Whats going on? I asked, standing up in the horse trap into order to peer over Canterburys withers.
Looks like some kind of protest in front of the Machen Arms, he replied.
As I scanned the crowded sidewalks, I spotted a familiar face. Could you wait here for a second? I asked as I hopped down.
I dont think I have much choice in the matter, Canterbury said acerbically. Theres no way I can back out of this snarl.
As I moved through the outer ring of onlookers, I discovered the source of the chanting was a group of protestors, most of them Kymeran, standing behind traffic barricades. To my dismay several of them were wearing Kymeran Unification Party pins, and one of them was even waving an ESAU WAS RIGHT sign.
Directly across the street from the protestor stood the Machen Arms, a ten story apartment building with a central block and two flanking wings. The recessed courtyard that served as the approach to the main building was normally kept empty, save for a couple of decorative potted shrubs on either side of the entryway, but that afternoon it was filled with haphazard piles of furniture, stacks of books, and mounds of clothes. An elderly Kymeran woman, her faded scarlet tresses bound into lengthy braids coiled about her head like a pretzel, flitted back and forth among the bedsteads, armoires, and steamer trunks like a hummingbird in a summer garden. From where I stood I couldnt tell if she was trying to cast protection spells over the items in hopes of keeping them from being stolen or simply babbling to herself in despair.
The familiar face I had glimpsed belonged to Octavia, who was talking to an elderly Kymeran gentleman with receding maroon hair liberally laced with threads of silver. I pushed my way through the throng to join them.
Octavia! Whats going on?
As the firefighter turned to face me, I saw she was wearing a T-shirt bearing the message STALEMATE CHESS. That chuffer Ronnie Chess is throwing my old next-door neighbor, Torn, and his wife out of their apartment today! I came here as soon as I heard to try to help.
Thank you, my dear, Torn said humbly. You were always a good neighbor. He turned back to stare up at the building that until that day had been his home. The old landlord promised we would be grandfathered in. But the new owner raised our rent from seven hundred and fifty dollars to six thousand a month! Arums blood, theres no way we could possibly afford that! Hana! Look who has come to help us! And shes brought a friend!
Torns wife paused in her frantic checking and double checking of their belongings to peer over the top of her Ben Franklin glasses at us. Adon bless you both, she said, fighting to keep the waver from her voice. I dont know what were going to do. . . .
Before Hana could finish her sentence, an ipotane emerged from the entryway, carrying a rolled-up carpet under one arm and balancing a steamer trunk like a boom box on his opposite shoulder, and unceremoniously dumped his cargo with the rest of the couples property. Unable to take yet another blow to her dignity, the old woman sank down onto a mound of casually discarded clothes and began to weep into her apron.
Torn hurried to his wifes side, slipping a protective arm about her trembling shoulders. Now, now, Hana, darlingdont cry, he said, trying his best to console her.
I cant help it, Torn, she sobbed. What are we to do? Weve lived in the same apartment for twenty years! Where do we go now?
Dont you have a son who can help you? Octavia asked hopefully.
We had a son, Torn replied tersely, all but spitting the words. We havent spoken to him since he disgraced the family, thirty years ago!
I looked up to see real estate developer Ronald Chess, the new landlord of the Machen Arms and the author of Hana and Torns misery, step out of the front door of the apartment building. An errant gust of wind caught his trademark comb-over, setting it momentarily on end, like the fin of a shark, before slamming it back down onto his head.
His pale eyes always seemed to be narrowed in permanent suspicion and were too small for his face, which resembled that of an overfed, slightly lumpy baby. As he scanned his surroundings, his cheeks abruptly turned bright red and his face grew even lumpier.
What are they doing here? he bellowed, pointing to Octavia and myself. He turned to the blue-haired Kymeran standing beside him who carried a five-foot-tall brass staff topped by the seal of the GoBOO. Lash promised me all protestors would be kept five hundred feet away!
