Enchantress Under Fire, page 18
part #4 of Arcane Artisans Series
One of the older enchantresses came to shepherd Lauren back to the dorms. Geralt watched them go, then wiped a tear from his own eye. He tried to make it look discreet, but his deliberate turning away and hiding of the gesture made it that much more noticeable.
He flashed the rest of us a small, sad smile, then strode off down one of the walkways to the trees.
Somebody applauded, probably genuinely. I felt a cynical urge to join them. That had been an Oscar-worthy performance.
Don’t be so indignant, whispered that bitter voice in my heart. You weren’t willing to save her yourself.
Again I cut off that line of thinking. Years ago, I would have saved her and gotten myself killed. Weeks ago, I would have let her die and felt nothing. Now I fell somewhere in between. I didn’t know what balance I would finally strike between my original self and the toughening I’d gone through. I only knew I hadn’t found it yet.
The atmosphere was abuzz with new conversations, all centered around Geralt’s announcements and his display with Lauren. The entire spectacle was something I’d seen before, growing up in the cult. The fact that Geralt was starting to employ such tactics here meant he felt his control over his people was strong. He was pushing their loyalty to the next level. From the chatter I could hear as people tried to rationalize the punishment, it was working.
Fael finally made his way through the dozens of Family members choking the patio.
“What did you think of that?” I asked as he reached me.
“I have a better question,” he said. “What was in those bread rolls last night?”
I looked him in the eyes. “What was needed.”
He glanced aside. We were alone for the moment, the closest group of enchanters abandoning their table to return to the buffet. Fael shook his head. “That was dangerous.”
“It was right. You were on the brink of doing something similar yourself.”
He didn’t contradict me. “What if someone finds out?”
“They won’t. Not unless they’re told.”
“I admit I’m a bit less inclined to tattle after this morning’s entertainment.” Fael’s eyes flicked to where Lauren had fallen.
“What did he do?” I asked quietly. “I ... I couldn’t watch.”
“It was hard to tell,” said Fael. “He put a hand on her. An enchantment tattoo appeared on her face. She ... screamed. Then the magic disappeared back into his hand, and she collapsed.”
My lips thinned. “Pain magic. He put an enchantment on her to cause pain. That has to be it.”
Fael’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know?”
The truth was that I’d seen Geralt’s previous lead Mediator use a similar enchantment to torture people to death. This must be where he’d gotten the idea. Instead, I said, “It makes sense, doesn’t it? I’m not sure I like the way discipline is handled in this army.”
“We’re not an army.”
“Aren’t we?”
Again he didn’t answer. He glanced again to where Lauren had been tortured. “No one will hear about ... the bread. Not from me.”
A tightness I hadn’t noticed released in my shoulders. “Thank you, Fael. It’s good to know at least one person’s on my side. And I think, after today, there may be more.”
“I’m not so sure. Everyone seemed to think Geralt was beautifully merciful.” Fael made his voice higher in mimicry. “Oh, dear, did you see how touched he was afterward?”
“Maybe they say that now. But most of us have nothing to do today, with the compound sealed off. Enough of them will spend the day thinking about this morning. And enough of them will start to question it. Trust me.” I’m the voice of experience, I silently added.
Fael shrugged. “Maybe if enough people feel the way we do, we can speak up. Have a referendum, or a subpoena, or whatever the word is for when you call official people out on their scat.”
“I hope so. Maybe talk to some of the others today, let them know they aren’t the only ones questioning that punishment.”
He nodded. “Doubts die when they’re alone. I’ll talk to them.”
“Thank you.” I glanced toward the dorms, itching to know what, specifically, Lauren had done to offend Geralt so much. There was more there than he’d let on. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go talk to Lauren. She’ll be feeling pretty humiliated, and I want to make sure she’s all right.”
“I thought you didn’t like her. I barely know her, and I don’t like her.”
“I don’t. But she doesn’t have anybody else right now.”
