Fractured Magic: Chapter Twelve

The morning following Dinara’s Cenhelm performance promised a beautiful day. Beams of sunslight streamed lazily through the trailer’s windows and an easy breeze rattled the chimes hanging in the open doorway. Outside, the sky was cloudless, clear for the suns’ tandem trek across its blue and gold expanse. Too bad Dinara was too hungover to enjoy any of it.

She rolled to face Roman. The fact that he was still here, in bed, meant he must be feeling it as well — normally, he was gone before Dinara had even stirred. Without even opening his eyes, he mumbled, “Go back to sleep.”

Dinara tried to laugh, but when it made her head throb, she groaned. “Ow. Roman, I feel gross.”

“Mm. You know what would help with that? More sleep.”

Dinara squinted at him. “Hey, do I remember you leaving in the middle of the night?”

Realizing she wasn’t about to let him rest, Roman buried his face in his pillow. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said, muffled. “Walked around a bit.”

“Sorry, I guess I should let you sleep,” Dinara said. She only lasted a few seconds, though, before sighing. “It’s just that it’s too bright, isn’t it? And I want food. Something greasy. Could you make something, Roman?” When he only ignored her, she prodded his side. “We could do something fun, after.”

At that, Roman finally cracked an eye open. He had dark bags under them, but that was nothing new. “Like what?”

“An adventure. It doesn’t really matter, as long as we do it together.”

Roman yawned and stretched like a lazy house cat. As he settled back into the mattress, he pulled Dinara to him, but she laughed and squirmed away. If she let herself stay in his arms, her will would break. He was always too warm — the perfect temperature to fall asleep to. But they rarely spent mornings together. She’d like to spend this one doing something other than sleeping.

“C’mon, I’m finally free of Edith! We should be celebrating!”

“We celebrated plenty last night.”

“Not in all the ways I would have liked,” Dinara cooed, running her fingers meaningfully down to his waistband, loving the way his cheeks flushed in response. Between his tossing and turning and morning’s humidity, his curls were all mussed. Dinara loved seeing him like this, soft and unguarded. She said a quick thanks to Atiuh for the opportunity.

Roman caught her hand before it could trail any lower. “Make up your mind,” he accused, though his smile was fond. “What happened to your adventure?”

“I changed my mind. Let’s stay in.”

“And your breakfast?”

“That can wait, don’t you think?”

Roman laughed. “But now I want to know what you had in mind.”

“Ugh.” Dinara quickly wracked her brain for something. “Oh, I know! Do you remember what you said the first time you saw our demon masks?”

“...No,” Roman admitted, after a moment’s thought.

Dinara rolled her eyes. “Your memory is really awful sometimes, Roman. You said you wanted to wear one to the upper markets and play tricks on shoppers.”

Roman was silent for so long Dinara almost accused him of falling back asleep, but then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d say, does it?”

Dinara gave him a flat look.

“Wouldn’t you get in trouble?” he asked.

“With Cahrn? After last night’s show, he’ll let me do anything I want. Besides, if anyone catches us, we can just say we were advertising.”

“Like he’d believe that.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Fair point,” Roman said, grinning now. He felt around the bedside table until he found Dinara’s watch, checking it as he sat up. A small furrow appeared between his brows, but it was gone before Dinara could even comment, buried under a yawn. “We can discuss this adventure of yours more while I cook.”

Two hours later found them outside, costume crates open all around them. Explaining their plan to the costuming assistant hadn’t gone over well, but Roman had complimented the taurel she was pressing and they’d bonded over the language of flowers — something Dinara didn’t realize he even knew — and she’d agreed to look the other way. She’d even let them haul the crates back to Dinara’s trailer, at Roman’s insistence.

“What about this one?” Roman asked for the twelfth time. He pulled on a flat, wooden mask depicting an open-mouthed face.

Dinara snorted when she saw it. “It’s sky blue, Roman. It’s smiling.”

“It’s snarling!”

“It’s from one of our children’s shows. Trust me, it’s smiling.”

Roman’s hands dropped from where he’d been holding them up like claws. The mask tipped to one side as he tilted his head. “It could still be scary if you weren’t expecting it.”

