Lucky Rabbit

The Skyrils deposited them on top of Falconet just as the sun truly rose, leaving the horizon behind like a balloon that had slipped free of its string. Professor Beeswick sat at his little table, sipping tea and looking more than a little impatient at the delay. Roof tiles steamed around him as the air warmed.

“Tea?” the Dragon asked as he gestured to four other cups arrayed around the edge of the table. A tower of tiny tarts took up the center, with plates and napkins resting nearby.

Isidor and Tempest didn’t question their good fortune, just dug into the treats. Augustus gave Pandy’s fur one final stroke before setting her down so he could pick up a cup, draining it in one long swallow. Pandy hesitated only briefly before thinking,

Shifting Faces successful.

05:00:00 remaining today.

Pandy felt herself tense as she waited for more, but that was all. This version of the System wasn’t threatening or supportive, just bland and soulless, which was probably a good thing, but felt somehow ominous. She needed to talk to Keros, and soon. But first…

“Astrug,” she said, blurting out the word she’d been repeating over and over in the back of her mind while also desperately trying not to think out loud. She actually managed to surprise Beeswick, who raised his brows expectantly.

It was Isidor who spoke, however, his hand hanging in midair, tart dangling, as he said, “What about it?”

Pandy turned to stare at the boy, who had crumbs trailing down his chin and dusted across the front of his shirt. Tempest was halfway through a confection filled with apricot-colored jam, but even she paused to look at Pandy. Pandy, for her part, suddenly realized that while she’d told her friends about Nora and Ismara and Preston and the house, she’d left out the one clue she’d gotten about the reason they’d actually gone to the house in the first place. Backpeddling, Pandy filled them in, seeing their gazes turn thoughtful as she spoke.

“Astrug is a small principality that lies south of the desert and a bit east of Velgrad, the capital of East Altheric,” Professor Beeswick said, swirling his tea thoughtfully. “It was never particularly prosperous, and it was hit hard by King Lawrence’s Bound during the war. A significant number of battles were fought there, and I believe most of the nobles died, leaving their lands and estates to fall into ruin.”

Augustus frowned. “The Rabbit’s Den –  the tavern the Shadow Exchange was using as a base for their activities here in Knightmere – didn’t they use a map of Astrug as a cipher for its location?”

Pandy shivered. She would never forget that tavern. It was the first time she’d voluntarily gone into danger to help Augustus, and in spite of his protestations that he would have been fine, she remembered just how close he’d come to dying.

“And Astrug lies along the northern shore of the Velyar River, which would make it easy to reach by boat,” Isidor said reluctantly, putting down his tart as if it had turned to ash in his mouth.

Professor Beeswick stood, giving Isidor a sharp but compassionate glance, which made Pandy wonder what she was missing. Augustus looked as surprised as she felt, but they all came to their feet, with Isidor scooping up Tempest, who clamped a tart in her beak as she was lifted off the table. Skyrils swooped down, screeching in triumph as they grabbed the tablecloth and carried it away, still holding teacups, tea, and tart tower. The whole section of the roof on which the table stood sank down into the library, taking them with it.

As soon as the ceiling closed overhead, the Dragon held out his hand for a scroll that was hovering in the air, waiting for him. It obediently unrolled, revealing a faded but beautiful map almost as tall as the librarian himself.

“This is a map of Altheric from approximately two hundred and fifty years ago. Lawrence’s grandfather was a collector and a great proponent of cartography, and hired teams of Air and Earth elementalists to map the entire country in great detail. Unfortunately, they were unable to complete their task before King Walter took the throne and cancelled the commission. This is the only remaining copy of their work.”

Augustus’s eyebrow lifted. “Which somehow ended up here, in your cla- hands.”

There wasn’t even a hint of guilt in Beeswick’s voice as he bared his teeth in a smile and said, “Yes.” Lifting a talon, he indicated the meandering path of a blue line. “This is the Velyar, or, in old Altheric, Velyar-ven, the river of Velyara.”

“Velyara?” Pandy asked, seeing that Professor Beeswick was waiting for someone to do so, and neither Augustus nor Isidor seemed so inclined. In fact, both of them gave small sighs in response to her question.