Fael nodded slowly. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. And ... thanks.”
With a two-fingered salute, Fael let me go.
I meandered around the koi pond and the ferns and the dried-out bushes. Then I entered the dorm to go interrogate the girl I’d been willing to let die.
Chapter 19
LAUREN WAS SITTING SILENTLY on the end of her bed when I knocked on her open door. She startled. “Oh, it’s you. What do you want?” A rough edge hid in her voice, a challenge under the words.
I crossed to sit beside her on the bed. “Are you okay?”
“I will be. Just feeling stupid. I should have known better.”
“Probably,” I admitted.
She glared at me. “Like you wouldn’t have gone looking too, if you thought you had a chance of making it into special training.”
“Why are you so obsessed with this special training?”
“It’s the most advanced magical training for the most powerful enchanters and enchantresses in the Family. Geralt personally teaches them. Like, one-on-one lessons. They learn all kinds of things the rest of us don’t even know exist!”
“Who’s in it?”
“I don’t know anybody personally. But two have gotten in since I joined the Family. I don’t think there are many.”
“Have you seen them around?”
“No.” Lauren rolled her eyes like I was an idiot. “You don’t understand the level of training I’m talking about. They eat different food, spend all their time meditating and studying magic. They’re on a whole other level, another class of magic users.”
“I think we’d know if there were a bunch of people living in a different building here.” Not a small group of prisoners, maybe, but an entire elite magical academy? Somebody would have noticed that.
“You’d think so,” said Lauren haughtily, “but you’d be wrong. I’ve been paying attention, and I’ve noticed how meals and bedding and other supplies get diverted sometimes. I tracked down where they were going.”
“Where, the retreat cabins?” Understanding began to creep in. If Geralt had caught Lauren snooping around his secret prisons ...
To my surprise, Lauren shook her head. “No, those are totally dark all the time. It’s obvious no one’s in there. Use your brain. They’re training in the utilities building.”
I blinked. “That tiny shack?”
“That’s where the extra supplies go. I have a theory that it’s not really a utilities building at all, but the entrance to this big underground bunker, and that’s where the secret training really happens. That’s why none of us notice when they perform mega spells or blow stuff up–it’s all underground.”
“Why would a property this huge have a giant hidden underground bunker?”
“I just told you, for secret training.”
“We’re renting this place. Why would the actual owners install a sprawling underground complex that no one knows about and never gets used?”
Lauren faltered. “Well ... um ...”
“In earthquake territory, no less?”
“I’m sure it’s magically protected against earthquakes.”
“Magic can’t do that.”
“Of course it can. Magic can do anything. I overheard Geralt talking to Meg a few days ago about how he can use his magic to protect the compound from a disaster. What do you call an earthquake?”
I let the debate drop. There was no point in arguing with Lauren. I rose, feeling the memory foam mattress topper spring back under me. “It seems like you’re going to be okay. I think you should follow the rules from now on, though.”
“I will,” said Lauren. “Geralt told me the same thing. Whispered it, when he hugged me. I said I never meant to disappoint him, and he said I was never a disappointment. You heard what he said about doing great things, right? I think that means someday soon I’ll get recruited into special training.”
Good lord, after all that, she still clung to her dreams. “Maybe you will,” I conceded. I headed for the door.
“Marcela?”
“Hmm?”
“Since you came up here to check on me, and you’re being so nice ... could you maybe bring me some breakfast? I didn’t get to eat before ... you know.” She bit her lip and smiled around it hopefully.
“You could go yourself.”
“I know, but everybody out there is probably still talking about me. I don’t want to make it weird.”
It was already weird, but I didn’t need to say that. Since she’d been so helpful, I brought her a plate of eggs and sausage, and even went back for extra ketchup when she asked.