“Maybe.” Dinara, who’d had her mask picked out for half an hour while Roman flitted between options, pulled hers on. It had a long, wrinkled snout, painted scales along the cheekbones, and protrusive brows that formed shadows around the eyes. She took a step back, into the path, so Roman could see. “But it’s nothing like mine.”

“You might scare people too well with that one, Di.”

Before Dinara could respond, a blur with blonde hair raced past Roman, then collided with Dinara. Dinara shrieked as they hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, the blur rolling off, cursing and apologizing in the same breath. It was just a girl, Dinara saw, only a little younger than Dinara herself. An orinian girl. What was she doing here? She opened her mouth to ask, but when the girl saw her mask, she shrieked in return.

“It’s only a costume!” Roman said. Nodding, Dinara hastily lifted her mask so the girl could see.

“Oh,” the girl breathed, falling back on her ass in her relief. A whistle sounded in the distance and she cast a fearful look in its direction.

Without pause, Roman kicked the ends of her dark cloak so it covered her tail, grabbed a helmet out of the closest crate, and dropped it onto her head. Only seconds later, before even the girl had time to react, four men on horseback turned onto the path, their badges and helmets identifying them as Gallontean police. The girl tensed, but Roman murmured, “Don’t move.”

“What is this? What’s with the masks?” an officer called.

Roman lifted his, and Dinara noticed the orinian girl give a startled jolt. “Officers,” Roman greeted cheerfully. “Surely, you know where you are? This is the Webhon Players’ camp; we perform for the Rinehart Festival — and performed for Unity, in fact, just last night.”

That got the officers to lift their hands from the clubs at their sides, at least. Dinara pushed herself to her feet; she didn’t know what Roman was doing, but she trusted him. For now, she’d play along. “We were just taking stock of some old costumes,” she said.

“Is anything wrong, officers?” Roman asked. Subtly, he positioned himself between the officers and the orinian.

“We heard screams. Was that you? Did anyone suspicious come through here?” the officer at the head of the group asked.

“Ah, I’m sorry be a bother. Ms. Condeh here found a spider when she opened a crate and isn’t fond of the creatures. Rest assured, I’ve since eliminated the treat,” Roman said with a winning smile. Dinara looked down at her feet, as if ashamed. “What kind of suspicious do you mean? Are you looking for someone in particular?”

The officers shared a look, and the same officer reluctantly answered, “Yes, an orinian fugitive. She’s very dangerous.”

Dinara twitched at the word “dangerous”, but Roman didn’t so much as blink. “I did see someone running toward the festival grounds, earlier. Now that you mention it, they might’ve had a tail. You might try searching there.”

Without so much as a thank you, the officers took off again. Roman watched them go with a dark expression, but he brightened when he turned back to his companions. “There. That’ll keep them busy.”

“What are we doing?” Dinara asked Roman. The officers were long gone, but she still whispered.

“What do you mean?” Roman asked. He gestured at the orinian, who still sat on the ground with the helmet over her head, watching them. “She clearly needs help.”

“Does she? How do you know? They called her a fugitive!”

“I’m right here,” the girl pointed out, her voice muffled by papier-mâché. “But thank you, also.”

“She’s an orinian in Unity’s capital city, Di. It’s not hard to figure out what happened,” Roman said. When he finally looked at the girl, he laughed. It was her mask — round, painted like a baby’s head with rosy cheeks and a single curl on its forehead. “That thing’s scarier than both of our masks combined, Di. Why do you all have that?”

“Roman,” Dinara chided.

“Roman? Roman...Hallisey?” the girl suddenly asked.

“You know him? Roman, do you know her?” Dinara asked.

The girl started to lift her helmet, but Roman stopped her, holding a hand up. “I don’t need to know her to hate Gallontea’s cops,” he said cheerfully. To the girl, he asked, “You’re not planning on hurting either of us, right?”

The girl violently shook her head, the helmet rocking.

“There. See?” he asked Dinara. “This is Dinara, by the way. And you are...?”

“Um,” the orinian said, staring at Roman. Her eyes were barely visible behind the helmet, unblinking. When Roman held a hand out, though, she let him pull her up. “Maebhe.”