Whos the dude with the big stick? I asked.
Thats Elok, the GoBOOs beadle, Torn replied forlornly. Hes here to oversee the evictions.
I thought the PTU were the police in Golgotham.
They only deal with criminal cases, Octavia explained. Beadle Elok handles all the civil stuff, like collecting fines, seizing property, and evictionsthat kind of thing.
You there! Elok said imperiously, gesturing with his staff as if to shoo us away. What are you doing on this side of the street? I expressly stated no protestors beyond the barricades!
Were not protesters! Octavia snapped, flashing the Golgotham Fire Department credentials she wore on a lanyard about her neck. Were friends of Hana and Torns and were here to help them relocate.
Eloks pinched features visibly relaxed. Very well, he sighed. Ill leave you to it, then. Believe me, I dont like evictions any more than you do. But I swore an oath to do as the GoBOO commands. . . .
Hey! You! Beadle! Chess shouted, refusing to come any closer to us than he had to. What do you think youre doing? Why arent you arresting those hippies like I told you to? And get these geezers out of here! he added, pointing to Hana and Torn. Ive got photographers coming in from the Herald to take pictures for the Sunday Living section, and I dont need them seeing this kind of shit! It looks like a goddamned yard sale out here!
I know what my duties are, Mr. Chess, Elok replied frostily. And must I remind you that I answer to the Golgotham Business Owners Organization, not to you?
Is that a fact, huh? Chess scowled as he tapped the screen of his smartphone. Hey, its me. Your boy here is giving me some lip. Says he only answers to the GoBOO. You going to set him straight or what? Hereyour boss wants to talk to you, Chess smirked as he handed the phone to Elok.
The beadle grudgingly accepted the phone as if it was a poisonous reptile. Hello? Yes, sir, he said, his cheeks suddenly turning beet red. Im sorry, I didnt realize . . . yes, of course, Mayor Lash! Whatever you say!
Im glad weve gotten that cleared up, Chess said as he reclaimed his phone. Now bust these hippies and get them out of here.
As the sigil atop Eloks beadle-staff suddenly began to glow, I took a step toward Chess, who drew back as if I might spit on him.
I dont think thats a smart idea, Ronnie.
The real estate tycoon gave me the same look he would something hed scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Thats Mr. Chess to you, toots.
And thats Ms. Eresby to you, fella, I replied.
Youre not related to Timothy Eresby, are you? he asked, unease flickering in his too-small eyes.
Hes my dad. I said, taking a perverse pleasure as I watched the color drain from his overstuffed face.
Back when my father had harbored political aspirations, he and Chess had butted heads more than once. What was it my old man used to call him? Ah, yes that short-fingered vulgarian. Ronald Chess might not respect the arts, Golgotham, women, or people he called hippies, but he most certainly respected money, which meant at that moment he respected me.
Of course, he had no idea that my parents had cut me off without a dime and we hadnt spoken in months, but there was no way I was going to tell him that. . . .
Perhaps I was a little too rash, he said to Elok. Theres no need to get rough. If these young, um, ladies are here to help the old couple move their things, Ive got no beef with that. Just be quick about it.
You heard Mr. Chess, the beadle grunted. Get the old man and his wife packed up, if thats what youre here for. Youve got two hours, or Ill have the lot of you in the Tombs for obstruction. . . . Suddenly a snowball came sailing through the midsummer air, striking Elok square in the face. Who conjured that? the beadle sputtered as he wiped the ice crystals from his eyes.
Traitor! one of the protestors from across the street shouted. Why is the GoBOO sucking up to numps?
Here now! Im just doing my job! Elok protested angrily. The sigil atop his staff of office flickered back to life, this time even stronger than before.
The GoBOO is selling us out! A second voice shouted as another snowball came arcing toward the beadle.
