Pasquinelli/Rise 465

Jon’s neck hurt. Everything was in darkness, and his neck hurt. And so did his head, his wrists, and his back was starting to feel sore too. He opened his eyes and discovered that he was seated in a chair. An odd place to fall asleep, Jon thought, his mind still clinging to unconsciousness.

Briefly wondering where he was, Jon lifted his head and took a look around. What an odd room, he thought again. It was dark and rather damp, and only two narrow windows near the ceiling gave any light. The floor seemed to be made of dirt; at least, that’s what it looked like by the patch of sunlight shining on the ground. It reminded Jon of a cellar, or even, a dungeon. Dungeon.... It all clicked back into focus -- he was in prison, waiting, someone came to him, a someone he didn’t want to see... Now Jon was fully awake and pulling his body hard against the restraints he found himself in. He had no idea where he was; he looked out the windows but saw nothing except another multi-story building. It could be one of ten thousand in the city -- if he was even in the city anymore.

Jon tugged hard on his bonds once again. They didn’t seem to be made of rope, but his hands were clasped very firmly behind his back.

Then there were footsteps coming down a staircase. Jon closed his eyes and let his head lull forward. He didn’t want them to know he was awake. Not just yet. It seemed like the prudent thing to do.

“This whole thing set me back almost two thousand marks. Two thousand! But I think it’s worth that much to save your country don’t you? He certainly thinks so. Plus I’ll be getting something unimaginably valuable in return.” The man who was speaking was in the same room as Jon was, but there was no response from anyone else that Jon could hear. There was only the one voice -- the same one that he’d heard in prison and the bazaar.

“I’ll see you later tonight so we can have a real talk. Bye.”

The imaginary person he was talking to seemed to have disappeared, because there was no further conversation with him. Jon did hear clinking of objects, though. From vibrations on the ground, Jon could feel the man approaching. There was fumbling with something, then a click. Next came a sound Jon had heard once before.

It was the sound of glass singing; it was a series of high-pitched notes playing together in perfect harmony. Jon felt a warm light on his face, but did not open his eyes. The singing continued.

“Time to wake the dead,” the horrible man said.

Jon felt something impact his chest and his eyes flew open on their own accord, his back became rigid and his wrists burned against his bindings because he had spasmed so hard. He was completely awake now, and was face-to-face with an enemy.

The man staring down at Jon had a look of utter contempt in his eyes. They flashed at him from a face that was stern and cold. His brown hair was slicked back and his lips were almost non-existent. Up close, this man was no more appealing than from afar, and he just continued to stare at Jon.

More with anger than fear, Jon said, “What?” matching contempt with contempt.

Without a flinch of change in demeanor, the man lifted his hand and struck Jon right across his left jaw. Jon’s head lolled for a second, then pain registered across the left side of his face. It only angered him more.

“Shut up,” he said calmly. Too calmly. “I’ll ask the questions.” The man began to pace in a circle around Jon’s stationary position in the chair. “So... where is it?”

Could he possibly be talking about the Crystal of Power? Surely he didn’t think Jon knew where it was. He had only resided in Iannis for a few weeks at best, and if the Empress was telling the truth, only two or three people in the entire country knew where it was. How could he possibly know?

“I have no clue.”

“Don’t get stupid with me!” the man snapped. “You have to know where it is. It’s yours after all.”

“What are you --?” then Jon understood. This man was after the Phoenix Amulet.

“It wasn’t on you when I broke you out of prison and it’s the only reason you’re still alive. Now tell me where it is.”

That was a comforting thought. Jon decided the truth would probably sound like a contrived lie, so he told it anyway.

“I dropped it in the castle and haven’t seen it since.”

The man actually laughed a few times and abruptly stopped pacing around Jon and came to within three inches of his face with his own. “Don’t toy with me, little man. I have ways of making people communicate when they can’t seem to.” He pulled from his robes and object with a handle and a large flat circular leather-covered end. He removed the cover and beneath it was a large, curved blade that was thick at the base, but tapered off at the end and had a jagged point as the blade circled in on itself.

