THIRTY-EIGHT
Hedonistic
Alden was supposed to meet Bti-qwol in a specific room of a building that looked like a concrete beehive. But she met his cart on the path before it even arrived at the door and practically yanked him out of it, shouting, <
“I’m half an hour early,” Alden protested, jogging so that she wouldn’t actually be dragging him along behind her.
<
Alden decided to keep his mouth shut. The alien personnel manager looked like she was on the edge of either tears or violence, and since he was already committed for this event, he might as well try for a smooth experience.
<
“I’m a waiter, right? Like I’ll be carrying food to people? As long as I don’t drop it….”
<
“If it’s that important, maybe one of the others…?”
Bti-qwol’s nostrils flared. <>
She whisked him into the beehive. It was a natural history museum. Colorful lanterns, tables, and sprays of green and black plant life were artfully mixed in among the exhibits. And Alden stared up in awe at an enormous, magically suspended skeleton overhead.
Alien whale? The charcoal gray bones moved silently, swimming without ever going anywhere, and the sharp spines that must have protruded from the creature’s sides in life were tipped with shining points that caught the light.
They wove through a jungle of potted plants, around glass cases full of fossils and alien animal models that moved so smoothly Alden wasn’t really sure they were models. Then she led him through a hidden door, and they took a large elevator down a level to the place where all the work seemed to be getting done. People were racing around with carts full of decorations and padded boxes full of museum pieces.
Bti-qwol bulled her way through the chaos, telling everyone that her business was urgent and earning quite a few withering looks from Artonans who were clearly engaged in their own urgent business. A minute later, Alden found himself in a room that looked like a hastily assembled hair salon.
When it said to arrive early for a uniform, I wasn’t expecting a full makeover.
He’d thought he would be taken to a closet full of spare shirts so that he could try them on. Or something similar. Of course, he’d also thought that being waitstaff meant being waitstaff, and apparently that wasn’t quite right.
He was stuffed into a chair by a tiny old woman with dark purple-brown skin and a lot of beaded necklaces. She gave him wevvi in a wooden bowl and started examining him through a pair of glasses with square rims.
<
“Thanks?”
<
“Is that important?” he replied after a moment’s hesitation.
<
I think a four-foot tall centenarian is disappointed in my upper body strength.
The only thing keeping his feelings from being a little hurt was his confusion. She was doing his hair or something, right? Not hiring him to tend the oxen on her family’s farm.
As if she’d read his mind, she dug all of her fingers into his hair. <
A vivid image of Stuart’s half-bald, half French-braided look popped into Alden’s mind, and he shuddered. He was so busy trying to think of ways to convince her not to try that particular style out on him, that it took him a while to notice the old lady’s mirror was measuring him while he sat there.
A network of red lines had appeared on top of his reflection, and there were Artonan numbers out to the side. Why would anyone need to know the length of my nose?
Bti-qwol was standing by the mirror, examining one of the three inset screens. Alden couldn’t see around her to the one she was looking at, but the others showed what appeared to be designs for armor and prosthetic add-ons for his face.
Alden suddenly realized that he would be wearing an elaborate costume tonight.
Unexpectedly, the idea brightened his mood a little. It was stressful to be doing a social event at all. And he was still frustrated and worried to be here at a party instead of on Moon Thegund where he was actually needed instead of some convenient piece to complete the special magic number of Avowed Bti-qwol had in mind.
But judging by the designs, it looked like his costumer was planning to put him in a set of green scale armor. That was kind of cool. A decent costume would give him a starting point for conversations at least, and—
<
<
<> Bti-qwol argued.
<
<> Bti-qwol argued. <
<
<
The old lady made an angry noise and stomped over to her screens. Alden gave her an apologetic look in the mirror.
Bti-qwol had whipped out her tablet and now she was talking rapidly about what he’d be doing. She had an annoying habit of micromanaging the assignment so that every single step of the evening became a part of the quest. Timers were popping up in front of his eyes for every little thing. There were even an alloted number of minutes for his bathroom breaks.
This is incredibly obnoxious, he thought, watching the timers minimize themselves into a string of green lights in his peripheral vision. The System here on Artona III did a good job of presenting him with information when he needed it and keeping it out of his way when he didn’t, but he much preferred Joe’s method of giving a broad assignment and then offering advice on how to complete it rather than a bunch of official quest steps.
