[35] When the Hurly-Burly's Done

Olliebollen Pandelirium was still crowing triumph to a black and otherwise silent room when the ground quaked. And didn't stop quaking.

They were already in a precarious position. The wall Shannon had erected to keep the rubble from crushing them was strong, but how strong? Jay decided they should probably get out of the basement, fast.

He helped Viviendre while Lalum went to the grievously wounded Mallory and after a silvery SORRY that Mallory, head lolling, probably did not see, used her animus to puppeteer her into motion.

"Wendell! Come on. Let's go," Shannon yelled. Wendell, disinterested, bent over and picked up his fallen gun, then moseyed toward Flanz-le-Flore and helped her upright. He wasted so much time any normal earthquake would have ended by then, but this one kept going.

One after another they fled through the portal in the ground. The magic walls the Elf-Queen erected to divide the vault vanished; the elves who made them sagged listlessly and were apathetic even as excess rubble rolled over the edge of Shannon's wall and crushed them. A few other elves languished in the vault, morose and unanimated, not entirely motionless, but lacking any care to accomplish even the basic stewardship of their lives. The party left them behind and ascended the subterranean tunnels to emerge out the side of the castle.

Halfway up the shaking ceased. A few moments later, it began again. By the time they stood as a loose group atop the hill and stared into the distance over Whitecrosse's city toward where the Door lay, it was all over.

First off, it was now daylight, or else something so bright in the distance made it seem that way. Secondly, there was some kind of gigantic black tower stretching to the heavens. And beyond that, on a landmass all of them knew had not been there before, glistened a city of glass and metal. Jay didn't recognize it by its skyline. Wendell didn't say anything either way. But Shannon extended her hands to gesture in disbelief and said, "It's Cleveland!"

"Cleveland," said Viviendre. Jay set her down and she leaned on her staff, choking on a cough. The area was still filled with soot. "Land of the Browns."

"This makes no sense. None whatsoever," said Shannon. "This is magic, right. An optical illusion. There must be a relic that shows you a place from your memory. Right? Right?!"

For a time, nobody spoke. Then Wendell piped up:

"Uh. Shannon. Have any acetaminophen?"

"What?!"

"I think she's got a pretty nasty concussion." He cocked a thumb at Flanz-le-Flore, who had been gripping her head and moaning for a long while. "You're not supposed to use painkillers that increase the chance of bleeding. So no aspirin or ibuprofen. Acetaminophen's best."

"Wendell we have significantly more important issues at hand here!"

"Concussions are serious," Wendell said. "I'll find someplace for her to rest." He propped his fanciful gun on his shoulder and limped off with Flanz-le-Flore toward a direction. Shannon chased after him, yapping incessantly.

Viviendre leaned close to Jay and whispered: "Hey. For the faerie queen's injury. You think I should..." She pointed to her eyepatch.

"Last time I saw her, things went bad," Jay said. "Let's leave her conked out for a bit."

"And her?"

Mallory looked gruesome. Gashes coated what parts of her body weren't covered in armor. One cheek was ripped open to expose her molars. Insane with wounds like those she remained standing at all. Actually she wasn't standing. Well, not by her own volition. In the daylight they were harder to see but Lalum's strands continued to hold her up. Lalum herself had vanished from view.

Mallory stared insensible at Cleveland and the black tower, but Viviendre's whisper lurched her monstrous face their way and with a slurred rasp she said: "Erase my memories of that fight at your peril, heathen."

She reached for her sword. Viviendre held up her hands in non-aggression. The gesture placated Mallory and she settled back into stupor.

"We don't need your relic anyway," said Jay. "Where's Olliebollen?"

He looked around. They stood in the courtyard in front of the castle, marked by a larger-than-life statue of John Coke. There were many people, soldiers and townsfolk alike, although they gave the heroes and their queen a wide berth, especially given the glares Mallory shot at any that stared too long.

"Where the fuck is Olliebollen?"

