Chapter 8
They stopped in North Carolina near the end of January to visit with Lasa's and Roger's teachers. Mr. X did not seem surprised. He never does...dun dun dun.
"So there won't be a computer," he said. "And you're the kidnappers. I suppose you're behind those killings as well?"
"No, as a matter of fact," Lasa answered. She looked around. "God, I miss this place."
Something that might have been emotion entered his eyes, then disappeared without a trace. "Perhaps when you've managed to clear all this up, you can finish your training."
"The house seems so empty without you," Rebekah said. "And now it's...too full."
Dorian had the apprentices out on the lake, and the ten visitors had easily infiltrated the house. Lasa's brothers were ransacking her room in search of evidence of the secret affair they were certain she had carried out with Roger. Zacharias was teaching Quinn, Monica, and Ysranna to play racquetball, while Joseph and Erion watched from the sidelines.
Lasa and Roger had been dragged into the kitchen, of course, to talk to their former teachers.
Rebekah sighed. "So the stories of a weapon were true." This seems odd and a little out of place, since she was just saying the house is empty and full.
"We didn't see it," Roger said, "but we have reasonable proof that it was really there."
"I'm amazed," Mr. X said thoughtfully, "that the two of you and Mr. Mathari managed to find such a large group of followers."
Lasa shuddered. "Don't call him Mr. Mathari. That's what that spy called him, and the spies want to kill him. They poisoned him with lithicodone, whatever that is."
"It's a rather new breakthrough, hardly known. I've never seen any, but I've read...things." If Mr. X had been capable of such a thing, his eyes might have appeared shifty. "So the Espionage Guild wants Zacharias dead?"
"Yes, and I don't think they'd mind the rest of us dead, either."
Mr. X leaned back in his chair. "You know, rebellion isn't a bad idea at all. The question is, where to start it? Convince the temples that freedom of religion is good? Convince the army to fight for the Old Way? Convince the children and young apprentices that they should have a choice about their professions?" Hmm, why did everyone trust these people enough to talk to them anyway? What proof do they have they won't just be turned in to the authorities immediately?
Lasa got up and went to the window. She saw Quinn dash forward to intercept the small blue ball. She saw Dorian's boat returning, the eight young apprentices chattering in the back. She saw Joseph drawing a cartoon in the dirt, of a frog being whacked to death by a mallet. She saw Roger's whip, which Erion had borrowed and was now cracking against the ground, raising small puffs of dirt.
"I think," she said, "that rebellion begins in all those places at once."
* * *
It was mid-February when Ysranna and Joseph arrived at the temple in Tallahassee, Florida.
"We got word that you would arrive in September," the High Priest said suspiciously.
Joseph thought rapidly. "Got snowed in. Horrible snow, up north." You may want to remind us somehow that they're pretending to be on their missions trip. Or whatever it's called.
As the High Priest led them to their rooms, Joseph whispered, "Why did we agree to this?"
"Because it's pathetically easy," Ysranna answered. "I'm going to help you write the speech, you know."
"Screw speeches, I'm never teaching a class again. Never."
"Too bad, it's our job."
* * *
Lasa, Roger, Zacharias, and Erion arrived in the Fort Wayne Military Academy early on one snowy February morning. The gatekeeper eyed them warily but, since it was a Sunday and therefore a Visitation Day, allowed them in. Changed comma placement in the last sentence. Should be after the but, not before. They found Roger's brother, Thomas, running in circles, his bare feet melting the snow.
"Roger?" Thomas asked incredulously. "You've got to be joking." Thomas was a small, scrawny boy of thirteen, his reddish hair cut very short.
"Why are you doing that?" Roger asked. "You'll get frostbite."
"It's to build endurance and ability to resist low temperatures," Thomas panted. "I have to run this circle until all the snow in my path has melted. And I will not. I know the signs, I'm not stupid. I'll stop if there's any threat."
"This is why I'm glad you are the one who ended up in the military," Roger told his brother.
"Well, whatever you need, can it wait? After I'm done I have to go to the obstacle course. Then I'll have a short break and we can talk."
They accompanied him to the obstacle course, which nearly killed him. Tell us why it almost killed him. I assume this is supposed to be amusing but it really doesn't come off like that. Afterwards, he led them to his barracks, which were deserted.
