The Magician’s Court Chapter One
The Magician’s Court was held on the seventh day of the seventh month. In a vast hall, that sat empty every other day of the year, hundreds of people gathered to hear the fates of the accused. A majority of these were seated on the main floor, in a series of long wooden benches. At the front of the room was a raised podium where thirteen golden chairs arranged in a half-circle sat empty. On a smaller platform was a single silver chair, etched with runic script, and contained within a silver cage.
At six-fifty, the low murmur of those in attendance began to soften until finally, as a massive clock struck the hour, the entire room fell silent. Through a door
In the back, where those on trial were being held, a dozen guards entered the room. Each was cloaked in scarlet, and each carried a sharp blade at his side. They took their places around the room, and wordlessly everybody stood to attention as the door of the larger platform folded inward.
Out walked another group of twelve, these cloaked in black and carrying large and ancient looking books. They took their places to either side of the center chair. After a long moment another man came into the room, after which the doors slid back after him.
The Judge did not immediately take his chair. He walked to the front of the platform and raised his hand, signaling the crowd to be seated. His name was Ignatius Bane, and he was the most powerful magician in the world. He was perhaps forty years old, though nobody knew for sure. His long silver hair was neatly bound, black eyes glittering as he looked down on his people.
“I officially commence the one thousand and eighty third gathering of the Magician’s Court. Today we will determine the fates of those charged with abusing the gift of magic. Those found guilty will then be sentenced—to Removal, Exile, or Death, however the judges see fit.”
At this several members of the crowd took anxious breaths. In the back room, where the prisoners waited, the words of the Judge carried through the doors. Here, the men and women weren’t silent. Few worried about Death—only the gravest crimes merited the gravest punishment. But Removal was a cause of much dread—for a person born with abilities beyond that of the common man, the idea of having them stripped away was almost like losing an arm or a leg.
But worse still was the idea of Exile. The number of people who had ever seen the Shadow Walks and returned could be counted on one hand. Though countless rumors existed, the place was more myth than reality.
In the prisoner’s chamber there were many men and women, of all ages.
However, there was a strange feeling about the room now, as the youngest child to ever sit within, on the lap of a young and pretty nanny rather than in the customary cuffs and chains, was a girl of eight.
“It isn’t right,” the girl holding her whispered. The pair shared a long bench with a row of people waiting for their trial. They were spooked by what she said, and for a long while said nothing.
Finally an older woman, her skin ashen, nodded towards her. “What did she do?” she asked.
“Nothing. That’s the stupid thing,” said the nanny. She was reed-thin and, in sharp contrast to the traditional costumes of the judges and guards, was wearing a school uniform. She brushed a hand through the girl’s dark hair. “It’s what happened to her that everybody is so worked up about. They say she was attacked by an Otherworld creature.”
Several people who were near enough to hear this gasped in surprise. The woman looked set to ask another question when the door to the main chamber opened. A tall man stood and disappeared through the door before it closed back on them. The nanny pulled the girl tighter. “And why are you involved in this case, Lucinda?”
“Oh,” said the nanny. “My father was asked to care for her. To keep her safe. Since we’ve gotten so close he thought I could keep her calm.”
“You’re a good girl,” said the woman. She smiled bitterly. “Your parents are good people. You’ll be good to them, won’t you?”
Lucy’s eyes fell to the woman’s wrists, and the thick metal cuffs that circled them. “I will,” she said. Though she hadn’t known the woman well, she had known her for most of her life. The memory of it made her uneasy, and she was glad when the room turned its attention on the tall man as he returned to the room, free of his chains and declared innocent. A general cheer rose up for him, and he shook the hands of many as he was escorted to the entry hall where he would meet his family.
The second trial began, with a weeping woman who couldn’t be older than thirty. As she left the room Lucy felt the girl in her arms begin to stir. “Is it time yet?” she said with a yawn.
“Not yet, Grace. We’re going last.”
The younger girl wrapped her arms around Lucy’s neck, cheek on her shoulder. Now Lucy could glance down directly at her face, something that sent a tremor down her spine every time. The pleasant roundness of youth, the light caramel color of her skin and, where there should have been coffee brown eyes, unearthly gray spheres that acted almost as a mirror to the outside world.
It was the mark of the attack the girl had endured, now almost eight months before. Ordinary before the incident, the girl was now something more. What that something was there was no way for anybody to tell. There had never been a case, as far as anybody knew, of anybody surviving an attack by an Otherworlder. And it was because of that the Court was, by the end of the day, going to decide whether or not she should face Exile.
The woman who entered the courtroom did not return, and a third was called. Lucy watched them all, going in succession, several returning with expressions of relief, and more returning sick with the knowledge that they faced Removal. Around Midday the woman she sat with entered the court for her trial. She did not return.
One by one the prisoners left, until as the day was creeping to a close only Lucy and Grace were left in the room. Grace was wide awake but hadn’t said anything. It was only when the guard came for her that the girl smiled and hugged her. “Goodbye,” she said quietly before slipping away from her.
With cautious steps she made her way to the guard, who placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Can I watch?” said Lucy tearfully. The man shook his head, and slipping through the wide doors left her alone.
The courtroom was almost empty now. No more than five people remained seated in the visitor’s chairs. Grace was led through the center aisle and up to the podium. “There’s a cage,” the guard whispered in a low voice. “Stay back while I open the door. There’s a chair in the cage. That’s where you’ll be sitting.”
The girl nodded, but before he could lead her inside the Judge interrupted him. “This is the one?” asked Ignatius, staring down at the girl.
“Yes, sir.”
“Excuse me, then. I would like to see her closer. Bring her here.”
The guards led her to the stairs that rose to the Judge’s bench, and as Grace found the first step she cautiously climbed to the top of the stairs.
“I am right here. Please move toward me,” he said.
As the girl approached, Ignatius watched her closely. “You are completely
blind?” he asked, noting her halting steps. The girl nodded. He had known as much, from previous reports. When she stood in front of him he reached out to take her by the hand. He looked into her eyes, noting the clear reflection in the gray.
“Do you remember that night? What can you tell us?”
There was an audible shift of focus in the room, as everybody focused in on the girl. “I was asleep. Mrs. Carter wasn’t home because Jennifer was sick, so I was alone with Nick. He was mad at me.”
“Let the record show,” said the judge to Ignatius’s left, “that Nick Swift is accused of initiating the attack.”
“He hasn’t been found?” asked Ignatius. “There is no trace of him,” said the man.
“How did it begin?” asked Ignatius. He did not raise or lower his voice—he spoke to her in exactly the same manner he used with every person that he questioned in his courtroom
“I was almost asleep when I saw a shadow on the wall across from me. Then the shadow turned into a monster.”
“An Otherworlder,” said another judge, a woman. “I have not heard whether the creature was ever found.
“I can answer that.” The entire court turned to face an older man who now stood on the floor below. “I’m the one who arrived after the attack. My daughter and I have been taking care of her.”
“All right,” said Ignatius after a little consideration. “You may approach.” He came up onto the bench, standing beside Grace.
“The creature was never found, Bane, but there is considerable proof of its existence.”
“I have seen the evidence. Even if there weren’t any the girl’s condition is proof enough of it. I would like to hear from the girl, though.” He turned his attention back to Grace. “Tell me about the monster. What was its appearance?”
