No Place Like Home, page 17
“Nice to see my daughter’s old outfits getting some use,” the man remarked as they came down the stairs. He ruffled his newspaper and leaned back in his seat. “You lot look fine enough for a royal visit.”
“As a matter of fact, would you know the quickest way up to the castle?” asked Lan, tucking loose hairs into her attempt at a braid. “We’d like a closer look.”
“You’ve clearly never been round these parts,” he said with a laugh. “Getting to the castle’s about the easiest thing you can do. Paver’s Road runs right through Asta, takes you straight to the steps of King Nebulo’s home. Can’t miss it.”
“If he’s that easy to find, why are all his guards hanging out here?” said Marlow.
“King’s watch? Those fancy folk aren’t for him. You think a powerful wizard like that needs his own guards?”
“We’ve seen the soldiers everywhere along the main road. Gates are wide open. What else are they here for?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. They’ve got other things they’re guarding.”
Lan felt a pulse in the air at his words, as though the magical residue around them understood his meaning and responded. Specks of violet flickered in her peripheral vision.
“We’d best be off,” said Marlow.
Lan’s heart pounded the closer they drew to the walls. They followed the same purple-bricked Paver’s Road right to the main gate. Lan saw bicycles, horse-drawn carts, wagons, and harried cabbage merchants bustling casually down the lane. Annabelle’s face was drawn and nervous beside her, chewing on her bottom lip. No one spared them a second glance as they passed under the shadowed arches and entered Asta. Lan clutched her arrowhead pendant in one hand and the poppies in the other.
“Can you believe it?” Annabelle breathed. “We’re here.”
Pulses of magic thrummed through Lan like music in her school’s gym at a dance party. She walked, eyes wide with wonder. Vivid colors swirled in the sky, matching the rainbow-painted buildings with flowers blooming from balcony sills. Tall lanterns glowed purple every few paces. People teleported up and down the winding cobbled streets, left and right, appearing and disappearing from random corners in broad daylight. Annabelle was right. Signs advertised discounted magic lessons, sold in packages for household needs (basic tidying spells with a cleaning potion starter included) or transportation 101 for short-distance teleporting over two days’ time. Seeing the colorful displays sent a pang of longing through Lan.
“Anyone can learn here,” said Lan, staring at a group of beginners practicing the step and pivot of a waterfall spell in the square. Barrels of water sloshed over the stones. An instructor in light blue robes was calling out directions. “Everyone’s a witch.”
“Knowing a couple of go-to basics doesn’t make you a witch,” said Annabelle. “I told you from the start, didn’t I? In Sol, you’re not considered a full witch until you invent a new spell. It’s not enough to copy. You have to create, too.”
“These sure do come in handy, though,” said Marlow.
“And it’d really help to have a proper teacher,” said Lan sadly.
“You know, if you want to come back to Silva sometime,” said Annabelle, “visit me in Sol. I’ll get you a real teacher, no problem. At this rate, my grandma will probably do it. You’d like her. She’s intense, but in a good way, like you.”
It was the first time Annabelle had spoken about what might happen at the end of their quest. For weeks, Lan had focused on getting them to Nebulo. Now she allowed herself a second to imagine... How long might she be able to stay in Silva afterward? Perhaps she’d go back to the Weathering Woods with Marlow, and then see the western coast for herself, hopefully in all its non-desert-y glory? The idea tempted Lan more than she wanted to admit. She could easily get used to this world. The local fashion certainly beat her own world’s sale-rack clothing, and her newly acquired bartering skills would’ve impressed a Vietnamese grandmother. The lack of rice noodles wasn’t ideal, but she could work on getting that spell right.
“Watch where you’re going,” said Marlow, pulling on her arm. Lan stopped as a wagon rumbled past, loaded with vegetables and potion crates. When the bulky cart cleared, Lan looked up and gasped.