"We don't have to do that on Sundays," Thomas explained, "but I'm really very pathetic and I need all the practice I can get."
By this time, explanations of their quest were routine, and the four visitors were able to hit the highlights within five minutes.
"And you want to ignite a rebellion among the trainees," Thomas said slowly.
"Yep."
"You want an army."
"Yep."
"Of...trainees."
"If it's at all possible, my dear little brother."
"Roger, are you out of your mind? We don't know anything about fighting, we're just kids!"
Roger uncoiled his whip and snapped it in the air. "Good. Kids make good freedom fighters. Well, I guess they do. Maybe. I don't really know."
"Try all you like," Thomas muttered. "You're not going to convince anyone."
* * *
The day after their arrival, Joseph was given his first class: forty-three acolytes, fresh from last year's Separation.
There weren't any adults in the room, so Joseph and Ysranna had the kids to themselves. Reluctantly, Ysranna had given Joseph the frog named God to use in his lecture.
"This," Joseph said, holding God up, "is God."
Half of the class began muttering angrily; a few acolytes laughed, and the rest simply looked confused.
Joseph set God down on his podium and walked around it, hands clasped behind his back. "I'm an atheist," he told them. "I don't believe in God, not any god at all. Beliefs are stupid. People die for beliefs. I prefer ideas, myself. No one ever chose to die for an idea - at least, not anyone they teach about in history classes.
"However, when I was Separated, I ended up in a temple in Indiana. Needless to say, I was unhappy. My friend Izzy, here, taught me the basics of the American faith. Oh, I'm sorry, I mean the Christian faith, of course.
"Most of you would never have chosen to become acolytes if you'd had the choice. But you didn't - none of us did."
He returned to the podium and picked up a history book which Ysranna had borrowed from the local Education Guildhall the night before. He opened it to a predetermined page and began to read.
"'Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.' That's from the original Constitution. It's the First Amendment. Now, let's see what the New Constitution has to say." He flipped through the pages. "Ah, it's not an amendment, it's written right into the Constitution itself. 'The Assembly shall make no law respecting religion. Religion will be left to the temples, though they shall follow the Codex of Christian Teachings as set down by Anna-Maria Eskine in the year 2092.'"
Joseph abandoned the history book. "First off, let's take the Assembly. The Assembly is, as you might know, a Greek creation. The Greeks were wiped out; nothing remains of them except ruins."
A female acolyte raised her hand. "Is there a point to this?" she asked when Joseph called on her.
"I'm getting there. All of you have read the Codex, which contains a line often recited at ordination. 'The belief in the One True God, Father of Jesus Christ, who is our Savior, must be protected at all costs. There is One God; there can be no other.' So, what happened to freedom of religion? Apparently, according to our precious New Constitution, I can't worship the Most High Frog Which Is Lord and Master. I can't be a Mormon or a Hindu or a Buddhist or a Jew. I can't even be an atheist. Our government used the temple to trap us into one belief system."
The murmurs from the class were getting louder now. Joseph glared pointedly at them until they quieted.
"The Crusades," he said. "Holy wars, fought because of these beliefs. People died for Christianity. People died for Islam, for Judaism, for almost every major religion in the world. I think it's stupid to die for something you will never, ever be able to prove exists. But that's what America stands for now. One God, one belief, one country, one doom. It's wrong. We can't delude ourselves into believing for even one second more that we are still free. We haven't been free since the War ended. The War never really ended. We just dragged it inside, and now it's destroying us. We're being eaten from the inside out. Not one of us is in control of our own destiny. But they can't control what you think. And thinking for yourselves - thinking that maybe there is no God, or maybe there are several gods, or maybe God is a stuffed frog - that's what can save us from ourselves."
Joseph sighed and wiped sweat from his brow. It was so bloody hot in this classroom. Stupid Southern states.
One of the acolytes jumped up. "You know what?" he said. "I don't think God is a frog. But I think maybe there ought to be a temple to the frog because, after all, it could be God."
Several of the acolyte's friends jumped up and began shouting, "The Frog! The Frog! The Frog!" Slowly, most of the others stood as well and joined in, until only a few shocked acolytes remained seated.