“I can scoop out one of your lungs, your intestinal trail, and maybe even your heart in one swish with this little beauty.”

Jon’s heart raced for a few beats. His heart seemed to know the man was talking about it. After a few flurried beats, it went back to normal pace. He knew that he couldn’t show fear to this man. If he did, he might as well be good and dead. His only hope was that he could somehow escape. He would have to indulge the man a bit. “So what do you care if the Amulet is at the castle?”

“Because, fool, I intend to use it.”

Now Jon really got uncomfortable and nervous. He is lying, Jon said to himself. That’s impossible. Only I can use it. Jotea told me so herself.

“Bullshit,” Jon said.

“Oh no, I think not.” The man went to a spot in the cellar cast in shadow and returned carrying a glass bottle shaped with a long neck, a funneled body and a wide foot. A bulbous pointed stopper held in a mesmerizing, glittery object that hung in midair inside the bottle and twinkled like a bright star.

“What is that?” said Jon, trying not to sound panicky.

“This is a Siphon,” said the man, looking to admire the bottle. “It will allow me to use that pretty little Amulet without it destroying me in the process.”

Jon couldn’t help but give the man a smirk. “Fat lot of good that’ll do you. Only I can use it.”

The man’s confident demeanor faltered. “What?”

In that instant, Jon knew he’d made a mistake. A wild idea flew across his mind -- just crazy enough to work. Or have him killed. Jon just needed to stay one step ahead for a change. It always seemed that he was slow on the uptake nowadays, or he was finding out something after everyone else already knew. He needed to keep this man talking while he formed a plan.

“What do you mean you’re the only one who can use it? I have this Siphon --”

“That won’t work,” Jon said. “You think something as simple as that can trick the Amulet?” Jon said, though glancing at the Siphon again, the thing looked anything but simple.

“He said it would...” but the man trailed off, looking as if he had said too much. “I have to...” again he trailed off. The man turned around and without another word and walked right up the stairs out of sight. Jon knew this was probably his only chance. If he indeed needed to contact someone, and Jon had already told him he didn’t have the Amulet with him, there was no need to keep him alive anymore.

He shut his eyes tight and concentrated as hard as he could on creating fire on his arms to burn through the ropes. Having spent weeks concentrating to create a Charge and finally succeeding in calling them to him without much trouble seemed very far away without the Amulet with him. It was like being taken out of a wonderful dream. Right now, Jon generating Eternal Fire was about as likely as Ray working for Martha Stewart. His bindings were tight and strong as ever. And even if he could alter the Timeline (which he seriously doubted at the moment), it wouldn’t do him any good without the ability to move. The only thing that changed Jon’s situation was the sun now pouring through the window.

At any moment, that man would return, and who knows what would happen in the minutes that had passed since their last conversation.

Jon sat in his chair as the minutes ticked by. The intensely bright sunlight abruptly stopped streaming through the window and went back to being a small patch of light on the floor. Jon raised an eyebrow at this odd change and heard the sound of a distant crash, then a thud a few moments later. Suddenly, there was the sound of glass breaking, and Jon saw it was a foot that had kicked the glass in. Ray’s head then appeared, sideways, looking into the cellar.

“There you are!”

“Thank god!” Jon said, relief bathing him. “How did you find me?”

“Never mind that. What are you doing down there?”

“I needed some peace and quiet. What do you think I’m doing down here?! I was kidnapped. Help me, will ya?”

“I can’t squeeze down there,” said Ray, looking at the girth of the narrow window. “Maybe if I could Shift into a child or something, but I’m not advanced enough. Here.” She produced the Amulet. How do I get it to you?”

“How did you --?”

“Never mind that,” she said again. “You’re in trouble, right?”

“Yeah. Um...” said Jon, looking around quickly. “I don’t --” but he stopped talking to listen. He could hear the man’s voice up the stairs getting louder. “Toss it to me! Quick!” he said, not knowing what else to do and knowing he had no way to catch it.

Ray’s face disappeared and her arm came through the window with the Amulet. She couldn’t see in, so the threw it blindly at Jon. She actually did a pretty good job of it too. It had landed about four feet from him to his right hand side, then Ray’s head reappeared.