As Elok slammed the butt of the staff against the pavement there was a ringing sound, like that of a gigantic gong. Fingers of blue-white electricity shot forth from the seal of office, vaporizing the icy projectile in midflight while scorching a zigzag pattern into the cobblestones, scant millimeters from where the protestors were gathered. There was so much electricity in the air it made my hair fluff out like an angry cat and Chess comb-over stand up like a cockatoos crest.
For a horrible moment I thought I was going to be caught in yet another race riot, like the one at the Calf. But instead of retaliating, the protestors lowered their signs and gradually dispersed. Although there was a good deal of mumbling and resentful looks thrown in the beadles direction, none of them were willing to go against the GoBOOs authority.
Elok pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead, a look of open relief on his face. Praise the Sunken Spires thats over with, he grunted. That could have been far uglier. At least they were only throwing snowballs. Now get the old couple out of here, while you still can.
Im sorry, Tate, Octavia sighed. I didnt mean for you to get mixed up in this.
Thats okay. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. I dont mind helping Torn and Hana move.
Move to where? Hana said tearfully. We have nowhere to go.
Perhaps I can be of some assistance? Now that the roadblock had been removed, Canterbury had freed himself from the traffic jam and was now standing at the curb in front of the apartment building. I have just purchased the stable adjoining my shop. There is an apartment loft on its second floor. Granted, its designed for centaurs, but it can be easily retrofitted to accommodate bipeds. Its yours if you want it.
That is most kind of you, friend centaur, Torn said. But we do not expect charity. My wife and I insist on paying our way.
Of course, Canterbury replied with a nod of his head. Im sure we can reach a satisfactory agreement.
You have saved us, just as Arum delivered our people! Hana exclaimed, lifting her glasses to wipe the tears from her eyes.
Are we not all Golgothamites here? Canterbury smiled.
Okay, let er drop!
There was a sound from high above, like the sail of a tall ship being unfurled, and a huge canvas banner fell from the roof of the center structure of the Machen Arms. It was so big it covered every window on the apartment building from the tenth to the fifth floor.
GOLGOTHAMVUE CONDOS
VINTAGE LUXURY STARTING AT EIGHT HUNDRED THOUSAND.
A CHECKMATE PROPERTY.
Chapter 18
After carting Hana and Torns belongings back to Fetlock Mews, Canterbury, Octavia, and I immediately set to work retrofitting the loft next door.
The second floor apartment was a huge open space with no interior walls save for a stable-box in one corner large enough to accommodate a pair of centaurs, which was fairly easy to convert into a traditional bedroom. However, upon laying eyes on the bathroomwith its tiled surfaces, reticulated shower-hoses, and scrubbing wandsI coaxed Canterbury into bringing in a licensed plumber to tackle the task of making it truly biped-friendly. Some things, I have learned, are best left to the professionals.
Since it was going to be a couple of days before the loft would be truly habitable, Octavia volunteered her room at the boardinghouse to her former neighbors. At first the old couple refused, claiming they didnt want to impose any more than they already had, but finally relented once she explained she was scheduled for a weeks rotation at the firehouse anyway. Octavia and I helped the elderly couple pack a couple of changes of clothes and a few other essentials into a carpetbag and left Canterbury to deal with the plumber.
Is this where you live now? Torn asked in surprise, peering out the window of the brougham at the boardinghouse.
Yes, Octavia replied. Im renting from Tates boyfriend.
This boyfriend of yourshes Kymeran? Torn asked warily.
Yes, I replied. Is that a problem?
He opened his mouth, as if to launch into a tirade, only to be silenced by a glare from his wife. The old man shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor. Things were different when we were coming up, thats all, he muttered, by way of explanation.
As we entered, we were greeted, as usual, by Beanie, who came scampering from the back of the house, eyes agog and tongue flapping.
Thats an unusual-looking familiar, Torn said as he studied the Boston terrier. What kind of demon is it?
Its a pedigreed frog-bat. Cant you tell? Scratch sneered as he sauntered into the room. Now that Ive answered your question, its your turn to answer mine: what are you two doing here?
