“Marian of the Hood? As in Maid Marian?” I made my polecat jump a couple times, trying to see the sign for myself. It didn’t work, but then again, there was no reason Vanessa would just make that up.
“That’s the one,” she confirmed. “Are you… saying you don’t know her yet?”
The question made both me and the Theriangelos blink. “Yet?”
Tristan’s voice spoke up from near our actual bodies. “Yeah, you’re supposed to--err--wait we’re not sure if saying something will change history. I mean, you’re all split up into different time periods right now, but that doesn’t--you know, necessarily mean that there’s no chance that what’s supposed to happen doesn’t happen sometime after you come back together. So maybe we shouldn’t say anything. Uh, right? Besides the fact that you know her in the future. Or past. Future past. Nessa, help.”
“You’re doing fine,” she assured him. “Better than me, since I’m the one who asked if she knew her yet. So never mind, Flick, forget we said anything. It’s Marian of the Hood, she’s… um, here somehow?”
Well that was a lot to take in. And it must’ve looked pretty funny if anyone had seen my polecat sitting there blinking rapidly at the raven in confusion. Finally, I shook it off. “Right, err, let’s look around I guess. Maybe we’ll see Marian.”
So, we moved on. With Vanessa’s raven Theriangelos flying overhead and my polecat darting through the bushes, the two of us made our way cautiously past the sign forbidding witches (as well as, apparently, one magically banning Marian of the Hood) and made it into the village proper. Well, technically we were still sitting safe and sound back in that secret bunker and just directing these magical animal assistants, but still. We were getting a closer look at things. Hopefully this would give us some idea of just what the hell was going on. Or even, with a lot of luck, where that rift was so we could go straight to it without messing around and risking the timeline here. Yes, of course I knew the odds of us not having to directly interact with the people in there weren’t exactly very likely, especially if there was something going on with this Marian girl, but I could hold onto hope for a little bit longer, damn it.
Honestly, everything was wider and more spread out than I’d expected. Somehow, part of me had kind of assumed that the whole village was in one centralized area with a few dozen houses just clustered on one side while the courthouse, church, and whatever else were on the other side. But no, it looked like the ‘village’ was spread over several miles of territory, with hills, farms, and fields between various houses. There was a river to the south of where we entered on the east side of the village territory. According to Vanessa, the actual execution site where they would hang so-called witches was that way, across Wooleston River, then past the Northfields until they reached the so-called North River. Apparently for the longest time people had believed the executions were held on a hill beyond the river that would become known as Gallows Hill. But in reality, it happened on this side of the river in an area called Proctor’s Ledge. Something about how the son of one of the victims managed to get close enough by water to sneak up and take his mother’s body to be buried, which wouldn’t have been possible in the other area. Among other clues. Which, yes, was all very fascinating and all, but I kinda had other things on my mind.
I didn’t interrupt the other girl while she was telling me all that, though. It didn’t hurt anything, and honestly something important might come up within all that history. Plus, I figured she was just nervous and needed to fill the silence with knowledge anyway. It was a Vanessa thing to do.
To say that the mood of the village seemed downtrodden was a bit of an understatement. As the two of us carefully moved through the place, going through several fields, making our way past houses and to where some of the actual main buildings were, we saw people walking around. Very few were interacting with each other in any real way beyond mumbled words and the occasional uncertain or suspicious look back and forth. There was a definite feeling of unease and fear that seemed to actually radiate through the whole area, like a thick, oppressive fog that we couldn’t physically see or feel. Whatever was going on with these people, they absolutely did not trust each other. They weren’t happy at all. They were afraid, suspicious, hurrying past each other to get home or wherever else they were going. I didn’t see any children playing anywhere, though a few were looking out windows before being hastily pulled away and the blinds closed by mothers who then nervously peeked out as though to make sure no one had seen their child.
When the two of us eventually made it to the courthouse (Vanessa directed me from the air), where we thought we might actually be able to get some answers, things were much the same. There were several older, severe-looking men standing outside the building, having a murmured conversation. I did catch a glimpse of a few other people passing by from my hiding place in the bushes, but it was like none of them dared even glance in the direction of those men. They walked faster, but in a way that made it seem like they didn’t want to be noticed walking faster. They turned their heads, seemed to shrink in on themselves, or even turned around to go back the other way as soon as they noticed the group there. It was pretty obvious that everyone else was terrified of those men. They did everything they possibly could to avoid drawing their gazes.