Viviendre sighed. "Who cares. I'm exhausted. I can hardly breathe. I do not want to think about—whatever that is." Her hand tossed at the distance. "Cleveland. There are a few dormitory bedrooms in the academy that ought to be unoccupied, especially now. Let me sleep and we'll worry about anything else tomorrow."

Searching for Olliebollen, Jay noticed the burning castle for the first time. He remembered the monastery. How did he feel now? Everything seemed to have spiraled away from him. Hardly involved in whatever happened here. Showed up at the end to save a couple people. Heroism, he guessed.

He saved Viviendre. That made him happy. He could say that for certain: He was happy he saved her. So he nodded, figured Olliebollen stayed below to gloat over the Elf-Queen's corpse, and helped Viviendre toward the academy—

"Oh no. Oh no you don't!" Shannon stormed back out of nowhere.

Jay couldn't even muster the energy to groan. He shot Viviendre a wan and knowing grin and she bit her lip to respond in kind.

"Wendell's a friend of Dalt so of course he's insane but you don't get an easy out. No, no, no. That right there? Cleveland? I don't know how. But I know you had something to do with it."

"You're just mad Shannon. You don't know what you're saying."

"Just mad? Just mad?! This isn't like, this isn't like you were a dick to Mother again or something Jay, this is absolutely, fundamentally, critically serious and you're acting same as always! Is there nothing in all of existence that will get you to give a shit?"

"I wonder."

Viviendre attempted: "Lady Shannon—"

"This doesn't concern you!"

"Shannon. Please. Viviendre's health is bad. She exerted a lot so we could get there in time—to save you, by the way. Let her get some rest."

"Don't you dare pretend she matters to you! Don't you dare!" Shannon hooked her fingers around her temples and violently vibrated her head. "I know you don't. Oh I know! You don't care about anyone or anything so don't even play pretend with me Jay. But I'll make you care about this because it's yours and mine and everyone's business. If that's not an illusion and Christ I pray it is then something is seriously wrong with the world—"

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it Shannon." Jay tossed his head, shrugged, he might even have matched parodically her compulsive motions if he didn't have his hands full with Viviendre. "Yeah wow there's a big fucking tower and a Cleveland over there and guess what? It's all just Perfidia. It's her next big mission, her next story arc. Right as we neatly tied up the last. Maybe she heard you always whining about going home and decided to make a quest out of it, Jesus fucking dick I don't know Shannon. And what if it's the real Cleveland anyway? Shouldn't you be fucking happy? You can go home to Mother and if she really wants to see me she can visit, it's only a thirty-minute drive anywhere in this world."

"Oh that'd make me happy you think. You'd think that Jay, you really would." She dogged Jay's heels even though he resolved to let his last word be final and continued supporting Viviendre as they headed for the academy. "You really do give zero shits. That's our world Jay. You can't mess with our world. You can't screw it all up! It functions in a very particular way. You can't just—you can't just—you can't! I won't allow it."

"Then you figure out what to do and if I get an idea I'll fucking tell you," Jay said, immediately forgetting his resolution to say no more.

"Oh! Ohhhhh!" Shannon resorted to strange guttural sounds instead of speech. She slapped both palms hard against her forehead and returned to normal. "Where's Ollie? Where's Ollie, that one actually knows a thing or two about this place. And unlike you they're actually happy to help as long as you don't treat them like shit the way you do!"

"Find her yourself."

"I don't think they're a she Jay! I don't think they have a gender Jay!"

"I don't fucking care Shannon! Leave us alone."

A feral howl and Shannon finally turned away, stomped five steps, then stopped and turned back to shout: "Viviendre! Don't fucking fall for it. I know all about sleazy, douchey, good-for-nothing, asshole men and I'm telling you now my brother is the worst I've met. Don't fucking fall for him I'm warning you, you'll hate yourself afterward!"

"Take it up the ass you slut," Viviendre said simply, without passion, and then looked over her shoulder to flash a smile.

"Oh so I try to give you some good advice and—Fine! You deserve him!"