Alden would naturally have been polite to guests who spoke to him at the party. Being ordered to do it, complete with a reminder that would flash over peoples’ heads, made him want to act like a barbarian to spite Bti-qwol.
He distracted himself by shoving his hand into his pocket and swapping Joe’s magic ring from finger to finger. It was capable of resizing itself, but not infinitely. It was too loose on his pinkies.
He’d spent the whole of the afternoon lab session playing with its magic by subtly manipulating the bottle full of pills he had neglected to take during his emergency teleport. Joe had said the ring would make up for the lost dexterity stat from the coat, and that had led Alden to believe it would work similarly.
It was a completely different effect, though. It was like anything he held in the hand with the ring on it didn’t want him to let go of it. Everything clung to his fingers for just a fraction of a second after he’d dropped it. Heavy or light, the weight of object didn’t seem to matter much. Alden had tried it out on some of the lab equipment after the students left, and he’d almost broken a beaker trying to show Sophie how he could splay all his fingers, and it would hang for an instant, pressed against his palm like it had been glued there.
To his disappointment, the sticky effect didn’t work on items he was currently preserving. If his skill was active, it was like the ring wasn’t there at all. But at least it would keep him from dropping the items when they weren’t in the preservation state.
By the time Bti-qwol left, there were a couple of humans from the boater and a lortch present. They were getting dressed in their own costumes with help from an Artonan man. One of the boater members had arrived with her makeup already done, so they clearly knew the drill from previous years or had been prepped for it over the course of the week. She had a river of purple paint running in a line down the center of her face.
One of the lortch was in a leather costume absolutely bristling with short blades. Maybe he’s a Meister of Knives? Since Alden was going to be a Ryeh-b’t it seemed reasonable to assume the other Avowed would have class specific outfits.
Chris from the boater was taking an elaborate headdress covered in gears out of a box, and he was a Wright so it seemed like a good guess.
The old woman waited until Bti-qwol had been gone for a long while before she started speaking again. She was flinging makeup brushes around with a lot of force and breathing rather loudly for such a small person.
<
“I…she’s probably just really stressed out,” he said placatingly.
He didn’t know if the woman had a translator or not because she kept right on steaming as she started opening drawers and slapping packets and bottles onto the table beside her.
<<‘Have you ever costumed an alien?’>> she said in a mocking whine. <>
She’s definitely going to shave my head, he thought, staring as she approached with a slightly larger version of the hooked razor he’d been given in his care package.
“You know I don’t care a ton about my hair,” he said. “But I do like having some of it. Even if it’s really short that would be better than nothing. In case you were wondering.”
<
She grabbed the razor.
<
While Alden froze in place, she started grabbing locks of hair and whacking at them. At least she didn’t seem to want him completely bald. She was cutting off apparently random amounts from each lock, but not so much that it couldn’t be repaired by a human barber.
I wonder if I get a bonus for this. It feels like the kind of thing I should get a bonus for.
In the mirror, he couldn’t tell what was happening to his own appearance yet, but Chris had started covering his own arms and legs in bodypaint behind a sheet of plastic. He was a skinny guy, and the off-white paint made him look like a ghost in need of a good meal. But over the next half hour he was transformed into something quite a bit more alien. He had knee-length white robes and the headdress made of moving gears. Something attached to his back teeth made his mouth glow a poisonous green when he opened it.
He seemed to be reciting lines. <>
“Is there supposed to be some kind of theatrical component to this?” Alden asked.
He hoped he wasn’t included in it. He’d been a raccoon in an elementary school play once, and he’d forgotten which piece of trash he was supposed to steal from a pile of it on the stage—which was his one and only job. He’d frozen there, agonizing over the horrors of stealing the wrong crumpled chip bag, and had to be rescued by another raccoon.
<
So she can understand me. She had a habit of talking to herself instead of him, so he hadn’t been sure. She must have had a translator in her glasses.
“What kind of ship?” Alden asked.
<
The word wasn’t untranslatable. It was something like escape or evacuation. Alden knew because he’d heard Joe’s assistants use it to describe his role in coming to pick them up on Moon Thegund.
Lunervikk couldn’t have been human, since he would have died before Earth even met the Artonans. But if the gray-white paint and the eerie green mouth-light were meant to make Chris look like a member of another species, Alden couldn’t pinpoint which one it was.
<
She chuckled as if she’d said something very funny.
“Bti-qwol said I had to smile.”
<
“Um…” This lady would get along well with Sophie.