Torn gave a dry, humorless laugh. I see the cat still has a tongue.
You two know each other? I frowned.
We three know each other, the familiar purred as he brushed up against Hanas leg. Now you Im glad to see. Youre the one who made those scrumptious mouse-meat pies. . . .
You mean mincemeat, dont you? Octavia corrected.
I know what I said.
Its good to see you, too, Scratch, Hana smiled. As she reached down to stroke the familiars chamoislike skin, Scratch rose onto his hind legs and pressed the flat of his head into the palm of her hand, a public show of fondness Id never seen him bestow on anyone besides Hexe.
I turned and gave Torn a quizzical look. Do you mind telling me how it is youre so, uh, familiar with my boyfriends familiar?
My wife and I served the late Witch King, Lord Eben and his consort, Lady Lyra, for forty years, Torn explained with a melancholy smile. I was the butler; she was the cook. My own father had served the previous Witch King in the same capacity, as had his father before him, and his father before himgoing back to the drowning of Kymera.
In fact, I was born in the servants quarters on the third floor, back before it became unstable, he said, gesturing to the stairs that led to the upper stories of the house. Hana and I began our service as children, and we saw to the Royal Family until the day Lord Eben breathed his last. After that, Lady Syra pensioned us off and we moved into the Machen Arms. Today is the first time weve set foot in this house in twenty years.
Is Hexe, I mean, His Serenity at home? Hana asked hopefully.
He left just before you arrived. Im afraid he had pressing business elsewhere, Scratch replied.
Let me show you and Hana where youll be staying, Octavia said as she reached to take the carpetbag from Torn. Its the second bedroom off the stairs. . . .
That would be Lady Syras old room, the old butler grunted, refusing to relinquish his grip on his luggage. I know it well.
As Octavia made sure her friends were settled in, I retreated to my room to change out of my work clothes. I tried to call Hexe on his cell, to let him know about our new houseguests, but it rolled straight to voice mail. I left a brief message, asking him to call me back ASAP, and then stripped down to my undies.
I turned sideways to inspect my silhouette in the mirror. I was just over three months along, and my lower abdomen was already swelling like a ripening fruit. I rested a hand on my stomach and gave it a little pat. I was still conflicted about advertising my pregnancy to the world at large, given the recent racial tensions in Golgotham, but there was only so much camouflage I could expect from my welders jumpsuit. Pretty soon everyone and his familiar was going to know I was carrying the Heir Apparents child simply by looking at me.
I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of dizziness and decided to stretch out on the bed for a couple of minutes. I must have been more tired than I realized, because the next thing I knew I was awakened by the smell of cooking.
My initial thought was that it was morning and that Hexe was once more making breakfast in the kitchen. Then I glanced at the bedside clock and realized it was still evening, albeit an hour or so later than when I first lay down. Feeling slightly disoriented, I put on a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt and headed downstairs.
Hana was in the kitchen, tending boiling pots and a sizzling skillet, while her husband busied himself setting the table in the dining room, each moving about their tasks as easily as if they were in their own home. The old woman smiled upon spotting me standing in the doorway.
Did you have a nice nap, dear? she asked pleasantly. I checked in on you earlier and saw you were asleepyou must be exhausted after today, given your situation. She glanced meaningfully at my shrouded midriff.
Yes, thank you, I replied. But you didnt have to do all this. . . .
Its the least Torn and I can do, she said as she retrieved a roasting pan from the oven. You have been extremely good to usI daresay you have shown far more kindness to us than any human ever has.
Were not all like Chess, I said with a wry smile. Although I should point out that you dont have to be a Kymeran for him to treat you shabbily.
Such an awful man! Hana clucked her tongue in reproach. Truly dreadful!
You should have let me curse him.