“It was big. As tall as the room, and it was black. He started whispering things to me. He called himself the Metricant.”
At this there was a murmur of surprise. Even Ignatius rose up slightly from his seat. “I hadn’t heard this,” he said. “The Metricant?”
“He told me his name. And he said that Nick had called him to come and take my eyes.”
There was another murmur then, this one much louder. “This was not a mindless attack then,” said Ignatius. “We don’t know much about this situation. When
Otherworlders attack their victims they usually do not live. Nicholas Swift, the boy said to have called him, has not been found?”
“No, sir,” said the man.
“Girl, did you know that your friend was gifted? That he had powers of magic?” “Yes. He showed me,” said Grace.
“Hmm.” Ignatius looked at her for a long moment. “But you have never had powers yourself. Not until the attack.”
Grace nodded.
“And you have been living with Mr. Brooks and his daughter since then? They took you in by my order until the day of the trial. Has Mr. Brooks told you about magic? About the powers you now have?”
“He told me about magic,” said Grace, “but what I can do isn’t magic.”
“And you understand that we are going to decide today whether or not you should go to live in the Other World.”
It was not a question. Grace nodded.
Perhaps the people around her could not understand why it was that Grace was so calm, but they would not have known or understood that Grace had been coming and going, moving from place to place, from the time she was very young. She didn’t remember her parents, and had only been told that they had both done very bad things. For the past two years of her life she had lived in foster homes, and it was there that she had met Nick. He was an orphan.
“I’m going.” Grace raised her face so that her eyes looked into his. “It’s what everybody wants.”
“Is that so?” Ignatius reached out then, taking her by the hand. “You read minds, girl? You see the future?”
Grace shook her head. “No,” she said. “But none of you like me being here. I feel it.”
“Empathy,” pronounced Ignatius. He squeezed the girl’s hand. “What about me? I am not afraid of you.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “You are. Very much.”
Ignatius exhaled sharply. “I think it is time we vote,” he said. “I remind you that whatever decision this council makes is binding. There is no contestation and your fate will be carried out immediately. Council, do you vote to send the child into Exile?”
One by one the council was asked to speak their vote, and one by one they voted “Yea,” until only Ignatius was left to make his vote.
“I say Yea, also, but I wish to amend something to this ruling. The boy Nicholas has not been found. I do not know if he will ever be found. If he is he faces permanent Exile. Though the Shadow Walks have their own laws, they answer to the rulings of the court. If in the Otherworld you are to meet Nicholas Swift, he will be answerable to the fate that you choose for him. Graciela Mendoza, you are now sentenced to Exile.
One of the guards took Grace by the arm and led her to the side door of the building. On the podium the Judges were exiting back through the door which they had entered from that morning. The time was now seven in the evening—the Magician’s Court was adjourned, not to meet again for another year.
There was a long, sleek black car outside. Within there were over a dozen others headed for Exile. “She can sit with me,” said one woman. Grace perked up. She couldn’t see the woman, of course, but she knew her voice. She was the one that had sat near her in the Prisoner’s Room.
Others may have assumed that Grace’s sightless world was dark, and full of shadows. But they would have been wrong. For the young girl the world was a swirling mass of silver clouds, clouds that pulsed and waned according to the mood of the people around her. As she entered the car these clouds darkened, and she was only comforted by the single ray of light she saw as the woman closed her fingers around the girl’s and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”
Chapter Two
The lobby of the Marquis Hotel was large, busy, and dripping with an undercurrent of money ordinary men only dreamed of. Dinner hour was coming to a close and one by one men in dark suits and expensive dinner jackets, followed by women in shimmering evening gowns and glittering jewels, migrated from the dining room to the hotel bar. A small pocket of these were watching as an young illusionist, in a scuffed leather jacket and scruffy brown hair, put out a lit cigarette on the tip of his tongue.
Had it not been for his face on a billboard over the most popular Casino in town, the Marquis would have quietly asked the young man to leave. But his rising star, as well as a handful of green bills discreetly passed to the hotel manager secured him a spot on the floor, and as he began a second illusion a boy standing a little ways from the group looked up. Straightening the sweater he was wearing he made his way over to the group, just in time to watch the illusionist turn a lady’s tattoo into a shimmering blue butterfly that fluttered dizzily across the room.. The group broke into spontaneous applause.
His smile gleamed, and he bowed his head curtly. The boy fought the urge to roll his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets. Remembering the charm on him, he kept his shoulders straight back and his head up, determined to look the part of a well bred young man of twenty.
“If I could ask you all to move back,” said the illusionist, putting his hands out to either side. “I’d like to try something in here. It doesn’t always work because this sort of illusion requires a great amount of concentration. Here…” He put one hand on the shoulder of the man closest to him. The rest of the group began to spread out, widening into an oblong circle. “Please maintain complete silence,” asked the magician.
There was a loud gasp. The boy stepped forward. The illusionists’ feet were hovering several inches off of the ground.
“Do you see that? There’s no line? No strings?” whispered one of the men nearest him. Several others were whispering and staring, and the audience remained rapt until his feet touched ground again.
A cheer rose up again, this one the loudest and longest of any. The magician bowed, and then looked out into the group. “Now, I would like a volunteer. Young man, you,” he said.
The boy feigned surprise as the illusionist pointed at him. He raised his eyebrows in alarm and then, slowly, stepped forward. “What’s your name?” the illusionist asked, shaking his hand.
It was an act that the two of them had been over again and again. The boy smiled cautiously. “Jeremy Crane,” he said.
“Enjoying Vegas? Having a wild night?” the illusionist insinuated. The boy blushed red and the group laughed, a sound punctuated by gasps and murmurs of excitement. “Well, I’ll tell you what Jeremy,” he said. “What if I make you disappear?”
“Uh…that sounds cool,” said the boy, grinning.
“Okay. Come over here toward me,” he said. The boy took his place next to the illusionist, standing somewhat stiffly. “Now Jeremy, I want you to concentrate. I want you to picture a black room, complete darkness…are you there?”
The boy nodded. Really he was thinking about the next step in their plan. Doing it right was going to take a lot of careful maneuvering on his part.
He felt the illusionist’s hand brush against his, leaving several thin pieces of plastic behind. He palmed the item, and pretending to straighten the edge of his shirt nervously slipped it into his pocket.
Keeping his eyes closed the boy concentrated. This was the only difficult part of the entire operation, and both were determined to make it go off seamlessly. There were several gasps from the group as the boy’s feet separated from the floor. This part was not the boy’s action. It was the illusionist who, by a force of will, was keeping him levitated.
The second part of the so-called illusion was entirely up to the boy. After several moments he saw the man move in front of him. The boy dropped the first illusion and put up a second. When the illusionist dropped his coat the crowd gasped. To them it appeared that the boy had vanished into thin air. In reality, he was standing right where he had been, albeit now cloaked by an illusion of invisibility.
He waited until the group began to walk away. The next hour or so of
misdirection was completely up to his mentor. He imagined that he would end up with the large group at the bar, performing small tricks to keep them busy…and away from their rooms.
As he took the elevator up to the third floor he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d already let the illusion drop and in the burnished silver of the doors he looked at himself. He was a tall and skinny fifteen year old boy, with a beakish nose and cropped dirty-blonde hair. His name was Nicholas Swift, though most people who met him never knew it.