The castle loomed before them, a hundred paces straight ahead. The white stone ramparts shone amid the multicolored houses of the city. It was smaller than Lan had imagined but still large enough to dwarf her school back in Toronto. A wide balcony ran along the second floor, the railing polished gold. The magical energy around the place was a thick dark purple. Stained clouds above the turrets floated by in the same hue as the ones in the valley on the day Lan had arrived in Silva.
They were nearing the end.
They sped up without a word. Lan reached for Annabelle’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Annabelle felt clammy, but she had never looked more composed. The borrowed ribbons in her braid matched her blue top; her knife was on her hip, her chin held high. She gave Lan a nervous smile. Lan tried to return it without thinking of the task still to come. Seeking an audience with and convincing a king was no small thing. Her stomach fluttered with every step uphill.
“Relax,” Marlow whispered beside her. “You look like you’re about to face a death sentence.”
“We can’t all be you.”
At the base of the castle stairwell, a king’s watch guard appeared as they approached, her helmet in one hand, brown hair spilling over her shoulder pads. She looked hot and impatient, as though she’d been demoted to the noon shift when the sun was at its peak.
“Can I help you?” she said, cutting off their path.
Lan swallowed, but before she could speak, Annabelle stepped up. “I come from Sol, and we’re here to see the king,” she announced.
A beat of silence met her words. Lan held her breath, waiting for the derisive laughter that would certainly follow—but it didn’t.
“Sure, I can get you on that list,” said the guard easily. She turned and beckoned behind her. Another young guard appeared with a clipboard in hand.
“Captain?” he said.
“Get these kids on the waiting list to meet King Nebulo.”
“Right away. Your names, please?”
Lan tried to hide her shock. Would this be easier than she’d thought? The young guard took down their names with an elegant fountain pen. The pages on his clipboard flipped through lightning-fast as if they knew precisely where to file their info. Lan peered over the top of the document and saw a few lines of writing that read:
Annabelle of Sol, Marlow of Mireille, Lan of ? on business of restoring coastland and saving home.
“I assume you possess the required items to gain entry?” said the male guard. He held out a hand.
“Yes, of course,” said Lan. She handed over the poppies and removed her arrowhead necklace. “That’s our proof of a heart and courage in large supply. Um—do you want the story now?”
“Absolutely not. King Nebulo will assess the story upon entry. For now, we will evaluate your items and keep them if they qualify.”
The captain held out a clear palm-sized tube with a gold bottom, like one that might be found in a lab. She crushed the poppies and jammed them inside. The tube began to emit a vivid pink glow. Lan, Annabelle, and Marlow stepped back.
“Hmm, impressive,” said the captain. She shook the tube and it emptied. “This will do. We’ll hang on to it. Next?”
The guard handed her Lan’s necklace.
“Oh, please don’t dissolve that!” said Lan. “It’s a gift. Can’t you check it without evaporating it? I thought we just had to present them. I—I’d like it back if possible.”
The captain frowned and exchanged an annoyed look with her companion. Nonetheless, she put the tube back in her pocket, rummaged around, and pulled out a collapsible golden scale instead, the kind they used to weigh meat or fresh noodles at the street market. In her hands, it grew to a suitable size for the pendant.
“I’ll use the rare-items scale, though this object hardly warrants it,” she grumbled. “You can ask for it back when you meet the king, if he decides to fulfill your request.”
A tiny bell-like sound came from the scale when it was finished weighing. Lan had no idea what the meter read, but the guards seemed satisfied. They nodded and pocketed the pendant.
“Sign here,” said the one with the clipboard.
Annabelle took the quill and made a loopy signature in the box. The words began to disappear, sinking right into the page.
“That’s all I’ll be needing for now,” he said, taking it back. “Give me a minute to check on your wait time. Then you can be off.”
“I wouldn’t mind exploring the city for a few days,” murmured Lan.
“Well, you’re looking at fourteen months now, so that’ll give you plenty of time.”