“Now go! These guys are dangerous, Ray. They might try and --”

“I’ve gotta help you!” she exclaimed.

“Just go! Tell Jotea or something. Shhh!” He shushed her because she had opened her mouth to protest, but Jon heard the doorknob click. He jerked his head and Ray’s disappeared again. In a desperate move, Jon began rocking side to side on his chair -- anything to get closer to the Amulet to touch it. He tipped over and fell, thankfully, to his right. Now his neck hurt in a new location and so did his arm when it collided with the floor. He moved his neck around getting dirt all over the left side of his face and craned his head as much as he could to the Amulet that was inches from his cheek. There were footsteps coming down the stairs. Jon was so close...he turned his head as far as it would possibly go, and his nose finally touched the cool Amulet.

“What happened to you?” said the man as he reached the doorway.

Jon’s left arm swung free as his bindings were vaporized. If there was ever a moment when he needed it, now was that moment. He didn’t need to concentrate too much; he swung his arm and pointed it at the man, and said more as a mantra to himself than a statement, “Time!”

The man had begun to lunge at Jon when he saw his free hand and the Amulet at his nose on the floor. He then looked almost comical, as his movement was slowed to one half the speed as normal. Jon only needed moment -- in a flash, he was standing up and rushing to the staircase. Not having transformed, the Time Slow Charge lasted only a few seconds. Jon’s captor altered course and was on Jon’s heels as he sped up the stairs.

“Avitus Incendium Advocare!” muttered Jon as he burst out into a sparsely furnished kitchen. He ran through an entryway and simultaneously felt the Phoenix Amulet burn hot, and melt into his hand. Liquid fire ran up his arm and burgundy robes appeared on his body once more. Jon found his way into another room -- presumably a living room -- with no furniture, and only a dirty window that looked out onto a street. He was trapped. The captor also entered the room and pointed a weapon at Jon and fiddled with some controls on it. He fired, but Jon, having been fired at before, was prepared for this and side-jumped and rolled out of the way. A red blast hit the wall with the window and exploded. When the dust cleared, there was a hole in the wall where the window used to be.

“You idiot! You would have destroyed me and the Amulet!” Jon thundered, standing up. He knew the Amulet couldn’t be destroyed, but he tried to get the man to stop.

“No. You would have died, but the Phoenix Amulet would still be intact,” He fired twice more, looking delirious. One of the pulses hit the ground outside, the other hit Jon’s shield he had erected by crossing his arms against his chest. The impact still felt like someone was punching him in the stomach, but at least he didn’t have a hole through his torso. Not knowing what else to do, Jon lowered the shield in an instant and hurled a stream of Eternal Fire at the man. He ducked it, and the stream impacted on a wall and caused a hole with scorch marks all around it. Jon was getting desperate -- the man wouldn’t stop until he was dead.

He stumbled through the hole in the wall onto the outside yard. In the split second Jon stumbled, the man had lunged at him again and had pulled a small dagger from his clothes -- he had dropped the pistol when Jon fired at him. He caught Jon and they fell to the ground, and the man was forcing the dagger to Jon’s throat, with Jon pinned under him. On impulse, he let out a stream of his flame-throwing Charge point-blank at the man through his pinned hands. It engulfed him immediately and Jon didn’t stop the stream of fire even when his captor’s grip released. Then he flew backward off Jon, a writhing fireball. Jon closed his hands and the fire stopped. When he got up and looked around, his captor lay dead, flung inside the house. Only a charred skeleton remained. Jon had also burned a hole through the roof.

Jon stood paralyzed in total horror. He had just killed someone. Not purposely of course, and Jon knew that deep down, that man would have murdered him in an instant, and tried to several times. The only reason he was still alive was because he had accidentally dropped the Amulet in Topaz Hall. But that didn’t make Jon feel much better. A life had ended at his own hand. Regardless of whether or not the person was bad or malicious, he was a person... a person with his own history, story, friends and relatives who would be effected by this. Not being a very religious person, Jon didn’t know where that man’s life force went to, if anywhere; all he could think about was the fact that he had just caused it to end.