Pulling the room keys from his pocket, he let himself easily into the first room. It was completely empty, and it took only a few moments for Nick to find the jewelry-box. He pulled out several handfuls of gems and baubles, shoving them into his pockets. It took less than a minute for him to exit and find the next room, and the next and the next. By the time he reached the top floor he had taken thousands of dollars worth of jewels.
He dumped the entire handful of room keys in a potted plant and took the elevator back down to the lobby. Checking his cell phone, he saw that his work had only taken thirty minutes. A far cry from the two hours it had taken him the first time he’d tried it, two years before. Experience had taught him the best way to work. His powers had improved to the point that he could tell exactly which door each key belonged to.
No fumbling around like the year before, when he’d almost gotten himself caught. He moved through the lobby, catching the illusionist’s eye as he came back by the hotel bar. He waited for him to make his grand exit, bidding his audience goodbye, and together the pair walked through the wide glass doors of the hotel. The illusionist handed the valet a slip and after a few minutes he returned with a shining silver convertible.
“Good haul?” he asked as Nick slid into the passenger seat.
“Yeah.” He watched as the glamour on the illusionist slipped away. He suddenly appeared younger, no older than eighteen. The stubble on his cheeks disappeared and his hair was platinum blonde. He glanced over at Nick.
“Did anybody see you?” Nick shook his head. “Good.”
The older boy’s name was Solomon Burrows. The two had met when Nick was nine years old, and the older boy (then thirteen) had taught Nick everything he needed to
know to make a living off the streets. Now they’d stepped up their game. As far as either of them knew, the mythical Magician’s Court had never even heard that they were abusing their magic. Nick and Solomon both meant to keep it that way.
They drove to a hotel across town and rode the elevator up to the penthouse and were escorted in by two men in leather jackets.
“What have you got for me tonight, young men?” said an older woman in sequins and furs, sitting at the center of a plush leather sofa.
“Plenty,” said Solomon. Nick stepped forward and began setting the jewelry out on the table.
“Mmm…nothing remarkable,” she said after a long moment, “Though much of it is quite valuable. Give my people an hour to assess its value. Why don’t I order you some dinner?” she said.
“No thanks…” started Nick.
“Great, we’re starving,” interrupted Solomon. While one of the men sat at the table scrutinizing the pile of jewels, a bellboy brought up a lavish dinner for three. The lady sat down to eat with them. Nick scowled at the extravagant setting. The entire room was thick with the scent of perfume, and he always felt out of place surrounded by things that were more valuable than his life to the people around him.
He picked at a plate of something with a French sounding name, wishing instead for a burger and fries. Solomon shrugged at him apologetically.
“Now boys,” said the lady, “we’ve been friends for a little while now. I have a friend who could use your help.”
“We don’t do outside jobs,” answered Nick automatically. He felt Solomon kick him in the ankle underneath the table, then smile at her.
“Sorry, but what Nick means to say is we have to be careful who we work for. Is this friend somebody we know?”
The lady was quiet for a long moment, sipping at a glass of champagne. “Why, yes…I believe you do. He is one of your kind, after all.”
Solomon couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face. “Really? Just how many of ‘our kind’ do you know?” he asked.
“I’m not here to discuss my knowledge of that,” she said. The stern look on her face was an order for the boys to not ask any more questions.
Nick crossed his arms over his chest and backed away from the table. There was something about the matter that he didn’t like. Although he and Solomon had been
selling their ‘merchandise’ to the woman ever since they began their scheme he had never learned to trust her, and it was exactly because of this that he didn’t. Every so often she would come up with a job that Solomon, afraid to lose her business, would be compelled to accept.
Perhaps it was because of Solomon’s greed that he never knew how to say no, or perhaps it was because Solomon didn’t have the price hanging over his head that
Nicholas did.
He had been eight when he accidentally summoned the creature that had blinded Graciela Mendoza. Hardly even able to remember what had happened, he only knew that what had happened had been serious enough to send men in great black cloaks to the foster home where he was being kept.
Even after so many years Nick didn’t know why exactly he had managed to escape. He thought of the girl being carried away by the men, her eyes bandaged. Somehow he’d been able to hold up a strong enough glamour of invisibility that a group of fully grown magicians hadn’t even sensed that he was still there, crouching in the shadows; waiting to run the moment he was able.
For a year he’d lived on the streets, begging, borrowing and stealing to survive. And when he’d found Solomon performing his tricks on the street it was the first time in his entirely life that he’d known somebody else that had magical powers.
It had been Solomon who first told him about the Magician’s Court. And Solomon who first told him that he was the most wanted magician alive, under order of immediate Exile if ever found.
Nick didn’t know much about the Otherworld. Of the handful of other magicians he’d ever known, none did. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he was ever found, and pictured himself in a dark world full of dark monsters.
It was the last thing he wanted, though Solomon often forgot the threat that hovered over his young friend’s head.
They finished their dinner at around the same time the appraiser finished his work. He disappeared with the lady to the next room, and after several moments returned with a large black briefcase.
“Thirty thousand,” the woman said.
Solomon immediately took the money. “I have given my ‘friend’ your number,” she said before relinquishing it. “His name is Gray. I would suggest that you answer the phone when he calls. He doesn’t like being disappointed,” she added, giving them a predatorial smile.
The boys were out of the hotel before Nick finally blew up at Solomon. “I can’t believe you just agreed to that!” he said.
“Did I have any choice?” Solomon snapped.
“She said this guy was a magician!” They had bypassed the parking garage, and the stolen convertible, making their way to the street. A yellow cab slowed to a stop by the curb and the boys piled in, keeping the briefcase between the two of them.
“Wait a sec,” said Solomon. “Take us to Fourth Street,” he told the driver. “You boys are out late, isn’t it a school night?” said the driver, glancing into the rearview mirror at them.
“Not at all,” said Nick. “We’re both wealthy foreign businessmen. And neither of us speak English,” he said.
Immediately the driver took his attention off them. For the rest of the trip it would seem as if the two men in the backseat were arguing back and fort in some garbled language he couldn’t comprehend.
Nick sighed.
“Always wish I could do neat tricks like that,” said Solomon in mild admiration. “Which is exactly why I need to avoid other magicians,” said Nick. “I’m
different. I’m a wanted man. I…”
“A wanted man?” Solomon shot back. Nick scowled. “You know what I mean,” he said in irritation.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let it,” said Solomon. He leaned back in his seat. “You’re too valuable.”
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Solomon and Nick still hadn’t heard anything about a new job three weeks after their meeting with the Red Lady—so called because neither boy had ever learned her real name. The haul from their last job had been the largest they’d ever taken in. Large
enough, in fact, that Solomon predicted it would be months before they had to do it again. Nick was sitting in his bedroom, mindlessly watching the enormous flat-screen that occupied most of the wall opposite. Apart from the bed it was the only thing in the room. Irritated, and bored, he hit the remote. The screen went black and Nick pushed himself out of bed, making his way through the apartment on padded feet.
“S’that you?” mumbled Solomon. Nick glanced over, spotting his friend laid out across the sofa.