Shannon turned away and resolved not to look back with as much force as Jay's resolutions and a few seconds later she looked back but now they were far enough away that anything she said would need to be a yell and it was impossible to deliver snappy repartee via yelling. All her muscles were a mess of pain and soreness and she wished she did have Wendell's acetaminophen because the blood reverberated inside her brain. Some time during the fight she must have whipped her neck around too hard because it hurt and she kept rubbing it. She scooped up the ruler and the trumpet which she'd dropped so she could better wave her arms around and looked at Mallory, who was asleep on her feet. Fine. Fine! She supposed she'd attend to Mallory. All the maidservants were dead now after all.

The thought of the dead maidservants and the dead Fool chilled her temper and a tension-relieving sigh escaped her as she wrapped an arm around Mallory to support her. At the same time the invisible puppet strings holding her up dispersed and the full weight leaned against Shannon, nearly knocking her down. Transfixed under the pressure, there was nothing to do except stare at the black tower and the Cleveland skyline.

And stare.

And stare.

Shannon got an idea.

Tucking the ruler and trumpet under her armpit, she fished something out of her pocket she hadn't used in two weeks: her phone. She'd turned it off before entering this world and other than one desperate attempt in her first days stranded never bothered turning it on since. Now, however. Now it might be possible to use it.

Sure enough, she had a signal. That alone meant something interesting. If the distant Cleveland were an illusion, there wouldn't be a signal. If Cleveland had been pulled by itself into Whitecrosse, there wouldn't be a signal either. Only if the entire world—and the satellites orbiting it—had been pulled too. But that was ridiculous.

So Whitecrosse was brought to Earth.

Her stomach sank. Everything was worse than she thought. Whitecrosse was absurd. Fundamentally unreal. Fake, fiction, fantasy. It could not be brought to Earth. Complete and utter incompatibility.

Knowing Mother wouldn't have anything helpful to say, she first tried calling Dalt and got an automatic robot voice that began DUE TO THE HIGH VOLUME OF CALLS RIGHT NOW, WE CANNOT CONNECT—

She attempted text message instead. Sent one into the aether to Dalt, then to the two coworkers at the IRS whose numbers she had (one was her boss), then scrolled through her contacts trying to find someone she actually knew who wasn't an ex-boyfriend, and finally she sent Mother a message: Jay and I are okay.

After waiting five, maybe ten minutes, nobody responded. Well, it made sense. In Cleveland it must be a major disaster. Everyone would be worried about other stuff.

(Except Mother. Mother would respond right away.)

Mother was asleep. She probably slept through all that shaking, if they even felt the shaking in Cleveland. There was nothing to worry about.

Now that her rage settled, however, deep unease pervaded.

It continued until she realized she probably should find someplace for Mallory to rest in private—townsfolk were gawking—and a moment later a voice cried out behind her:

"Lady Shannon! Oh, Lady Shannon—and, ah, and Her Majesty too! Oh, I am overjoyed to see you both alive and well!"

Absorbing breath back inside, inflating herself full of will, Shannon turned slowly, as much as Mallory's body allowed her. Striding through the front gates of the castle came a soldier drenched in blood, though from the confidence of his walk it appeared none of the blood was his own. He was in the process of sheathing a shortsword and he wore armor, so it took several blinking moments for Shannon to realize who it was. In fact, she only recognized him by his thin, trimmed mustache.

"Gonzago?"

"Indeed, milady, 'tis Gonzago of Meretryce in the flesh." A few soldiers accompanied him, some staggering or limping or gripping their arms, one cradling his head in his hands, but others cheering, crying out to the townspeople, and soon a horrendous din arose in the square as the people flocked to the sides of the triumphant warriors.

Gonzago needed to get close before Shannon could hear him again, and by that time he noticed Mallory's face. His swagger shattered momentarily and he let out a singular, high-pitched "Oh!"

"Don't worry about her, she's asleep. What's going on?"

His eyes remained rooted to the queen until Shannon snapped her fingers, at which point his machismo resurfaced. "Oh, there is so much to tell, milady! So, so much. Where do I even begin? Well, as Duke Mordac—God rest his soul—instructed, I rushed as fast as my legs would carry me to the wall for reinforcements—"

"I don't need the whole thing. What's happened in the castle? What about the fire? Mordac is dead?"

