Author: Wildbow

Gone and Done It – 17.y | Pale

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“Ahem.”

Wye raised his head, looking across Alexander’s office.  Tanner was in one of Alexander’s chairs, holding up a framed piece of drywall.  Written on it, etched into the drywall, with blood in the deepest parts of the etching, were two words.

“Okay.  That’s interesting.”

“I’d say that,” Tanner agreed.  He put it down, out of Wye’s sight, then frowned down at the thing.  “Oh no?”

“What’s that about?” Wye asked.

“I don’t know how you guys handle things at your fancy practitioner boarding schools, but for the mundane person, ‘oh no’ is usually said in reaction to something bad.”

“Tanner?” Wye asked.

“Do you need more elaboration?”

“Don’t make me throw my coffee at you,” Wye said, before checking his cup and finding it empty.

Tanner chuckled, running fingers through his hair to fix it some.  He had a slight fold at the corner of his eyes that suggested maybe one Asian grandparent, but was blond and attractive.  He still looked a tiny bit uncomfortable in the starched blue button-up, tie, suit jacket, and suit pants.  Wye wore similar, but had gone with dark blue.

Wye put the empty coffee cup aside.  “Oh no, hm?  What I was asking was, well, you have the most experience with that writing on the wall business.”

“Yeah,” Tanner said.

“Is it usually that succinct?”

“Varies.  I don’t know what to tell you, Wye.”

Wye looked down at the board in front of him, and picked up a piece.  It was wooden, a sphere with slight indents and extrusions for the painted hair and features, a cone for the body, armless and legless.  It was painted in precise detail with the clothing- green vest jacket, black top, a band of blue for his jeans.  The hair was a fade at the sides, the expression serious.  The sword-shaped hole at the front, just a couple millimeters deep, with a hand for the pommel, wasn’t part of the outfit, but a representation of the figure’s practice.

“What are you thinking, Easton?” Wye asked it.

“Oh, speaking of,” Tanner said.  “Easton to north-south main, accompanied by Rinehart and Cal Cavendar.”

Wye put the piece back in the space reserved for Hayward’s Demesne, and put the heads of two more little armless, legless figures between his fingers, sliding them to the top end of the main road that connected the northeast quadrant of tiles, downtown, to the southeastern ones, the factory.

“Shay Graubard is staying behind?”

“She is.”

“Compromised?  The Bugge?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Wye leaned back in his seat.  He watched as some of the pieces moved on their own, sliding, then when there was a moment’s break in the movements, he closed his eyes, rubbing them.

It was too early in the day.

Light shone in through the big windows and skylight of Alexander’s old Demesne, which was now and forever absent its creator and master.  Wye felt the lack.  It hurt, some, even.

The board in front of him was a gift, Eliana Graubard to Alexander.  It was one of several entreaties, as Alexander had framed them.  She’d given at least one a year, around a birthday or winter holiday, and in the last few years, she’d offered to collaborate.  A mixture of augury and modeling.  This board.  The dollhouse.

Which was genius, really.  Because Alexander loved collaboration even more than he liked having powerful magical tools, and because it gave Graubard what she wanted.  A chance to move in closer, to see and study Alexander.  Eliana and Alexander would never have worked, but if Alexander had had but a single chink in his armor, Graubard would have suggested him a partner who would insinuate herself into that chink.  A carefully crafted Graubard daughter or cousin.

Wye knew Alexander had a quiet trauma about love and romance, a heartbreak he’d never healed, as much as Alexander could smile and act casual as he told the story.  A perfectly trained and crafted partner would a disaster, less sure to work than, well, anything.  Alexander and Durocher were more likely to become a romantic pair than Alexander and Alexander’s ideal woman, and the idea of Alexander and Marie Durocher was laughable.

Had been, past tense, Wye corrected himself, mentally.  Thinking of Alexander as still alive was a trap he fell into a lot.  It was hard to shake Alexander’s presence, especially in here, as cozy and convenient as the space was.

Last night, before getting a narrow five hours of sleep, trading shifts with Tanner and Chase, they’d had a brief break to drink and talk family business, a last chance to keep to their routine since certain guests had come to check on them.  Whiskey, smoking, and a mixture of family talk and some waxing poetic over things, with Alexander either chief among them, or as a presence felt on the other side of the accumulated smoke.

Chase and Tanner missed the man too, which had contributed to the melancholy.  For both of those boys, Alexander had been the closest thing they had to a father.

After that little parcel of time reserved for sentimentality, he’d retreated to his room, and then startled himself by breaking into tears.  He’d showered, put compresses over his eyes, and then got the requisite five hours needed to stay functional.

Tonight, he already felt, would be the same.  Emotions put aside, everything kept calculating, careful, and managed.  He was tired, and he felt very ready for this to be done with.

But the guests in the girl’s rooms across the hall were bringing things closer to home, stirring up feelings he’d thought he’d had a handle on for weeks now.

“Is the ‘oh no’ about what happened in town?”

“Usually the writing on the wall tells me about things that are going to happen.  That’s already underway.”

“Hmm.”

“They’re scattering,” Tanner said, hands in pockets.  He’d left the desk and walked over, looking.

Wye leaned forward.  “Some general groups.  I wish we could communicate.”

“Dangerous, between the Bugge, nettlewisps, and other measures,” Tanner said.  “I could try some penetration.”

“No.  There’s a chance that anything we push through will be short lived, before it gets corrupted or blocked.  Let’s save any attempts to get past the communication block for an emergency.  If you want to look into ways to do that, in a spare moment, do, but just prepare the means for doing it, don’t actually follow through.”

“Already done.  I have two ideas.”

“Good man,” Wye said, lifting a foot up to prop it on the edge of the coffee table, before hooking an elbow around his knee to make it easier to sit forward and look over things.  He tucked his tie into his shirt pocket so it wouldn’t dangle.

Eloise Miraz’s piece tipped itself over, and because it was shaped the way it was shaped, it rolled slowly, in a quarter circle, off the board.

“Is that Eloise?” Tanner asked, with a note of alarm.  He’d been halfway back to his desk.

“Yes,” Wye said, quiet.  He watched as the piece traveled.  “It’s not unusual for her to throw us off while she’s doing what she does.”

“Like Marlen Roy.”

“Not as bad as Marlen.  Chase and I had to reposition Eloise six times last night, while you were sleeping.  We couldn’t keep Marlen on the board.”

The rolling piece picked up speed as it traveled toward the edge of the table.

The two of them watched, Tanner still frozen in that position he’d been in while walking back to the desk, Wye with his breath held, even though he was ninety-five percent certain he knew what was happening.

It reached the edge of the painted board, fell, and righted itself, standing at the side.

Wye picked up her piece.  Short blond hair, a smile on that little painted face, a spool of thread etched into her front, needle stuck through it from above.  He set her down next to the little bowl with three pieces in it, all of which had not just rolled off the board, but had then fallen off the table.  Milo’s was in there, the head detached from the body.  So was Jorge Hund’s, head twisted around, wood splintering where it had been pinched and turned in the fall.  Neck broken by a slap.

“Should I see if I can find Eloise again?”

“Please do.”

The phone rang.  Both of them looked over.  Tanner answered the phone with a practiced, “Tanner Gilpin, apprentice of the Belanger circle.”

Tanner listened for a second.

“It’s the phone phreak technomancer.  I think we have a secure line.  You want to take this?”

There were too many things to do.  Wye stood, smoothing his shirt and fixing his tie.  “You handle it.  Things are quiet-ish, so I’m going to see about getting help.  Just in case there’s something to that ‘oh no’.”

“Waking Chase up?  Or Nicolette?”

“Chase needs his five hours, probably needs six.  Nico would ask too much if I went to her.  No, give me a minute.”

“Not Seth.”

“No.  Not Seth.  But depending on how this goes, I might wish I had.”

“You’re getting her?”

“A her, not her.”

Wye picked up a pen and paper and quickly scribbled down some things on a piece of paper.  “Breakfast?”

“I already have my coffee.”

Tanner didn’t really eat in the mornings.  Wye wrote: Apple cinnamon muffin, bacon, eggs, hash browns, coffee.  Then, after a moment’s consideration, he wrote ‘x2‘.

He placed it in the slot in the door as he walked through, out into the hallway.  Across the hall, to the girl’s rooms, or at least, where the girls had roomed when the Blue Heron had been open.