“Morning, sunshine,” said Nick, yanking open the refrigerator door. Inside were a half-empty bottle of soda and three Styrofoam containers of leftover Chinese. He picked up one of the boxes, sniffing at the two-day-old orange chicken. “We don’t have anything to eat,” he said, throwing the Chinese back into the fridge in disgust and slamming the door closed.
“Just eat the damn Chinese,” said Solomon. His voice was muffled—he’d turned back into the covers to block out the afternoon light.
“It’s putrid,” said Nick. “I’m going out to get some groceries.”
Solomon mumbled something incomprehensible. “Order your own pizza,” Nick shot back. Rummaging through a large pile of laundry on the floor he found a pair of mostly clean jeans and a T-shirt.
As he stepped outside he was assaulted by the afternoon sun. It was a little after one, and a school day. Across the complex one of his older neighbors was watering her plants on her patio. He kept his head down as she glared up at him. Since he and Solomon had moved into the building a few months before they had borne a lot of scrutiny. It didn’t seem right to the others that two boys, the oldest no more than twenty, were living all by themselves in the middle of the city.
It would have been easy to use an illusion to keep the neighbors at bay, Nick often mused, but he and Solomon had long ago resolved to use their powers only when
necessary. It was the law of the street, Solomon had explained when he was younger. If you use a trick too much people eventually catch on.
So rather than resort to magical trickery, the boys resorted to the modern-day kind. It was because of that Nick had a license in his wallet that claimed him to be sixteen years old and the same reason that according to the state Solomon was twenty-two.
Nick thought fondly of the car from the heist as he slipped behind the seat of Solomon’s green Toyota. That was another law—don’t draw attention to yourself. This was why the ancient, battered vehicle existed as their only mode of transportation. Besides, thought Nick as he tapped his finger against the ignition, it didn’t have to look pretty to run like a champ.
The engine roared to life under his touch. Had it not been for his ability to make it work it is likely the old wreck wouldn’t have run at all. It was only a sheer force of wheel that kept the machine intact as he rolled down the street and around the corner to the market.
“Why if it isn’t little Johnny Hart?” said the checkout girl as he walked in. He smiled awkwardly. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“I’m home schooled, remember?” he said, eliciting a squeal of laughter from the girl.
Solomon had flirted and teased the girl ever since they moved onto the block. Since then she had paid special attention to them every time they had come into her school.
“Sure, honey, sure,” she said with a wink. “Special on roast beef. Hey, maybe you should cook one up and ask me over for dinner.”
“I’ll ask Brad,” said Nick, using Solomon’s assumed name. “And how is that brother of yours?” she asked.
“Sleeping!” called Nick over his shoulder as he picked up a basket and walked away, grateful when a customer walked into her checkout line and prevented further chatting.
He was in the middle of the cereal aisle when he felt his cell phone buzzing in his back pocket. Glancing at the readout, he flipped it open.
“Yeah…Bradley?”
“Er…guess you’re still at the supermarket,” said the voice over the phone. “Unless you want to starve or keep living off noodles, yeah,” said Nick. “Listen; can you do me a favor?”
Nick rolled his eyes. “What?”
“I’ve got some stuff at Cavender’s. Think you could pick it up for me?” “Yeah. Fine.” Nick snapped the phone shut, vaguely annoyed at having been turned errand boy. He finished up the shopping, dealt with another round of questioning by the checkout girl, and heading back to the south side of town detoured into a part of town that looked long since abandoned.
There were a handful of cars parked along the side of the mostly empty alley. Where shops had been there were now boarded up windows and broken glass. Nick parked and walked halfway down the sidewalk until he came to a narrow wooden doorway. He knocked and, after a moment, a small slot opened up in the door. “Password?” a gruff voice asked.
“Merlin was robbed,” said Nick.
The man behind the door chuckled. “Good to see you again, kid,” he said as the door opened to reveal a tall and thin older man in a T-shirt and shorts, with several days’ worth of white stubble covering his heavy chin.
“Yeah, same here, Ridley” said Nick, stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind him. “Solomon said he’d ordered something?”
“Yeah. I was wondering when he’d get around to picking that up,” he said, disappearing behind the counter for several minutes.
The shop wasn’t much bigger than the single room that Nick stood in. There were no windows and only the one fluorescent light in the center of the room, which cast an unusual glow over the dust-covered surface of the counter and a myriad of strange objects that filled the space. Nick picked up a sparkling crystal wand.
“People really use these things?” he said doubtfully.
“Yeah. Some people like toys,” said the shopkeeper as he resurfaced with a small, neatly bound paper package. “You want me to put this on your bill?” he asked.
“How much is it?” asked Nick. “One K.”
“I’ll take care of it now,” said Nick. He reached once again for a wallet, pulling ten crisp hundred dollar bills out of his pocket.
The man whistled as he took the money and stowed it away. “You boys are doing pretty well,” he said.
“Yeah. We just did a big job up at the Marquis.”
“Oh yeah? So that was you guys? Heard about it on the news.”
“And you know I’ve always wanted to be famous,” said Nick, picking up the package. “Hey, you ever heard of a guy named Gray?”
Ridley froze, scratching the white stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Gray you say? Wonder if you mean Ellis Gray.”
“I don’t know,” said Nick with a shrug. “He’s supposed to hire us for a job. Solomon’s all for it.”
“And you’re not sure. You’re probably right. Gray is bad business,” said Ridley. “Well, I don’t have a say,” said Nick bitterly. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around, all right?”
He slammed his way back through the door and out into the street. A pair of thugs hardly older than him spun around. Rather than deal with them Nick made them forget that he was even there, and walked right past, tossing the package into the passenger seat. He was halfway home when the phone rang. “Almost there,” he hissed into the receiver. “You’ll get your…”
“Hey, don’t worry about that,” said Solomon. “I just got the call. We’re meeting with Gray over dinner.” The line went dead and, irritated, Nick threw the phone down next to the package.
Solomon was waiting on the stairs when Nick pulled back in, his white-blonde hair still damp from a shower. “Mind taking care of the groceries?” said Nick irritably as he got out of the car and slammed the door. Solomon rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. When Nick opened the door several plastic bags were sitting on the kitchen floor.
“Gee. Thanks,” said Nick.
“I brought them in. You put them up,” said Solomon, tossing himself back on the couch. He caught the package as Nick tossed it his way. “Sweet! Thanks, little bro.”
“I’m not your bro,” muttered Nick as he started stuffing dinners into the freezer. “What is that anyway?” he asked.
“Contraband. From the Otherworld.”
“What?” Nick paused in what he was doing for a moment. “You can’t be serious. How did you even get that?”
“Ridley has his ways,” said Solomon. “How much did he end up charging?” “A thousand.”
“No joke? I would have charged more,” he said.
“Yeah. And you’re a cheat,” retorted Nick, causing the other boy to burst out laughing. From the other room Nick heard the ripping of paper and several moments of silence followed by a long, low whistle.
“Just what is that?” he asked, crossing back into the other room. Solomon’s hand appeared from over the top of the couch, a battered and ancient looking book in his hand. Nick plucked it from him, glancing at the foreign script on the cover.
“You know I can’t decipher,” he said, handing the book back over.
“Yeah, right.” Solomon flipped through the book. “A complete bestiary of the Shadow Walks.” Turning to look at Nick significantly, he handed the book back to Nick. “Including the Metricant.”