"The fight's over. We've overcome the elves—and the fire's being contained as we speak. I do regretfully inform you that the victory came at a cost. Many are dead, milady. Duke Mordac, Archbishop Tintzel, even Prime Astrologer DeWint—yet all gave their lives in defense of our kingdom and shall be justly remembered as valiant heroes—"

"Spare the romanticism. What about Duke Meretryce?"

"My uncle..." Gonzago hemmed, hawed. "He... According to reports, he fled. We've yet to find him, though I'm certain he's not strayed far."

"At least there's one competent administrator still around. Find him. We'll need someone who can normalize the minutiae as quickly as possible."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"But what of you, milady? Have you slain the Elf-Queen? We felt the quaking and thought the battle in the vault must be raging fiercely! Did Queen Flanz-le-Flore assist you? It was I, I may mention, that gave the order for her to be let in!"

"We beat the Elf-Queen," she said with a dismissive wave. "More importantly. Have any idea what that is?"

She cocked a thumb over her shoulder at the black tower and Cleveland. Gonzago started, seemingly noticing it for the first time. "By God! What manifestation could this be?"

"That's what I'm gonna need you to find out, Gonzago."

"Me?"

"Yes you. You can ride a horse right?"

"Certainly, milady. I'm known as quite the rider among the nobility. I've competed in races—"

"Good. Ride out there. Determine what's happening or what happened. Come back and report directly to me. Don't send anyone else. Whatever you learn, only I must know—you report to me and me alone. Got it?" She looked at him, and, well aware how men operated, added: "You're the only one I can trust, Gonzago."

The phrase worked, his expression of obvious incredulity turned to puffed-up posture in an instant. "Yes, milady! I shall never let you down. But what of Her Majesty? Those wounds..."

"Where's a good place I can take her for treatment? The castle's a wreck."

"My uncle's city manor—not far from here. I'll lead you—"

"No. I need you to ride out, now. I'll ask someone else."

Gonzago sputtered some stammering equivocation, and Shannon was prepared to bark at him until he was browbeaten to service, but after a moment's pause he resolved himself into a more steadfast shape. Shannon wondered if he really did spearhead the fighting or if he simply hacked apart inert elves after the Elf-Queen's death. Assuredly the latter. Though if he really was the one who allowed Flanz-le-Flore to enter, Shannon supposed he did well enough.

"Right," he said. "At once, milady."

He strode off. After a few steps, Shannon called out: "Hey."

"Yes, milady?"

"You've done well today. Thank you."

"R—right! You're welcome. You're most welcome!"

When he moved again, it was at an energized trot, and he soon disappeared to leave Shannon staring once more at Cleveland.

She must fix it. As soon as possible. Reversion to status quo. By any means necessary.

She wished Mother would message her back already.

—

Out of an anchor-deep sleep Jay emerged some nine, ten, eleven hours later. Sunlight filtered through the curtained window with the same intensity as when he went to sleep. It felt like eternity. It felt like sleeping made him more tired.

For an indeterminate time afterward he remained motionless as a stone. Staring at the ceiling with its intricate arches, letting his eyes if not his head revolve to take in the towers of tomes and papers in scholarly disorganization. It looked exactly like DeWint's office. Which made sense. Because it was DeWint's bedroom. Viviendre had known where to find the key, mentioning casually that DeWint was dead now.

Viviendre rolled over beside him, wrapped one arm around his chest, and burrowed her head dreamily against his shoulder. The softness of her silken clothes, the softness of the body beneath, it weighed upon him. So did her perfume, that stickily sweet smell to which at long last he'd almost acclimated. Almost. If he thought too much about it, like now, its potency grew. His throat contracted and he forced away the reflex to gag.

Instead, moving carefully not to disturb her, his fingers slid up her back and wound within her messy black hair. Around and around and around as the sleep slowly sifted out his eyes and he noticed Lalum looming over the edge of the bed staring down at them.