<
“Didn’t Bti-qwol say beige Ryeh-b’ts were known for their shyness?” She seemed to have a vision that involved Alden blending in with the environment and being “discovered” by hungry partygoers before he disappeared again. Like a game of hide-and-seek with special effects appetizers for a reward.
Alden wasn’t entirely opposed to it. Standing off in a corner sneaking bites of food for most of the party was easier than real mingling.
<
She was gelling Alden’s wire-laced hair into a pointy halo that was probably going to be a nod to a male Ryeh-b’t’s skull spikes. Behind her, notices kept popping up in the mirror.
“Are there other people working on the costume somewhere?” he asked. How else were they going to finish in time?
<>
She stepped back and admired her handiwork. The wires in Alden’s hair were glowing orange.
<
Alden examined the paint bottles on the table. Not a single one of them was beige.
----------------------------------------
The old woman didn’t finish Alden’s costume until there was a timer blinking in his vision reminding him he had to be upstairs in a few minutes. It had far less to do with the complexity of the outfit, which had been delivered to them fully made almost an hour before, and more to do with the fact that she seemed intent on making absolutely sure Bti-qwol would be unable to alter anything about the design.
Alden examined himself in the mirror. He didn’t always get Artonans, and he knew next to nothing about their fashion, and even less about what they wanted from Avowed at their parties. But a loud enough “screw you” was universally recognizable.
He was dressed in pitch black formal wizard’s clothes. There was no mistaking it. The harem pants, the wide sleeved coat, and the shockingly comfy boots made him look like Joe’s cousin from the dark side. The coat was even embroidered with sigils.
There were a set of large Ryeh-b’t wings attached to Alden’s back with a nearly invisible harness, and he did have the glowing orange wires in his hair. But the costumer hadn’t even gone for much makeup. He had a simple pair of black and orange bands painted across his eyes in a nod to a mask.
He was very recognizable as himself, unlike most of the other Avowed he’d caught glimpses of in their costumes.
It looked really cool. And like it was probably a political statement. One loud enough that he’d actually considered asking the old woman not to do it.
But it had occurred to him that this might actually get him out of the party without any damage to his own reputation or Joe’s. So he’d just…let it all happen.
Bti-qwol was so controlling; Alden was absolutely sure she would want to look him over before the event started. She’d have no choice but to send him away after she saw him. The trip to rescue the kids could be salvaged, and all he had to do was act like he was too dumb to know he should have called Bti-qwol when the costume first appeared.
<
Oh right. Like I want people to choke.
It was easier than it should have been to get the expression right. The fake fangs she’d given him pulled a lot of weight, turning any half-hearted smile faintly sinister.
Apparently the variety of Ryeh-b’t he was representing was known for its rebellious nature.
The costumer cackled joyfully and patted Alden’s arm. <
He didn’t understand what she meant until she literally pulled out a silver marker and grabbed the edge of a wing to sign her name on it.
“Met-oosa?” Alden asked, trying to pronounce it right.
<
He finally left the dressing room and maneuvered his way through the hall, careful not to bash his wings against the carts full of tableware and covered platters that were lined up by the elevators. Met-oosa followed after him, chortling to herself at every shocked stare they earned from the workers. She seemed absolutely delighted to be making a scene.
Alden pressed his palm to the elevator panel. Part of him expected Bti-qwol to bust out and tackle him to the ground the second the doors opened, but instead he came face to face with Manon, who was a pastel pink Ryeh-b’t in a jumpsuit patterned with rhinestones, and the lortch with all the knives.
<
Manon looked a little shocked, then she smiled as well as she could around her snout. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s fine!”
<
“Oh, Bti-qwol is so busy, though! We humans have given her a hard time today. First there was Laura’s accident, and now Farhan is having an allergic reaction to one of the floral sprays.” She shook her head. “In fact, let me head upstairs with you, Alden. Bti-qwol was supposed to be there to talk us through everything one last time, but she’s going to miss her chance at this rate. I’ve done this so many times I can cover it myself.”
Her lips had been painted to match her face, and she had costume contacts in. When she smiled, she really did look like a snake.
I was so paranoid about her arranging my thoughts, but I’m almost positive she hasn’t done anything to me lately. And she seems shocked by the costume. Yet here we all are…
It wasn’t like he had proof, but this felt an awful lot like someone had been pulling strings to create a perfect disaster for Bti-qwol.