Unwittingly, she’d given me my next step. Fael had joined my side in his heart, even if his mind wasn’t all the way there yet. I felt sure Geralt’s abuse would tip more people that way. Maybe not as many as I’d hoped–Geralt’s show of emotion, plus the fear of what was going on in the paranormal world at large, would be powerful incentives for people to interpret this morning’s events in a positive way. Lauren herself was complicit in that thinking. But some would start to question. If they learned others were questioning too, it would bolster those doubts.
So I intended to find out just what Geralt was hiding in that utilities building that made him so terrified of Lauren finding it. Whatever that secret was, I would make sure the rest of the Family learned about it, too.
My sleep that night was interrupted by another sudden surge of magic. This time I channeled it into a paperclip I’d swiped from Fael’s office, making the metal slippery so it wouldn’t actually hold papers together. It was a silly enchantment, but it ate up a lot of the magical hotspot, protecting me for another few days. The paperclip went into a drawer, more contraband for Kendall to hide later.
To my surprise, the magical hotspot wasn’t as powerful as the first two. In the absence of the Voids, the magical anomalies had actually gotten better, not worse. I mused on that thought for a while. Was the anti-magic power of the Voids somehow colliding with the magic in all the enchanters here, causing worse flare-ups in the area’s magic? Kendall had posited a similar theory once. Or was the absence of the Voids a coincidence, and the power of the magical hotspots had nothing to do with who was around at the time?
The inconsistency proved one thing: Geralt had a flawed grasp of the imbalances destroying the world’s magical field. He might understand their nature, how to manipulate them, and how to dispel them. But why had enchanters and Voids destabilized the world’s magical field? It seemed Geralt didn’t understand that any better than I did. We were like scientists, investigating laws of the universe we could observe and predict, but not explain. Struggling to find that one piece of information that would unite all the disparate facts into a cohesive paradigm.
I didn’t have the answers. I didn’t know why magic was sick. But it helped to know I wasn’t far behind Geralt in that ignorance.
I didn’t dare visit the utilities building so soon after Lauren’s punishment. Somebody would be guarding it, or at the very least everyone would be watching for individuals wandering off. Geralt’s speech had ensured a herd mentality would prevail for several days, during which anyone acting oddly would fall under suspicion.
So I played badminton, badly, with Zashawn and two other college boys in the gym. I swam a few laps in the pool. I played board games with Fael and Sydney and Greg. I asked after Meg’s health. I welcomed Lauren back to the group when she decided it was safe to reappear in public. She seemed to expect celebrity treatment, and went off by herself to pout when none of us ran up, rabidly asking questions about her experience being publicly tortured.
At least her priorities were back to normal.
Everywhere I went, I probed people’s reactions to what Geralt had done. One of the badminton boys was supremely unnerved by it, and kept reassuring me that he was sure his discomfort would fade. That meant it wouldn’t, and I dropped a few hints that his squeamishness was a good thing. Zashawn didn’t want to talk about Lauren, which I took as a good sign. At least he wasn’t championing Geralt’s methods. Andrew the car mechanic came right out and said he didn’t think physical pain should be allowed as a punishment. With him, too, I offered tacit encouragement and a few thoughts to consider until I could speak with him again.
Kendall visited me the next night and confirmed that the Underground had picked up Desmond, Tamika, and the other three Voids. All were now safely sequestered across the Bay. All should make a full recovery. My relief had never felt so overwhelming. I told Kendall not to visit for several days, just in case people were watching, and warned her that Vince was searching for the escapees. She carried my enchanted paperclip away with her when she left.
A week after the Voids escaped, Geralt began allowing patrols to go out into the city again. Only a few groups went out at a time, in shorter shifts. We were required to check in and out at the compound gate and remain within eyesight of our leader the entire time we were out. With Meg still recovering, Greg was assigned to lead my team. He grumbled about how he’d had to cancel morning classes at his karate school, but otherwise didn’t say much. I found his annoyance amusing. At least he’d still been allowed to go teach his classes during the lockdown. Being in Geralt’s inner circle had its privileges.