He used his Sight to peer a bit forward, surveying a blurry, echo-like series of images that ran into one another like three dimensional figures made of wet paint crashing into one another, verifying he had the right room, and then he knocked.

It took almost thirty seconds before the door opened.

Fifteen year old Gillian reminded him a lot of Alexander.  Same face shape, same eyes, similar frame – barely an ounce of excess body fat on either of them.  Her blonde hair was too straight and fine to really become bedhead, but had instead lifted up and away from her head with static electricity.

“How’s your notetaking?” he asked the girl.

“It’s so early.  And I don’t know.  Okay, I guess?”

“I suppose we’ll find out?  I want to put you to work.”

“I feel like I should wake up my mother.”

“That feeling is valid.  I suggest you find where that valid feeling lives inside you, and murder it with prejudice.”

“You have a choice before you.  You’re old enough to make it.  Your first choice is to spend the day on the campus, and things are liable to be be exceedingly quiet, lonely, and very boring, at best.  You might enjoy some books in the library, or find some Others on the periphery of campus.”

Gillian nodded.  “That was the plan.”

“…But I expect you’d find yourself caught in a terrible sort of limbo around your mother, who would want to keep you out of trouble and firmly under her watch, keep watch on us, and keep us away from you.  As the easiest thing for her to manage in that interplay, you’d be thrown this way and that, sent on entirely pointless errands.”

“It’s way too early for this many words to be thrown at me,” Gillian said, rubbing at an eye.

“You know I’m right, don’t you?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Option two is that you agree to work for me, it’s work, your eyes, hands, head, and even heart may be tired at the end of the day, but it will be interesting, real, and important.”

She glanced over toward the next door down in the hallway.  “She’d be mad.”

“You can tell her you made the decision to get an inside look about how we’re operating and how we’re doing.”

The door Gillian had just been looking at opened.  The woman who stepped out was both very similar to Gillian and very different from Alexander, somehow.  She was in her forties, already graying, and unhappiness was set deep into steely features.  Alexander had always made it seem like there was a half-smile behind everything he said, because he enjoyed all of this.  Alexander’s cousin Jen didn’t look like there was even a fraction of a smile underlying things when she was actually smiling, which was almost never.  She had pulled on a red silk bathrobe that was expensive, meant to be comfortable and easy to wear, and didn’t look comfortable at all.

“Wye, are you counseling my daughter to lie?”

“No, not at all.  It is in fact something she could tell you.  She’s free to report on us, spy, look for areas where we’re failing.  I’m counseling her to manipulate you, at worst.”

“Don’t.”

Wye sighed.  He turned to Gillian.  “Do you wish to come?  If your mother were not here and not influencing you, do you think you’d accept my offer?”

“I would…” Gillian said, before glancing at her mother.  “Maybe.”

“And as her mother, I’ll insist-”

“As acting head of the Belanger circle,” Wye interrupted.  “I am recruiting Gillian Belanger for the day.  Things are getting more involved, we have a prophecy warning us of possible imminent or ongoing problems, and the amount of political currency we could get with other families is immense.  You’re free to supervise, which I’m sure you will, until you start getting in the way.”  Which I’m sure you will.

“Her name is Gillian Ross.”

“She remains a Belanger.  There’s a great deal going on, I won’t get bogged down in negotiation or quibbling.  Gillian.  Get yourself ready for the day, be fast about it, but dress well.  We’re liable to be busy until noon at the very least, with only a short break, and we may have guests, people who can see us remotely, and other things, so be presentable.”

Gillian nodded.

“Did you shower last night?”

“Then shower this morning.  Take that time to wake up and be ready.  Your mother can wait.  Don’t be more than fifteen minutes all in all before you arrive at Alexander’s office.”

“I’ll go to the rooms next door, then,” Jen said.

“You absolutely will only go next door insofar as you have to, to not be gainsaid, Jen,” Wye told her.  “The rooms next to yours belong to Nicolette Belanger, who we’ve made deals with, and one of those deals is to respect her space and do nothing that could be construed as spying.  The other room belongs to one student in particular who we hope is returning when the school reopens, Estrella Vanderwerf.  Some of her things are still within.  I will respect the privacy of their quarters and I will endeavor to instill that same respect on anyone entering this school.”

“You’re clearly trying to put me out of the way.”

“Yes, but only because you insist on getting in the way when I don’t, and you’re playing power games when you don’t know enough.  There are showers in the east wing.  Go there.”

Gillian was a little wide-eyed at the exchange.  Wye suspected she hadn’t seen many people stand up to her mother.

Another door opened.  Nicolette wore her hairpiece, her hair braided for sleep.

Gillian raised a hand in a little greeting, which Nicolette returned, as she leaned against the corner, where one room jutted out.

“Sorry.  Did we wake you?” Wye asked.

“You did.  Said my name.”

“Sorry.  If it makes it up to you any, I’ll volunteer information.  Things are happening.  The three practitioners of Kennet finished their ritual at dawn.”

“Successfully?”

“Yes.”

Nicolette smiled.  “Alright.  Do you need me?  I have only a few things to see to this morning.  Helping an old woman with some anti-scrying measures.  Should only take an hour.”

“I’ll let you know.  If you wanted to stop in, help as if you were a member of the team, teach Gillian in a spare moment, we’ll pay.”

“My usual rate?”

“We’ll pay a minimal rate.  Minimum wage.  You said yourself that you have only a few things this morning, and it gives you a fuller picture of what’s going on, which I know you want.  So long as you don’t interfere…”

Nicolette put one hand on her hip.

You want this too badly.

“I won’t interfere.  Okay.  I may stop in then.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Nicolette went back into her room.

“She’s a rival.  Competition,” Jen said, quiet.  “You could crush her.”

“Nicolette has a vicious streak you really don’t want to see turned against you, Jen.  Try to crush her and you might end up finding out.  She’s a resource, she’s still technically a Belanger, she may return to the fold.”

“Why would you want her to?  She took what we had to offer and left us when things got hard.”

“Even if you have doubts, you have to know the saying, keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer?  I dare say that if the one who coined that saying was an augur, they could have been looking forward to this very moment in time, this situation.”

“You think you’re cleverer than you are, Wye.”

“For right now, Nico knows Kennet better than any of us, she’s invested in it, she knows and likes Gillian, and the opportunity to do right by Gillian is more likely to bring her closer to us than any amount of intimidation, threats, or interference.”

“Gillian is my daughter, she’s not your pawn to be used like this.”

“I am the acting head of the Belanger circle, Jen, and Gillian, as much as you might insist otherwise, is a Belanger.  I will put her to the best uses I can, for the benefit of both her and the Belangers as a whole.”

Jen stared him down.

He went on, “If you don’t like that, then stop pussyfooting about and move to remove me.  I’m well positioned in the Blue Heron and attached networks, I know the business inside and out, I am on good terms with much of our client base, our best assets like Chase and Tanner like me.  And as it happens, I’m the closest thing to a custodian for the school and the grounds.  When things resume, I should have the ear of whoever takes power.  You want to try to remove me?  I don’t think you’ll succeed.”

“I don’t think you realize what this all looks like from our perspective, back home.  Alexander dying, the lack of answer to that, the infighting, Seth forsworn, the war, the instability, the lack of information coming back to us.  The older family members are concerned.”

“Everything is thoroughly detailed in reports, as is the money from the business.  Speaking of?  I should get back to things.  If you’re still confused about what’s going on, Jen-”

“I know what’s going on, Wye.  I’ve been part of this family for twice as long as you’ve been capable of wiping your own ass.”

“-talk to me about things later, when things are calmer.  But not now.  If you pursue it now, it only distracts from business and hurts the family.  Now, I’ll take care of business, I trust you can find the showers of the eastern hallway on your own?”

“I’ll be along shortly,” Jen replied.

“See you in fifteen or so minutes?” he asked Gillian.

She nodded.

He walked away, shaking his head slightly.  He collected the breakfast that sat on the little cabinet by the door, where letters and things could be dropped off, and he pushed the door open with his foot.

“You woke Jen up?” Tanner asked.

“I woke Gillian up.  If you told me Jen has a ward on her daughter so she gets notified if someone so much as glances at her, I would not be overly surprised.”

“She might have one for if you glance at her.”

“Ah, yes.  I remember, when Alexander invited Gillian to come for a term at the Blue Heron, on his dime, and her mother refused, he said, hm, trying to remember the exact wording.  Her mother would block one hundred percent of Gillian’s opportunities and squander one hundred percent of her potential if it kept Alexander from getting a single percentage point of influence over her.”

