Chương 115: Chapter 136: The Seethe

An hour after she dropped us off, Larianne came back to the bistro and finally ordered some breakfast for herself. It was hard to be sure, but she seemed more relaxed now. Less hostility in her sardonic dismissals. She did not explain at all what she had been doing, but a bag full of blackhart arms and blood going to an Ebonder stronghold in Tumnassed was just Necromancy 101. She ate quickly, and the whole bunch of us headed down to the Gate, which led to the construction site where work on the wall never ceased.

That wall was meant to shield Hearstwhile from the savagery beyond. As we walked the general city-business of Nurvedvu slackened off and the business of the Wall increased. Where we first stopped in, the plaza was basic mercantile commerce and infrastructure but the more we moved to the southwest the more specialized the work became. Factories that produced hundred-gallon vats of mortar, tools being manufactured or repaired, gangs of laborers trooping along together. And the stone.

First it was one, then another, and they became more numerous. Rectangular bricks of cut stone, six feet on two sides and nine feet on the third, were trundled along on reinforced carts that looked to be made of whole logs lashed together and rolling on wheels that looked like monster-truck tires.

One after another these massive slabs exited the city headed to the Wall, and several other cities smeared around the landscape had the same work, shipping out the massive blocks that would stack up and form the defensive perimeter. Each year the wall got higher, and each year fewer monsters were able to breach it. After centuries, it was quite impressive.

It was believed that once Tumnassed was finally secure and safe for good, all that labor and resources could go to one of the other Marches, to shore up defenses there. And when the Wall was done, Tumnassed would be considered a Duchy instead of a March, and Ebonder would be considered a Central House and not simply a Greater House. But all of that is the whole large world, the real world, moving around me. And in these moments I'm living in a very small world made mostly of my own battle against my anger.

I sat in the cabin of our carriage and watched out the window at the road as we passed up another cart lugging a stone. The wooden wheels creaked like a windstorm. Larianne looked entirely bored, as if there would never be anything interesting about a never-ending parade of thirty-ton stones moving slowly and implacably off to take their place in a wall that was supposed to save humanity. I pulled out my notebook, flipped it open to the story ideas, and jotted down "Pacific Rim".

I'd have to make some changes to help it fit people's conceptions here, but the more stories I can tell the better. Vancy was chewing at her lip.

"A park?" Larianne shook her head.

"No."

"Candy store?"

"None."

"Carnival?"

"Never."

"Perfumerie?"

"You've already asked about that."

"A toy store at least?!" Larianne turned to fix a skeptical look.

"You want to visit a toy store?" Vancy shrugged.

"Not really. At this point I just wanted to make sure you have one in this town. I'm getting concerned for your people!" Elica hopped in.

"Honestly, me too. My home city has plenty to do, even if the people there never seem happy about it. But really, not even a park?"

"No, no parks," Larianne said.

"We're surrounded by wilderness! Why would we need extra wilderness inside the city?" Trazom shuddered.

"Only one concert hall!" Larianne rolled her eyes.

"One concert hall is plenty. You're being ridiculous." Vancy tried again.

"A swimming pool?"

"No."

"A jousting field?"

"It's called a list. And no," Larianne said. Elica shook her head.

"Just taverns, and... this?" she gestured at the procession of stones. Larianne nodded.

"Your towns have fun little shops. Entertainments. Parks. This is what we have."

"It is a very clever idea," Yheta said, carefully. Hesitantly. As if I would blow up at him all over for saying the wrong thing. The only thing worth doing in all of Nurvedvu was the one thing that I don't need to travel to Nurvedvu for: flying. The carriage was taking us to the edge of town, and at this distance I could see what looked like mites or midges zinging around in circles and loops at the distance. Outside the city walls, and a decent walk down the road besides, was our destination.

Meanwhile I was having an interesting time just staring at those big stone blocks. I have more of an interest in defensive fortifications than most teenaged girls. It's not just the behemothic size of the things, but they were all also cut at the same angle and grain. I would need to ask someone about the meaning and purpose of that.

When I channeled essences to increase my senses, I could see the specks in the distance more closely, tiny figures zooming around without wings or any assistance, just defying gravity however they liked, in a high column. I released the essence and turned my attention back to the carriage and my friends. Elica sat primly in her seat, hands in her lap, and she looked displeased. She usually did unless she was currently in the process of getting her own way.

She was a beautiful girl, but she had the kind of resting bitch face you can only achieve by being a resting bitch. Vancy was wavering hard, between excitement and thrills at the prospects ahead of us and her ongoing disappointment with the rest of Nurvedvu and Tumnassed. She was bright and energetic, and kept absolutely everything on her face.

Larianne was clearly tired of talking and engaging with anyone, she barely has anything to say to anyone and being asked to play hostess has put more demands on her than I've ever seen. She's tolerating all this social interaction much better than I'd expected. I think that she is actually having a really great day, for whatever that means to Larianne. Enefiat Trazom looks even more excited than Vancy, and frankly that's a hard task for anyone, let alone a face like his.