"Oh, great," Ysranna said. "Now we get to say, 'Welcome to the rebellion. Our mascot is a frog that might be God.'"
One of the priests stuck his head into the classroom. "What's so exciting?"
Joseph smiled blandly. "Oh, I was just teaching them about the resurrection. Interesting stuff, you know."
Didn't the priest notice the "frog" chants? * * *
Lasa made a similar speech to the residents of Thomas's barracks when they returned from their various activities. Luckily, none of them went away chanting for the Frog; instead, they promised to quietly spread the word of the rebellion.
"I think we might have made a difference," Lasa told Zacharias later. They were in her hotel room in Fort Wayne. She was lying on her back, hands stretched out over her head, while Zacharias made a cup of coffee.
"Spring transfers next month," he said. "All of the older trainees who get transferred will carry our message out into the world. It might take awhile, but we're going to get the military."
"How do you think Joseph and Izzy are doing with the temple?"
"I have no idea. That depends on how set in their ways the kids they teach are." He removed his coffee from the microwave and sat down beside Lasa on the bed, sipping at it.
It took a few minutes, but Lasa eventually realized that he was sitting next to her, close enough that she could touch him if she wanted to, and she didn't mind.
"Zacharias," she whispered. "What was it like, when they poisoned you?"
He set the coffee down on the nightstand. "I was so tired," he said. "And I didn't care anymore."
"That must have been awful."
"Not so much."
She sat up, and her arm accidentally brushed against his, which sent pleasant tingles racing up and down her spine. "What happened to Erion and Roger?"
Zacharias shrugged. "Does it matter?"
* * *
Erion and Roger were, at the moment, racing frantically through the streets in search of their hotel.
"We're late, we're late," Roger gasped, absently yanking Erion out of the way of a carriage. "Las is going to kill us."
"She is, rather," Erion said. "Okay, are we on Pine Road or Pine Lane? 'Cause Pine Road is just up ahead but I think Pine Lane is, like, two miles east of here."
"This is exactly why men shouldn't go out shopping."
"I know. And we didn't even buy anything."
Nearly an hour later, they located their hotel, which was indeed on Pine Lane. It took them several more minutes to remember their room number, though they managed to find it without incident.
"Let's check on Las," Erion suggested.
They knocked on her door, which was answered by a delighted Zacharias. "You shall be the first in the world to see my handiwork," he said proudly. "Lasa, get over here."
Their friend hopped over and stared at them, grinning. "Do you like?"
Roger's jaw dropped. "You...you cut your hair..."
Lasa flicked a strand of her now straight, shoulder-length hair out of her eyes. "Zac cut it for me." Why's it straight? Technically, it should be even bushier, since the weight of long hair would have pulled it flatter.
"Will you stop that?"
"No, I won't. Do you like it, Erion?"
Erion blinked hard, then smiled shakily. "It's different. Very...different."
"Uh," Roger said faintly.
"It is the first step in my plan to disguise us all," Zacharias announced. "Not to mention that her hair was starting to look like a porcupine on drugs."
"Aaah..."
Lasa pushed the door open wider. "Come in, guys. We made coffee. I'm on a caffeine high, which is probably why I let him cut my hair, which is also why I'm going to kill him in the morning. Coffee coffee coffee."
Roger seemed incapable of walking on his own, so Erion was forced to push him into the room. The coffee seemed to wake the Wavespeaker, and he finally choked out, "It looks nice. So nice."
"The next step in my plan," Zacharias said, apparently oblivious to the hormones flying thick and fast, "is that Erion must crossdress and Roger has to masquerade as a giant evil hawk. Then, when we meet up with Joseph, we will shock him so badly he will forget entirely about everything I've ever done to him, and I won't have to deal with him anymore."
"Good plan," Lasa said absently. "You know, my hair was heavy. Now it's light. Whee. Maybe I can fly. Then again, probably not. Too bad. Are you sure you didn't put too much sugar in my coffee? Or possibly alcohol?"
Zacharias sighed morosely. "None of you are paying attention. This is the good part. We stuff the computer with...frozen coffee!"