Although he couldn’t read the strange writing Nick recognized the pen and ink drawing on the page that Solomon had the book open to. He stared in horror for a moment at the image, feeling something like panic rise up in his throat. He pushed the picture back towards Solomon. “Why would you want something like that?” he asked.
“Because you can summon Otherworlders. If we could…”
“There’s no way I’m messing with those monsters again,” said Nick forcefully. “Just what are you after? We’re making almost a hundred thousand bucks a year doing what we’re doing.”
“We could make more,” said Solomon.
Nick sighed. It wasn’t the first time that they had argued over this. Since Solomon first heard about the incident of Nick and the girl, he had wondered if it would be
possible to use the Otherworlders to their advantage. It was an idea that frightened Nick. After all, how could he explain to his friend that the Otherworlders were more than just frightening creatures? They were more human than they were anything.
“I don’t want to make more,” said Nick. “I’m getting tired of this.”
“Fine.” Solomon slammed the book down on a table, storming out of the room and toward the second, rarely used, bedroom. Nick spun around to say something but the door slammed closed in his face.
Nick sighed. He picked up the book and flipped through the pages until he saw the picture of the Metricant again. In the back of his mind the memories came back to him, unwelcome as they were.
A tall, thin creature in a darkened room. A creature without eyes and a sharp grin that stretched from temple to temple, leaning over the bed of a young girl who was too frightened to move or even scream. In the etching the monster took up half the page and a small figure in the corner had black holes where the eyes should be.
He slammed the cover back on the image. After a while Solomon, in his best business attire, came back out of the room.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “I have a meeting,” said Solomon.
“You can’t go alone,” said Nick, putting the book back down.
“Yeah? Well, my partner just bailed out on me, so I guess I have to.” Nick scratched his head in agitation. “I did not bail out on you,” he said. “What do you call it?” retorted Solomon, crossing his hands over his chest.
Nick closed his eyes. “Listen, I’ll do it…maybe. But I don’t want to hurt anybody, so I’m not sure how this will all work out. And the last thing I want is to end up being Exiled.”
“Last thing I want too, bro,” he said. Then he let out a long whoop and threw his arm around Nick’s shoulders, ruffling his hair. “You and me bro, we’re going to be rich! I can see it now.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Nick.
When they got to the restaurant that evening, their host had already arrived. The man stood as they came over to his table, shaking both their hands as if they were his
equals. He was wearing a very expensive suit, his silver hair in a long braid. Nick felt a glimmer of recognition but it quickly disappeared. “Good evening gentlemen,” he said in a voice as smooth as silk. “I trust you’re both well?”
“We’re fine,” said Solomon. “The Red Lady told you about us?”
“I’ll admit that she was the one who gave me your number,” said Gray. “But I heard about your boys a long time ago. You’ve been busy.”
“We cover our tracks,” interrupted Nick. If there was any source of pride that he had in his work it was that he and Solomon had never been suspected in anything.
“You certainly do. All I was ever able to find out was that two young men were running a very successful jewel burglary operation out this way. There was nothing to suggest they were Magicians…until, of course, you began impersonating illusionists.” Gray poured himself a glass of red wine. Solomon and Nick, uncertain of themselves in this new situation, remained silent until the man continued.
“Even then I only suspected the truth. Until I made contact with Ms. Regina Wells —your Red Lady. She told me that two years ago she become the fence for a pair of Magicians selling stolen jewels. When I expressed interest in your services, she accepted a small monetary compensation in exchange for your phone number.”
“How much were we worth?” said Nick. He felt Solomon kick him under the table, but Gray’s lips curled in amusement.
“A half a million in cash,” he said, “And the Star Diamond. I hope you end up being worth what I paid.”
“When will you need us?” asked Solomon.
“Immediately,” said Gray. “There is a plane waiting for us. With any luck your part in this job will be over and done with tonight.”
“Tonight?” Nick shook his head. “It takes us a lot longer than that—“
“Anything you will need is already available,” said Gray. “As for the job…it is your specific skills that I need.” His eyes locked on to Nick’s. “You can make things happen. No, don’t bother saying that any Magician can do that—I remember you, Nicholas Swift. I remember your case.”
Nick shook his head. “Just because I can do things doesn’t mean I will.” “I wouldn’t ask you to do something you don’t want to,” said the man, just as Solomon was about to interrupt. “But you’re more able to help me than others.”
“And if I don’t help you will you go to the Magician’s Court?” asked Nick. At this the man gave the boys a sharp toothed grin. “They want me as much as they want you, son,” said Gray. “Perhaps more. Trust me, I won’t be settling down for a nice chat with Ignatius Bane anytime soon.”
“All right?” said Solomon. “So what’s the job?”
Gray’s jet was already on the runway when he and the boys arrived. It was closing in on ten o’clock at night. The man ushered them up the steps and into the jet.
During the hour that they were in the air, Nick debated going through with
whatever it was that Gray had planned. Something was bothering him about the man, and it wasn’t just Ridley Cavender’s veiled warnings in his shop earlier that afternoon. He got the feeling that he had known Gray before, or that somehow he’d heard of him, even though there wasn’t any way that that was possible.
By the time they touched down he’d gone over every option he could think of and had realized he had no choice for the moment but to go along with whatever it was that
the man had planned. Solomon was far less pensive, and had the wicked gleam in his eye that Nick had long since learned meant he saw money on the horizon.
“All right boys, this is where we part ways,” said Gray, shaking both of their hands again. “I hope to see you again, very soon.”
Another man in a gray suit led them across the tarmac to a big, black jeep. A young woman leaned over and pushed the door open. “Get in; I need you in one piece. My name is Lucy,” she said as the motor roared to life. “I’ll be your ride tonight.” *********************************************************************** *
The museum had been closed for a little over a month in preparation for its new exhibition. To the general public it was a crypt of nature’s oddities. To the magicians it was a place of science and history, containing artifacts of their race and a handful of artifacts originating in the Walks.
Nick suspected that a small, leather-bound book in his possession had once sat in its library.
He had never been to the museum, though Solomon had, and anything he knew about the place was secondhand knowledge.
Lucy bypassed security with Nick’s help, flashing a small blank card to the guard as they drove through his station. “I didn’t know your powers worked against other Magician’s,” said Solomon as the guard’s booth disappeared behind them.
“I didn’t either,” said Nick.
Lucy gave them a dark look and they both fell silent. The girl, who seemed barely older than Solomon if that, carried an air of authority that was unmistakable. She was tall and thin, with cropped red hair that glowed against her pale skin.
They pulled into the back lot. Nick and Solomon hopped out of the Jeep. Lucy stayed put. “You two have been working together long enough that you can read each other’s minds, right?”
Solomon nodded. Nick shoved his hands in his pockets, unwilling to look at the girl.
“Right. Take this.” She leaned over, pinning a small silver badge on the lapel of Solomon’s jacket. “You’ll be able to get in touch with me. If something goes wrong call me. If you find it, or you don’t…”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Solomon. “Call you.”
Lucy glared at him. “This isn’t a game,” she said. Her gaze fell over to Nick. “Are you paying attention, Nicholas?”
He nodded sharply.