Thwart Hog’s wrong about Manon and her dolls not being a big deal. If you manage the lives of a dozen people, there’s a ripple effect. Even bystanders get pulled into it in unexpected ways.
Maybe Manon didn’t know what the real-world effects of her rearrangements would be. She was just aiming for a finished puzzle that suited her. Or one that didn’t suit Bti-qwol.
Alden was too high ranking to control, so she hadn’t wanted him near her boater. But break the correct doll’s knee, and Alden or someone else like him would just fall into place with the rest of the puzzle. Make another doll stand next to a hay-fever bouquet, and all of the sudden, the personnel manager was busy at just the wrong moment to notice Alden, Manon, and a beaming Met-oosa stepping off the elevator into the museum.
Well, something this dramatic probably didn’t happen every time the Rabbit shoved puzzle pieces around. Bti-qwol had done more than her fair share of the work. She’d been abrasive to so many people this week, she was bound to butt heads with someone who was willing to butt back eventually.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
But this was going to completely ruin Alden’s escape plan. If nobody in charge saw him, how was he going to get out before the party started? And how mad are the people in charge going to be when they look like jokes in front of all the guests?
“I need to pee,” he said suddenly. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Oh we’ve only got a few minutes before the doors open!” Manon gave him a reproachful look. “We have to line up for the welcome of the incoming guests.”
“Then I’ll pee fast. System, where’s the bathroom?”
Manon made a sound of protest, but it was hard to seriously argue with someone who claimed they urgently needed the toilet. Alden dashed toward the restroom. Met-oosa chased after him at a shuffle, calling out warnings every time she thought the giant black wings might crash into one of the displays.
The second he was in the restroom, he texted Bti-qwol. And promptly got a notice saying she’d listed him as a low priority contact, and he’d be added to her queue.
Next he called Joe. He’d requested video, but Joe set it to audio.
“Hello? Do you miss me that much after only a few hours, Alden? You’re getting very dependent, you know.”
“You’re coming to the party tonight, aren’t you?” Alden said in a rush. “Are you at the museum already?”
Maybe if he threw himself in front of Joe, the professor would have an excuse to complain to someone and get him thrown out.
“I’m on my way there in a cart full of some very charming friends.” Then, via text, he added, [I’m only talking to you at all right now because this group should think you and I have an unusually close bond. I can’t do this at the party, so get whatever it is off your chest quickly.]
He must be with the students from the mishnen incident, Alden realized. Or their parents.
They would probably be relieved to think that Alden was one of Joe’s private contractees. It made it less likely that he would go around blabbing about their mistakes.
“How much trouble would I be in if I wore the wrong outfit to the party?” Alden asked.
“I’m flattered that you love the lab coat so much, but it’s really not formal enough. You should wear what you’re given.”
“I am wearing what I was given. Bti-qwol was incredibly condescending to the costumer, and wait…is there a way to…System, send Joe a selfie! Like a picture of me in my costume? Can you do that?”
Joe sighed. “I’m embarrassed for you in this moment,” he said, his face appearing to float in front of Alden with no background whatsoever. “What’s so awful about…”
He trailed off, looking speechless for a couple of seconds.
“You can see me?” Alden gestured at himself. “Do I need to fake a stomach virus and hide out in here until someone comes to fire me or something?”
“Alden, I’m stunned. You make such a stylish wizard. With embroidery indicating you’re quite accomplished in the transmogrification field. Which explains the wings. You must instruct me, Master, for I am but a lowly—”
“JOE, please,” said Alden.
“Well, it’s definitely a statement. A controversial one…”
“I figured that out, but are people going to throw spells at me or just ask me to leave the party?”
“Nobody’s going to throw spells at you in public, silly. How did this happen to you again?” [And why didn’t you just call the personnel manager when it started happening?]
“Bti-qwol made this ancient lady named Met-oosa really angry. And I was pretty annoyed with her, too. And I know that’s not a good excuse, but I figured nobody could blame you or me for it and I could maybe go pick berries tonight. Only now Bti-qwol’s not even around to send me back to the dorms, and I’m going to have to actually wear this in front of everyone.”
Joe’s face turned sideways as he spoke to the people in the cart with him. The System didn’t translate, but it seemed like a lively conversation. Joe laughed several times before he looked back at Alden.
“The consensus is that it’s funny,” said Joe. “Wear it.”
“Funny.”