“That holds true for you too, hm?” Tanner asked.

“Us.  I think she likes me less than Alexander, weirdly.”

“I dare say everyone likes you less than Alexander.  Could it be your smell?” Tanner asked.

Wye smiled a bit, then noticed.  “You’re not on the phone.”

“He’s calling back.  The main group has split into teams to tackle various problems.  Not sure what Easton’s group is doing, since they were meant to be digging into Hayward’s Demesne claim.”

“That’s meant to be over, no?”

“It resumed.  That’s part of what they’re meant to be looking into.”

Wye rubbed his chin.

“There’s strain, Wye.  Subtle pressure between different groups,” Tanner said, looking down at the cards on the desk.

“Stands to reason.  There’s more than enough Lordships, realms, space, and responsibility for them all, I do wish they’d recognize that and leave things alone.”

Tanner looked up.  “They might have elbow room in Musser’s grand Lordship, but now they’re crammed into a strange place they don’t fully understand.  The men who were leading the invasion are taking a back seat, but if there’s a decision they don’t agree with, or if they feel they aren’t being respected, they might want back in that metaphorical driver’s seat.”

Wye sighed.  He drank from the coffee, moving his plate off the tray before covering the other he’d ordered.

“Oh, Eloise is at downtown east, records office.”

Wye moved the piece.  “Thank you.  I hope she comes out of it alright.”

“Oh?  Are there feelings there?”

Wye, midway into biting into one of the apple cinnamon muffins, coughed out a laugh.  “I don’t think I’d survive her fiancé’s jealousy.  She’s a ray of light, nice to have around.  Clever, pretty, makes you want to be here.”

“Yeah.”

The phone rang and Tanner answered.  He put the phone to his ear, mouthpiece covered, and told Wye, “The phone phreak.  Would you?”

Tanner pointed to the desk.

Wye nodded.  He picked up a pencil that was inset into the edge of the little wooden map of Kennet, made of the same kinds of wood, then carried his plate with one hand, taking a bite to eat with both pencil and fork in his right hand as he crossed the room.

There were two arrangements of cards on the desk, and a third in a side nook above a cabinet and below shelves, one grouping backed by gold foil, one by a black velvety material, and a third by something red that sparked in the light from the window.  In the two arrangements on the desk, cards turned themselves face up, turned at right angles, flipped over, moved over and under the others, stacked up, or dealt themselves out, filling a rough four-by-four arrangement that occasionally had gaps or cards on the outside.  In the nook, it was similar, but the arrangement wasn’t four by four, but two by ten.

Wye set his breakfast down carefully, so he wouldn’t interfere with the movements of the cards, and used the pencil to pen down some names.  He sketched out the basic circle-atop-cone shape and murmured, “Borne of Graubard’s materials, placed down by me, you carry the same name, of someone else.  Be linked.”

He tore the paper, putting down a strip with Anthem Tedd’s name onto the side of the desk.  When he moved it, the corresponding playing piece moved.  He eyed the position of that little piece on the board, making sure he’d moved it to the right spot.  Into the valley.

The little town was represented by a kind of board game, but the size of each tile differed, depending on how important and dense the area was.  The valley was a big space, split into three sections.  Comparatively, the cabins where most of them were sleeping were divided into nine.  An outside area, a first floor, and a second floor, for each cabin.

Just in case of an attack, it would be nice to know who was where.

He moved the other pieces as the cards indicated.

One arrangement for their side.  Most people in their faction weren’t trying to block them or interfere, so that was fine, most cards were face-up.  The Scarecrow here, the Corridor, the Lantern, Succor, the Lion, the Embrace.  Each could be a verb, a person, a place, or an object.

It took practice to read the arrangements, especially with how fast they could move, and especially with a group this large.  The trick was, and everyone who tried using these cards eventually ran into a snarl here, the cards had to be read without expectations and without any assumption.  Anyone who went into things feeling like they were now an expert would impose their own will on the cards, and the arrangement would freeze up or turn up duplicates of the same card instead of accurate reads.

That was always a fun class.  Wye was good enough with the cards to teach it.  They had students do a two-by-two arrangement, very vague, and when students hit the wall, they would have them figure out how and why, and if anyone could work their way past that wall.  Seth had been able to do a three-by-three arrangement, Nicolette was about the same, though she could stretch things out to a four-by-four with focus.  Tanner and Wye could do a four-by-four confidently.

Cards moved while he watched.  Right across the center, in a row.  Smith with Watchman laid leftways across it, right-turned Whisper, right-turned Knife, right turned…

The card didn’t turn all the way over.  Undecided?

He made a note.  Connors loyalty under question?  Outcome undecided?

Tanner craned his head to look, phone at his ear while he wrote, then he nodded.

It would have been nice to have more information on that.  Alexander had done a five-by-five several times while Wye watched.  Wye suspected he’d need another five years before he could do that.  Tanner had his moments, but that was a natural talent of Tanner’s.  He’d been Aware, once, and some patterns held – the writing on the wall really wanted to talk to him.

All of the Connors were hanging back around the cabins, judging by the cards.  The combination of Smith and Watchman had the Wall card above it and the Treasure beneath.

It made sense.  The Connors did defensive wardings and summoning practices.  They were happier to stay in one spot and layer defenses over one another than they were advancing into new territory, setting down the occasional warding here or there.  They’d linger back, protecting the cabins and everything within those cabins.  For many practitioners, that included crafting materials, books, clothes, and conveniences.

Wye scribbled down their name, and used the paper to move the pieces from halfway across the room, so he wouldn’t have to go back and forth.  A slight movement, to set the Connors apart from the rest of that group.  Still in the same space with other people, but with a gap.

The second arrangement was for their enemies.  Mostly face down.  Periodically they’d show their hand or reveal themselves and a row or column of cards would show themselves, other times they’d use a ward or go to a secure place and the entire thing would flip face down.  Glimpses, for the most part.  The Scarecrow here, the Broken Fist there.  The Lantern had made its showing for a while last night.  The cards on the far right of the arrangement liked to turn up the Snake and the Treasure, sometimes extending two or even three cards past the usual four by four arrangement, toward the other.  Wye had drawn a line of chalk between them to discourage that.

And the final arrangement, in the nook.  Off to the side, apart from this entire business.  The broader territory.  The movements were slower.  He had a picture of Milly Legendre, and slid it left and right, in front of the cards.  There was no movement.

He could see some cards had changed since he’d last looked over it.  Two spaces over from the rightmost card, both rows.  The Embrace.  As he watched, one card turned over, revealing a Whisper pressed against the underside, and then both slid under the Embrace.

That would be Mr. Howes visiting Ms. Arland.  Again.  Which was fair.  They were heading two very remote Lordships to the north of Toronto, with very little to do except each other.

Except Mr. Howes’s Whisper-Embrace combination had left a Torch card in the space behind it as it had gone up toward Ms. Arland.  If he remembered right, Mr. Howe’s territory had fought back hard against the Lordship idea, but they’d found themselves up against Musser and then Anthem.  The idea had been to impress on them the idea that all opposition they might face would be that intense, while leaving them weak and broken.  Conveying they were that outclassed.  It seemed they hadn’t given up entirely.

If those people were to go up against Mr. Howe, it would be a coin toss about who would come out ahead.  But if they were to move in while Mr. Howes was away, then fight from a defensible position?  That would be a problem.  And it would leave Ms. Arland isolated, ripe for removal herself.

Wye found Mr. Howes on his contact list and sent him a quick message warning him.  How to word it?  Friendly warning from an Augur acquaintance.  Today seems to be the sort of day you want to pay special mind to what’s going on in your backyard, lest your house may burn down.  A somewhat message from an Augur that let the man keep his pride intact.

He waited, then saw Mr. Howes cancel his planned Embrace.

No.  Not canceled.  Ms. Arland changed course and went to him, instead.  Well, if she at least helped keep an eye out for trouble, that would be good.

There were other tools.  Tanner had put his framed piece of drywall by the nook.  No writing, now, no sign of the scratches or blood from earlier.  Wye’s knucklebones implement was sitting in an open box, periodically stirring.  They were large, uneven bones carved roughly into slightly uneven dice shapes, with symbols carved into each face.