“That guy with the long white hair, the one in charge, is William Stoughton,” Vanessa informed me. She had landed in a tree across the street. “He’s the lieutenant governor. His job was--is to get through all the accused witch cases as quickly and efficiently as possible. The actual governor, William Phips, wants the whole situation done with so he can focus on fighting Native Americans. Stoughton takes the job very seriously. And by seriously, I mean fanatically. He made the rule that ‘spectral evidence,’ stuff only the person making the accusation can see, is allowed as testimony. He also allowed torture as a means to force a confession, made it clear that anyone who confessed wouldn’t be executed, and when the jury actually found someone innocent, he sent them back to deliberate even longer until they came back with a guilty verdict. They tried and executed--or will execute depending on when this is I guess, twenty people in four months.”
While I took that in, she continued. “That guy who’s bald on top with long gray hair down the sides is Jonathan Corwin. He’s one of the judges. He and another man, John Hathorne, were the two initial judges who started all this before things escalated to this point. He wasn’t initially part of the group of magistrates the governor put together to deal with this, but one of the men who was part of it, Nathaniel Saltonstall, left in protest after the first execution. So they brought this guy back in to take his place. Which, if that’s Corwin and the first guy is Stoughton, I guess means the others must be John Richards, Bartholomew Gedney, Wait Winthrope, Samuel Sewall, and Peter Sergeant, the rest of the court. No wonder everyone else is avoiding them as much as they can.”
Eesh, there was… a lot there, too much to get into. I had known the Salem Witch Trials were bad, but just never really paid that much attention. Part of me thought I should be surprised that Vanessa knew so much, but it made sense. Not only did she have that whole perfect memory, genius thing going on, but she had spent a long time with everyone thinking she was crazy because she remembered her family being magically taken away by an exploding crystal. Of course she would have looked into other situations with even the vaguest similarities to her situation. People being accused of witchcraft probably would’ve drawn her attention pretty easily.
“Okay so if those guys are the ones in charge of all this, maybe we should get closer to see what they’re saying,” I sent back. “They might know something about the rift, even if they don’t actually know that they know, you uhh… you know?” Shaking off the awkward feeling then, I carefully sent my polecat through the bushes lining the side of the courthouse. The guys there were speaking very quietly to each other, and I couldn’t--wait, they weren’t just speaking quietly, I realized belatedly. I should have been able to make out what they were saying by that point. I was almost right on top of them, the Theriangelos perched just behind one of the steps within a few feet of where they were talking. But I couldn’t hear any better than I’d been able to from the other side of the building. It was just low murmuring that didn’t make any actual sense, even from this close.
Fuckers are using magic, Yardbird immediately put in, sounding beyond disgusted and honestly completely pissed off. They’re out here putting people to death, fucking hanging them or putting them in prison and ruining their lives, and they’re the ones using actual honest to gods magic! The real sort, not the bullshit these village dumbfucks have been making up with devils and shit!
Once I passed what she had said on to the others, Vanessa replied, “Not necessarily all of them. It’s possible that only one is using actual magic. The others might be--okay innocent is probably a bad word for these people, but not guilty of that. They might still be Bystanders. We should try to figure out which of them is actually using the spell and go from there.” She paused, clearly considering for a moment. “Um, can you get a little closer without being seen? There’s a quick, nonverbal spell to identify where certain types of magic is actually coming from, but you really need to be within a couple feet to make it work.”
I was already pretty close, and pushing it there, but we did really need to know who and what we were dealing with. So, very carefully, I pushed the polecat through those last few bushes. I made sure not to rattle them too much, not wanting to draw any attention to shaking leaves. Finally, I was as close as I dared, with my little Theriangelos creature perched just barely out of sight of the guy Vanessa had identified as Jonathan Corwin. Following Vanessa’s instructions, I used my instant inscription power through the polecat’s claw to create the spell right there in the hard dirt.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
The spell basically consisted of a large triangle with two circles connected to the bottom corners. Each circle had a plus sign in the center of them and a different squiggle type rune in each of the four quadrants those plus signs made. Once the whole thing was finished, I sent the last bit of power into it to actually trigger it. As soon as I did, red and blue lines of energy appeared to connect each of the squiggle runes. Then those lines jumped to one another, crackling like lightning before shooting off toward the group of men. Fortunately, Vanessa had assured me that the lines would be invisible to anyone who didn’t cast this spell. Only I (and Yardbird as well as any other Flique member who was paying attention) could see them. Which meant only we saw the red-blue lines jump straight to that William Stoughton guy, the lieutenant governor who had been put in charge of the whole situation. Of course he was the one who had cast the privacy spell, that just figured. The question was, was he possessed, or was he a Heretic, or even an Alter in disguise that we weren’t getting a ping off of? Being able to cast magic didn’t exactly narrow things down completely. We needed to know more before we made any real decisions.