“Great.” She pointed toward a low overhang. A security door was underneath. “That’s your way in. The pass code is nine nine two one seven,” she said. “The second door is magically protected. You’ll need this.” She flipped a small glass vial to Nick. “It’s antimagic—and it’s expensive. You’ll both be powerless for five minutes.
“You know the rest of your instructions. I’ll be waiting here when you come back with the merchandise.”
“Got it.” With Solomon in the lead the boys went to the door. The keypad gave a few short beeps, then another longer beep and the door clicked open. Behind the first
door there was a second. It glowed faintly in the darkness. Solomon unscrewed the top of the vial and a thin green vapor rolled out. It quickly began to expand.
At first contact he felt dizziness sweep over him. Then there was a slowly growing knot in the pit of his stomach. Solomon felt it too. Nick saw him double over, holding on to the wall for a long moment. He took a deep breath, then another, and finally pushed Solomon. “Come on, we can’t waste time. I just want to get this over with,” he said. Solomon nodded and, seeing that the second door was now nothing but ordinary steel. It gave way when he pushed at it.
The room they entered was for storage. There was little to see except boxes piled on top of one another. There were two doors beyond. Solomon entered the first room, a small office, and returned a few moments later with a large key ring. The other door led them into a long hall.
Ignoring the other offices that branched off to either side Nick and Solomon made their way to the stairwell at the end of the hall. Their target was on the top floor.
Approaching the last flight of stairs, Solomon stopped. “I’ll stay here and keep watch,” he said. “Go on ahead.”
“My powers haven’t returned yet,” said Nick. “I’m not going yet.”
“There’s nothing up there! Even without your powers you can make contact with the Otherworlder. We’d be worse off hanging around here for any longer.”
Nick froze for several seconds. “Fine,” he said finally, yanking open the door to the top floor and entering the room alone.
Unlike the others, the top floor of the museum had not been separated into separate rooms. A dim glow came through long, low windows, casting everything in shadow. Remembering the instructions the girl Lucy had given him he headed for the back corner of the room.
He expected to see a narrow podium topped by a glass case. In the glass case, he expected to see a Sapphire the size of his fist. The Tear of the Otherworld, it was often called. A perfect gem containing more magic than any human, Magician or not, could even dream up.
What met him instead was a massive cage. Positioned as it was it was cast entirely in darkness. “What is this?” he said to himself, moving cautiously forward.
He was within feet of the cage when he saw an enormous black shadow hunched within. As he approached it seemed to fold itself outward, expanding inch by inch until its massive form rose to the top of the space. Then, unmistakably, he heard a wheezing laugh. “Ah,” it murmured, “they’ve sent me my master at last.”
The monster spoke in a jeering tone of voice. Nick now saw its teeth, glinting madly as what little light there was touched its form.
“Master?” Nick said, taking a step back. “I’m not…”
“Don’t you recognize me? It hasn’t been that long has it?” The monster moved closer to the bars and Nick saw it more clearly, his worst memory come to life.
“Metricant,” he said. “I didn’t…I don’t…what are you doing here?”
“The same as you, I would guess,” said the monster with another gasping laugh. “You didn’t think the Hunters would let you get away with what you did?”
Nick shouted something. He never would remember what it was, only that he scrambled to his feet and turned to leave the room. But it was too late. The door flew open before he could reach it and three of the guards piled into the room, silver
instruments drawn. Behind the three of them he saw Lucy, her hand around Solomon’s chest and a silver dagger at his neck.
“GO!” screamed his friend. Nick, trapped between the Hunters and the monster, did the only thing that he knew to do.
Reaching deep inside himself, for something he had long since buried away, he now tore it from himself and threw it at his enemies. “The Metricant will have your eyes,” he said. “He will eat your souls if you don’t release me.”
“No!” shouted Lucy in anguish. She began to step forward but at the signal of one the Hunters stopped.
Behind Nick, there was a large crash as the cage the monster was kept in shattered. “Don’t hurt Solomon,” he said. “He didn’t do anything.”
“Didn’t he?” The monsters voice, deep and rough, spoke behind him. “It was a convenient plan. Retrieve the monster for Gray, and give his little helper up along with the beast for a tidy sum.”
“It’s not true!” shouted Solomon.
But in the monster’s laugh, Nick heard a ring of truth. “It isn’t?” he said, taking a step back. “Then what about that stupid book?”
The light of panic filled Solomon’s eyes then. He knew he’d been caught. Nick began to shake his head. The Hunter’s had fallen back but their weapons were drawn. If he didn’t act fast he imagined he’d end up dead—or worse. “To hell with you,” he said. “Metricant…do what you will.”
“With pleasure,” the monster growled. Nick began taking slow steps backward, watching as the monster descended on the monsters, as well as the only friend and family he’d had for most of his life. He picked up one of the bars that had broken away from the Metricant’s cage and burst out the glass of a window.
But as he began to step out the window he froze. With a glance back he saw the monster descend on one of the Hunters, massive jaws wide open, ready to feast. “No,” he whispered. “No.” He stepped back in. “I can’t do this,” he murmured.
The moment his will faded the Metricant froze. “Master?” it growled.
“No,” said Nick simply. “You know what? Fine. If nobody in this world gives a damn about me I’d rather be taken into Exile. And that’s where I order you to return,” he said to the creature.
There was a loud roar, which lasted for several moments, and then silence. Defeated, Nick fell to his knees. The Hunter the Metricant had been about to consume came over to him, holding his wrists tightly and binding them with silver cuffs. Chains shot from the metal and wrapped around him so that only his legs were mobile. His powers had yet to return to him—in a flash Nick realized that they never would. They had been removed.
“I’m sorry,” said Solomon as the Hunter pushed past him. Nick didn’t look his way. He couldn’t even begin to think. Every moment, every minute, was passing by in a blur.
When they got to the bottom of the stairs the man Nick had known as Gray was standing there. “Ignatius Bane,” he said simply. The man nodded his head in assent.
“This entire scene could have been avoided, Nicholas,” he said. “You had only to turn yourself in when the incident first took place.”
“Why don’t you say that to Graciela Mendoza?” Lucy came up to him, leaning down so that her eyes were boring down into his. They flashed green fire in the darkness. “You may see her again, where you’re going.”
“Wh-what? Grace was…”
“The young lady was Exiled,” said Bane, crossing his arms across his chest. “It was unfortunate but had to be done. As is the case with you. If the stories I’ve heard are true, you were a promising young Magician. A pity you got off to such a wretched start.”
Nick was piled into a sleek black car with two of the Hunters. He watched as Lucy and the third Hunter took Solomon with them in the Jeep, while Bane oversaw the end of the matter.
There is only one Magician’s Court in this world, and only one gateway to the Otherworld. Nick had never seen either, so as the car hit the highway he had no idea to which he was headed. The Hunters were silent and, still angry and hurt and confused, Nick was in no mood to ask questions. So as the minutes turned to hours and his car continued along the road without indication as to their destination, Nick for the first time in a long while was uncertain of his future.
Dawn had already started to color the sky a light blue when they turned off the main road. From the windows Nick could see the hazy blue ridge of mountains in the horizon and, though it was early fall, the air in the car had grown colder. The sky had already turned a brilliant blue by the time they finally pulled over and stopped.