"There is nothing frightening about coffee, frozen or otherwise," Erion said.
"But it will melt and short things out. Hee, that sounded technical. 'Short things out.'"
Roger had warmed up a cup of coffee in the microwave by now. "Are you sure you two aren't drunk?"
"He can't get me drunk again," Lasa said confidently. "I am experienced now."
Zacharias flopped down on her bed and propped his chin up in his hands. "Short hair brings out your eyes," he noted. "Not that I care."
"If you're going to hit on me, wait until my friends leave."
"No chance," Erion said. "We're taking him with us."
Lasa sighed. "I don't know whether to be depressed or ecstatic."
* * *
The plan was simple: give their speech in as many temples as possible before spring mission trips, and let the acolytes spread the word from there.
It was a good plan, until they were thrown out of the temple.
"The priests were bound to find out eventually," Ysranna said.
Joseph sighed. "You realize that we've basically shattered the Constitution. They're going to kill us." If they wanted to kill them, why would they toss them out?
"The government cannot issue death penalties on religion. Only the temple can."
"Oh. Screwed either way, then."
Ysranna retrieved their horses from the stables. "Joseph, my dear. Don't be ridiculous. We can travel faster than the news that we're banned from all temples. And the spring mission trips will easily outpace the government's quashing of our rebellion."
Joseph mounted his horse and turned it to face north. "'Quashing'?"
"Oh, there is nothing wrong with that word and you know it."
* * *
Agent Matthews, who was across the street, watched them with a merry light dancing in his eyes.
He'd expected, of course, that they would not return to the Wavedancer. He hadn't stationed agents at the docks. He rather wanted to see what they would do next.
Of course, he hadn't expected them to return to see Arietta Taylor. He was unfamiliar with her ways, and hadn't caught up to the small group of self-proclaimed heroes until New York. Even then, he'd arrived late, just in time to hear of the theft and kidnapping.
By then, he was thoroughly annoyed, and might have set his agents on them then, if he hadn't been recognized by a panicked government official. It was a man from out west, worried about the killer, requesting the help of the Espionage Guild. It had taken days to clear up that business, and Agent Matthews had lost a dozen good agents to the case.
He didn't catch up to the "heroes" until after they'd split up. He suspected that it would be the long-haired girl who had the motherboard, and that was what he really wanted. However, he had been unsure of where she might have gone. It had taken a further week of frantic questioning before he managed to discover that, though the folders on most of the group had gone missing, her Wavespeaker companion had a sister. She was a priestess, while the Taylor girl's childhood companion was currently a Journeyman in the temple. Further inquiry revealed that the two, Joseph and Ysranna, had been sent to a temple in Florida.
Well, that was as good a place to start as any. Er. This whole part is confusing me. You need to mention up above, by the Wavedancer, that you're talking about the right-after-the-island affair, as that was quite a while ago, and then you need to explain why he didn't know about Joseph and Ysranna before as they were with the island group.
Lo and behold, he'd found them. They were apparently alone for the moment, but no matter - sooner or later, they'd lead him to the Taylor girl, and the motherboard. The Resistance would live again.
Of course, it would really help if his spies would catch that murderer already. He needed them back where it really mattered - chasing the "heroes."
Though there was one spy he hadn't set on the case yet...
He turned to his partner, who was idly flipping through a newspaper. "Johnson. I want you to get the word to London. I need Genevieve."
Johnson looked up, his eyes wide. "Genevieve? But you said - "
"Just make sure she gets here soon."
* * *
February 23, 2235
Dear Xenevieve: Hee, I'm using your given name. And I'm smirking. Don't you wish you could hit me? But, ha ha, you can't. You're in London and I'm in America. How's life in the war zone, love? Enjoying your winter? I know I am. By the way, are we still planning to go to Egypt again when we're eighteen, or is that out of the question?
Sorry I didn't write sooner. I've been busy - evading death, you know the drill. By the way - lithicodone? I know that was your idea. You're into all those narcotics.
Don't look at me like that. I know you're giving me that 'Narcotics? Wherefore art thou narcotics?' look. Or would be, if we weren't thousands of miles apart. You opium addict, you.