How long he remained glued to that spot, Jon didn’t know, but he couldn’t have been very long because the next thing he knew, Ray was standing beside him, also staring at the corpse inside the house.

“Did you --?” she said.

Jon nodded.

“Yikes.”

Trying not to think of that unpleasant event that just happened, Jon turned to Ray. “How did you find me, anyway?”

Ray was apparently thoroughly pleased with herself. “Well, after I heard what happened (remember how fast news travels here), I went down to the Hall to see for myself. I burst in on some...meeting of some kind. But well, you know me.”

Jon smiled at her. He certainly knew nothing as unimportant as government proceedings could stop her.

“I was looking around the room, and then I just sort of ... heard it under a cabinet.”

“Heard what?”

“Your--” she pointed to Jon, who was still transformed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it was like this instrument playing or something. I don’t know why nobody else could hear it; was as clear as a bell. After I got it and left the Hall, I heard people getting all weird because they thought you escaped from the dungeon. And, no offense, but without your Charge, I knew you couldn’t escape out of a lunch box.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at Ray. She continued on as if there had been no reaction from Jon.

“I took it back to my room to try and figure out what to do. If you were in trouble, I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing forever.”

Jon was touched. He had never thought Ray would be so caring about his fate. “But after a while, I forgot about it. And right when Tobias came --”

“Who?”

“Tobias. A guy I’ve been...hanging out with.”

Jon nodded. He really didn’t have the energy to pursue the matter just now.

“Right as he came, the Amulet did that light beam thing again and broke my damn window. It pointed out toward the city. So I jumped off the balcony and flew to the spot it showed me. It worked that one time before,” she said with a smile.

“Wait, flew?”

“Yeah, I’ve been practicing,” Ray said triumphantly. Jon was slightly envious of Ray -- it was taking him much longer get used to his new abilities than it was for her. But he was happy for her regardless, enough so that he smiled back at her.

“Can I see?”

Ray smiled, threw her hair back and got into an attack-ready stance. She put her hands to her forehead and Jon was painfully reminded of how Jotea sometimes activated a Charge. Jon heard rustling as Ray twisted about, looking as if she had a terrible itch she couldn’t reach. Then suddenly, great black feathery wings sprouted from either side of her back. They must have had a span of twenty feet. She looked like a great angel.

“That was awesome,” Jon said, steadily smiling at Ray.

“I know.” Ray stroked her majestic wings. She had come quite a ways from the blasé and uncaring teenager Jon met a month prior. Or, at the very least, taking the time and getting to know her had certainly brought the true Ray to the surface -- one who risked her life when a friend was in trouble. Not that that made her any less Racine Cavitt.

A wave of lightheadedness overtook Jon and he slumped down onto his knees. He needed to get away from this place.

“What is it?” said Ray, retracting her wings and kneeling beside him.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Ray got to her feet and stared down at Jon. “You really need to stop attacking people. Everyone’s going to start rumors about you.”

Jon snorted. “Wouldn’t that just be awful?” Jon stood up, holding one hand to his forehead. The world was still spinning, but the need to leave far overpowered any physical ailment. Jon had an urge to look back at the man he killed, whose name he didn’t eve know, but he didn’t. Going back was not an option anymore, even if he could undo Time.

Apparently his captor had gone to great pains to get Jon as far away from the Imperial center as possible. Ray told him that she thought they were in the Stonethrow District, at the very end of the city, only a few blocks from the Norean city wall. Automatically starting down the road for High Street, Jon was gently held back on his shoulder by Ray.

“We might not want to go that way,” Ray said slowly. Understanding his puzzled look, Ray went on. “People think you escaped. Even the servants at the castle were stopping me and asking questions and we both know how hush-hush they normally are. Plus, everyone’s mobilized and running around like crazy people.”

“For a culture without electricity and especially television and radio, news sure travels faster than light. Light...” Jon said. “Did you find out what that thing was that I was hit with? It was like some sort of...stun ray they called it.”

“Pimicron blasters?”

“Pie -- what?”

“Those guns the guard guys carry. I heard one of them say it a couple of times. Didn’t know what they are though.”