They were outside a small glass building, in a lot barely big enough for a dozen vehicles. The Hunter who was driving them got out of the car and went around,
disappearing inside for several minutes. When he returned there was an older woman with him. The door was yanked open and Nick was asked to step out.
The woman stared at him for a long moment. “Nicholas Swift,” she finally pronounced. She was holding a battered leather book in her hands. “You were sentenced, on the Seventh of July of the year Two Thousand and Four, to Exile in the Otherlands. Accept your sentence now and you will be immediately transported.”
“If I don’t accept my sentence?” he asked.
“If you don’t accept your sentence,” she said, bowing her head gravely, “you will be forced to wait nine months for trial. All known crimes will be taken into account for your resentencing. The choice is yours.”
She opened the book and extended to Nick a silver pen. Hands held together by the cuffs, Nick took the pen, found his name on the page, and signed. She clapped it closed and nodded curtly.
“You will be transported tomorrow morning. On reaching the Otherworld your powers should return—it is not in you sentence that you should lose them permanently.”
“Thank you,” said Nick suddenly. He wasn’t certain why he said it, and was equally surprised that he meant it. The woman blinked, and finally smiled at him.
“When we are young we do many things we don’t understand,” she said. “It is not your fault, what has happened to you. It’s more kind this way…” she said. Then her face flushed, as if she’d said too much, and without another word she turned away.
Nick was led to a small holding cell. Although he hardly believed it was possible he fell asleep and didn’t wake again until late in the day.
Though the sky was still light the moon was visible, a transparent white sphere against the blue. He saw it through the high window of his cell. It was going to be full.
He wondered if the gateway was only open when the moon was full, or if it was just another one of the strange coincidences that seemed to rule his life.
Before long the first Hunter—the one who had been driving—came to Nick’s room with a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a can of soda. “It’s tough, kid, but…listen, I can tell ya’ ain’t bad news,” he said. He sat down with him. “You coulda let that thing kill us and if it were up to me that would count for something. But once the Court makes its rulings there isn’t any going back.”
“Yeah,” said Nick faintly, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite. He couldn’t imagine being hungry, but no sooner had he tasted the turkey club than he realized he was famished. He remembered buying groceries just the day before—thought about the apartment that was soon to be a world away and wondered if Solomon would find a new partner now that he was out of the picture.
“I knew the girl,” said the guard after a long moment. Nick paused then, looked up at the man. “Grace,” the man clarified. “I took her in until the trial. It just wasn’t right, a kid like that in prison. Lucy’s never forgiven the Court for putting her away.”
“Lucy. The redhead?”
The Hunter nodded. “My daughter.” Nick popped the tab of his cold drink, looking over at the man. He appeared troubled. “It’s okay,” said Nick finally. “I’ve never really had a home here anyway. I guess it’ll be pretty much the same over there, too.”
The man shook his head. After a few more minutes he extended his hand. “My name is Wilson.”
Nick brushed his hands off on his jeans. “Nice to meet you,” he said, taking the man’s hand.
“No you’re not,” said the man. “But I’ll forgive you for it.”
Nick finished eating and Wilson took the empty containers away, returning after a few moments with cuffs. Nick let himself be bound, and as he was led from the cell they were joined by the other hunter as well as the judge.
“I thought Bane was going to be here,” said Wilson. “He’s dealing with the other boy,” she said.
Nick felt a pang of guilt as he was being led off into the woods. Was Solomon really going to be punished for his years and years of thieving? Although his feelings were clouded with anger he didn’t want Solomon’s powers permanently removed—or worse.
His thoughts were interrupted as they forked off into the woods, taking a path that only existed because of the many feet that had trod that way over the years. As night approached, the woman stretched her hand out and whispered something. A ball of light erupted in her hand, casting the small group and the trail before them in faint light.
Just as he began to wonder what was taking them so long he saw an old man in the distance.
He barely looked at them as they approached. He sat on a simple stone chair, knobby fingers clutching his knees. “Nicholas Swift?” he said. Noting the glances of the two Hunters, Nick stepped forward. The old man stood, staring at the boy for a long moment.
“You’re late,” he finally pronounced. He stepped over broken pieces of stone that might once have been a gateway and gripped a gold doorknob that jutted from the
earth underneath. When Nick hesitated, the man came over and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Come on, we haven’t got all night,” he said, pushing him onto the triangle of dirt.
Wilson stepped forward and pulled the cuffs from his hands. Nick stood dumbly for a moment, wondering when something would happen. Then he realized that he could feel moisture surrounding his ankles. He glanced down and yelped in surprise when he saw that he was slowly sinking into the earth. Faster and faster he slid into the earth until only his head remained above the surface. Then, taking one last gasp of air, Nick slid fully into the ground. Falling several feet, he landed with a loud thud on the stone floor of a massive cave.
*********************************************************************** *
“If you’re all right, I’d suggest we get out of here.”
Nick groaned as he got to his knees. Apart from the bruise he was sure to have in the morning he was otherwise okay. He stretched his fingers out in front of his face and, even from only inches away, wasn’t able to see anything. Focusing for a few seconds he was able to create a small ball of shimmering light. His magic had returned, just like the lady had promised.
“Are you done playing?” said the voice again. “It stinks in here.”
Nick now looked all around him until finally he caught sight of something near his feet. It looked like a small, shabby ball of tattered fur. As he stared at it its head lolled around and it stared up at him with two small, beetle-like eyes.
“Who are you?” asked Nick. “What are you?”
“That…that doesn’t really matter,” it said. “But you can call me Rabbit.” Nick thrust his hand out in front of him and using it as a guide started moving along the stone corridor.
“You can think of me as Jiminy Cricket,” the rabbit said, falling into step beside him. “Or Winnie the Pooh, if you’d like.”
“My conscious…or my imaginary friend. Funny,” said Nick. “Did the illustrious Magician’s Court send you?”
“Do I look like I belong to the court?” the rabbit sniffed. “You’re my master. And its because of you that I’m here.”
“What?” Nick froze. He leaned down, and after a few moments realized that he’d seen the thing before. At least, something like it, in a drawing he’d been shown just a few days before. “The Metricant?”
“I’m not myself at the moment, admittedly, but yes,” the creature said. “You should have let me tear their throats out,” it said after a long moment of consideration.
“That’s disgusting,” Nick said. As they continued down the path of the cave Nick could see a faint light in the distance. “I’m not a murderer,” he said finally.
“Neither am I,” said the creature. “I’ve never killed before.” “But you would have,” said Nick.
“You’re my master,” said Rabbit. “I can only do what you want me to.”
“Then what about Grace?” he said. The creature was silent. “I should kill you,” said Nick.
“But you need me,” Rabbit said.
When Nick finally moved again the creature bounded alongside him, this time not saying anything. As they came to the mouth of the cave Nick saw that the stone was smooth, the last several feet of the path lit by torches that sat in holders on either wall. The land beyond was a wide meadow. The sky was as dark here as in the world he’d come from.
“Where are we?” said Nick.
“North of the Fields,” said Rabbit. He bounded forward a few feet, nose twitching in the breeze. “There’s nobody around. Usually isn’t this time of year. A lot of folks come sniffing for servants when the Exiles are sent in.”
“I won’t be anybody’s servant.” Nick looked out on the field. There was only one small cabin in sight. “Who’s there?” he asked. “Think they may give us shelter for the night?”