If he was any more awake he would've been surprised by her bare and surprisingly unconcealed face, but instead he murmured: "It's not what it looks like," which ought to have been obvious even to someone like Lalum based on how both Jay and Viviendre were fully clothed. They'd dropped into the bed the moment they'd seen it, too tired to do anything else. Maybe that was what had Lalum glaring with such an intense expression. Maybe she'd wanted to watch.

Well Lalum, what now. Intend to criticize Viviendre again, explain how dangerous she was, how Jay needed to stay away from her, so on and so forth? Go ahead. The silvery lines of her web failed to congeal into coherent words, though that was just his blurry vision. When his eyes finally focused enough he nodded dully. I FOUNDE THE FAERIE.

"Cool. Give her to Shannon."

"Mmmhhh," Viviendre mumbled, holding Jay tighter, generating a twitch in Lalum's face.

Something descended from the ceiling strung by a single line of web that shone in the scant rays of sunlight. A tiny, wriggling thing, bound within a bundle. Its mouth sewn shut, and as Jay focused, he realized there was an extra layer of webbing sewing Lalum's mouth shut, on top of the usual. She must've needed extra resistance to keep from devouring Olliebollen altogether.

IT TRYED TO ESCAYPE.

"I would too if I got tied up by a giant spider," Jay said, and the harsh glare from Lalum cracked, and she sank backward into books and jostled the towers and hurriedly righted them in a panic before they could fall. Viviendre stirred, slowly coming out of her sleep.

I FOUNDE IT FLEEING THE CITY.

Ah. Jay nodded, took in a breath, tossed a finger aimlessly. "Well. Let her speak for herself. I wanna know why."

"Huh?" Viviendre's eye cracked open.

Slowly, grudgingly, slinking behind a tower and leaving only part of a face to peer at Jay, Lalum unwound the strings around Olliebollen's mouth. As Jay expected, the room's quiet broke instantly:

"What is this?! What's the big idea? Huh? HUH? Siccing your pet spider on me now hero? That's what it's come to? After everything there isn't the tiniest shred of mutual respect is there huh? All that time we spent together was just time, I guess that's the way it goes. I'm a thing to be caught and tied up and kept around for whenever you need me to heal a wound. That it hero? And here I thought you got what you wanted same as I did, you got to show up and save the day without any effort just like you wanted—"

"That was never what I wanted," said Jay. "If that was what I wanted I'd have asked for it."

Viviendre yawned. "What's going—oh. Blegh. Must your friends be invited to all our intimate moments, Jay?"

"I invited neither of them."

If any scrap of Lalum's boldness remained it was gone now. She became as invisible as could be; only a few jutting legs she couldn't conceal.

"Well don't let me ruin your wonderful time." Viviendre sat up, rubbed her eyes, and snatched her staff from where it'd been propped. Rolling back and forth to build momentum she hefted herself out of bed and stabilized herself against DeWint's desk. Then she was gone out the door, the hollow clunk of her peg leg growing distant with surprising speed until the door swung back shut.

Jay would've rather stayed with her and knew he could easily do so, but he also knew she knew that too, and so he figured if she was making this much of a show of it she was asking him to respect her autonomy and give her the space she could never win for herself alone. He already knew where he'd find her later anyway. Besides, unless he dealt with the other two they'd follow him.

"Alright. You were saying."

"I was saying," said Olliebollen, "that we both got what we wanted. We worked together and it was great and loads of fun. Wow! But now it's over. If I wanna go, let me go, don't chase me down and keep bringing me back, alright?"

"My sister was looking for you," Jay said.

"Who cares! I hate her."

"You don't remember this since Viviendre turned you back to factory settings, but Shannon was actually pretty nice to you when you were crippled. She wants you to explain something. You like doing that, don't you?"

"I got way better stuff to do now, okay? I've got no need to get tied up in whatever new adventure there is. The world's changed. Everything's totally different than it was before and I don't like it. Not! One! Bit!"

"Yeah that's fine. Lalum, let her go."