“Too outlandish to be offensive to anyone who’s not absurdly sensitive. Embarrassing for the honors student and, by extension, the school. But someone says your costume designer used to be a fairly well-known local artist. They all thought she was dead by now. The story’s only going to get more hilarious after everyone’s had a few drinks.” [You’ll need to be pleasant and agreeable all night long, though. Or you really might offend the wrong person.]
“I think I have a stomach virus after all.”
[Don’t be a baby. It’s just a party. You can enjoy the peace and quiet on Moon Thegund tomorrow night.]
With only the dubious comfort of Joe’s new friends finding his predicament funny, Alden marched out of the bathroom.
Met-oosa was there to make sure he hadn’t hurt the wings at all. He wondered if she was planning to stick to him until she was thrown out. Maybe she was just waiting for Bti-qwol to arrive and see what she’d done?
Alden joined the other Avowed by the doors. Everyone gaped at him except for Manon, who was beaming. “Drinks!” she said, and an Artonan waiter who’d been standing off to the side brought Alden a tray of fizzing blue liquid in shot glasses to hold.
He targeted the man and took it, assuming there was no reason not to use preservation on the drinks.
Everyone else had trays of the same beverage. They stood in two evenly spaced lines by the door, except for Chris, who was struggling with a giant metal launcher that couldn’t possibly be as deadly as it looked.
“Alden, did Bti-qwol have time to introduce you to your helpers?”
“She didn’t,” said Alden. “But she mentioned them.”
Manon pointed out four of the real waiters—non-wizard Artonans who would keep him supplied with whatever he was supposed to be serving and take over his zones of the museum whenever he was otherwise engaged. Alden wondered if they’d all looked this incredibly nervous before he arrived.
Maybe they did, he thought hopefully. Maybe it has nothing to do with me.
The overhead lights went off. The ceiling behind the flying whale bones turned into a field of stars. The museum was suddenly a dark forest of greenery and colorful pools of light from the lanterns. The display cases and ornaments on the walls were lit at random with gold spotlights that faded in for a couple of minutes and then out again as other objects took their turn.
Alden stepped from side to side to keep his tray of drinks cold.
At precisely the right time, the doors swung open, and a group of wizards Alden assumed were in charge of the school walked in, chatting with a crowd of well-dressed people. Prospective students and parents flooded in after them.
Alden held out his drinks. He was trying to smile, but he was afraid his fangs were making it look like a glower. A man dressed in a rainbow-colored coat stopped in front of him and stared. He had so much embroidery on him that he looked like a tapestry.
Oh my god, Joe was wrong. I’m going to get turned into a frog. I bet this guy can do that. I bet he can turn me into one of those alien frogs with the turtle shells. It’s karma for letting Bti-qwol kill that one on my first day here.
The man turned to a woman in a similarly embroidered outfit behind him. <
He took one of the drinks from Alden’s tray—thank goodness, he’d been frozen in place for long enough for them to no longer be preserved—and lifted it in a toast to the crowd behind him. <
Everyone who poured through the doors was grabbing a glass and lifting it.
All of the sudden there was a thunderous roar, and streamers of light and glittering sparks showered all of the guests. Chris looked relieved to have finally got his launcher to work.
<> he cried, the gears on his headdress spinning madly. <
The party was underway.
----------------------------------------
Alden didn’t know how much trouble Bti-qwol was in. For the entire first hour of the event, he was too busy to focus on anything but his immediate surroundings. He’d have been completely lost without the team of waiters making sure he was in the right spot doing the right thing at the right time.
They prepped his trays and explained what he was supposed to do with each of them in meticulous detail. After the first round of drinks, everything Alden carried had some kind of special effect. The food and snacks were assembled off to the side by a chef dressed in beige, to match the walls, and then delivered to him smoking, steaming, or in the middle of a color change.
He would carry them into a crowd of people with his skill active, and when it de-activated the effect would finish off in grand fashion. His favorite involved marshmallow-looking things that would jump off the tray like popcorn. If he got the timing right, the party guests caught most of them with their plates. If he got it wrong, or got held up on his way to his audience, they all ended up in the floor.
To his surprise, the floor being covered in food didn’t bother anybody. Many of the guests were going out of their way to be sloppy. It was almost like having food on the floor or your person was proof that it was a party and not an everyday event. Half of the things he carried were designed to be messy. Drinks tended to be filled to the absolute rim of the glass so that the slightest jostle would make them spill, and once, he almost ran into Manon delivering a tray of rolled meat slices that had oil overflowing down the sides onto her hands.