“Not likely,” said Rabbit. “People aren’t really trusting around here.” “Well, I may be able to sneak into their barn for a place to sleep,” he said. “They’ve got to have a barn right?”
“Probably.” Rabbit fell in stride beside Nick as he took off down the hill. “I don’t think it’s a good idea though.”
“Am I supposed to trust you?” said Nick. He spun around to stare down at the creature. “I don’t even know what you are. If you’re really the Metricant tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?” he said.
“Because you’re not a murderer,” it answered simply. With a sigh and, knowing that this was true, he looked back down at the cabin.
“Then what do you think I should do?” he asked.
Rabbit twitched its nose, inching forward in the grass. “There’s a gypsy camp not too far from here. They tend to be kind to Outlanders.”
“Outlanders?” asked Nick. “You,” Rabbit replied.
He led Nick sideways across the field and over a small stream until, in the distance, he could see the haze of almost a dozen campfires in the distance. As they approached Nick saw a figure straighten and stand. He moved in closer and the woman standing there pulled an arrow taut on the bow she held in her hand. “Who’s there?” she asked.
“Uhm…my name is Nick,” he said. “I’m an Exile. I need…”
Immediately the woman moved forward. She was very pretty, with long blonde curls that fell in a tangle below her waist. To his surprise Nick saw that she was wearing denim jeans and a T-shirt. “An Exile? At this time of year? She leaned forward. “And so young?”
“This is my master,” Rabbit interjected.
“Is that you, Bog Rabbit?’ the girl said. She finally lowered her bow and held it down at her side. Her eyes went up to Nick. “I know who you are,” she said after a long moment. “You should come on into our camp. It isn’t safe in the woods at night.”
They came into a large circle of men and women. The girl ordered Nick to sit before the fire and disappeared into one of the large tents surrounding the encampment. After several moments she returned. “My mother will be out soon,” she said to Nick. “Are you hungry?”
Nick shook his head. His head was swimming, and though the sandwich he’d had just a few hours earlier had been small he didn’t think he could stomach a bite of
anything. He did take a warm mug of something with a sweet and musky taste. He felt warmed immediately. As he sat around the fire he felt himself sinking into the moment. The gypsies—as Rabbit had called them—spoke in English at one moment and another that was completely unrecognizable to him. Their voices lilted up and down with the crackle of the fire, sometimes in song and other times in harsh debate.
With the heady drink clouding his mind and the heat of the fire pressing against him he felt himself drifting away, and had almost fallen asleep when he felt a sharp nip at his finger.
“Ouch,” he hissed, bringing his finger up to his mouth. “The leader just came out,” hissed Rabbit.
Nick pulled himself up. Beside the blonde girl was an older woman who greatly resembled her daughter. She motioned for Nick to approach her and he stumbled to his feet. When he was standing before her the woman took him by the chin, turning his head to either side as if trying to get a good look at him. “You’re a handsome young man…or you will be, once you’ve grown a bit,” she said. “Have you been fed?”
“I’m not hungry,” he said quietly.
“Hmm.” The woman released him. “My name is Cora. This is my daughter Adele. She says you’re the master of Bog Rabbit.”
“He is, sir,” said the Rabbit.
“And I suppose you don’t yet know what that means,” said Cora. Nick was about to ask what she meant by saying that but Adele gently shook her head. Muddled by weariness and not really in the mood to say much, he let it go. With a smile, the woman led him back to the camp and took a seat next to him. Adele sat at her side, and Rabbit curled up in front of them.
“I know he’s a monster. In my world, anyway,” he said.
Cora looked at him for a long moment. It was then that he noticed one of her eyes was brown and the other green. “Your world is not yours anymore, I am afraid,” she said finally. “I think you’ll find that many things that are monsters in your world are not in ours. And the opposite can be true as well. May I tell you a story young man? It’s not a long one, and when it’s over perhaps you should have some sleep.”
Leaning over to wrap her hand around her daughter’s, Cora looked into the fire. “Many years ago, our leader was a brave and powerful man called Vega. He had been born into our tribe, the son of an Outlander and a native, and when he was young fell in love with a woman who had been Exiled. He was only twenty when he attempted to save the life of a traveler in the Forest of Hands. Though he died the traveler gave Vega a precious gift—a splinter of stone. Vega ground it to sand and melted it to glass, creating an arrow which could pierce the heart of a monster at a thousand paces. In that moment he became something more than the leader of a tribe. He was a Slayer, and though he loved his wife he began to leave her, for weeks at a time, until one day he did not return.
“He died in the Hinterlands, far beyond the Folding Fields. His wife only knew that he had passed into the next world because one morning she caught a glimmer of an arrowhead buried in the earth outside her home. The Slayer had gifted his successor with her weapon—over the length of an entire world he had sent the arrow to his daughter.
“The girl accepted the gift and the legacy without a thought. She left her tribe, determined to capture her father’s murderer. A year passed before she found the man, and with the arrow at her fingertips, ready to fly, she could not kill him. Before her stood her father’s mother. Her heart had been jealous and unkind in her own world. Here it was taken by the shadows and she was twisted into a monster. She lives still…perhaps she’ll never die.”
The camp was silent. Many had heard the tale before, though respect kept them silent through the telling. “So Adele is a Slayer?” asked Nick. The girl started, smiling after a few moments.
“Blunt. But yes,” said Cora. “I wanted to tell you this as a warning. Whatever you were before, this place will increase by a hundred. If you are already a coward you’ll be broken by next sundown. Greed and anger can ruin you. Be careful, Nicholas Swift.” *********************************************************************** *
During the days that followed Nick found himself falling in with the Gypsies far easier than he could have imagined. They moved their camp three days after he first arrived and, without being invited or asking if they could join them, he helped take down the canvas tents and clean up their campsite, setting out across the meadows of the Otherlands.
A week had passed. Adele was walking with Nick and Rabbit, the sun bright and hot overhead. He turned to look at her when for the first time the question came up.
“I don’t know how long I plan to stay,” he said. “I guess until something else comes along,” he said.
“Then come with me,” Adele said. He glanced over at her. She was holding on to the bow and arrow—over several days he had already noted that it hardly left her side.
“Come with you where?” he said.
Adele glanced up to the head of the procession, where her mother was deep in conversation with one of the tribal elders. “I’m a Slayer,” she said. “I can’t stay with the tribe. It’s my duty to hunt the monsters of this world.”
“But why me?” asked Nick.
“I don’t know. I guess because you can’t stay with the tribe either. We might as well go together,” she said.
“Where would we go?” said Nick.
“Into the heart of the Fields. There’ve been a lot of attacks there. And…I think you should see the Oracle.”
“A great idea!” said Rabbit as he bounded along at Nick’s heels. “An oracle? Like, a fortune teller?”
“More than that,” said Adele. “She can tell you where to go. A lot of Exiles go to the Oracle when they arrive.”
It didn’t take much convincing for Nick to agree. That night when they made their camp he saw Adele disappear into her mother’s tent and return several minutes later, tears streaking her face. Not long after the woman emerged, eyes red and full of rage.
“You,” she shouted, pointing at Nick. “I want you out of this camp. You put evil thoughts in my daughter’s head.”