To that end, we both backed off a little bit. I was tempted to try to find a way to break that spell, but neither of us wanted to risk alerting Stoughton, or whoever he really was. So we backed up and just kept an eye on the group from a distance. He was our best lead right now. We needed to find out how much he knew about the rift, if anything. And what was up with the whole Marian thing, for our own curiosity if nothing else. Which meant waiting and watching until we could actually get him alone. Anxious as we were to get this done, pushing too quickly was just going to backfire. We knew that, we kept telling ourselves and each other that. But it didn't make it any easier to stay quiet and just watch for the next ten minutes while they kept talking.
In the bunker itself, where we actually were, Tristan had been keeping himself busy by sending Bobbi Bobbi out to slither around the outskirts of the village. Well, slither probably wasn't exactly the right word, considering the cyberform snake mostly hovered an inch off the ground and flew that way, but still. The point was, he searched everywhere outside to see if there were any other runes like the one Vanessa had noticed at the front of the village that would have alerted them if I’d sent my ghosts in there. Was Stoughton or whoever was controlling him the one responsible for that? It definitely wasn't a coincidence, but we really have no idea how many were involved. Hell, just because he was the one who had cast the privacy spell didn't mean that all of these guys weren't completely involved. If one was, and had used a spell to mask their conversation, it made sense that they all at the very least knew about magic, right? Fuck, we just didn’t know.
In any case, Tristan’s scouting managed to reveal that there definitely were several more anti-Necromancy and anti-Marian runes surrounding the town. Whoever had put them there was very serious about not allowing any of that inside the village that they didn’t know about. Which just raised even more questions. Why Necromancy specifically? What did they know? Were they put here by Godfather or someone else who knew about the rifts? Did something about the rift itself teach them to be wary of Necromancy in particular? What the hell was going on here? And what the hell did Maid Marian have to do with it?
At least we would be somewhat prepared if (Let’s be honest, Yardbird cut in, when) things went sideways. Besides simply scouting the area, Tristan had also used that time to have Bobbi Bobbi lay down a few traps, of both the magical and technological varieties. We would be alerted if anyone else approached the village, especially if they weren’t human. And if need be, he could set off those defenses to keep them busy. We probably needed every advantage we could get.
Finally, the group separated. For a moment there, I had been afraid that they would stand there gossiping all day long. Sure, it had really only been that ten minutes, but it felt like several times that. Yes, I had plenty of time, but it felt like every minute counted. Hell, it felt like every second counted. We had to find that rift. Though to be completely fair, it was just slightly possible that part of my anxiety was because what I really wanted to do was barge in there and stop the stupid witch hunt from continuing in the first place. I wanted to bang their heads together, magic or not.
Yeah, I really needed to get out of here before I ended up doing something that would make this entire situation worse. At least as far as the timeline was concerned. We had to preserve the future the way it was supposed to be, no matter how good it would have felt in the moment.
Stoughton walked away from the others. He wasn't heading into the rest of town either. Instead, he turned and walked into the courthouse. It was basically dark by now, so I doubted they were getting ready for another hearing. Especially since the other members of his little magistrate group all turned and headed in different directions. It looked like they were heading home for the day. So why was this guy going back into the courthouse? We needed to see what he was doing in there. Hell, maybe the rift itself was in that place, somehow. I wasn’t sure how obvious it would be. Maybe it was in a closet or a basement or… something. Whatever, it meant getting inside without being seen. Fortunately, one of the windows nearby was open, so I was able to send my polecat scrambling up and through. Vanessa sent her raven a second later, trying to glide quietly.