Trazom has a face made for intense brooding and scowling, a deep widow's peak and deep, dark eyes. It's kind of ironic that he's so lighthearted, open and carefree. Thoughtless, egotistical and arrogant, but you can't have everything. Yheta. Right now he's trying to play it cool. He's aware that I'm really pissed off at him. He knows damn well it's his own fault, really. He won't admit it. He doesn't even really understand it. And he's hoping that soon I'll forget about it.

But at least for the present he is working very hard not to push my buttons. And Rinnie is sitting around waiting for Elica to make some unreasonable demands. That's why she's here, and she acts like it, refusing to interact with the rest of us. Larianne had explained this place to us. A field, otherwise unremarkable, about an hour outside the city. It is ringed by big damn rocks that have sigils inscribed on them. And within that circle, anyone can fly as easily as I can.

Apparently back in her great-great-great-squared- grandparent's era, they had realized they need to extend and improve the watchtower they were using to warn the city of monsters coming over the wall. Instead of doing that, the Ebonder ancestors had paid out eight or nine gold coats, the story varied whether it was eight or nine, and had gotten some scriveners to make an area that people can fly.

Then they tore down the watchtower, turned its stones into more parts of the wall, and fired all their watchtower guards. Then they made the flying field open to the public and invited the local children. And so now, centuries later, this is still the main place for local kids to run off to and play, and there are always a dozen or more vigilant volunteers circling hundreds of feet in the air, watching for miles around.

"Long way from town," Trazom pointed out. Vancy nodded.

"I'll bet the kids that come out here spend the whole day. It's not like their parents are going to walk or ride all the way out here just to scold them about chores or bedtimes." Elica tapped her knee.

"If this were closer to town it would be much easier for the community to control it." Trazom looked confused.

"Well, wouldn't that be the point? If you let people set responsible limits then there would be gaps in the coverage. Everyone called in for lunch, or church, or school. But if you've got every kid that's playing hooky all out at this one place, all trying to get a look at a monster, then pretty much any time there's enough light you're going to have eager sentries flying around."

"Besides," Vancy said, "children need some place that their parents cannot take away from them. Otherwise they'll only grow up to become their parents." And everyone in that carriage shuddered. No matter how haughtily dignified, sardonically detached, dutifully familial, distracted, angry, or uninvolved, we all shared that moment of chilly horror.

"It's funny how cost-effective it wound up being," Yheta said carefully.

"It is not often that magic is the cheapest way to accomplish a goal, to such a degree." I tried to meet him halfway.

"It's true. Most things that people hire mages for tend to be things only magic can do. If it can be done non-magically, it's usually preferable to. Your ancestors were very forward-thinking to see this exception, Larianne." She shrugged. We've already gotten a lot of talking out of her today. Not that I was giving that a ton of attention. I was putting my concentration and mental faculties into a different challenge- not yelling at Yheta. I kept getting these surges in my chest, a bubble of And Another Thing!

that wanted to rip him to shreds in front of the whole group. But I did not. Because humoring this jackass and using him as a stepping-stone into the inner circles of Federalist decision-making was going to help me topple the Freckentops and depose the king and queen who have sent necromantic plagues to terrorize my homeland. I had to keep my focus there. Lives. Innocent lives. That's what is important. This blight has been running over their lives for weeks already, and royal policy is making it worse.

The duchy is holding out for now. People have reserves, people have resources. There have only been a handful of farms that were already on tenuous ground or that were in a difficult position and have lost everything. And for them, there's enough to go around to help them out and get them back on their feet. But if this crap is still going on during the next harvest? Tens of thousands dead. Hundreds of thousands destitute and devastated.

And the knock-on starvation that follows will kill millions across the kingdom. So that is what I'm holding in my head. That's what I'm focusing on. I let myself glare out the window and I try not to put too much of it on Yheta because he is immature and thin-skinned and unpredictable. He also has a surprisingly deep sadistic and violent streak that only comes out if he's feeling pressured. And it's his good favor, and Frantlin, and Billiams, that I need to nurture in order to take the pressure off those millions.

These are the personalities I need to cater to or else millions are dead. Funny thing is, more than anything else this has really reminded me of my age. I've often had a lot of trouble acting my age. Speaking like an adult before I was two years old. The most cryptic and mysterious pre-schooler you've ever seen. Child prodigy of several subjects. Reasoned and responsible beyond my years. Old soul. Precocious. So many ways to say it.

My mother understood- she sent me off to war against our enemies when I was twelve years old because nobody else could do it. But right now, in this carriage, I feel fifteen years old in a way that transcends all boundaries. Someone's fucking with me in very serious and life-altering ways and I need to just sit and take it without even yelling at them or it will make everything worse. Now if that's not me finally being a typical teenager with the most fundamental teenager experiences, I don't know what is.

