Illusions of Fate
Page 60
“Please wait. I’ll be right back, I promise.” I run to the washroom and fill a basin with water, then grab several hand towels. When I come back out he’s sitting on the porch, arms around his knees and eyes trained on the sky.
“Here.” I set the basin on the porch step next to him, along with the towels. Only my hand crosses the threshold.
He frowns and then holds out the letter again. I take it, sick to my stomach but oddly hopeful. Perhaps Lord Downpike has given up. Perhaps he realized that Finn hanging accomplishes nothing.
Perhaps I have been declared queen of Albion. It is just as likely.
I break the seal and pull out a single sheet filled with elegant writing. A card drops down, but I do not pick it up. The fate card, once again decorated with the gleaming yellow-eyed bird. This time, the bird has its beak open wide around the letters, swallowing them whole.
Kelen cleans his wounds, muttering about killing the man if he ever sees him again, while I read the contents of the letter.
Little Rabbit,
Lord Ackerly will go to his grave without giving me what I want, but I suspect you will be more accommodating. Please do not bother protesting that you do not have the information. Let us not pretend you are anything other than clever. I say this not to flatter you, but because many lives depend upon it.
It took two years of waiting for your Finn to have a weakness, but you bring all the tender compassion of a woman to the bargaining table.
I have recently had disturbing reports of violent rebellious rumblings on the island of Melei. Whole stacks of reports, written and sealed by the ministry of defense. I can think of no option but to brutally smash this rebellion and all associated with it. I fear no one will escape unscathed by the demands of restoring order.
The letter commanding the occupying soldiers to show no mercy in burning the village at the epicenter—I believe it is the same village you are from—will be posted tomorrow.
Unless you deliver to me what I need: a book of Hallin magic. You do have a flair for returning books to me. I hope for the sake of those poor, primitive colony rats that you do not fail.
As a friendly gesture, I may even be inclined to find evidence clearing your Finn’s name. Make me happy, little rabbit. Many lives depend upon it.
Tender regards,
L. D.
“No,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong? You look as though someone has died. Oh, no, someone has, haven’t they?”
I shake my head, hollow with dread and hopelessness. “Not yet. But they will. So many will. He will destroy Melei.”
“What? Who?”
I close my eyes, cradling my head in my hands. “The man you met, Lord Downpike. He thinks I have access to something that he wants, and if he doesn’t get it he will order the slaughter of our entire village.”
“But he can’t!”
“He can.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I took a path I had no business being on, and now I must pay the price.” We sit in a vacuum of silence, both lost in our own worlds of fear and confusion.
“Can you find it?” Kelen’s voice is soft, unsure. All the fight has gone out of him. “The thing he wants?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Would it be so bad if you did?”
“It would mean war. Alben domination of the Iverian continent. Doing to other countries what they’ve already done to Melei, on a grander scale.”
“Who cares?”
I look up into Kelen’s black eyes, surprised. “What?”
“Who cares? Let these arrogant spirit cursers fight their own battles. This is nothing to do with you. If you have a way to protect Melei from being ravaged any more than it already has, then take it. The wars of these ghost-faced monsters are their own fault.”
“But it’s wrong to give in to him. Lives will be lost.”
“Do you value Alben lives, continental lives more than the lives of your own people? Are you that far lost to this poisonous country that you’d put their safety above the safety of your own village? Your own mother?” His words have no venom, but I can see the disappointment in his eyes.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do.”
Kelen stands, dropping the cloth now spotted with his blood. “I wish I could help, but seeing as I’m not allowed into a fine lord’s house, I suppose I can’t. You’ve already shown you don’t accept help, anyway. I hope you make the right choice. I really do.”
He walks away, taking with him one of the paths I didn’t choose. I wonder what would have happened, what would have been different, had I given up Finn at the start.
I look down at the letter in my hand, feeling the weight of lives in my palm. I want to sit here forever and never move, never make a decision. But that is not an option, and I am better than that.
I stand.
First things first, to see if I can actually find the magic Lord Downpike wants. Then I’ll decide what to do with it.
Thirty-two
ELEANOR COLLAPSES ONTO THE COUCH, THE entire library a labyrinth of madly strewn books. Most of them aren’t even magic. There are history volumes, philosophy, even a full section of gothic novels.
“It’s useless. This whole place is positively drenched in magic. I couldn’t isolate a single item if our lives depended . . . well. I can’t.”
While Eleanor has been following magic trails, I’ve physically checked everywhere. The kitchen, the art gallery, the guest bedrooms Eleanor and I have been staying in. I searched everywhere in Finn’s room, the absence of him so physical it was a sharp pain in my stomach. I even checked for loose floorboards, hidden panels, everything.