I was afraid we wouldn't be able to find a place in the room to hide before Stoughton noticed, but I really didn't have to worry about that. Mostly because an entire section of the front lobby of the courthouse had literally slid apart. The floor had lifted and separated in two halves to reveal a set of stairs leading down. Stairs that looked like they were made of sleek, polished metal. Yeah, something told me that probably wasn't really a standard part of colonial villages in the 1600s. And unless I had really screwed up when it came to paying attention in history class, they didn’t exactly have air conditioning either, yet I could feel a wave of cool wind rush over the polecat from that direction. The sound of Stoughton walking briskly down those metal steps was followed by a slight grinding noise as those two halves of floor immediately began to close right after him.
There wasn't much time to make a decision. We were about to be shut out of the place with no idea of how to open it again. Vanessa and I looked at each other briefly, both through our Theriangeli and in person back in the bunker, then quickly sent them forward. Yes, it was dangerous, but we had to know what was going on. If worse came to worst, all we would end up doing was alerting this person that people with access to Theriangeli were snooping around. Not great, but not really the end of the world either. We were safe in the bunker, whatever happened.
Didn’t we used to know better than to actually let ourself have thoughts like that? Yardbird remarked while I was sending the polecat that way. I really feel like we used to know better.
Admitting there was a fine line between reassuring myself while I did what we had to do, and actually being naive enough to believe it, I kept sending my little mink-like creature that way. Both it and the raven barely made it through before the floor closed up after us. The stairs were lit, and led down into what looked like the corridor of a spaceship or something. Wait, was that it? Was there literally a ship buried under Salem or something? Seriously, what the fuck was going on?
The only way to find out was to keep going, so I went bounding down the stairs as silently as possible. Vanessa followed with the raven, both of us keeping a sharp eye out for Stoughton or anyone else down here. Fortunately, we didn’t have to wonder where he went for very long. We’d barely reached the bottom of those stairs before finding ourselves in, as expected, a long metal corridor. The wall on the right side was smooth and featureless all the way down to a closed hatch with some sort of control panel next to it. But there was another hatch on the left wall right at the bottom of the stairs, and that one was open. We could hear a voice speaking in a quiet murmur, so we crept closer. Vanessa landed the raven on my polecat’s back to avoid the sound of wings or talons on metal. Whatever was going on around here, we needed to tread as cautiously as possible. Well, as cautiously as possible while actually finding out what was going on. It was possible to be a hell of a lot safer than this if we had been willing to just turn around and walk away from all of it.
Except, Yardbird pointed out, that would really only be safe up until the Fomorians turned into Super-Dragon-Empowered versions of themselves. Then we’d all have to go a few universes over to be safe. At least.
Creeping silently up to the open hatch, I peeked through as carefully as possible. Yeah, this was definitely a buried ship of some sort, that much was clear. We were looking into the small cafeteria with about six tables spread throughout it, along with another doorway leading to the kitchen. Stoughton was standing on that far side with his back to us, talking to someone in that other room. “-- people who think I’m too stupid--”
Wait, I understood those words. Was he not using the privacy spell anymore? Did it run out, or--
“--to recognize when I’ve got Therries spying on me.”
Oh. Wait, shit that--
Suddenly, the figure fell over sideways even as another glowing form stepped out of it. A form that resolved itself into a very familiar image. Charmeine, totally alive and just as annoyed as I remember her being. Her hand snapped out with some sort of ring on one finger. It glowed as she spoke three quick words, and I felt a certain tugging sensation. On me, not the polecat.
Vanessa blurted something about a spell to swap places, and then I was there. Right, switch places, the spell had pulled me through to where my Theriangelos had been. Fortunately, I reflexively switched to looking like Jacob. So at least I hadn’t completely fucked the timeline by being seen as Felicity by Charmeine in 1600s Salem.
“Now just who do--” The Seosten woman cut herself off in mid-sentence, looking startled suddenly. A single word escaped her. “You.”
“You!” That wasn’t her repeating herself. It was another voice, even more familiar, and far more angry. The person she had been talking to in the kitchen, who even then was coming through that doorway. The person whose daughter was still in her raven Theriangelos, perched on the other side of the room where she had flung herself.
And without any further warning or comment, Sariel threw herself past Charmeine, a knife appearing in her hand just long enough to be flung at my throat.