around me were reacting this way. “The Council of the Far Keep, which answers only to the Order of Things, to no man, creature, or power, Dark or Light, finds Marian of the Western Keep guilty of Treason.”
There was a piercing pain in my stomach, as if my whole body had been sliced with a giant blade.
“These are the Consequences of her inaction. The Consequences shall be paid. The Keeper, though Mortal, will return to the Dark Fire from which all power comes.”
The Council Keeper removed Marian’s hood, and I could see her eyes, ringed with darkness. Her head was shaved, and she looked like a prisoner of war. “The Order is broken. Until the New Order comes forth, the Old Law must be upheld, and the Consequences paid.”
“Marian! You can’t let them—” I tried to push through the crowd, but the more I tried, the faster people surged forward, and the farther away she seemed.
Until I hit something, someone unmoving and unmovable. I looked up into the glassy stare of Lilian English.
Mrs. English? What is she doing here?
“Ethan?”
“Mrs. English. You have to help me. They have Marian Ashcroft. They’re going to hurt her, and it’s not her fault. She didn’t do anything!”
“What do you think of the judge now?”
“What?” She wasn’t making any sense.
“Your paper. It’s due on my desk tomorrow.”
“I know that. I’m not talking about my paper.” Didn’t she understand what was happening?
“I think you are.” Her voiced sounded different, unfamiliar.
“The judge is wrong. They’re all wrong.”
“Someone must be at fault. The Order is broken. If not Marian Ashcroft, then who is to blame?”
I didn’t have the answer. “I don’t know. My mom said—”
“Mothers lie,” Mrs. English said, her voice void of emotion. “To allow their children to live the great lie that is Mortal existence.”
I could feel my anger building. “Don’t talk about my mom. You don’t know her.”
“The Wheel of Fate. Your mother knows about that. The future is not predetermined. Only you can stop the Wheel from crushing Marian Ashcroft. From crushing them all.”
Mrs. English disappeared, and the room was empty. There was a smooth rowan doorway in front of me, recessed into the wall as if it had always been there. The Temporis Porta.
I reached for the handle. The second I touched it, I was on the other side again, standing in the Mortal tunnel, staring at Liv.
“Ethan! What happened?” She hugged me, and I felt a flicker of the connection that would always be between us.
“I’m fine, don’t worry.” I pulled back. Her smile faded, her cheeks turning bright pink as she realized what she had done. She swung her arms behind her back, clutching them awkwardly, like she wished she could make them disappear.
“What did you see? Where did you go?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but I know it was the Far Keep. I recognized two of the Keepers who came to the library. But I think it was the future.”
“The future? How do you know?” The wheels were already spinning in Liv’s mind.
“It was Marian’s trial, which hasn’t happened yet.”
Liv was twisting the pencil tucked behind her ear. “Temporis Porta means ‘Time Door.’ It could be possible.”
“Are you sure?” After what I’d seen, I hoped it was more of a warning—some sort of possible future that wasn’t set in stone.