He motioned with his hand, and they rolled, leaping from the box to the desk, crossing the desk, and leaping up to his hand, where they rested, one between each finger.  With a motion of his hand, he palmed them.  He looked at the faces of the die in his cupped hand, even though he was familiar enough with their feel to be able to more or less know what they’d show him by touch.

Not so different from the cards, but a little more immediate.  He turned toward the front door to the office a moment before Nicolette let herself in.  He closed his hand around the knucklebones, squeezing, and felt them slide into place inside his hand, beneath skin, placed out of the way.

Nicolette had unbraided her hair, leaving it with the twists and bends, still, even after a brushing, and she wore a headpiece with glass eyes in among black feathers.  Eyes like the sort used in the taxidermy of animals, sorted so they had a range of hues, starting orange at the front, near her temple, and extending to a deep green at the back, behind and above her ear.  She wore a white button-up top and tie, no jacket, and a black skirt.

Wye held a finger to his lips, jerking his head toward the phone.  She nodded.

She went immediately to the board, looking down.

Tanner hung up.  “Okay, we’re waiting for a call from Eloise and Estrella.  They’ve gone to the records office, they’re trying to press for a full report on the laws that visitors have to obey.  Law of the Seal supercedes the law of this realm, they have to provide, or the laws get a hell of a lot weaker.  But once they provide, it gets a lot harder to invent new rules.”

“Good thing to get out ahead of,” Wye said.  “What do we know?”

“There’s barely any rules if you live there, quiet, calm, and walled in.  But intruders get tied up in bullshit paperwork.  Need passes, need papers, certain permission needed to be in sensitive areas, permission required to have bound Others, you’re in multiple kinds of violation every thirty minutes you’re there with Others under firm or subordinate control.”

“They created another realm?” Nicolette asked.

“Are you feigning surprise?” Wye asked her.

Nicolette smiled.  She pointed at the board.  “Can I fiddle?”

“Sure.  I’m extending you trust.  You’re technically on my turf, it’s a karmic ding if you violate my hospitality.”

“Sure.”

“I would’ve done more with the board, but it requires too much management after.  But if you want to make that your job, I won’t object.”

Nicolette reached into the depressions at the edge of the board, then lifted.  Separating it into three sections, each section connected to the other by thin wooden posts with decoration and paint on them.  Each was about a foot above the other, so viewing the top one required standing up.  It looked brittle enough to shatter if a half-full coffee cup was placed on the topmost portion.

Kennet original at the top, bright, catching the light from the windows.  The new trap of a place in the middle, blue-tinted, the river painted with something glossy so it caught the light.  Then the last one, stained a bit, in shadow, with bold colors where there was color.

Various pieces moved and slid around.  A paper popup was connected to the two posts that were holding separate levels of the boards apart, depicting a woman with hair in her face and long sleeves.  Anthem Tedd’s group was sliding toward that.

“Any objection if I use the dollhouse in a box?”

Wye walked over, standing on the other side of the coffee table, looking over the arrangement of three boards to Nicolette.  In a quieter voice, he said, “Should I object?”

“Musser knows where I stand.  I’ll work for him, but I’ll work for those three girls too.  I’ve turned down work for both, when I thought it would be too much of a problem.  My main interest is everyone getting out of this as okay as possible.”

“You won’t withhold?  You won’t mislead?”

“Not what I want to do.”

“Then I have no objection to you using the dollhouse in a box.  There’s some blood in the little black bag by the foot of the end table.”

“Thank you,” Nicolette said.

There was a knock at the door, and Nicolette was closest, so she answered.  Gillian ducked her head down as she entered, as if she felt the weight of this ex-Demesne. Then she looked around, her eye catching on the board.  She wore what might have been her school uniform, very similar to what Nicolette wore, but with a simpler skirt, and a thin ribbon at the collar, tied into a bow.

“Thank you,” she said, quiet.

“Of course.  Good to have you here.  Don’t let them abuse you,” Nicolette said, as she picked up the dollhouse on her way back to the coffee table.

“Don’t sow division, Nicolette, we have enough of that already,” Wye told her.  “I’ll ask you to leave if you keep that up.”

“Alright.”  Nicolette found a space on the coffee table beside the three boards representing the three versions of the town.  Abraham Musser’s little figurine was sitting in the original Kennet, making its claim, more or less alone.  Other pieces moved this way and that.

“Hi Tanner,” Gillian said, tucking her hair behind one ear.

“Good to have you, Gillian,” Tanner said, as he checked on the cards and his little bit of writing on the wall.

“Okay, Gillian,” Wye said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.  “Breakfast is on the tray there.  If you don’t like coffee, give it to Tanner, me, or Nicolette.  If you don’t want that, just let me know, write it down.  I’ll put it by the door.  But we’re going to put you on the phones.”

He could see her expression change a bit, hearing that.  Nicolette had arched an eyebrow.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.  Alexander had me on the same sort of task when I started, when I was a bit younger than you.  Eloise and Estrella should be the next people on the line, they’ll expand on the rules.  Take down as much as you can, as carefully as you can.  There’s a recording button, use it, play back the recordings in quiet moments to correct anything you’re not sure you heard exactly.”

“Okay.  I’ll try.”

“This is what we do.  We get information and we sell it.  Those people are getting critical information and we are going to relay it to eighty or so practitioners who are all in a bind.  All nervous, all who would be very reassured to have the right answers so they can puzzle a way out of their predicament.”

“Okay.  Alright.”

“There are notes on what we know about the realm they’re currently stuck in.  Read them, get to grips with it.  At the end of the call, if they’re okay with it, sound them out, ask questions.”

“I have some down already,” Tanner said.

“Right, I can do that.”

“And ask your own,” Wye said.  “Put your practitioner brain to use, fill in the gaps.  Put your initials by any information you’re able to work out.  If you’re able to figure out anything especially useful, there’s money in it for you.  Half.”

“Taking after Alexander, Wye?  He did the same with me,” Nicolette said.  She was putting the configuration of triangular tiles together around the dollhouse.

“Trying to keep the good.  By the by, Gillian?”

“Yes?”

“This is paid work.  So… treat it like a job.  If your mom says one thing but I’ve told you another, at least while I’m paying you, listen to me, or at least tell me straight that you can’t do the work.”

“Minimum wage?” Gillian asked, glancing at Nicolette.

“I’ll pay you what the Belanger circle pays Tanner.  I give him two thousand dollars a week, plus fifty percent of whatever he picks up in special sales, which is what you finding the right question to get a juicy bit of information would be.  For one day of work, that’s two hundred and eighty five dollars you’ll earn today, with a chance for extra.”

“Oh, okay,” Gillian said.

“If you’re trying to do the right thing by doing the things Alexander did right, you could take it a step further and not do the stuff that was a bit more problematic,” Nicolette said.  “Blatant manipulation?”

“It’s good manipulation, though.  Oh, Gillian?  If you’re not reviewing notes, or on a call, work with Tanner, look at what he’s doing, learn from him.  But fill the time you have, no non-essential breaks, okay?  I was going to put you with Nicolette, but it looks like she’s got her hands full.”

Nicolette sighed.

“I’m okay with that,” Gillian said.

“Tanner?  Cards and supplementary practices?  See if we can’t get a fuller picture?  Maybe take one of the arrangements up to a five by five.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll give Chase another two hours to sleep, then put him on the task of tracking down the people we’re losing sight of.  For now, do the best you can, Nico?  Work with Tanner?”

“Yeah.  I was going to use the dollhouse in a box to spy on any important meetings.”

Wye nodded.

The phone rang, and Gillian picked up.  “Hi, this is- yes.  Belanger circle.  I’m Gillian.  You’re Eloise?  Estrella.  Hi.”

They’d work on that.

Gillian started taking notes.

Wye crossed the office portion of Alexander’s space, and entered the living space.  Some of Alexander’s things were boxed up, others put aside for later, or for retailoring.  No use wasting an expensive article of clothing.

A wardrobe was built into the wall, and included in it was a narrow, pull-out display.  It was only about as broad as a cereal box, with more ties than some suit stores.  On the other side was a display of watches.

Wye carefully selected a narrow blue tie, draped it over his forearm, and pushed the display back into the wall.  Walking over to Gillian, he held out the tie, motioning.  She frowned a bit, looking up at him, but then used one hand to lift her hair up and back out of the way.

He flipped up her collar, then put the tie on her, tying the Pratt knot, before tugging on the side of it to rotate it around to the front, and fixing the collar.