“Stun guns. So they didn’t detain you or anything for helping me escape?”

“I already told you, I wasn’t even in the castle when it all went down. I found out from one of my room stewards later.”

“Okay, so let’s... take a different route back to the castle. Maybe when I get back they won’t even throw me back in the dungeon.”

“They’ll have to get through me first,” said Ray, and she opened her mouth wide, and let out a lion’s roar.

“What time is it, anyway?”

Ray checked her watch. “About seven o’clock.”

“Wow, I must have been unconscious for hours.”

“Or they kept you unconscious,” Ray said darkly.

“What? How?”

“Maybe someone’s Charge? I dunno. I think there’s more to this whole powers thing than just the Crystal and everyone’s Charges.”

“Maybe,” Jon said, recalling the glittering object in the decorative bottle.

The pair began walking in an easterly direction taking mismatched streets that were jumbled in all directions and none of which seemed to continue in a straight, unbroken line for more than a quarter of a mile. Looking at the buildings as they passed, Jon couldn’t help but feel these were tarnished relics from a once golden city. The areas were somewhat run down, and looked as if the trees lining the streets had been dropping their leaves for months with no one to sweep them away. That was one thing Jon admired about the Iannisenes -- they seemed to care about the world and simply treat it as a doormat. The trees remained like much of the country, however -- still majestic and beautiful, as if civilization had minded nature when it planned itself. But something seemed to have happened in the Stonethrow district on the outskirts. It wasn’t as shining as the rest of the city. It seemed almost abandoned. Vines were overgrown, lawns were brown, and sidewalks were uneven and broken. The little houses had no luster to shine through the grungy stone exteriors and echoed the evening darkness as it encroached.

As night threw its arms around Jon and Ray, the chill from its clutches went far deeper than a fleshly cold. This frigidity went straight to the bone. Summer in Iannis was clearly coming to a close.

Ray made idle chatter, but at the moment, Jon didn’t feel much like engaging her just now. In just twelve short hours, the Guild would converge upon Norea. In fact, as Jon and Ray were walking back to the castle, the Guild was probably already being transported through their portable Window. The thought of them wanting to harm all these innocent people or achieve whatever such ends they had in mind made Jon’s blood boil. Granted, Jon’s reception in Norea had not been a terribly inviting one, but he knew there were people on his side. Plus, Jon knew how much Jotea’s people meant to her, and he didn’t want anyone to disturb all that she had worked to accomplish as a ruler. Jotea being harmed or injured in any way was a thought Jon preferred not to entertain. He didn’t even want to think about what he might do if such a thing happened.

More than an hour after setting out for the Imperial Plaza, Jon and Ray had made very little progress toward the castle. They were still at least three miles from the Plaza, and the electric blue street lamps were flickering to life. The more they walked, the more kempt the houses became. It seemed that the further into the city they went, the more populated it was. But Jon was getting tired. His legs were starting to become wobbly and his feet were hurting inside the prisoner’s shoes he had been forced to wear. He had de-transformed when they started walking; he didn’t want any more attention from strangers. And even Ray was too tired to keep talking.

“Can’t you fly us back?” Jon said, stopping to stretch his legs.

“I can’t fly you and me. I caught a down draft and was high up when I glided from the castle. I didn’t really flap my wings and fly. And I don’t feel any strong breezes, do you?”

“No, damn it.” Jon kicked at the ground. Just as he did, a sound like rushing water started out softly from a distance, then became louder and louder with every passing second. Ray looked aghast at Jon. He shook his head fast. “It’s not --” but he didn’t finish. Both he and Ray heard front doors open and simultaneously turned and looked three blocks down from where they were and could make out a blur of all green and white clad people running down the High Street as if in a slow marathon. Amongst the throng were mobile structures that floated down the street carrying more uniform-clad people westward.

“What’s that?” Ray said, peering at them.

“That,” said a deep female voice, “is Green and White Force, heading for the city gates.”

“Force --?” said Jon, turning to the voice. He had heard someone else refer to them as well once before.