“What?” said Annabelle and Lan in unison.
“Would you like a sightseeing map to help with your stay?”
“Sorry, did you not hear anything I said?” demanded Annabelle, her voice growing louder with every word. “This is an emergency! My people are dying!”
“What are the other requests for?” said Marlow.
“Spell distribution, infrastructure expansions, adoring compliments, all sorts,” said the guard. “Everyone’s got something to say. We all have to wait our turn.”
“And they all carry the price of admission?”
“To varying degrees. Our system has been in place for a long time.”
“Shouldn’t some things be prioritized? Like starvation, for example?” said Annabelle. Marlow put a hand on her shoulder.
“Please,” he said to the guards. “We’ve traveled a long way, across the enchanted desert and Weathering Woods to get here. We just want a few minutes of an audience.”
“It’s the least your king can do,” Annabelle muttered audibly.
“It wouldn’t be fair,” said the captain, taking over for the younger guard with the clipboard. She put her helmet on. “Why should you get to skip over people who have been patiently waiting? Who’s to say your issue is more important?”
“Maybe the hundreds of people slowly dying on the southwest side of Silva?”
“King Nebulo is dealing with urgent matters as they come up. I assure you, he has more reliable informants than kids walking through the front door of the castle.”
“Is there any other process available?” Marlow asked quickly as Annabelle puffed up angrily, ready to start yelling again. He stepped forward. “Somewhere else we can put down our names? I’m happy to explain further if you’ve got the time.”
“Sorry, kids. Have yourselves a grand time in the greatest city you’ll ever see and come back in fourteen months.”
Annabelle was shouting again. The guards promptly tipped their visors and disappeared into thin air. Lan blinked, stunned. She tried to take the first step up the castle stairs, but an invisible barrier shoved her. She fell backward onto Marlow, who caught her with one arm while using the other to restrain Annabelle from running straight into the blocking spell, shouting at the top of her lungs. People were starting to stare.
“Belle, please stop kicking me—we’re gonna find another way,” he was saying.
“We’re here because of him in the first place! It took us so much to get here, and all we get is a pat on the head from some guy with a clipboard? Let go of me, Marlow! You should’ve just let me yell at them!”
“Come on, Annabelle, what would that have done?” said Marlow. He cautiously let go of her wrist. “Let’s not burn bridges before we come up with another plan.”
“I don’t want to plan! Right now, I want to give them a piece of my mind, and I’d feel a whole lot better if I had!”
“I was trying to save our chances. People usually prefer guests who don’t yell at them.”
“Well, your pretty manners didn’t work, did they?” she cried, rounding on him. “It’s easy for you to be cool when it’s my home we’re talking about! I should be upset! And they should have to hear it!”
Marlow looked for a second like he wanted to argue, but Annabelle stopped struggling then and crumpled in on herself, sobbing. She trembled like a wilted flower. Marlow sighed and pulled her into a hug. She wept miserably, clutching his shoulder.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have cut you off.”
“It’s not fair...”
“I know.”
They moved to a nook to the side of the castle to avoid curious pedestrians. Annabelle cried until Marlow’s shirt was wet. Lan tried and failed to conjure up tissues, her hands shaking. The gears in her head were racing as she fumbled to understand. This couldn’t be the end. They had to make Nebulo listen. But how?
Lan wasn’t one to cause a scene, at least never in public. Hiding was easier, but that was not an option. They had to do something, and it had to be big. By the time Annabelle sniffed and looked up, an outrageously genius plan had begun to form.
“I might have something,” said Lan quietly.
“What now?” asked Annabelle, wiping her face with her sleeve.
“I’m not sure Nebulo would’ve paid attention even if we did get to see him. Not if he’s expecting adoring compliments from his visitors like that guard told us.”
“Don’t Astans care about anything but themselves?”
