Ten
Marissa’s house was the only place he could think of to go. The Magistrates, as soon they interviewed one of the people who had helped him, would no doubt be looking for him and maybe even blaming him for Jim’s act of terror. After all, he was like Jim. They were both without magic and he didn’t think any amount of explaining was going to be able to get him out of their investigation. And as soon as he’d understood that, he’d panicked and run. He couldn’t go home, as his father had once been a Magistrate. He felt horrible for not wanting to trust his own father, but he didn’t feel as if he had any choice. In an instant, that explosion had turned his life upside down.
Marissa’s house didn’t float. For New Dallas standards, where the size of your property was really the only way to distinguish your wealth from your neighbors, it was quite large. Their house was one of the largest he’d seen and didn’t have the look of having being assembled from a million different houses, cars, or cargo containers. It looked like it had been built with a style in mind, and not just assembled out of what was available. He was pretty sure that it was a genuine house from before the Last War, a structure that had somehow survived the awesome destruction that had swept through Old Dallas.
He’d only been to her house a few times, and never inside. Marissa was eternally embarrassed by the display of wealth she thought her house represented and much preferred meeting Duncan at his house. He didn’t know what room she was in, or even how to go about finding her. He hid in the immaculate bushes around the house, watching the windows, hoping that he’d see her.
A Golem rustled by, raking leaves from the lawn, and he became inspired. “Hey there, Golem.”
The Golem stopped, waiting for orders.
Duncan stepped up, and with a pen from his pocket, wrote on the inside of the Golem’s hand. “Show this to Marissa and Marissa only, okay?”
The Golem, of course, didn’t answer, didn’t talk, but it did turn around and march into the house. Duncan waited, still in a panic, for an hour before the front door cracked back open and Marissa stood there, her robe clutched around her, staring out into the night. He stood and waved meekly.
“Duncan? What happened? The Magistrates are looking for you.”
Duncan silently thanked whatever twist of fate was responsible for him not having magic. If he’d had magic, he was sure he would have teleported right into Marissa’s house, where they would have been waiting.
“There was an explosion at the courthouse.”
“I know. They said you were there with Diamond Jim. Is it true, Duncan? Are you a terrorist?”
“No,” he said honestly. “I saw it, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
She didn’t look like she believed him.
“Honestly, Marissa, I didn’t do anything. I was just walking by.”
“Look at this,” she said, showing him a memory stone in her hand. “Activate.”
The image sprang to life, showing the park around the courthouse, and, despite the time of night, it was perfectly illuminated. The helicopter was there, hovering above the courthouse, just as Duncan had seen. Even in the memory stone, the helicopter looked brand new. The engine didn’t smoke, and, though it was the same model as Jim’s, he swore it was a completely different aircraft. He watched as what he assumed was a bomb was lowered down by cable from the helicopter to the roof. He cringed, expecting the explosion, and then his jaw dropped. The memory stone showed him running out of the courthouse and across the park, a maniacal, evil expression on his face.
“Stop,” Marissa ordered and he could see the anger in her face as the memory stone’s image faded away.
“I swear to you, Marissa, I was not involved in that. We’ve been friends for how long? I can’t believe you’d even think that of me. You know me.”
She was silent a moment. “I’m sorry, Duncan, but it’s right there in the memory stone. Can I cast a truth spell on you, Duncan?”
“Of course.” Duncan had nothing to hide. He knew now that the memory stones could be manipulated by magic, changing their contents to whatever the Magician desired, but they couldn’t do anything to his mind.
He stood still and waited as Marissa whispered her incantation, letting the wave of the spell wash over him. He suddenly felt lightheaded and dizzy and she reached out to steady him.
“What is your name?”
“Duncan Cade,” he replied and watched as the skin on his arms turned green.
“Tell a lie.”
“Your brother, Timmy Toole, is my best friend.”
The green on his arm faded and turned red, proving he was lying.
Marissa breathed deeply and then, with some hesitation, asked. “Did you help Diamond Jim in the bombing at the courthouse?”
“No.” His arms turned back to green.
She hugged him tightly and dismissed the spell. “I just knew you didn’t do anything, but how can a memory stone lie? It would take a magic more powerful than anything I know of, stronger than anything I’ve even read about in the library. It’s just not possible.”
“But there it is,” Duncan said, agreeing with her sentiment. He’d never heard of the images on a memory stone being manipulated. He wondered how many other stones were, like this one, altered in some way. It almost made the entire lot of them in the library worthless to him.