Gillian gave him a roll of the eyes, undoing the ribbon at her collar, extricating it from beneath the tie, and laying it on the desk.  To his Sight, though, there was a flare of bright yellow energy, blurring images of her stroking the tie and smiling.

He went back to Nicolette, looking over the board of people who were moving across the boards.

“Anything you want me to emphasize?” Nicolette asked, as she worked on the dollhouse, hands doing one thing while her eyes focused on the boards.

“Nothing too special.  Look out for Easton Songetay.  He was supposed to be looking into Hayward’s weird new Demesne claim, but then went off in a different direction.  I like Easton.”

“Of course you do.”

Wye smiled.

“Why is it you’re so fond of the worst young men?”

“Because they become the most interesting, driven young practitioners?” Wye replied.

“Ugh.”

“I was one.”

“You were what?” Gillian asked.  She’d finished the call.

“I was a bad boy, yes.  Any news?”

“She had to hang up.  She was waiting for staff and they just arrived.  Is that why my mom doesn’t like you?”

“Your mother doesn’t like me for entirely different reasons.  I went to a magic school back before the Blue Heron existed, you know.  And the best of the young men was arguably worse than the worst of the Blue Heron students, I’d say.”

“Really now,” Nicolette said.

“Overseas?  Yes, absolutely.  They cultivate it.  It’s marvelous in its shittiness, if you’ll pardon my language.  Like an exceptionally horrible goblin, except it’s pomp.”

“You sound happy,” Tanner said.

“I adore it, in retrospect.  Most of the schools – you do have the two hundred or two thousand students in London, in France, Quebec, the three schools in New York, sure, but most are small.  Thirty students at most in an old castle close to some realm or another, cut off from society, made to conform, fit in, form alliances, while being taught by the most arrogant disciplinarian they can find.”

“You do such a job of selling the concept,” Nicolette said.  “Not a good job, mind.”

“You hit a certain age and you inevitably have to find yourself.  It’s part of what we do as adolescents.  And I really think everyone should have some exposure to that kind of environment, where every defining trait in the people around you is something you have to answer, deep inside yourself.  You know how they say, what is it?  The first Braithwaite Diagrams text you read is the one you’ll find yourself going back to again and again?  None of the others will do?”

“Yes,” Gillian said.

“I don’t know how they say that,” Tanner said.  Nicolette seemed to agree.

“You didn’t grow up among practitioners.  Hmm.  More pop culture relevant.  The actor that’s the devil for the Devil of Blastholme, that television show, the first one you see is the one that defines the Devil for the rest of the show?”

“Sure,” Tanner said.  “Cards say Dom and mother Driscoll to Sootsleeves’ Hold, bottom left corner.”

Nicolette moved the piece.

“I might be biased, because it’s how I found myself, but I do think that environment defined me.  Both the large school I got kicked out of- I was a bad boy, remember, and the smaller one.”

“What did you do?” Gillian asked.

“I, as a very young lad of poor morals, a young augur from an Augur family that was foreign and of low repute, told some boys how to better scry on the girl’s bath.  Then when they got caught, I took the totality of the blame for them, thinking it would earn me loyalty and standing.  It didn’t.”

“You didn’t join them?” Nicolette asked, arch.

Gillian’s phone rang again.  She answered, eyes and half an ear still on Wye, voice quiet.

“I wasn’t invited, which I’ll admit I was very offended by, at the time.  Anyway.  I’m getting sidetracked.  The schools defined me, both the big London school and the tiny castle off the side of a crossroads where the celestial met the abyssal.  Easton’s ilk remind me of all that.  History, home, me finding myself.”

“Horribleness,” Nicolette mused.

“If I’m keeping the best from Alexander, the ability to find a fascination and joy in that sort of thing is probably a good thing.”

“I’m not sure I agree.”

“Was Tanner one of the bad boys?” Gillian asked, hand over the mouthpiece, writing away.  She looked a little scandalized.  Or horrified.

“Tanner has his moments, of course,” Wye said, prompting Tanner to shake his head.  “But he was raised right.  He’s annoyingly good, too often.”

“Good job Tanner,” Gillian said, no longer scandalized or horrified.  Relieved, even.

“Tanner lets a lot of horrible behavior by the likes of Seth, Chase, and even you, Wye, go by without comment,” Nicolette said.  “And he does have those moments.”

Gillian seemed to digest that, arms folded.

Nicolette didn’t realize the damage that sort of comment did.

A light flashed on Gillian’s phone, prompting Gillian to look around, alarmed.  She was already on the other call.  Tanner came to the rescue, leaned past her, tapping the paper to tell her to keep taking notes, while reading the little display on the phone.  He dialed a number on his phone, then stepped away.  “Tanner Gilpin, answering for the Belanger Circle.”

The light stopped flashing.

Good.  Three people on three tasks, Wye eyeballing and helping to coordinate and watch over each.  Wye took over the cards while Tanner answered.

Tanner answered the caller, “Yes, Miss Graubard, we’ll have answers for you soon.  Don’t panic.  Yes.  I’m going to hang up, but expect a call within the next fifteen minutes.  Stay where you are and keep doing what you’re doing.”

Tanner walked over to Nicolette, and Wye followed.

Tanner kept his voice quiet, saying, “Shay Graubard just got a fresh set of writs.  She had one to start, which is very few.”

Wye elaborated, “She was lucky enough to be wearing a mask when they arrived, so just one for trespassing, to begin with.”

“Of course,” Nicolette said.  “What a shame.”

“She just got another, because she didn’t answer the first citation, and the first citation is aggravated.  On top of that, she got a penalty for failing to answer.”

Gillian hung up and spun around in the chair.  “Got information to start us off from Miss Estrella Vena-”

“Vanderwerf,” Wye said.

“Werf, had that down as worth.   Oh shoot, I should have asked questions.”

“It’s fine.  Give us what you’ve got.”

“Big fines are for mask, existence without a pass, the existence part is somehow important?”

“It is,” Wye said.  “We’ll dig into that later.”

“Existence while in possession of bound Others, captives, not having permission, I think you’ve got notes on that already?”

“Yes.”

“And additional things.  If you abuse a bound Other or extract power or information from them, as part of the penalty you have to pay them back treble the amount.  I think that’s a fancy word for triple.  Familiars aren’t counted in that.”

“Okay.”

“Estrella said it’s important to note, if they’re in a compromised position where they couldn’t receive the repayment, it doesn’t count.”

“Forcing a person to release their Other, in other words.  Or be in violation,” Wye replied.

The door opened.  Jen walked in, wearing a black sweater and a dark gray skirt that matched her hair.

“There are other laws for unwarranted seizure of property, vandalism, attempting to flee while being issued a writ, circumvention of a writ, forgery of a pass or permission, all stuff she says is fairly standard and expected.”

“Okay.  Then-”

“And she said this was important.  Sorry to interrupt.”

“Don’t kowtow to him, Gillian,” Jen said.

“What’s important?” Wye asked, holding back from saying something sharp to Jen.

“Two things.  Big one is we know what the penalty is.”

“For writs?”

“Ignoring a writ without resolution.  If you leave or let a writ expire, which takes a month, according to the fine print,” Gillian said, looking down at the paper.  “You leave something behind.  For an aggravated writ, it’s ten distinct somethings.  Past a threshold, measures Estrella doesn’t understand, groupings are consolidated?”

“Which means what?” Tanner asked.

“She doesn’t know, exactly.  She said she was looking into details on everything she told me, she wanted to give us the basic, shallow-reading interpretation, and lock in the laws so the demiurge, she called it, can’t easily add more.  But she said we should keep people from leaving until she can clarify how it works and what the appeal process is.”

“Okay.  The second thing?”

“Hold on.  I think I have an idea,” Nicolette said.  “I read up on Lost stuff after my visit to the Forest Ribbon Trail.  It’s pretty indiscriminate.  You lose things, and they aren’t always objects you own.  A few Lost magic items do this.  Make you lose things.”

“Which means?” Wye asked.

“Could be a pencil in your pocket, could be a memory, could be the nose on your face.”

“And the groupings thing?”

“Damn, I read this months ago, my memory isn’t fresh.  Cinderella Run, one path, I think it’s a similar idea, one object or physical feature shatters?  Don’t quote me on that.  But if you have too many objects on you, you just break through the floor or something?  Again…”

“Don’t quote you.  Right.”