Dinara gasped. “Oh! You’re Gareth and Isobel’s orinian?”

“What?” Roman asked, brows furrowed.

“They’ve been looking everywhere, don’t you remember? Oh, but you might’ve been somewhere else when they were telling me about it. I was so drunk at that point, I almost forgot.”

Dinara was so excited that she didn’t notice Maebhe backing slowly away. Roman did, though, and caught her by the wrist before she could get far. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Maebhe tried to pry his hand free, frowning when she couldn’t get so much as a finger to budge. “Listen, I appreciate the help, but I really shouldn’t have come here.”

“But the Ranulfs will be so happy to hear you’re okay! They want to help,” Dinara said.

Maebhe gave up trying to remove Roman’s hand from her wrist. “They do?” she asked, eyes wide. “But I thought...”

Satisfied she wouldn’t run, Roman released her. “At least let us get you some food and a change of clothes,” he said. “We’ve got bacon, eggs, and toast inside. You can decide what you want to do once you’ve eaten.”

Maebhe’s stomach decided for her, choosing that moment to grumble loudly. Her tail swished beneath her cloak, which was slightly too long. “I’ll take the toast and eggs, but I don’t eat meat.”

While Roman stuffed the costumes back into the crates, Dinara coaxed Maebhe into the trailer, served up food, and drew her a bath. Aside from her cloak, the girl’s clothes were a mess — dirty, wrinkled, torn. She had nearly a foot on the petite Dinara, so they had to give her a set of Roman’s, instead. Finally, though, when Maebhe sat on the mattress with wet hair, too-long trousers, and jam on her fingers, she began to open up.

“There was a boy,” she said, meeting Roman’s gaze briefly before settling it on Dinara, instead. “He was helping me find Roman, but when we those officers caught us, he threw rocks at them until they chased him, just so I could get away. Those four you saw were only a fraction of the original group. I’m worried about him.”

“Let’s worry about you, first,” Roman said. “It sounds like that’s what he would’ve wanted.”

Dinara stared at him. They were dealing with police and fugitives, but he didn’t seem shaken at all. He’d lied to the police like it was nothing. The fact that Maebhe had been looking for him, specifically, didn’t seem to surprise him in the slightest. “Who was he?” she asked. “Why’d he bring you here? How’d you know Roman’s name?”

Maebhe glanced at Roman again, quickly and then away. “His name was Aleksir. I met him and his...friend last night. His friend said Roman could help me and my brother,” she explained. When Roman didn’t object, she explained further, “I don’t know how much Gareth told you, but my brother and his fiancée were arrested. I, uh, thought Gareth was working with Unity, so I ran from him. Isn’t he a Magistrate?”

Roman shook his head. He was clearly distracted, staring out the window with a thoughtful expression. “Just the brother of one. He’s naive, but not a bad guy overall. Di, you said he’s been looking for Maebhe?”

Dinara nodded.

“Then we might be able to get his help. If we can get Maebhe’s family back without resorting to drastic measures, that would be ideal.”

Dinara didn’t want to know what these “drastic measures” would look like. Actually, she didn’t want to know anything more at all. “Roman, this is bigger than us. Maybe we should just take her to Gareth, let him help instead.”

“It’s bigger than you, Di.”

It wasn’t unkind or condescending; he stated it like it was fact, and that made it all the worse. Dinara snapped her mouth shut and glared at him, but he barely seemed to notice, instead crouching in front of Maebhe. “If you want my help, you need to tell me everything. Start from the beginning,” he said.

And so Maebhe did, starting with her family’s arrival in Gallontea, going into their arrest the day before and the way she tracked the carriage all the way to Unity’s island, and ending with that morning’s race against the police. Dinara was swimming with questions by the end. This sounded like the beginning of a fiction, a show the Players might put on.

“The Oracle of Damael,” she breathed, forgetting to be angry. “What would one of the Oracle’s agents know about Roman? How’d he even know where to find Roman? Are you sure they worked for her, really?”

Maebhe shrugged. “They had the tattoo.”

“Tattoo?” Dinara asked.

“Don’t you know the legends? The Oracle’s agents all have her sign tattooed behind her ear, because the Oracle hears all. If you see the purple ink, you know you can trust them,” Maebhe explained.