She was leaving a trail of it behind her.
[Hedonistic, isn’t it?] she texted him without ever breaking stride. [This is a much more Rabbit-like assignment than working in the labs must be. Look behind you.]
He couldn’t reply since mental texting was beyond him, but he turned to check behind him and saw one of the small children at the party tagging along in his wake. There weren’t many of them here, but a few of the faculty members had brought their families. Alden hadn’t had a chance to interact with one of the mini-Artonans yet. They were some of the only partygoers who weren’t constantly staring at him and remarking on his outfit.
To them, his wizard clothes were boring compared to the other Avoweds’ costumes. After all, they saw wizards all the time.
I guess they were bound to get around to me after they finished with everyone else, though. He’d caught enough glimpses of the others interacting with the children to know the drill. They thought the Avowed in fancy clothes were like characters at theme parks. They expected a meet-and-greet.
One of the ever-vigilant waiters appeared to take Alden’s tray of appetizers as the child approached. He crouched down as well as he could with the wings, and the kid blinked at him. <
“I am,” he said.
<
Oh. Are those the only two places on Earth they know about? Fair enough. It was hard to learn one planet’s geography, and Artonan kids had all of the Triplanets to study. Plus their people had famously made first contact by setting up camp in the Ténéré and asking if world leaders wanted to be teleported in for a cup of wevvi and a discussion about the future of their species.
“America Earth,” he said. “But I’ll be living on Anesidora soon.”
<
“Sure.”
The kid brushed aside some crumbs and set a small tablet on the floor. It balanced miraculously on its narrow edge and somehow took their picture from multiple angles without moving. Alden’s wings still looked fantastic.
After that kid, there were a couple more. Then more trays. Alden wanted to sneak a bite of something but he was never alone. At some point, Met-oosa had disappeared. He was worried she’d been carted off to be punished, but she eventually returned arm-in-arm with the museum’s curator. Some mysterious negotiations had gone down while Alden was feeding people and having his picture taken, and a few of Met-oosa’s old theatrical pieces were being teleported in from storage at another institution so that they could be displayed during the second half of the party.
Joe finally made his way over, and after the briefest of smiles and not ten words to Alden, he left with an entire tray of tarts stuffed in his pockets.
As the night wore on, Alden started to feel ragged. The wings were making his back hurt, and the guests were getting clingy. His waiters had betrayed his trust and left him to the attentions of various drunk teenagers and even drunker professors who wanted pictures.
Isn’t this an Achievement Society Gala? It sounded like it should be a stodgy event where everyone worried a lot about what impression they were making on their betters. But some of these guys were wasted. There was a hookah set up on one table, and Manon had sent out a group text telling all the humans not to go anywhere near it.
Artonans partied hard. Alden’s bedtime was apparently not as regimented as he’d been led to believe because it came and went, and the System didn’t make so much as a peep.
Traitor, he accused it in his mind while he told what felt like the thousandth person that his costume was definitely just a Ryeh-b’t. Any resemblance to a wizard was purely coincidental.
Saying this struck drunk Artonans as hysterical. Alden didn’t know why, but he kept repeating it because it kept working, and he didn’t have any other jokes.
He finally managed to escape from the latest group. He’d made it all the way across the museum to the edge of the party. Success! And it had only taken a full hour and a half of trying.
Now if he could just hide behind a plant or a taxidermied dinosaur and wait this thing out…
<
Nooo. I don’t wanna!
He’d practiced smiling so much tonight that his cheeks ached. He stepped around the fern and was surprised to find a table and two chairs sandwiched between it and the wall. There was no way that had been part of the original floor plan for the party. The pair of wizards sitting there appeared to be sober…which was probably a good thing since the woman was visibly pregnant. The man had long straight hair such a pale shade of purple that it was nearly white, and he didn’t look up from the book he was reading as Alden approached.
Actual leather-bound book, Alden noted. He brought it to the party instead of just reading one in secret on a tablet.
That was refusal to socialize on an advanced level. He could admire it.
“Do you need anything?” Alden asked. “Something to eat maybe?”
<
Alden stood, wondering if she was about to take his picture. But she made no move at all to do so. She looked at him for a while and then turned to stare off into space and ignore him.
Wait…am I dismissed or not?
He kept standing. They’d tell him to go away if he was supposed to, wouldn’t they?