“Yes, Force. The Green Force is in charge of protecting the general population.” A woman stood on the porch of a house, leaning against a post. She folded her arms and took to the steps of her porch at a leisurely pace. “You all must not be from around here...” She got close enough to see Jon properly through the blue light and stopped dead. “No....you’re definitely not from around here.” Her tone had not changed at all ... at least she didn’t appear horrified or shocked which is usually what happened when someone came into first contact with Jon nowadays. “But it definitely looks like you’re in the wrong part of town. What are you doing in Stonethrow?” For once, it was a question posed to Jon that didn’t seem accusatory.

“We were --”

“Trying to get out,” Ray chimed in, staring the stranger down.

The woman took a few steps back and leaned against the stone column of her stoop. “You’re not going to get much farther tonight, or if you plan to, you’ll need to sup.”

Ray and Jon stood rooted.

“Come on now. It’ll get cold.” She shifted her weight back to her feet and went up the steps back through the front door but did not shut it behind her.

“Yeah right, like we’re really going in there,” Ray said with a laugh.

“I don’t know...” Jon contemplated aloud.

“You’re kidding,” said Ray.

“I got a good feeling from her. Better than some of the other assholes we’ve met so far.”

Ray hesitated. “I’m not going in there.”

“Fine,” Jon snapped. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and it’s going to take hours to get back to the Imperial Plaza. Speaking of hours, we have twelve of them until that group reaches within a mile of the walls. I need to sit down for a few minutes.”

“Sit down and who knows what else will happen,” said Ray and she folded her arms.

Jon was done playing games. He was indeed tired and hungry, and having to fight one of the few people he could count on right now was making things worse. While it still gave him chills to think about it, he thought it best to play his next card.

“After seeing what happened earlier, I’d think you’d be a little bit more relaxed knowing I can do what I can do to someone if I’m in mortal danger.”

Ray softened. “I guess. You could probably set the whole district on fire if you needed to.”

Jon managed a weak smile. He followed in after the hospitable woman, and Ray followed after him.

The small stone cottage may have outwardly reflected the low spirits of that district, but the same certainly could not be said for the inside. For within its doors, the scents of meat and vegetables warmed Jon’s nostrils and made him hungrier than he recalled. Simply decorated, it was in stark contrast to the lavish extravagance of the castle. A few chairs, one sofa, and a sturdy circular wooden table dotted the living and dining rooms that mingled with one another in a single space. A narrow staircase on one side of the room most likely lead to the bedrooms, and a doorway at the far end of the room was to the kitchen. Jon felt rather at home here; it felt real.

“The name is Nexile, nice to meet you both,” said the woman, not making eye contact yet. After a quick check out the front door, she closed it and began to busy herself about the room.

Jon waited for Nexile to tell let them know that she already knew who they were (that sort of introduction was all too familiar in Iannis), but she said nothing more and seemed quite enveloped in her task. Obviously she wasn’t going to make such a presumptuous introduction for them.

“I’m Ray, and this is Jon,” Ray said.

“Nice to meet you,” Jon finally said.

“Likewise,” Nexile said. As she puttered around the room and Ray and Jon stood just inside the doorway awkwardly, Jon got a good look at Nexile. She was in her mid 40s, not very tall with deep brown eyes and wavy brown hair tied haphazardly in a ponytail. The lines on her face showed not only her age, but also a strange quality Jon couldn’t quite place. She pulled apart the dining room table to make room for the two extra guests. “Come in, sit down -- I know you’re tired.”

Jon plopped down on the nearest chair -- he was indeed very tired. Ray paced the room, sizing it up like a jewelry store. Jon would have been more inquisitive, but his body would not budge. He also had to stay focused on Nexile or his exhausted mind would begin to wander back to the corpse from a few hours ago. Had it already been hours before?

“You don’t need to finger that here, Jonathan,” said Nexile, casting a sideways glance at Jon and continuing to trim the table. “No one here is going to attack you.”

Jon just realized he had been holding and fidgeting with the Amulet absentmindedly again since he and Ray began walking. He slipped it deep in his intact pocket where it pressed heavily on his thigh. He found it hard to look at Nexile in the eye after that. She had a quiet intensity that Jon was not used to. But she, in turn, gave him a warm smile. “I’m just teasing, kid.” Then she sighed. “It’s not every day you kill someone.”