“The pigment can only be made in Damael,” Roman explained, not meeting Dinara’s eye. “Di is from the north. The Oracle’s agents rarely make it up that far, so they don’t have much cause to discuss her.”

Dinara was staring at him again. “Roman, you have a purple symbol tattooed behind your ear.”

Roman winced. He had the gall to look surprised Dinara knew, even, as if she hadn’t seen every inch of him. As if it would free him from the conversation, he covered the spot with his hand.

“I guess that answers some things,” Maebhe said cautiously, watching them. “Aleksir said his friend was Egil. That mean anything to either of you?”

Briefly, so briefly, Roman stilled. Then, he laughed. “You believed that?”

Again, Maebhe shrugged. “Not really. But either way, he seemed confident that you could help me, so I chose to trust him. Did I waste my time?”

“You didn’t,” Roman said.

He said it so confidently, so seriously, that for a moment Dinara didn’t even recognize this man before her. Where was her sweet, silly Roman, who flirted and teased and joked. Their trailer, normally so roomy, now felt too small to hold the magnitude of this stranger before her. She’d believe this person knew the Oracle, that he knew Egil, even.

But it was Roman. In the end, she had to look away. “Your story matches Gareth’s, so I have to believe you, but I don’t understand. What does Unity think one girl is going to do?” she asked.

“Protest, fight, spy, sabotage,” Roman said, ticking off possibilities on his fingers. When he looked at her, she had to fight not to flinch. He sounded the same as he always did, but his eyes were a flat black, colder than Dinara had ever seen them. “Realistically, they don’t think she’s going to do anything, they just don’t want her here — because having her here reminds Gallonteans that orinians are people, too.”

Maebhe’s lip wobbled and then, all at once, she started to cry.

“Look what you did!” Dinara accused, hurrying to sit beside Maebhe on the bed.

Roman looked horrified. He gave the orinian’s knee an awkward pat and said, “Come now, Ms. Cairn. I’ll help you and your family, you have my word.”

Maebhe nodded and wiped her eyes. “Sorry. Call me Maebhe.”

“Roman,” Dinara started, rubbing Maebhe’s back in comforting circles, “What about Unity?”

“What about them?”

“Kono ta’hy lehah,” she said, switching to sheman so Maebhe wouldn’t be able to understand. She wouldn’t give the girl any more cause to cry, if she could help it, but she had to voice her concerns.

Roman switched as well, though his own phrasing was halting and messy. “They’ll kill me if they catch me. They won’t catch me.” He frowned. “How would I say that as a...conditional?” he asked, switching back to the standardized ellesian for the word “conditional.”

“You want to ask me about grammar? Now? Roman, you can’t smuggle fugitives out of the capital city, innocent or not. It’s treason.”

Surprising her, Roman laughed. “Not my first.”

“Not your first what?” Dinara asked. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Not your first time committing treason?!”

Roman shook his head and switched back to ellesian for good. “Dinara, I’m not asking you to join me, but I will get Maebhe and her family home.”

“You and I have some things to discuss when this is done,” Dinara said. Then she made the switch back as well, sighing, “But I’ll help. I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

Roman nodded. “We’re not getting onto the island through the front gates, but I know a back way.”

“It’s an island. How can there be a back way?” Maebhe interrupted to ask.

“I’d prefer not to have to answer that question unless absolutely necessary. We’ll reach out to Gareth, first — if we’re very, very lucky, he can use those family connections of his to free Kieran and Ide,” Roman said, though he didn’t sound hopeful.

“Do you have his phone number?” Dinara asked.

“No, but I know where they’re staying. If we go now—”

“I have their phone number,” Dinara said. “Isobel gave it to me.”

Roman blinked, then grinned. It was almost the smile Dinara knew. “I could kiss you! Maebhe, give us half an hour — the phone booth’s across camp, but Di and I will be back as soon as we can.

“O-okay,” Maebhe said, but they were already gone, Roman dragging Dinara off faster than she could keep up. To the now-empty trailer, Maebhe announced, “I’ll just wait here, then.”

Every time we start to dig into Roman's mysteries, more appear! What do you think of this stranger person so far?

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