With nothing else to do, he stared at them. Their formal clothes were a little odd. It was like they’d been based on the traditional wizard’s garb that Alden was currently making a mockery of, but someone had wanted to be sure they couldn’t really be mistaken for the same thing. They had elbow-length sleeves instead of long ones, tighter pants, patterns of small metal studs instead of embroidery. Neither of them had a tablet or visible lens of any kind. Not even the metal rings around their iris.
Alden stood there for a very long time before the woman finally said, <
<> the man said irritably, still not looking up from his book. <>
<
Alden nodded. His name had been going around the party for ages, so of course she’d heard it.
<
Her brother slapped his book shut, and gave her an annoyed look. <
<
<
<
Alden watched the argument devolve with wide eyes. What kind of disagreement was this?
<
<>
They didn’t even sound like adults at this point. Maybe they were drunk?
<
<
Per Joe’s advice, Alden had done a great job of being agreeable tonight. But this was a little too much. “What are you going to do to them?” he asked, clasping his hands safely behind his back.
<
<
Stuart? Alden hadn’t seen him all night. He didn’t seem to be at the party. One of these two must be his parent? Alden stared at the man. Is this the super important father that even Joe was afraid of making mad?
He was hiding in the corner behind a plant. Reading a book. With his sister. He didn’t scream “scary alien wizard king,” which was how Alden had been picturing Stuart’s father despite the lack of monarchies on the modern Triplanets.
<
Gain my measure? Was this some kind of lie detector test? Oh, maybe they just want to be sure I’m not going to tell on Stuart?
That was fine. He didn’t plan to. Easier to go along with the request than act all cagey. He had one really serious secret to keep from the Artonans. And he highly doubted someone he’d just met was going to ask him out of the blue if he’d ever fed his blood to the prisoner in the Chicago consulate.
Alden stepped closer and unclasped his hands, offering them to the guy.
The Artonan studied him for a moment without taking them. <
“It’s a loan,” Alden said sadly. He’d been playing around with it all night. Since nobody cared if he spilled drinks, he could do some neat tricks with the glasses.
<
Whatever kind of lie detection he was going to use must have been pretty weak if the ring would interfere. Alden tucked the ring into one of the pockets of his wizard outfit.
The man took his hands firmly in his own. He had callouses, Alden noted. It was kind of unexpected for a bookworm or a wizard.
The man stared up at the starry sky beyond the whale skeleton. <
No need for him to ask. It was available to him through the System. Maybe he was establishing a baseline for the lie detection? “Alden. Samuel Alden Thorn.”
<
Alden stared at him. “Like in life? That’s kind of deep. I don’t know.”
<
This guy didn’t really go for the softball questions, did he? “My aunt. My friends. My…”
He hesitated. It was only for a second, and it was only because he had the thought that maybe he shouldn’t say it. Because they were gone.
But in that instant of hesitation, he suddenly sensed something surprising—the cobwebby cocoon of his own magic. It was here, all around him just like during the teleports to and from Moon Thegund. Only this time, around the cocoon of his magic there was another one, far more massive. It wasn’t pushing against him, but he knew at once that if it did he’d be…
Not even crushed. I’d just disappear. Like I’d been written out of existence.
It wasn’t a guess. He knew it for a fact.
Alden’s heart was pounding.
The Artonan was still staring up at the fake stars. <
“Yes.” Lying was unthinkable.
<
“No.” Lying was impossible.
The man smiled faintly. <
“When I was ten, I found a photograph online of the guy who was responsible for my parents dying. Of what his body looked like after he’d been dealt with by an S-class Brute. I have no idea where it came from. He was on a metal table. I guess maybe the investigators took it, and it leaked.” He’d seen it in real life, but his emotions had been dampened then. A few years later… “It didn’t bother me.”
<
“It made me satisfied. It made me feel like the world was fairer. I looked at it every night, and I slept like a baby.”
<
“When it disappeared from the web, and I realized what I’d been doing. That was when I was afraid.”
<>
He looked down and met Alden’s eyes. His own were pink, like the lead assistant’s at the lab.
<> he said, dropping Alden’s hands. <
Alden clutched at his chest, gasping for air he didn’t even need. Am I having a panic attack?
<>
Alden could barely hear him. His ears hadn’t rung this loudly in years.
<
<
<
“No…I’m fine,” Alden gasped. “Can I just go?”
<