Jon had barely gulped when he heard a small crash on the other side of the room. Ray had dropped a book she had picked up and it landed on a small table and knocked a picture frame over.

“How did you know that?” he croaked.

“You’re one of them,” Ray declared. “You’re a --”

“Magess?” said Nexile, still not stopping her hectic dinner preparations. “Hardly. Word travels fast here. And it’s also not every day someone is burned to death and there’s no smoke, if you know what I mean. Plus I could just tell it was you. Two kids like you, walking around at this time of evening, alone.”

“I’ll have you know I’m completely old enough --” said Ray, her voice rising.

“With all due respect Miss Ray, I’m quite a bit older than you, and I wouldn’t be walking around alone in this city with what’s about to happen.”

“And what would that be?” Ray said snidely, putting her hands on her hips and approaching Nexile.

Nexile stopped moving and faced Ray. “An invasion. The death of everything I hold dear.”

Jon’s mouth opened a bit in surprise when Ray responded with, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Nexile returned to her preparations. They sat in silence for a while as Nexile continued her preparations in the kitchen. Jon had reclined his head on the couch and almost fell asleep when a noise brought him back to full consciousness. Two boys emerged from the hallway. They both looked like they had just woken up from a nap.

“You better wash up before supper,” commanded Nexile to her sons. “And scrub good -- we got company for dinner.”

“Yes mama,” they both mumbled, and retreated back down the hall. The boys looked to be about five and eight years old and had oddly tight brown curls in contrast to Nexile’s dark brown ones. Nexile looked after her sons as they trotted back down the hall. She stared at them for a moment even after they were out of sight, and slumped down at a chair at the dinner table.

Jon recognized the look, but it was a look he had not seen from his own mother in some time. But he had to push those thoughts aside for the moment. It seemed like all of Jon’s time was now taken up by rushing to and fro from place to place and never quite being in control.

“I don’t blame you,” Nexile said.

“I’m sorry?” said Jon, shaking off his torpor.

“For killing Gar.”

“Oh. Thanks?” Jon said, not quite sure how to respond to something like that.

“Terrible person. Worked for every two-faced low life this side of the Nimue Ocean,” Nexile said trailing off, not really looking at Jon or Ray. She turned to Jon. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I wouldn’t worry too much. Acts of self defense are just cause for manslaughter.”

Jon stared. “Man --”

“You did char someone to beyond recognition,” Ray said plainly.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to. I mean, he was going to kill me, you know.”

“Just make sure to tell the Council that. You’ll be okay.”

Jon was now beside himself. He was going to have to tell the Council this?

“What? How do you know all this?”

“My husband. He used to work as a public defender.”

“Used to?” Ray blurted out.

“Yes. I’ve lost contact with him. He disappeared eight weeks ago.”

“Oh,” said Ray unaffected.

“Here’s something I don’t understand,” Jon said slowly. “If the Guild is living out there in a barren wasteland, not really making a whole lot of progress...”

“--Until now,” said Ray.

“Until now, yeah. But whey are there so many of them if they don’t seem to be doing all that well?”

Nexile took a deep breath. “Honestly, we don’t know. It could be a variety of things. Ignus seeks out powerful Magi, and, well, you saw yourself what your Amulet can do to someone if they get in your way.”

“I wasn’t trying to --”

“I know you weren’t. But we both know what I meant.”

“Right, so they’re afraid of him,” Ray said, prodding the conversation back to where she wanted it to go.

“Personal gain is another. Norea is a wealthy city. Namely, the Empress is very wealthy, as you might imagine. Rumor has it that there are billions of marks in the castle vaults.”

Jon briefly thought of the castle and the insane amount of doors and halls he’d seen, and how many more passages rooms there could possibly be behind the many locked doors he’d encountered.

“Then there’s the biggest motivation,” Nexile continued.

“The Crystal,” Jon said, remembering the warning signals.