“Other thing, magic item, it was powerful.  Let you wish for any nonliving object there’s three or more copies of in the world.  But then things get pulled into the box.  Physical details, memories, feelings, knowledge, connections.  Amount of things pulled in corresponds in a very unintuitive way to what the box thinks is valuable.  And it has a threshold.  If you try to improve your odds too much by accumulating physical details, one guy gave himself a thousand papercuts and drew a few thousand circles on his skin, there’s a risk your everything gets pulled inside instead.”

“So you can’t game it?” Tanner asked.

“You can, but you run a risk doing it, there’s a certain point it just doesn’t let you cheat,” Nicolette replied.  “I guess Estrella will find out what the threshold is.”

“Groupings are consolidated?” Wye mused.  “If you have ten thousand pennies…”

“Then maybe if it looks for some object to make you leave behind, it just makes you leave behind your collection of pennies?” Nicolette guessed, “instead of picking one at random?”

“Gillian,” Jen barked out the name.  “You look like you want to say something.”

Wye turned.

“Sorry,” Gillian said.  “I-”

“Don’t apologize,” Jen told her.

“I- The other thing.  She said one rule they discovered was against threats of violence made to Kennet found or to its partner towns, they’re calling Kennet above and Kennet below.  That includes, uh, implied but pointed threats made with the intention of harming all or most of the town.  Estrella Vanderwerf made it sound important.”

“Because Anthem Tedd is about to confront the Founder of the new Kennet.  Tanner?  Probably a good idea to pass this on.”

“Will do.”

“Kennet found, Estrella called it,” Gillian said.

“Thank you, Gillian.”

“Where’s the pencil?” Nicolette asked.  “Comes with the board.”

Wye pointed.  Tanner, phone at his ear, picked it up from the desk and tossed it to Wye, and Wye handed it over the board to Nicolette.  She wrote the names for the places on the edges of the boards.

The resolution of the images and their detail improved a bit with that.

“Shay was panicked, I think,” Wye murmured.  He was aware of the spectre of Jen looming at the side of the room now.

“Understandable.”

“Gillian, since she’s closest to maybe getting out, can you let her know?  Not to leave without answering the writs?”

“Leave something random behind,” Nicolette said, quiet, as Gillian and Tanner both had their phone conversations.  “Could be you get away with nothing important lost.  Bit of change, or the memory of the time you called the teacher mom in class when you were seven.”

“Could be you leave your heart behind.”

“From what I read, this stuff doesn’t tend to kill you, you can lose your head, you’ll keep going, but there’s a lot of metaphorical and symbolic consequence.”

Wye nodded.  He frowned as Jen crossed the room to look over Gillian’s shoulder.

Jen took the uneaten half of Gillian’s cinnamon apple muffin.  Gillian looked gravely offended, mouth forming an ‘o’.  But she was on the phone, so there wasn’t much she could say.

Then her mother started removing the tie he’d given Gillian.

“Jen,” he said, quiet, beckoning her away.

“What is it?”

“You got back fast.  You didn’t go through any student quarters, did you?”

“I guessed you were sending me the long way.  I remembered the guest teachers have a room to stay in, with an adjacent bathroom.  Nothing would be stored there, I’m not intruding, and it’s practically next door to this room.”

Wye swore under his breath.

“Something wrong?” Jen asked, sounding almost pleased with herself.

“The brownies don’t clean that space.  Ever since Bristow went to the kitchens… some of the more sensitive guest teachers were leery.  So we made a rule, that’s a space off limits for the brownies.  Same reasoning as why we have no Lord here.  It makes people skittish.”

“It’s a little water.”

“It’s a small space that wasn’t given any ventilation, or proper paint for bathrooms.  It gets moldy easily.”

“You can clean it when you have a spare minute, Wye.  Most grown adults do entire houses, believe it or not.”

This insufferable woman.  “No.  I won’t clean up after you, especially when you insist on ignoring my requests.  You’ll clean up after yourself before you leave, leave it immaculate, or be barred from the premises as long as I have sufficient say, which I currently do.”

Her expression hardened.

“Don’t play games with me, Jen.”

“Says the man playing with cards, dollhouses, and board games.”

He shook his head.  Nicolette was signaling him, so he walked over.

Nicolette laid out some cards, then leaned down and whispered.  “Anthem’s meeting, Kennet found.”

She pulled the box enclosing the dollhouse apart.  Revealing a diorama.  The valley, with blue grass, the start of a slope leading up to a dark mountain, and the tiny figures standing there.  A half-circle of various masked Others stood between Anthem Tedd’s group and the Founder.

She’d scaled down, apparently.  She was barely larger than a regular person in the scene.

“Want me to look in?”

Wye nodded.

“Box me in?”

He nodded again.  Nicolette adjusted her hair, then leaned forward.  Wye took the diorama, slid it under her head, then arranged the panels around Nicolette’s head, forming the cube, with a gap for her neck, and a gap at the top.

Then he poured in the blood from the little black bag.

With his Sight, he could see the blood glowing, Nicolette’s body becoming more and more like that wet paint, bleeding into itself.

Bubbles rose to the surface, oozing out of the cracks in the box, and then power welled from the box, rays of it extending out, reflecting distant images.

“Tanner?” Wye asked.  “Don’t forget to get back to Shay Graubard.  Look after Gillian.”

“Of course.”

Wye touched his closed eyes, then touched the nape of Nicolette’s neck, drawing out a connection.

Without eyelids, Wye watched.

Anthem put his phone away and approached the Founder, and the mob of various masked Others closed ranks, forming a blockade of people between him and her.  He exhaled heavily, with an effect magnified by the medieval helmet he wore, visor down.

As he got closer to the woman, though, she became a normal size.  The features of the Others in front of her blocked the view of her face.

“Miss, was it?”

“It is.  Hello, Anthem.”

He reached into a pocket, and then held out a collection of papers.

“I’ve had to divert, deflect, bide time, and use words, because I’m barely capable of defending myself,” Miss said.  “I’ve long danced around the rules imposed by the world you’ve made your own, that would see me bound further, made subordinate to practitioners.”

“If you can’t defend yourself, aren’t you subordinate by default?”

“I suppose that’s at the heart of what we’re doing here.  I thought it seemed fitting.  Words, deflection, imposing my own rules.  I think they’re far gentler than what you’ve all done, these past few thousand years.”

“It reminds me of a antlion trap.  How gentle is it really?”

“All we really want is to be left alone.  We’ll find our own way of doing things, our own sources and ways of dealing out power, separate and distinct from what Musser is doing.”

“Which inherently threatens what we’re doing.”

“Only if what you’re building is very fragile.  Do you have no confidence in it?”

“I don’t have confidence in people as a whole to know what’s best for them.  Specific individuals, absolutely,” Anthem replied.

“I’m sure we agree on some.  Liberty.”

He sighed.  “Ah, I worry so much about her.  I think it’s part of the curse of being a father.  Worrying.”

“I can’t have children, as you might guess, but I have built this.  I had some involvement in nearly everything that made this town more Other, beforehand.  I wanted to build this, but without having to forge a whole new version of the town to do it.  It got crushed while I watched.”

“It’ll only get crushed again,” Anthem replied.  “I don’t mean that as a threat, Estrella warned me that’s discouraged.  You said it yourself.  You can’t defend yourself.”

“I can’t defend myself with violence.  I can defend myself in other words.”

He held up the papers again.

“The cost of an ignored writ is influenced by karma.  I could have brought you all here and tried to simply kill you all with the rules I put in place.  I think I was fair.  Agree to leave us alone, take some time to visit the necessary gates, respect this space while you do it, then leave all versions of Kennet.  Let Musser finish his claim out.  If you push, or if you violate hospitality before being pulled to this version of Kennet, that’s a violation of hospitality, and a corresponding increase in risk for the writs.”

“Cost, hm?”

“It’s not random.  Controlled randomness.  If your karmic burden is high, the cost of a writ is more likely to be vital.”

He nodded.  “I’ll pass that on, then.”

“Please do.  I do mean it when I say I have no desire to be your enemy, Anthem.  If you’ll take this…”

She released a paper from her sleeve.  It blew in the wind, and Anthem drew a sword from his hip, swinging in the same motion.

It hit the paper in the air with the same effect that it would have had if he’d swung his sword into a beam of steel.  As the paper continued in his direction, it nearly pushed the sword’s blade into his face.  He had to step to the side and let the sword fall from point-up to point-down.

The paper hit his chest, then when he didn’t catch it there, fell to his feet.