Now that Viviendre was gone, Lalum was willing to peep a smidge from her hiding spot. HERO. THE FAERIE IS ONE OF YOUR MOSTE VALUED TOOLES. YOU MUSTN'T—

"I can do what I want," Jay said, cutting Lalum off before she could finish writing the rest and then refusing to read when she wrote the rest anyway. "Look. Perfidia got Olliebollen to stick with me by promising she could get revenge on the elves. She did that, so she's got no reason to hang around. It's clear to everyone but you—and my sister, I guess."

"It's more than that," said Olliebollen. "Now that those wicked, evil, diabolical, no-good elves have been eradicated, I have a new duty to fulfill. My duty as Faerie of Rejuvenation, and as the last surviving scion of the court of Pandelirium. I must return to our wood and become a new king—queen—ruler! A new ruler, one who gives birth to and watches over the next generation of fae. Yep! That's right. I'm no longer the Olliebollen you knew. I was just a little seed then, but now—it's time for a big, big tree to grow, a tree with more leaves than you can count." She nodded her head in prideful rapidity, along with several self-affirmative "hm" sounds.

HERO. THE BLAC TOUER. IT MEANS A MOSTE GREAVOUS DAUNGER. TO OUERCOME IT YOU'LL NEEDE—

"Lalum." Jay shifted the pillow under his head to make it more comfortable. "Lalum. What makes you think I care at all about that tower? What makes you think I have the slightest intention to do anything about it?"

"Wise," said Olliebollen. "Very wise. That tower—that tower terrifies me. It should terrify you all. Stay as far from it as you can. Consider that my last bit of advice, hero. And let me out of this spiderweb already okay!"

HERO PLEASE. YOUR SISTER IS ALREDDY MAKING PLANNES TO—

"Let her make all the plans she likes."

HERO!

"Lalum, maybe you should leave too."

HERO...

He was being an asshole. He was conscious of that fact. Part of it was the early-morning fatigue, part of it his mind remaining stuck on what he'd say to Viviendre when he saw her again. But he simply didn't want to do this anymore. Or rather. He had something else he would rather do. He found something that actually made him happy. So he no longer needed to lie to himself, or to any of them.

"Your friends from the monastery, Lalum. They drove off to the Door. To Cleveland. They probably had something to do with that tower. Go find them. Help them. They need it more than me now."

THAT GIRL. THE SARACEN. SHE MUSTE BE SPEAKING STRANGE FALSEHOUDS TO YOU. SHE MUST BE COURUPTING YOU!

"Leave Viviendre out of it Lalum. Listen to what I'm saying. I'm done. You can help your friends, or my sister, or just yourself, it doesn't matter. You've done a lot for me. I thank you. You were the only person I could trust for a time. But I don't need you anymore."

WAIT. NO.

"Please. Don't follow me around anymore. It's weird alright? Viviendre was clearly not happy about it at least."

NO... NO!

The pillar of books behind which Lalum hid toppled as she gripped her fingers into its side. A cataclysmic domino effect followed, where stack after stack dropped and dropping struck some other stack to take it down too, kicking up decades of untouched dust into a noxious plume from which Jay needed to shield his face. Amid the violent shuffling of pages and the whipping of those sent up to spiral slowly in the mote-ridden air a sharp sob emerged, a brisk scuttling of legs, and then a flare of light as the window opened, slammed shut, failed to close properly, and squeaked back ajar.

If Jay was still half-asleep before, the dust invading his nostrils woke him up. He stood and wafted away the plume, coughing and suppressing sneezes that only shot out more dust when he failed to suppress them.

"Jesus." Yeah, he'd been an asshole. Yeah, yeah. He knew it. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

When it all finally settled, only Olliebollen remained. She sat on the iron rung of a small chandelier, safely above the wreckage. "You can go too," Jay told her.

"I just got one question left for ya, hero."

"Fine, fine."

She dropped, fluttered her wings, hovered close to him at his eye level. "In the vault and after, Lalum used her animus. First to hold down the Elf-Queen and then to move Queen Mallory. Wanna tell me how she did that?"

"I don't know."

"Really? That so?" Olliebollen nodded amicably, then grimaced. "You're sure about that?"