Beeswick grinned at Pandy like she was his prize pupil. “Indeed! Before the war, while Ismara was already the preeminent goddess, there were others, including the one you call Zhery-wery, though he was really only worshipped in the desert, which explains why it took so long to find any written reference to him. Velyara was the goddess of rivers and perhaps fresh water in general, while Briner, the one for whom the Brineclad was named, ruled the salty deep. Indeed, Pandora, now that you’ve drawn my attention to the study of these ancient deities, I’m finding it quite a fascinating topic.”

“The map, Beeswick?” Augustus reminded the Dragon gently.

Beeswick sighed. “Yes, well, the Shadows have headed straight for the river every time they needed to get away quickly. That led us to focus our attention on areas near the river, though to be honest, it’s also perfectly reasonable that they might simply plan to use the water to get away quickly before returning to land for the rest of their journey.”

Professor Beeswick indicated a large, less-detailed area south of the river, extending all the way down to the ocean in places. “This area is mostly marshes. It is, as you can see, only sketched in. Though smaller sections of it have been mapped, those who live there seem to prefer that no one complete a larger survey. I suspect there may be one in the royal archives, but if so, it’s in the section not even I am allowed to enter.”

Here he looked distinctly irritated, his eyes narrowing to silvery slits before he returned to the topic at hand. “If Lian has been taken there… That would be a worst-case scenario. However, few large buildings survive more than a year or two without a significant influx of magic and money, so since we know Lian is in an old Altheric building, probably a noble residence, we mostly discounted the possibility. The desert has much the same problem.”

Shifting the talon, he circled a yellowish area above the river. “This is the desert, which, as far as I can tell, has no name other than-”

“Zharak,” Isidor said at the same time as the Dragon. The boy’s eyes were glued to the map, and he was hugging his tortoise like she was an Emotional Support Reptile.

Pandy noted the ‘Zh’ sound at the beginning of the word, which was uncomfortably close to ‘Zheraphon’. She also noted that Isidor was looking more and more unhappy as the conversation went on.

“Indeed,” Beeswick said with a small sigh. “It literally means ‘desert’, so it’s translated to the rather unimaginative Desert Desert. The nomadic people who wander its sands simply don’t attempt to build permanent structures, knowing that they’ll just be buried beneath the next storm.”

Moving on to what looked like a cluster of towns surrounding a larger city, he said, “We were focusing on the capital, Velgrad, as the most likely place to find a room like the one where Lian is being held. Much – even most – of the original East Altherican nobility died in the war, often becoming Bound after their deaths. Their homes were destroyed or despoiled, and certainly wouldn’t still have books and expensive furniture. There are scattered exceptions, but most of them lie in Velgrad itself.”

“But General Avington was certain no one in Velgrad would have one of these escape rooms,” Pandy said. When everyone looked at her curiously, she realized she used the term from her old world.

“Escape room,” she said again, feeling the way her lips shaped the words. She’d been fairly certain she wasn’t speaking English for quite a while, but since Keros’s spell translated the language automagically, she’d kind of forgotten about it. Why wasn’t it working? She really needed to talk to Keros. As soon as this conversation was over. Or sooner, if she started spouting gibberish. More gibberish.

Frowning, Augustus started to speak, but Professor Beeswick held up a staying finger and said, “In a moment.” The finger stabbed toward the map, halting just short of piercing the fragile paper with its sharp tip. “This is Astrug, and Isidor, I believe I’ve put it off long enough to allow you to gather yourself. It’s your turn to speak.”

Isidor’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, his dark eyes locked onto a small section of the map that lay almost directly between the southern tip of the desert and the blue line of the river. Finally, looking up at Augustus, he said, “I lied.”

A frown flitted only briefly across Augustus’s face, then he settled into the stiff military stance that made him look like someone else. “Explain,” he said.

Drawing in a long breath, Isidor said, “I was five when my father brought me to Fort Nora for healing. I was… sick. Really sick. When I got better, I told everyone I didn’t remember who my mother was, but that wasn’t true.” He shot a glance at Beeswick, who nodded encouragingly.

“My mother was Lady Elyra v’Tarsin,” Isidor muttered, and Augustus twitched. “Before she died, she sent my father a message, telling him to come and get me. He did, and brought me back, but died himself soon after. It was just… easier to say I didn’t remember her.”

“The ‘v’ in the v’Tarsin name indicates that the family is descended from one of the desert families Queen Cyra raised up, and who were the closest thing to winners in the war,” Augustus told Pandy, his voice neutral. “They are not welcome in West Altheric.”