It was thick white, watermarked paper with a blue outline, and a silver plate fixed to the bottom corner, pressed with an image.

“An open pass, for Liberty Tedd, with provision granted to subordinate goblins. Nicolette?”

Miss released another paper.

Wye turned to look, and saw a large female doll’s face, about thirty feet from chin to forehead, within the woods, the upper part extending over treetops.

It went into Nicolette’s mouth.

“Same, but no provisions, some restrictions.  I’m sure you understand,” Miss said.  “Wye… talk to us first.  Perhaps.”

Wye nodded.  “Understandable.”

Anthem turned and talked to the practitioners that had come with him.  He left the pass on the ground.

Wye’s thoughts turned to the possibilities that the pass could be taken, used.  Maybe forged.  Maybe investigated for energies.  If theft was forbidden then there was a good chance that it was one of the few things of this realm that could be easily brought out of this realm.

Opportunity.

Which was a thought that let other thoughts slip their leashes, so to speak.  Wye remembered Jen.  And what he’d said about Jen.

“Makes me think,” he mused aloud, stopping there because the thought had only half formed in his head.  He’d hoped saying it would help the idea finish.

“Hm?” Nicolette asked.

“The pass.  Reminds me.  Jen Ross?  Alexander’s cousin.”

“I’ve only seen her a few times,” Nicolette told him.  “When I was invited to the Christmas holidays.”

“Many practitioner families have people who will look after certain roles.  Common to every family.  There is often a woman who is trusted and connected who keeps track of family business.”

“Marriages.”

“Chief among that business, yes.”

“Mm hmm.”

“I’m technically head of the Belangers, but come winter, the annual family meeting will decide to make that permanent or not.”

“I got my invite already.  I know that much.”

“When I have full power, I want to remove her.  She’s been in the position so long, she doesn’t know the people she needs to know, she’s holding to old ideas, she has grudges against the business part of the family.  Alexander before, now me.  Alexander said she’d leave Gillian with no opportunities at all, if it meant keeping her from Alexander, even by the smallest fraction.  It’s having ramifications.”

“Mmm.”

Wye looked at the various Others.

“Seeing Anthem leave that pass on the ground, I wonder if he’s becoming the same thing.”

“Jen talked to me last night, you know?”

“Did she?” Wye asked, wary.

“In her mind, she doesn’t know enough because she isn’t told enough.  You send reports, but include none of the nuance, and you don’t update her on the movements in family relations.  She has to infer who you’re doing business with, but you sometimes do business with Belanger enemies.  To her, she’s left behind, waiting for one page documents with perhaps a paragraph of relevant information, through which she must divine intent, relationships, and broader realities.”

“She is a diviner, technically.  Divination is but one subset of augury.”

“You know what I mean, Wye.  The business end of the family has become divorced from the back end.  She’s left behind with your grandparents, your great uncle, your geriatric second cousin.  They talk.  They conspire.  They stew in frustration and frustration breeds resentment, and resentment breeds hate.”

“You think I should make nice?”

“I don’t know if you can, at this point.  I counted the possible votes, did a quick reading.  She doesn’t have the votes to remove you.  Too many of your uncles and cousins like the dividends they get too much.  You’re technically fine.”

“Good to get a second opinion on that.”

“So long as you don’t screw up, Wye.  Don’t screw up.”

“I have no intention of doing that.  I have to ask, though, if we draw an allegory between Jen and her blocking poor Gillian’s opportunities, and Anthem leaving an opportunity for Liberty on the grass there… are we saying Anthem is secretly just?”

“I wouldn’t draw that allegory in the first place.  I’d say there’s a comparison to be made between Anthem not realizing the divide he’s creating between himself and his daughters, and you-”

“And Jen?  The family back home?  Hm.  This is hard.”

A practitioner was jogging over.  A woman.  One of the Cavendars.  She pushed a branch aside as she tried to get close enough to get a clear look at them.  “Nicolette Belanger?”

“And Wye,” Nicolette said.

“Oh, we were wondering what that was about.”

“We’re keeping tabs on events.”

“We decided on a plan of action, Anthem thinks it might work.  You might want to get clear.”

“I wouldn’t advise any attempt at violence, if that’s at all possible,” Wye said.

“There’s a solid chance we could cut the head off the snake, right here.”

“Jesus.  Would you please relay to Anthem that it is my strong advisement as a leading Augur in the region, he shouldn’t do this?”

“I will.  But as I said, you may wish to leave.”

Anthem was walking away from the broader huddle of practitioners, back toward the mob of Others and the woman on the far side of that group.

“Wye,” Nicolette said.  “It’s my experience that when a practitioner near the top in their field says to go-”

Anthem drew a knife.

“Anthem, I don’t advise this,” Miss called out.

“Of course you don’t.”

“It’s Law.”

“It’s your Law.  I draw my power from older Law, closer to the Seal.  It stands as a basic principle, of competition, violence, and duels.  Dig deep enough in most bodies of law and Law, there is always a right to trial by combat.  It supercedes.”

“Anthem!” Wye called out.

Anthem turned his head.  “I already heard your opinion, Belanger.  With respect, I appreciate the advice, but no.”

“You should consult the larger group.”

“I was technically left in charge, that changed in spirit, but not in word or law.  It’s my right to make this decision.”

“You have a better way out.  Respect the space,” Miss said.  “Agree to leave and leave us be.”

“Respectfully…” Anthem said.  Then he finished the sentence by throwing the knife.  He was hit by five pieces of red paper in the course of the throwing motion, and something in reality cracked and grated against itself as he pushed through with the final part of it.

Practice caught the knife as it left his hand, a magic circle eating the knife on its way to turning fractal, twelve similar circles converging on one another before spreading out.

Twenty-four knives flew out.  One for each Other at the front of the crowd.  Everyone that wasn’t protected by an Other standing in front of them was caught- knives to the heart or forehead.

He took a step forward and three more writs plastered themselves to him.  Gun drawn, practice flowing, moving around the weapon.  Magic circles found their alignment like missile targeting systems in a movie dogfight.

He shot down the center of the crowd.  The bullet went through at least ten more Others, and dropped Miss to the ground, hole in her chest.  Heart-shot.

“You don’t have a heart, do you?” Anthem asked.

“It is among the things I lack,” Miss said, as she struggled to her feet.

“I suppose that leaves us with a question, doesn’t it?” he asked.  “I know Estrella and Eloise are trying to research your rules, so you have to set them in stone and answer their requests.  Have they researched the rule about the blood moon you mentioned?”

“Not yet,” Miss answered.  Her sleeve turned red as it captured the blood from the chest wound.

“So you could reschedule it?”

“I have to, don’t I?”

“I’ll keep shooting regardless.”

The red on her sleeve spread across the entire dress.  At the same time, the moons above the horizon changed, starting to bleed.

Everything blue in the region turned red.

And the Others changed a bit as well too.

“I did my part, deflecting and-”

Anthem shot again.  Miss fell.

“-using words,” she said, lying on the ground.

He began shooting the Others who came sprinting at him, gunning them down.  A practice multiplied his bullets, cutting down fifteen more.

“But I did alright supporting and making the most out of some scary allies.  So this fits too, I think,” Miss said.

The red papers kept slapping against Anthem, with one jamming the gun as it wrapped around weapon and hand.  Another flew right in front of Wye’s eyes on its course to hit Anthem across the face.

“This is better than what we were doing,” Anthem said.

“We’ll see,” Miss’s voice came from nowhere.  She’d disappeared while the papers were flying by and blocking the view of her.

A ballerina strode out into view, then leaped forward, dodging Anthem’s accurate bullets.  She kicked the weapon out of Anthem’s hand, and a bullet hit a tree just in front of Nicolette’s oversized doll face.

Wye pulled free of the vision.

Wye sat back, letting his eyes readjust.

As his focus cleared, he could see Gillian, Jen, and Tanner staring.

He twisted around, alarmed.  Nicolette-

Wye grabbed her.  She was bent over, head dangling, blood soaking her from the tip of her head to the shoulders.  He hurried to brush the blood aside, checking.

She was fine.  The only wound, bled from a cut on her lower cheek, near the chin, and it felt like there were a few stray splinters there.

“You’re okay?  Unhurt?”

“It’s mild.”

He turned his eye to the boards representing the town.

Kennet found had holes in it, and the board was bleeding, blood flowing down to the lowest level and onto the coffee table.  Onto ‘Kennet below’.