There is nothing more elementally fifteen-years-old than having every right to your anger, in a circumstance that no grown adult would ever tolerate, and just gritting your teeth and acting like nothing has happened, because expressing yourself is just going to get those same people mad at you instead of just careless and negligent. I'm not saying that if your fifteen-year-old is glaring out the window during a day trip it's because you've definitely done something that no grown adult would ever tolerate.

But, maybe ask. So I sat there, balancing my seething anger over Wendy's funeral against the obligation to not share that funeral with a million more people, while my friends chatted about the weather, and the geography, and grades at school, and who's teacher is a total you-know-what. I had a hard time following the conversations, my thoughts kept bursting in. Yheta was still looking like a kicked dog, but fortunately nobody else was asking why the atmosphere was so tense.

By now they understand that when it comes to me, the drama is always high-gear. It's never a feud with another student, it's a blood feud. It's never a crisis about reputations, it's an-all hands emergency. So if we're sitting around with things simmering unsaid, it's probably not a spat to talk out. To derail just a little further: in my defense the reason all of my problems are Huge Problems is because I deal with small problems on my own without bothering anyone or mentioning them.

I never have my whole day ruined because I ran out of ink or I forgot my book or my dress got stained. I have tools to deal with all that. So people assume I never have tiny ordinary prosaic problems. They only ever see the problems I can't hide. So it looks like all of my fires are wildfires and all of my showers are hurricanes because the small stuff is already dealt with and put away. Every so often their conversation hits a point that I can respond, and I try to add my own part.

Whenever my emotional attention span lets me catch the dialogue enough to add my thoughts, I do so. Because honestly I am trying to be personable. Sociable, even. It's just hard to put away the notion that the man who murdered my cousin has asked me not to call him out in front of everyone, and I'm actually doing it because I need him to owe me a favor.

"Oh, right, that was the day we had that spicy soup for lunch."

"Wait, isn't that the girl that copied off your test?"

"Well if the wind does pick up, I'll show you how to tack for altitude." I spoke when I could. Other people's issues. Other people's thoughts. That's the secret to getting out of my head. That's how I'm going to get around all this anger. That, and an amazing amount of blowing shit up. My smile lights up, megawatt-bright. This is the thought that will get me through my day. I've got an appointment to build eight graded roads across the east and west regions of Hearster. I'm getting my side-gig in demolitions.

Blow shit up for fun and money. Lots of money. My proposal, which Quoissi did not even look at, put my cost estimate at an even one-half of what the cost would be to use conventional construction methods of magic or mundane labor. And that is a scandalous amount of money. He didn't care, of course, because he knows he's got more money than I could consider asking for. All right. Gotta master my feelings. Yes I desperately want to throw Yheta out the window and then kick him until he forgets how to be a dipshit.

But instead, I concentrate on the fact that they're gonna pay me to blow up a massive cliff. I pull out my notebook and flip through it to make sure I've remembered to work on Pompeii. It's on my list, good. I'd feel embarrassed if I'd forgotten that one. It's getting harder to think of songs I haven't already got on my list. And that was when someone kicked me in the shin.

"ow." Larianne glaring at me.

"You had fun for Dandston and Tarcelle. Make an effort." Emotion surged. And another thing. I felt the shout building up, somewhere near my collarbone. I pushed it down. This is what it means to be fifteen. I blew out a breath.

"Right, sorry Larianne. It's been a hell of a week, that's all." Vancy flashed a big bright smile.

"Well, this should be so much fun! Natalie! We're going to go flying." I cut off my chuckle halfway.

"Vancy, sweetheart, I go flying all the time."

"Not with us you don't!" she protested.

"You're always way up there by yourself! This time you'll have friends to go with! Won't it be nice? Just once, we can keep up with you!" I stared at her. I kinda hate when Vancy makes me feel stupid.

"Oh, you're right," I said, smiling now.

"I've been thinking about this all wrong!" I looked out the window again. Sure, people zooming around. I've done this. But they're not just moving very fast, very high up. There's formations. There's people moving together, or opposite each other. They're following, circling, bracing each other. They're playing games up there. Tag, keep-away, marco polo. Those two are flying hand in hand, these over there are wrestling. They better be wrestling. Kids are watching. This is not just a day of flying.

This is a day for me to share. Today I've got the chance to share my experiences with my friends, so that they're not just my mundane pals that I sit with at lunch and during the recreation hour to do normal non-magical ordinary things like gossip and play cards as a break between magical adventures. Today, they get to see the side of me that enjoys having magic. The reason I put up with some of the crap they hear me complain about.

"Huh," I mused, smiling.

"Thanks Vancy. And thanks Larianne." Now that I'm smiling, I see Yheta brightening up. No no. He's not off the hook yet. Just because I'm not giving him the doghouse glare doesn't mean he's forgiven. But we can relax a little.