Anyway, in case you were wondering, I'm in Indiana. I know you won't tell your father, because, after all, we are arch-foes. You don't want him to kill me. You want me all for yourself. I must say, love, it sounds rather lovesick on your part.
Well, that's all I have to say for now. Keep practicing - maybe someday you'll be as good as I am.
- Zac
* * *
March 12, 2235
Dear Zacharias:
Well, that was mature. Given name, my arse. At least I know mine. Poor little lost Zac. No family, no place to call home. Well - maybe Egypt. Maybe. Probably not, though, since I fully intend to kill you eventually.
Sure, the lithicodone was my idea. As were the hawks. Surprised you didn't mention them, dear.
I heard about how you cracked the code. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
I shot off about a hundred arrows yesterday, hit the bullseye every time. I'm just as good as you are. Never forget that. When I catch up with you, you'll wish you hadn't told me your location.
Did you hear? Dad's called me over to America. See Zac run. Run, Zac, run!
Oh, and if you're really the best, catch that killer. We've all heard about it, in London. Terrible publicity. Perhaps the Guild would take you back if you did something about it?
- Jen
* * *
March 30, 2235
Dear Genevieve:
Fine, I won't use your given name. Don't see why you have to be so stubborn. It's a very Parisian name, isn't it? Genevieve is, yes. The X isn't. Oh - but we're not talking about that.
I'm sure you're in New York by now, so I've sent this to the Government Guildhall there. I daresay being on the same continent will cut down on reply time. We never talk anymore, love. That's no way to maintain a relationship.
I mean, it would help if you didn't try to kill me, but whatever.
I'll have you know that archery isn't an occupation. Your skills cannot make you money. Even if your father gives you way more credit than you deserve, you'll never get a real job. Now, see, if you were actually any good at Codebreaking - oh, we're not talking about that either, are we?
Oh, and I know the Guild won't take me back. I'm a traitor, a Benedict Arnold, an Eric Fox. And you know what? I don't really care. Poison me all you want, love. You can't get rid of Zacharias Mathari that easily.
We're leaving Indiana tomorrow. Address your next letter to the post office in Salt Lake City. Don't bother coming yourself, though. I'm quite sure we'll be gone by the time you arrive.
- Zac
* * *
April 14, 2235
Dear Zacharias:
Why, I'm hurt. And you talk about relationships! Honestly, running from me.
Run, Zac, run.
Tell me, though. What would your little friends think if they knew you were writing to a spy? A female spy, no less. Who calls you Zac without fear of reproach. I daresay your Wavespeaker girl wouldn't be too happy.
Your priest friends did well in the temples. Dad's having quite a time of it, especially with spring transfers. I'm glad I don't have to deal with your rebellion. It's just sad, really. You take the temples and you think you can change things?
I wasn't intending to come to Utah, dear Zac. I'm still in New York, trying to deal with the mess you've made of things. I have an army of my own, now - an Education Guild to fight your priests. Honestly, why did you take that little girl? Her father will give the world to get her back. I also note that you have forgotten how easy it is to get things like motherboards from overseas. Admittedly, that would be a last-ditch attempt - but never mind that. I needn't spill all our secrets at once.
What secrets are you hiding, Zac?
I do admit freely that you are better with a gun than I am. For now.
- Jen
* * *
May 1, 2235
To My Jen:
Lasa is not "my Wavespeaker." She doesn't care who I write to. As a matter of fact, she's sitting on the bed behind me as I write this, high on coffee for the third time this week.
Really, you'd think by now the others would know better than to leave us alone together. No telling what we'll get up to.
Would it make you angry, love, if anything happened? Our relationship is so...so pathetic. You want to kill me, I tolerate you because you are the only friend I have - it doesn't have a future, my Jen. Lasa and I, however...she's saved my life twice now, which is more than I can say for you.
No, I'm being unfair. You did save my life once. However, the lithicodone was your fault, as well. We're even. I owe you nothing.
And yet I continue to write. Obviously, you are addictive. A narcotic yourself.
Well, Jen, my love, I must away before Lasa does something she'll regret. I will receive your next letter in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
- From Your Zac
P.S. I thought you'd like to know that you are no longer the only girl I've ever kissed.