“Oh yes, the Crystal. If they obtain it, we’ve all lost.”

There was finality in her sentence Jon remembered from Jotea when she would speak about the Crystal and how important it was. Jon had been yearning to ask her, or Fauntyle -- even the maid that cleaned his room -- why it was so important that the Crystal remain in the city; or worse yet, why it shouldn’t be in the hands of the Guild. It never quite seemed like the right time to ask anyone, and now was no exception. And speaking of time, Jon kept getting the feeling that there wasn’t enough of it; there was barely ten precious hours ticking away.

The Guild was probably pouring through the Window, getting organized. And Time was the one thing Jon should have control over, along with his Eternal Fire. But he was constantly reminded of how little control he seemed to have over it except on very rare occasions where his or someone else’s life was in danger. He would need years more experience, like Ignus had. What Jon really needed was to meet himself in the future to maybe gain some insight. Unless....

Jon was struck with an idea. It was like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky. He sat straight up (he had been steadily slouching more and more as time went on) so quickly that Ray nearly screamed.

“We’ve got to leave. Now,” he hoisted himself up from the squishy couch and nearly fell back into it -- he had forgotten how tired his legs were. But this couldn’t wait.

Ray eyed him. “You’re not on drugs are you?”

“No. Well...I guess so if adrenaline counts.”

“Everything alright?” Nexile said, also eyeing Jon as if he might explode in front of her very eyes. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” said Jon but he was still striding toward the door anyway. “I need to find someone.”

“Then best you head back to the castle,” Nexile said, who was out of her seat and in the kitchen in a flash. “No better place to find someone than the Hall of Records.”

“Oh no. Not another horrible little building with no light and a bored government worker,” said Ray.

“No honey, it’s a place that lists where everyone in the country is, and what their Charges are. And if I’m not mistaken, they have been undergoing a huge renovation and update,” said Nexile from the kitchen. “And of course, only authorized people can go inside.”

“I’ll get authorization,” Jon said, not having a clue how he would get such a thing.

“Then I hope you and the Prime Minister are tight. Because he’s the one that authorizes entry.”

Jon’s heart fell through his gut. Not twenty-four hours ago, he had rendered the Prime Minister unconscious. And although he hated to admit it to himself, if he wanted inside the Hall of Records, he could get in if necessary.

“I...know him,” Jon settled on.

Nexile returned with a baggie in her hand. She raised an eyebrow at Jon and just said, “Hmm.”

“Ray, come on.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “First you practically kill me to get me to stop here, and now you want me to leave and be quick about it. Make up your mind.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

Ray went straight for the door.

“Thank you for letting us into your house --”

“Oh wait, here. Take this,” Nexile handed them a baggie. Inside were two golden-brown scones that look like they had chocolate chips inside them. “You’re both hungry. They’ll keep you going and they’re my favorite.”

“Thank you so much,” Jon said as he looked at her straight in the eyes. In that moment, he light eyes understood his ocean-deep gratitude. She had not actually done all that much, but her immediate and unconditional acceptance of them was something they hadn’t encountered yet -- even from the Empress.

“Get going,” Nexile said, and slapped Jon on the rear to get him moving. “You’re running out of time. Go on.”

“What are you going to do when they come?” Jon said as Ray opened the front door.

Nexile looked up to the ceiling. Jon looked, too, and hanging from the rafters were two enormous rifles and an assortment of swords and blades. “They won’t get past the threshold,” she said flatly.

Jon wanted to stay longer and see what kind of mother Nexile was, but deep down he knew he didn’t have the time to rationalize a long visit there. Worse yet, he figured it might still be painful to watch even if he did. Jon gave her a quick hug goodbye and they were out the door. Jon leapt down the porch stairs all at once with Ray rushing to keep up with him...as much as Ray “rushed” of course.

“So now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“You already know...back to the castle,” said Jon, keeping his pace quick.

“To the Hall of Records.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I need to find someone who can help me stop Time.”

“I thought you did that already,” Ray said.

“Yeah, sorta,” Jon panted. “But it’s not good enough. I can’t do it whenever I want to. And in a few hours, I’ll need to be able to.”