Isidor snorted. “Meaning they’re imprisoned on sight because they tend to wander across the border to assault West Altherican towns. Most East Althericans simply want to live their lives, and while there’s a certain animosity that remains between the two countries-” Here it was Beeswick’s turn to snort, but Isidor plowed ahead. “The majority of the common citizenry will leave each other alone, and some trade even occurs across the border.”

“Entirely outside the purview of the royal tax collectors,” Augustus said dryly.

Isidor nodded, even managing a small smile as he saw that Augustus wasn’t immediately going to lop his head off or deport him. “The vrakhul nobles still hate this country and the people they see as traitors and cowards as much as they did two hundred years ago, and while they can’t raise an army to attack us, they can cause a fair amount of trouble for those who live near the border.”

Pandy raised a hand. “Vrak-hool?” She pronounced it carefully, trying to give it the same click Isidor and Saskia did. She failed, which was less embarrassing than the coughing fit she went into as a result. While she recovered, Beeswick explained.

“Vrakhul is the desert word for the elementals we know as Demons. When the desert nobles were first raised to power, the existing nobles called them ‘vrakhul nobles’, as if they were Demons or Bound pretending to be something they weren’t. The new nobles embraced the name, adding the ‘v’ to their family names as a point of pride and a link to their desert heritage,” the Dragon said.

Well, that meant Saskia had been calling Pandy a Demon from the very beginning, which was a bit awkward, but the somewhat severe seamstress seemed to have forgiven or forgotten her earlier suspicions, so it was probably fine. Unless Saskia had actually suspected Pandy of being one of these vrakhul nobles? Somehow that seemed less likely.

Pandy looked back and forth between her three companions. “So… why does that matter?”

Isidor tensed again, so Augustus sighed and said, “Two reasons. First, while Isidor’s father entered him into the Registry exactly as he was supposed to, in spite of the fact that he was, ah, already legally tied to another woman, I’m quite certain he didn’t put her down as a v’Tarsin. He probably gave her another last name and said she was simply one of the desert nomads.”

Pandy looked back and forth between him and the boy, who seemed to be shrinking in on himself. “And the second reason?”

“It’s completely forbidden for a West Altherican noble to marry or have children with a vrakhul noble,” Professor Beeswick said gently. “Queen Nora herself set that into law two hundred years ago.”

“As far as West Altheric is concerned, I’m an abomination,” Isidor said bitterly, staring at his own feet as if the filthy shoes were an enemy he’d like to crush into oblivion.

“Technically, anyone who discovers his lineage is required to report it. As a child, Isidor wouldn’t be imprisoned, especially since he’s never broken any other laws, but he would be sent back to East Altheric,” Augustus said.

“Back,” Isidor said. “Like I belong there.” He closed his eyes, squinting slightly. “I can remember my mother’s face, if I try, and I remember her being introduced to people, which is the only reason I even knew her name. We spoke the old language together, which is why I know it, but I barely remember the house we lived in, much less the rest of the country.”

Pandy bit her lip. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to stand by while someone kicked Isidor out of the only country he knew, but that was only going to happen if someone told on him. It certainly seemed like Beeswick had intended to keep his secret, which left her and Augustus. In spite of what someone who just met her might think, Pandy could keep her mouth shut. At least when it came to other people’s secrets.

Everyone looked at Augustus, who removed his glasses and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Well, it’s a good thing no one here is a member of Her Majesty’s military, isn’t it? Average citizens couldn’t be expected to remember such an obscure law, much less care enough to report someone for inadvertently breaking it.”

Isidor’s shoulders slumped, but Beeswick just nodded, as if this was the answer he’d expected. Honestly, Pandy wasn’t surprised either. Augustus was or wasn’t a member of the military as needed, and the rules did or didn’t apply to him in much the same convenient fashion. While someone who only knew him as the Kingsman or Chancellor of one of the three noble schools might expect him to be a stickler for the rules, Pandy knew better.

“Why does all of this matter, though?” Pandy asked, and Professor Beeswick smiled at her.

“Because, oh hapless hare,” Professor Beeswick said, “our young friend is the key to entering East Altheric, and specifically Astrug, without being caught or questioned. Or rather, his blood is.”