“I don’t suppose that’s our oh no, Tanner?” Wye asked.

“I don’t even know what the hell happened.  We heard a muffled gunshot from inside the box Nico was in, and then the board started bleeding.”

“Gillian.  There’s a towel in the bathroom around the corner.  For Nico.  And another, for the floor,” Wye said.

Gillian went to get those things.

“The cards, Tanner?” Wye asked.

“Uhh… lots of alarm.  Anthem’s moving back…”

Wye looked.  Sure enough, Anthem’s little token was moving through that pool of blood that was just shallow enough to allow the divisions of the tiles to be seen.

Gillian brought the towels.  Nicolette wrapped it around her head, using a loose end to wipe at her neck and face.

“Anthem pushed past the Law of Kennet found,” Nicolette said.  “He’s got a lot of clout, helped by the fact he’s had a long string of victories, defending territories.  Apparently enough to make it happen.  The Founder is wounded.”

Wye tried to stand, and found himself too dizzy from the dive into an intense vision.  The momentous events probably didn’t help.  He motioned toward Jen.  “Please.  A supporting hand.”

She didn’t move.

“This is big.  It’s for the family,” he said.

She approached, helping him stand and hobble over to the desk with the cards.

The phone was ringing off the hook, and Gillian answered.

“And help Gillian with the phone calls?  People want to know what happens.”

Jen looked over.

“I’ll pay you, Jen.  This is an all hands on deck situation.”

“Double.”

“Whatever.  Go.”

She went over to Gillian’s side.

“I hope she’s alright,” Nicolette said.  “This wasn’t the way to handle this.”

“She?” Wye asked, thinking about Gillian.  “Oh, the Other?  Miss?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a fucking weird set of priorities, Nico.”

He watched Tanner do a spread of cards.

“Situation bloody but temporary,” Tanner said.

“Do Anthem,” Wye ordered.

“Hunting.”

“Makes sense.”

Wye shook his hand until it rattled, then released the knucklebones.  He moved them – one to each side of the cards on display.  A bit of clarification, a bit of control.

“Hunting successfully,” Wye clarified.  “He’s on track to gun her down.  The locals, the three girls, they aren’t enough.  He’s not a strong team player.  But left alone… this works.  It’s prophecy.  Musser wins the claim, becomes Lord, Anthem kills the Founder.”

Nicolette shook her head.

“You disagree with my read?”

“I can’t see the cards, but that’s not it.  I’m sure it’s accurate.  I just don’t like it.  Where does this lead us?”

Wye adjusted the cards.

“People get mad, but ultimately… they’re on board.”

“In Musser’s group, you mean.”

“Naturally,” Wye said, quiet.

“Wye,” Tanner said.

“What?”

Tanner jerked his head, which drew a quizzical look from Wye.  They were barely seven feet apart.

Wye circled the desk, moving over to Tanner’s side.  “What is it?”

Tanner glanced down and to the left, leading Wye to lean back, looking past Tanner’s rear end to the picture frame with drywall inside it.

Still oh no.

“What the fuck?” Wye whispered.  “How is eighty practitioners trapped in a bloody pocket world that’s just gone full berserk, overflowing with blood mode not the oh no situation we were anticipating?”

Wye watched as the scratch in the drywall healed itself.  Then more began to appear.

Nicolette got up, wobbly, and circled the desk, looking.

“Keeping things secret from me?” she asked.

“It was vague as shit,” Tanner told her.

“How vague?” she asked.

“Oh no.”

“Bloody scratches on the wall saying ‘oh no’?  Nothing else?  No context?”

“No context,” Wye said, surveying the cards.

Duplicate cards were turning up a lot – a lot of knives.  He wasn’t sure if that was the situation or the fact three augurs were viewing the cards at once.

“If I’d known today was marked with a big ominous ‘oh no’, I think I would have scheduled my morning differently,” Nicolette replied.

The writing on the wall finished spelling out what it was going to say.

She is naked and glorious and forever soaked in blood.

“Not a fan of your fucking tool there, Tanner,” Wye said.

“Believe me, I know.”

“There are more calls coming in than we can answer,” Jen said.

“I can help,” Nicolette said.

“Tell them to regroup at the cabins.  Keep it short and sweet, we’ll give the fuller explanation later.  Try to keep them calm, urge them to work together, hole up, defend.  This isn’t meant to last long.”

“Keep it short and sweet but say all that?” Gillian asked.

She sounded a lot like her mom in that moment.

“Yeah.  I well and truly believe in you, Gillian,” Wye said.  “Do your best.  And Nico?  Trade with Tanner.”

“Trade?”

“Give him the phone.  And take this.”

Wye handed her the frame.

“What am I doing with this?”

He pointed at the dollhouse.

“Naked and glorious and covered in blood,” Nicolette said, reading the framed writing on the wall.

“Find out who.”

She nodded.

The cards were showing the same card over and over again.  It was like a fire had caught.  He would have thought it was the damn Bugge that would spread influence like this, not this.

At that thought, he saw cards lift up, like they were caught in a wind but trapped at a corner.

Oh, she was there too, in the middle of that mess.

Was she the one that was naked and glorious?  He didn’t remember anything about her being missing clothes.  And the blood?  It fit the violent side of the Bugge, but…

What a mess.

All these signs and portents and no fucking clue.

Nicolette disassembled the box surrounding the diorama of the valley.  Wye hurried over to see.

It was a neighborhood, houses spaced apart, multiple trees on a lot of lawns, lots of fallen autumn leaves.

A girl with a cat head was talking to the lady that was naked and covered in blood.  A slender beauty in miniature, hair slicked back, eyes bright.  A black nail was embedded in her chest, over the heart.

The cat-headed girl in the striped sweater- that would be Verona Hayward.  She was having a conversation with the woman.

“We know her,” Nicolette said.  “Maricica.”

Wye ran his fingers through his hair.

“She used to be a faerie,” Nicolette said, for the benefit of the others.  “Now she’s clearly something else.  Or as clearly as a Fae can be, anyway.”

“Can you get your head in there?  Get us a glimpse of that scene?” Wye asked.

“The same Other that gave those kids the Nettlewisp?  Even if she’s something else now… not for minimum wage, Wye.  You do it.”

He didn’t want to do it, when it was put like that.

He turned toward Tanner, trying to think of the angle they could take here, or ways they could make sense of the details, and he saw Tanner looking down at the cards.

All the same card now.  Blood.  Which wasn’t a card in this particular arrangement.

He turned back toward Nicolette, trying to think about what they might need to do, or even if they needed to put more stock in the writing on the wall over the sure thing.

Jen was looking at him.

If things went to shit here, and if he lost the backing of that middle contingent of Belangers who were happy so long as he was earning them money, he’d lose this, he’d lose a lot more besides.

Can’t screw up, he thought.

He wasn’t even done with the thought when his eyes registered the Carmine Exile sitting in the armchair at the end of the coffee table.  Red haired, red beard, red fur coat, bare chest.  An almost feral look in his eyes, as he glared.  Powerful, yet totally at ease.  Like a wolf resting atop a rock in a den of lambs.  Not hungry enough to get up yet.

Gillian hung up the phone.  Jen held hers up, a faint voice heard coming through.

“Oh no?” Wye asked.

The Carmine Exile shook his head.  “Not yet.  That comes later.  No Lordship here, I see.”

“Couldn’t.  Politics.”

“Good.  It puts us in a good position to have a very political talk,” the Carmine Exile said.  “If you’re up for it?”

“Depends on a lot.”

“I want to make a deal, Wye,” the Carmine Exile said.  “It’s ultimately up to you.  On the one hand, my offer involves you scuttling virtually everything you’ve been working on since summer, family relationships of yours, Musser’s, and most of those in your contingent are fractured, and your business suffers.  Then, in a little while, I reveal what I’ve been working on, and many of you die.”

“Huh,” Wye said.  He glanced at the others.  “What’s the other option?”

“You win your ideological victory.  Family relationships are strengthened, business booms, the Blue Heron remains as a shining example of the power and good the world of practitioners has to offer, and the likes of you, Eli Graubard, Abraham Musser, Anthem Tedd, and Grayson Hennigar reign as key figures.”

“Pretty convincing,” Wye said, quiet.

“You think so?” the Carmine Exile asked.  He leaned forward.  “Because I think when I tell you the particulars, you’re going to want to take the first option.”

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