"She skulks out of sight all the time. Maybe the elves had some paralyzed fairies on them, like Temporary in the forest. Maybe she took one or two."

"Uh huh." Olliebollen nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

"How else would she do it?"

"She didn't eat any parts of me, now did she?"

"What?"

Olliebollen's gaze became knowing. She glanced to the window, then to the door, and fluttered close, though Jay backed away since her pixie dust would only irritate his nose further. "Listen here hero. Lemme give you one extra piece of advice. I know I said the bit about the black tower would be the last but I can't help it, what can I say. Now—That magic eye? The Eye of Ecclesiastes? That's something to watch out for, got it? Cuz you don't remember when she uses it on you. You don't remember what she doesn't want you to remember. So that girl, hum, she might seem absolutely perfect to you. But that's cuz you only ever see what she wants you to see."

Jay said nothing. Stared, his face stone. An interval elapsed. And Olliebollen shrugged with a squiggly smirk.

"Well! Humans care way more about time than faeries, so maybe you'll notice when a few seconds or a minute or a day is just... missing. I guess I shouldn't complain. It did make me whole again—or so you all tell me. Byyye!"

A zip, a zoom, and she—or he, or they, or it—was gone. In the quiet room, still save for the lingering motes of dust drifting in the sunbeams, Jay said, "Goodbye, Olliebollen." Then he went to find Viviendre.

—

He found her where he expected. Atop the academy's tallest tower. He stepped out into the air and a freshness swept over him he didn't realize he missed after DeWint's dusty office. A freshness—and her scent, too. So maybe it wasn't fully just fresh air. Well, he was used to a lot of things now.

She leaned against the rampart, her silks and hair fluttering in the breeze, and did not turn when he opened the door. He stopped beside her and looked out at the landscape without saying anything and was surprised by how changed it was. The smallness of Whitecrosse as a world had caused everything to curve in every direction, but now the land was flat, and the view from up here was not much different compared to the view from the courtyard in front of the castle. The black tower remained in the same place, and Cleveland past it. Perfidia's new story.

When he wondered whether he should apologize for Lalum being weird and explain how he'd told her to leave, Viviendre extended a hand and pointed. "See that?"

A figure was walking away from the city, visible just beyond the tip of the walls. It could've been anyone at that distance, but when a second figure appeared soon after, a figure who hovered instead of walked, Jay figured it out.

"Wendell and Flanz-le-Flore."

"Ah, thank you. My eyesight's no good, but I suspected they must be someone of interest. Guess they're leaving before that cunt sister of yours can order everyone off to war."

"War's not Shannon's thing." Jay's eyes followed the figures. Flanz-le-Flore remained a significant length removed from Wendell, as though stalking him. He thought of Lalum.

Viviendre expelled a sigh, slid her legs to arch her back and rest her chin on her folded arms atop the rampart wall, and rolled her head back and forth. "All that shit that just appeared in the distance? The tower and city? That's war. One way or another—that's war."

"Shannon's a bureaucrat. She'll increase taxes maybe, but not war."

"If it's not her then the queen. Or maybe whoever's in your city will bring it us. Maybe the Browns will come."

"I don't even think that city's real." Jay contemplated the merits of explaining about Perfidia. Decided he would rather not discuss the topic at all. "Look. I sent Lalum away. For good—"

"Jay. Within a year I'll be dead."

She said it so optimistically, with such a smile, that the dimness in her eye only barely belied the meaning the words so obviously conveyed.

"It'll be war. Or famine. Or some terrible quest. Or my brother will show up—he's due. Or that spider who's always staring so coldly will take a bite. Or the people of this city will look around for someone to blame for their troubles and see the weird crippled Pagan bitch as excellent tinder for the stake. Or anything really. Maybe I just cough my lungs out a month from now because I breathed too much smoke yesterday and it's waiting there, waiting to constrict me whenever it feels like it."