“Duncan, this is bigger than either one of us. We have to go to the Lord Probate right away. Someone is trying to set you up for this man’s crimes. I’ll teleport us there…”
Duncan jumped away from her, waving his hands. “No! Don’t do that. You said yourself that the power required to change a memory stone would be greater than anything anyone knows. Who else is more powerful than Lord Probate?”
“No,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “That just isn’t possible. I know it like my own heart. He could not and would not have done something like this. How could he?”
“I don’t know, Marissa, but until we know more, I have to hide. I have to figure this all out.”
She shook her head. “We can’t really do anything without proof, can we?”
“No,” he said softly, happy to hear her saying we. He didn’t think he could fight this alone.
“Then you’ll have to hide here. The basement is perfect. No one ever goes down there.”
“I don’t know…” he said, hesitantly. “What if they come looking for me here? Everybody knows we’re friends.”
“No, the Magistrate has already been here. They even cast a truth spell on me, looking for you. They won’t do it again, at least not very soon. You’ll be safe here for awhile until we can figure something out.”
He suddenly felt very guilty. “Marissa, you could get in a lot of trouble for this.”
“You’re my friend, Duncan. You’d do it for me.”
He smiled and held her hand as she blinked them both into the basement.
The basement was crammed floor to rafters with junk and Duncan immediately felt a kinship. It reminded him of the debris fields outside of town where he’d found most of the components of his various inventions, and where the citizens of New Dallas found the materials to expand their homes. He instantly felt at home among the stacked boxes and crates, the stacks of books and magazines, and the discarded furniture. His mind raced with thoughts of what he could build from the junk.
“Where did all this stuff come from?” He asked, picking up a leather-bound book and reading the title, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
“This junk? I don’t know. I guess generations of the Tooles have been storing stuff down here. This house has been in the family since the War. I came down here a couple times when I was a kid, but the place gives me the creeps. No one from the family ever comes down here. I think the door is even sealed up top, and painted over. I accidentally teleported down here the first time. I was scared to death…I didn’t have any idea where I was.”
“I can imagine,” he said, opening the book to the first page. It felt
very old and smelled like the secret library, only stronger.
Marissa conjured a couple of boxes of food and drink and then hugged him once more. “I’ve got to go upstairs or my family will think I’ve gone missing and might suspect something. We’ll get through this, Duncan.”
“I know we will,” he lied. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I’ll see you later, then, okay?” she said just before blinking out.
Duncan only knew the passage of time by the increase in his own stench from not taking a bath in days. But he barely noticed it because he was so absorbed in the treasure trove of books form Marissa’s basement. Many were magical, dating from the time after the war, and he’d seen copies of a few of them in the secret library. They were uninteresting, dealing with the basics of magic and the properties of magic life on the continent of New Atlantis. He assumed they’d been created because the Memory Stones hadn’t yet been invented. He quickly moved them out of the way and instead dug out the real treasures.
He had no doubt the glossy magazine in his hand called Time was from before the Last War. There were images of people flying in helicopters and delivering food aid in some country called Mexico after a great storm named Brenda. Duncan had never seen a storm large enough to name. The weather around the cities was controlled and always perfect. There was a story about a man running for an office called President, which Duncan guessed was very important. There were advertisements for everything from watches to cologne, happy, beautiful people in each. There was another story about a sports team winning some tournament, and another section with letters from people commenting on stories in previous editions of the magazine. The story about the rain forest being destroyed by pollution was scary and confirmed at least a part of the official history of the world.
And there was not one mention of magic anywhere in it. It was as if magic just did not exist.
The books were mostly fiction and he didn’t understand what they described. He had no context for space ships or aliens. There were fiction books about magic, though, and he briefly read from a tale of little people traveling through a place called Middle Earth to destroy an evil ring. Even that didn’t fit with what he knew of the magical world. It just didn’t make any sense at all.
The magazines were much more interesting, but there were just a few of them. He read them and then read them again, hungry for more. He was about to read them for a third time when Marissa blinked back into the room.
“They’re going to arrest your parents,” she said.
“No hello, how are you?” he asked nervously.
“Duncan, there isn’t time. They’re going to lock your family up. They’re saying they’ve helped you escape.”
Duncan steeled himself. “Well, I guess you better teleport me there, then, huh? But Marissa…don’t come with me.”