* * *
May 18, 2235
Zacharias:
Ah, New Mexico. Because your second-year Spanish skills will serve you so well there, of course. You are an idiot. I say that affectionately.
Obviously, you're addictive yourself. As you can see, I haven't killed you yet, for no discernible reason other than that our correspondence amuses me. Also, you've somehow stayed alive with those "heroes." I'm sure that they want to kill you, too. I mean, you're a traitor.
Do I care if you've kissed someone else? I was drunk, remember? And it was your fault.
Remember your heritage, Zac. You belong to us.
- Jen
* * *
May 31, 2235
Dear Genevieve:
Our message spreads like wildfire. You can't stop it. We're going to win, like it or not, and you're not going to kill me. I'd rather kill myself than let you have that little victory.
In the interest of honesty, I must admit that she was drunk, too. The first time.
Oh, hey. If the Guild has disowned me, wouldn't that make you the best? You must be thrilled, love. Congratulations. You were born to be a Codebreaker, and behold, you are.
Apparently I was born to run about frantically chasing after these crazy civilians. How the mighty have fallen, eh, Jen?
I can't remember a heritage that's been lost. All I know is that it's here. In America. Most definitely not in London. You, however, my half-French, London-born, second-best spy, belong overseas, in the middle of a war. That's where you belong.
I belong to myself.
We'll be in Boise, Idaho in a few weeks. Address your next letter there.
- Zac
* * *
June 12, 2235
Dear Zacharias:
Your trust in me is amazing.
Well, you might be interested to know that your rebellion is growing. It's spread to 26 states and counting. Tell me, why do they chant "The Frog" when they gather?
You belong to us. You have been ours since the day your parents signed your birth certificate. You are a spy for life, my Zac, and there's nothing you can do about it. You were born a spy, and when I catch you, you will die a spy.
Run, Zac, run. I'm on your trail now. I don't feel like waiting anymore.
- Jen
* * *
June 27, 2235
Dear Xenevieve:
I think we're back to given names, Jenny, my love.
Once Separation is abolished, I'll be what I want to be.
I'm suprised you waited this long.
The Frog is an inside joke. You're not on the inside. You're outside, looking in. You wish you could join us. At least, you should. You should want to be like us. We're human beings. You're nothing but a cold-blooded chameleon, Jenny.
By the way - kill me if you must. But if you even think of poisoning me again, just know that you will lose your right to call me Zac.
- Zacharias Mathari
I LOVE THESE LETTERS. THEY ARE AWESOME. LOVE LOVE LOVE.
"Who are you writing to, Zacharias?"
Zacharias yelped in consternation and shoved the letter under the table. "Lasa! I didn't know you were, um...there."
She raised her eyebrows. "It's my room, Zacharias. I've been here all along. Why can't I see the letter?" Hmm. I thought Lasa knew Zac was writing. Was he lying about her sitting on the bed behind him earlier? Why's she suddenly interested?
"It's to...um. My...er..."
"It's to a girl," Lasa noted in a deceptively calm voice. "Xenevieve, I think the name was. I saw that much. You don't spell 'Genevieve' with an X, do you?" Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Oh, my God! She's a spy! You're writing to a spy! You're betraying us again, aren't you? Aren't you? Honestly, I thought you'd changed - "
"Lasa, she's not a spy, she's my...my...girlfriend. Yes. Girlfriend. Of...of many years." He smiled placatingly.
"You don't spell 'Genevieve' with an X, not unless you want to be a spy! Don't be an idiot, Zacharias, I know how Separation works! Get out of my room. Right now. Out!"
She dragged him out by the hair without even waiting to see if he would leave on his own, and flung him into the hallway, slamming the door. It happened to be at that moment that Erion and Roger returned from shopping for provisions, as the four were due to leave the next day.
"What did you do to Lasa?" Erion cried.
Zacharias frantically finger-combed his hair. "I didn't do anything. It's not my fault she is pathetically in love with me. I didn't mean to upset her. I think - I have to go mail a letter. I - yes. Bye."
He dashed in the other direction, leaving Lasa's bewildered friends to knock at her door and beg to be let in. She thinks he's betraying them and all she does is throw him out the door? And where are they getting the money for hotels and food?