“Maybe some do, but people act this way in my world, too. Since moving—well, let’s just say some of the questions I’ve gotten about Việt Nam prove that loads of people don’t know a thing beyond their neighborhood! They can be so rude without even realizing.”
“So what are you saying?” sighed Annabelle warily. “You told me to keep going. You got us here! This can’t be it.”
“It’s not,” said Lan. Her ears were ringing, but her head felt clear with purpose, just as it’d been in the grove right before she brought down the snowstorm. “I’m saying if he’s not ready to listen to you, we’re going to have to make him pay attention.”
“Do you have an argument that’ll convince him to hear us out?” said Marlow.
“No offense, Marlow, but as Annabelle said, asking nicely didn’t work,” said Lan. “Tried your plan. We’re doing it my way now.”
“Your way?” said Marlow and Annabelle at once.
“Make a grand entrance they can’t ignore.”
They stared at her blankly.
“Think about it,” she said. “Nebulo’s power is concentrated at the castle. He’s got the king’s watch to keep things running, but the rest of them? Our last innkeeper said they were busy guarding other things.”
“So?” said Annabelle. “We don’t want other things.”
“No,” said Marlow, catching on. “But an attempt to steal something valuable might capture their notice enough for us to demand an audience. A proper one.”
“I bet if we go after what they’re guarding, they’ll march us right into the throne room before Nebulo himself,” said Lan.
“How do you know we won’t end up before some justice of the peace or clerk?”
“Because it’ll be big. We’re not stealing flowers from the farmers’ market here.”
“What exactly are we after, then?” said Annabelle. “What is this something big supposed to be?”
“The only thing in Silva more valuable than the king,” said Marlow, realization dawning. He looked at Lan in awe, eyes bright with excitement. “You’re incredible.”
“I sure am,” said Lan. She couldn’t resist throwing her hands in the air for effect. “They’re guarding the source of all spells. We’re going into Asta’s royal orchard.”
Operation Orchard
As the afternoon wore on, Lan, Marlow, and Annabelle picked their way through the crowded city, seeking a spot away from prying eyes. This did not prove to be an easy task. It was a beautiful day, and people happily milled about, eating savory rolls off food carts, wicker baskets in hand. Every few minutes, a colorful plume of residue shot into the sky like a firecracker, a sign of someone practicing magic nearby.
At last, they stopped at a small fountain far from the castle grounds to regroup, sandwiches in hand. A goat bleated, tied to a lonely sapling. Lan wondered if that nymph minded being used as a post. No one else approached.
“We should do this as soon as we can,” said Lan. “What’s the plan?”
“Midnight makes sense,” reasoned Marlow. “Cover of darkness will help. We can go early, scope out the guard situation. Do you remember which side of the city it’s supposed to be on, Annabelle?”
“Somewhere east. The orchard’s famous, even in Sol. We can walk along the eastern wall and keep an eye out. Gotta be hard to miss.”
Yet when sundown appeared on the horizon, they still had not found an opening. The eastern end of the city was emptier and darker. Purple streetlamps pulsed once every couple blocks. The streets were slippery with smooth stone and tilted downhill. They stopped, changed out of their nice clothes to avoid tearing them in a fall, and hid them in a crack between giant slabs of rock.
“This is ridiculous,” said Annabelle, shaking out her Academy clothing. “Those main gates cannot be the only way in or out of the city.”
“We’ve walked the length of this wall,” said Marlow, frowning. “And I’m not about to do it again.”
“Sol is built in open air,” Annabelle said. “As it should be. None of this border nonsense. Asta is a fire hazard.”
Something in her words jogged a line in Lan’s brain: No one lifts a finger without using magic in Asta. What would a witch do?
“The passage could be hidden,” she said. “Annabelle, didn’t you say something about waterways or air tunnels in Sol?”
“Sure, back when magic used to run on the coast, we had all these canals intersecting the city that people would hop on or send things through. What’s that got to do with the orchard?”