“Here.” I set the basin on the porch step next to him, along with the towels. Only my hand crosses the threshold.
He frowns and then holds out the letter again. I take it, sick to my stomach but oddly hopeful. Perhaps Lord Downpike has given up. Perhaps he realized that Finn hanging accomplishes nothing.
Perhaps I have been declared queen of Albion. It is just as likely.
I break the seal and pull out a single sheet filled with elegant writing. A card drops down, but I do not pick it up. The fate card, once again decorated with the gleaming yellow-eyed bird. This time, the bird has its beak open wide around the letters, swallowing them whole.
Kelen cleans his wounds, muttering about killing the man if he ever sees him again, while I read the contents of the letter.
Little Rabbit,
Lord Ackerly will go to his grave without giving me what I want, but I suspect you will be more accommodating. Please do not bother protesting that you do not have the information. Let us not pretend you are anything other than clever. I say this not to flatter you, but because many lives depend upon it.
It took two years of waiting for your Finn to have a weakness, but you bring all the tender compassion of a woman to the bargaining table.
I have recently had disturbing reports of violent rebellious rumblings on the island of Melei. Whole stacks of reports, written and sealed by the ministry of defense. I can think of no option but to brutally smash this rebellion and all associated with it. I fear no one will escape unscathed by the demands of restoring order.
The letter commanding the occupying soldiers to show no mercy in burning the village at the epicenter—I believe it is the same village you are from—will be posted tomorrow.
Unless you deliver to me what I need: a book of Hallin magic. You do have a flair for returning books to me. I hope for the sake of those poor, primitive colony rats that you do not fail.
As a friendly gesture, I may even be inclined to find evidence clearing your Finn’s name. Make me happy, little rabbit. Many lives depend upon it.
Tender regards,
L. D.
“No,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong? You look as though someone has died. Oh, no, someone has, haven’t they?”
I shake my head, hollow with dread and hopelessness. “Not yet. But they will. So many will. He will destroy Melei.”
“What? Who?”
I close my eyes, cradling my head in my hands. “The man you met, Lord Downpike. He thinks I have access to something that he wants, and if he doesn’t get it he will order the slaughter of our entire village.”
“But he can’t!”
“He can.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I took a path I had no business being on, and now I must pay the price.” We sit in a vacuum of silence, both lost in our own worlds of fear and confusion.
“Can you find it?” Kelen’s voice is soft, unsure. All the fight has gone out of him. “The thing he wants?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Would it be so bad if you did?”
“It would mean war. Alben domination of the Iverian continent. Doing to other countries what they’ve already done to Melei, on a grander scale.”
“Who cares?”
I look up into Kelen’s black eyes, surprised. “What?”
“Who cares? Let these arrogant spirit cursers fight their own battles. This is nothing to do with you. If you have a way to protect Melei from being ravaged any more than it already has, then take it. The wars of these ghost-faced monsters are their own fault.”
“But it’s wrong to give in to him. Lives will be lost.”
“Do you value Alben lives, continental lives more than the lives of your own people? Are you that far lost to this poisonous country that you’d put their safety above the safety of your own village? Your own mother?” His words have no venom, but I can see the disappointment in his eyes.
I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do.”
Kelen stands, dropping the cloth now spotted with his blood. “I wish I could help, but seeing as I’m not allowed into a fine lord’s house, I suppose I can’t. You’ve already shown you don’t accept help, anyway. I hope you make the right choice. I really do.”
He walks away, taking with him one of the paths I didn’t choose. I wonder what would have happened, what would have been different, had I given up Finn at the start.
I look down at the letter in my hand, feeling the weight of lives in my palm. I want to sit here forever and never move, never make a decision. But that is not an option, and I am better than that.
I stand.
First things first, to see if I can actually find the magic Lord Downpike wants. Then I’ll decide what to do with it.
Thirty-two
ELEANOR COLLAPSES ONTO THE COUCH, THE entire library a labyrinth of madly strewn books. Most of them aren’t even magic. There are history volumes, philosophy, even a full section of gothic novels.
“It’s useless. This whole place is positively drenched in magic. I couldn’t isolate a single item if our lives depended . . . well. I can’t.”
While Eleanor has been following magic trails, I’ve physically checked everywhere. The kitchen, the art gallery, the guest bedrooms Eleanor and I have been staying in. I searched everywhere in Finn’s room, the absence of him so physical it was a sharp pain in my stomach. I even checked for loose floorboards, hidden panels, everything.