"I'll protect you." He said it quickly, he placed his hand on her shoulder, and she smiled as though that were the response she wanted to hear, except the smile faded instantly, and Jay had the bizarre and sudden thought of kissing her so hard he sucked the smoke out of her lungs and exhaled it like a cigarette. "I'm the hero. I can shape this world the way I want. I can make a paradise. Not a paradise for others, maybe. But at least a paradise for me. I know what I want now."

"I wonder—are we even in 'this world' anymore...? What world could it be? Fehfehfeh."

"Whether I'm the hero or not I'll protect you." Saying it made it real. Saying it uncorked the cold emotions, exposed them to a flame. They boiled and bubbled, and his head felt hazy, and Olliebollen's words cut in. Did he remember all time? Did he lose a few seconds? Did Viviendre say words and erase his bad responses until she said the words that made him say what she wanted? God let him forget that. That faerie bitch knew what she was doing when she told him that, why did she feel the need to shank him that way? Not that he wouldn't have realized himself given enough time.

But her eye remained dim.

"Jay. I don't—I don't want you to protect me."

"What?"

"DeWint died for me. It was a fucking waste. He wasted his life. He thought I was his future. His legacy. He was stupid, to the end he was stupid, and cruel too, always saying the worst possible thing." She gritted her teeth and her eye squeezed shut. "Don't do the same. You're just a man, Jay. You're just a man with a Cleveland Browns hat. A metal club. Change is coming to Whitecrosse and change will destroy me. I cannot survive it. Don't put yourself between that force and me because it's not worth it. Honestly you might even be its agent. Wittingly or unwittingly. I was selfish. I wanted a hero to rescue me from my fate and thought if I could only find one person—one person—who cared enough for me... I never realized my fate was strong enough to gobble up anyone who came close, too."

He grabbed her. Shook her softly, held her, looked into her eye, and a word from his memory lurked in his lungs like the phantom smoke Viviendre was so scared of, that word he had to swallow down to stop from actually saying it because it would make no sense to say: Mack. Mack. Why that word? Makepeace? Why him? He shook his head. He said:

"We'll go away. Like Olliebollen. Like Wendell. We'll just leave. This whole story. Shannon can be the hero now. It's all beyond me anyway. I'll tell Perfidia I'm satisfied, she can take whatever she needs, leave me devoid of Humanity, but that's fine. I don't need it anymore, I don't need the power to change the world. Let's create our own world. Just us. You and me. No other factors, nothing to be introduced. We'll be the peasant farmers who never even go to the next village, nobody will see us, nobody will care. Shannon will take my place and we'll escape. That's all I need. And you'll be safe too. There won't be any smoke, your brother will never find you."

This isn't how it's supposed to be Mack. What about those things you told me? Remember? We were going to leave the kingdom together. What about that, Mack? We would travel the world together, living free, remember you said that to me? That night in the inn, Mack. Remember? Mack. Mack?

Let him out of that memory. He didn't need to think about that fucking elf sobbing her heart out in the rain, sobbing over that broken body. Mack—Makepeace—he lied to her anyway. He didn't give a shit about Sansaime. He never did. He only wanted to escape for himself. And he did. It wasn't the same.

"There's nowhere else to go Jay. California? Of course not. Some fae kingdom? I can't survive in the wilderness, look at me. Or that city there. That Cleveland. We can see the Browns there huh? That place you tried to escape. That place from which emanates day even at midnight. That place under the black tower..."

Jay could negotiate with Perfidia. He had bargaining chips. He could convince her his satisfaction relied on Viviendre. It wasn't a lie. But how to guarantee what happened after the final seven days of his contract?

Olliebollen could flee to the woods. Wendell back home. What could he do. Where could he go where it would just be them. Safe.

Holding Viviendre against him he looked out at the world. The fields, the waters, the skyscrapers, the forests, the mountains. His eyes traced the shape of the peaks, zagged up and down.

Then he saw the solution.

Seeing it caused the memories of Makepeace to bubble and he swallowed them down like bile. He wasn't Makepeace. Viviendre wasn't Sansaime. It wasn't the same. Couldn't be the same. "There." He pointed. Viviendre looked.

Grinned. "There."

"There," said Jay. He pointed at the monastery.