Our group wandered around Haight-Ashbury for a while and found nothing of interest. Apparently the Underground had used the Family’s weeklong absence to reorganize and regroup to make themselves less noticeable.
Go team.
Four more days after that patrol, I finally judged it safe to go exploring again. There’d been no sign of Vince since Geralt had introduced him, and I guessed he was off tracking down Desmond and the others. Of the Voids themselves, there’d been not a word, which I took as a good sign. If any of them had been captured, Geralt would certainly have crowed about it publicly.
Most importantly, other people had begun taking walks through the property again. Couples snuck off to engage in make out sessions and other activities, but some of my fellow wanderers took solo walks, too. One guy who was learning to play the saxophone took his instrument out toward the wall to practice because the rest of us on his floor couldn’t stand the pitchy squeaking.
I casually strolled down one of the dirt paths after breakfast. I doubted anyone had even seen me leave. My route took me at a distance past a few of the empty retreat cabins, and past the caretaker’s house that served as our hospital. Halfway between the hospital and the wall, a horseshoe pit lay in the middle of nowhere. I’d found it on one of my early walks, but had learned nobody ever used it. No one in the Family owned horseshoes. Somebody kept clearing the pit of weeds and branches anyway. Apparently we had a determined landscaper in the group.
Soon I came within sight of the utilities building. It was a football field’s distance off the path, a squat, square building hunched between two tall trees, their boughs thick with yellow and red. No one appeared to be guarding the little building, as the leaves around its doorway were undisturbed.
I passed the building, and once it was out of sight, left the path and doubled back, doing my best to avoid disturbing too much of the undergrowth. As I approached the building from the back I was again struck by how abandoned it looked. Hadn’t Lauren seen people bringing supplies here? Why had they stopped?
At the front of the building was a metal door. No windows. A “high voltage” sign on the door warned away the curious, but I couldn’t hear any of the telltale buzzing that usually went with electrified rooms.
I took another look around. Nobody was here.
So I pulled on the door, fully expecting it to be locked.
It wasn’t.
What?
My shadow filled the backlit doorframe on the floor. Inside stood a bank of electric switchboards, meters, and circuit breakers, all dead and cold. The equipment was blocked off by a chain link gate padlocked against intruders. An empty plastic water bottle lay beneath one of the switchboards, and a bucket sat against one wall behind the array. One of the dorm blankets lay strewn across the floor behind the padlocked fence. The entire room smelled of cleaning detergent, but underneath lingered the impossible-to-erase stench of human waste.
This building had been used as a prison, but its captives were long gone. A sinking feeling entered my gut.
I stared at that locked fence for a long moment, then went back outside. As the metal door squeaked closed behind me, I scanned the surrounding woods. An even coating of reddened leaves obscured most of the ground. The path was hard-packed dirt that would show shovel marks too obviously. My eyes lit on the horseshoe pit in the distance.
My body moved of its own accord, rushing to the pit. The two stakes stood at opposite ends of the pit, banked by wooden backboards. The dirt between the stakes was soft and fresh, raked even to keep the playing field flat. I paced around the pit, studying the dirt. Little signs warned of what I feared. Small undulations in the dirt surface, each narrow and about six feet long. A half-moon divot in the ground where someone had rested a shovel. Strands of hair caught in the old boards backing one of the horseshoe stakes. A faint, red-brown discoloration on another board.
Even if I’d had a shovel, it would be too big a risk to go digging here alone. But I knew what I’d find. I knew what happened to the “lucky” enchanters powerful enough to be recruited into Geralt’s special training.
I’d taken enough chances. Time to head back to the path and return from my stroll. Later I’d catch Fael alone and tell him Geralt was killing all enchanters of significant power and burying them under the horseshoe pit. Slaughtering Voids was one thing, but murdering our own people would put doubts into even the staunchest of loyalists.