Hana cast a disapproving glance at Torn, who was standing in the doorway of the dining room. Things were bad enough already without us making it worse. Besides, he was probably wearing protective talismans strong enough to turn back every spell in the book. His type never set foot in Golgotham without loading themselves down with counter-charms.
I still should have tried, Torn grunted. Its the principle of the thing.
Youve never cursed anyone in your life. Hana laughed as she kissed his cheek. Youre not that kind of man; thats why I married you.
Torns normally taciturn demeanor melted away as he took his wifes hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. And all this time I thought it was my good looks and chiseled abs.
We took dinner that night in the formal dining room. Hana had whipped up an impressive four course meal from items Id forgotten were even in the kitchen: creamed parsnips, butterscotch yams, braised kale, and roast caribou in blackberry sauce. Torn insisted on serving me, neatly depositing portions of each entrée onto my plate with the precision of a brain surgeon.
As I watched him at work, I was suddenly reminded of Clarence, my familys butler. Clarence had been my friend and confidante throughout childhood, and the only adult in my young life that actively encouraged my artistic streak. I found myself wondering how he was doing, as he was getting on in years, and felt a surge of shame that I had not called him to tell him about the baby. I silently scolded myself for holding the fact my parents were his employers against him.
You know, this is the first time Ive ever taken a meal at this table, Torn said as he sat down. Back when Hana and I were in service, we normally ate in the kitchen.
Its the first time Ive eaten in here, as well, I admitted, glancing up at the twin crystal chandeliers that dangled from the claws of a wrought-iron dragon mounted to the ceiling. It always seemed a little bit much for just Hexe and me.
In the old days, Lord Eben and Lady Lyra took every meal in here, Hana said wistfully. Even toward the end, with Lord Eben bedridden, Lady Lyra still dined in this room.
Perhaps you could tell me what Hexes grandparents were like? He doesnt really talk about them that much.
Lord Eben was what you would call Old School, nowadays, Torn replied. He believed in keeping faith with the traditions of our ancestors, and was often very stern in that regard when it came to his children. However, he was far more . . . progressive than his own father. Lord Jynx would have had Hexe smothered at birth and taken Lady Syras magic as punishment for daring to bring a half-caste child into the Royal Family.
As for myself, I found Lord Eben to be a just manstrict at times, but fair-minded when it came to his rulings as justicar. He was particularly well regarded by the dwarven Thanes. As for Lady Lyra, she was a gracious, kindhearted woman. Shes the one who made sure Hana and I were properly pensioned off by the GoBOO. In the old days, retainers were paid out of the Royal Treasurynow were considered civil servants.
Did they love him?
Who? Hexe? They positively adored the boy! Hana said with a laugh.
Almost as much as they were ashamed of him, Torn added sourly.
* * *
After dinner, Torn and Hana insisted on clearing the tables and doing the dishes. The two of them moved like a well-oiled machine, whisking away the plates without having to ask one another a single question. Not that there wasnt plenty of communication going on between thembut it was done in the shorthand of the exchanged glance, which is unique to the deeply married.
At one point I announced that I was headed down to the basement to fetch a load of fresh towels and bed linens from the dryer. On my way back, I noticed that the kitchen was empty and all the dinner dishes washed and returned to their cabinets. As I reached the second floor landing, I saw that the door to Octavias room was shut, although I could hear the muted murmur of voices on the other side.
Shes what? Torns shout was enough to make me drop the folded blankets I was carrying.
Must you be so loud? Hana responded in a hushed voice. What if she hears you?
Its Syra all over again! Torn fumed. Hes just like his father! No respect for tradition!
After all this time, cant you let that go? Tradition has already cost us a son, as well as a grandson. Isnt that enough? And frankly, he could do a great deal worse, if you ask me.
Im glad to hear it, I said as I opened the door to Octavias room.
Torn and Hana spun about in guilty surprise, like children caught raiding the cookie jar. I told you to mind your voice! Hana hissed.
Youre Hexes other set of grandparents, arent you?
So youre finally figuring that out, Scratch sneered as he strolled into the room. Will wonders never cease?
Yes, its true, Hana admitted. Horn is our son.
Was our son, Torn interjected stiffly. I disowned him when I discovered what hed done. Our family has served the heirs of Adon for countless generationsbut he disobeyed the one rule all Servitors must obey: no fraternization. Of course, Lord Eben had to let him go when they discovered the truth, severing a tradition of service that stretched back to the sinking of the spires! He dishonored his family, disgraced his lineage . . . hes brought nothing but shame on us.
But Horns the captain of the PTU! I interjected. Hes one of the most important people in Golgotham!
His place was to serve! Torn shot back angrily. Just as I served, and my father before me, and his father before him!
But he does serveexcept now his duty is to all of Golgotham, not just the Royal Family, I pointed out.
The girls right, you old grump, Hana said, folding her arms over her sagging breasts. Ive tolerated this grudge against our son long enough! Besides, its not like you dont have a scrapbook of newspaper clippings detailing every arrest hes ever made and promotion hes received.
Why didnt you tell me the truth about who you are? I asked.
Force of habit, I suppose, Torn sighed. The only way we were allowed to be a part of Hexes life was if we never revealed the true nature of our relationship to him. Lord Eben made us swear an oath of secrecy. Should we break it, we would be banished from Golgotham.
Ugh. How awful! That must have been difficult for you.
Yes, but we got used to it, Hana said as she took her husbands hand in hers. At least we had access to our grandson when he was young, even if we couldnt tell him who we were. That all changed when Lord Eben died and Lady Syra became the Witch Queen. Once we were pensioned off, we were no longer able to see Hexe on a regular basis. Oh, Lady Syra would send us snapshots now and then, but thats not the same. The last time we actually laid eyes on him was at Lady Lyras funeral, fifteen years ago. He was already growing into a fine young man.
I dont understandwhy have you kept your distance for so long? Lord Eben was the one who swore you to secrecy, not Lady Syra. Why not come forward once the old Witch King was dead?
The boy had enough trouble being accepted by the Aristocracy without his calling the family butler and cook grandpa and grandma, Torn replied sourly. A lot of things have changed in Golgotham since I was a ladbut not everything.
* * *
After bidding Torn and Hana good night, I checked my cell phone to see if I had missed any messages from Hexe. Zilch. I tried calling him again, only to be informed by a polite, if robotic voice, that this phones subscriber was currently unavailable after the first ring. It occurred to me that if I wanted to talk to Hexe, I was going to have to wait up for him.
I took a spare blanket and made myself a nest on the sofa in the front parlor. Beanie promptly joined me, snuggling in tight between my hip and the sofa cushions as I read the copy of What to Expect When Youre Expecting Nessie had given me. Despite my best intentions, I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew the sound of the front door closing startled me awake.
What are you doing down here? Hexe asked, sounding more surprised than pleased to see me. The smell of barley wine and cigarette smoke clung to him like perfume. No doubt he had rounded off the evening by stopping in at the Calf and claiming his fair share of free drinks.
Waiting for you. I yawned. Ive got some big news. I tried calling you earlier, but you didnt pick up. Why didnt you call me back?
My phone lost its charge, he replied with a shrug.
As I got off the couch to greet him, I noticed for the first time that his right eye sported a nice new shiner. Heavens and hells! What happened?
I got jumped by a couple of unrulies, he replied bitterly.
What for?
Because Im walking around wearing the equivalent of five solid gold Rolexes, he explained, holding up his gauntleted right hand.
You need to get an ice pack on that, I said, steering him toward the back of the house. As Hexe took his place at the kitchen table, I removed a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and wrapped it in a dish towel. Hereput that over your eye, I said, holding it out to him. Hexe did as he was instructed, wincing slightly as the ice-cold compress touched his face. Its not magic, but itll work.