And now, she needed to find those girls and get out of here. Although the salon was relatively isolated, it wasn’t that far from the highway, and the odds were good someone would’ve seen or heard what happened. If she could get everyone out of here soon enough, the authorities would think enterprising men had stolen this prime catch of girls, never guessing that a woman was behind it.
Eager as she was, however, Mae moved cautiously when she went upstairs, in case more unknown guards were lurking. She didn’t have to worry. All eleven girls were crowded together in one of the bedrooms, with no other men in sight. They only flinched a little when Mae burst in with her gun, looking more surprised than afraid. Guns weren’t an oddity around here the way assertive women were.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, taking the approach she had earlier with the kitchen girl. “I’m here to free you.”
This received almost no reaction, and Mae had to accept that she wasn’t going to be welcomed as a liberating hero. These girls had no concept of freedom—not yet. They were used to force and orders, and for now, that was the approach she’d have to run with. She sighed and waved her gun toward the doorway.
“Come on, we’re leaving. Move quickly and quietly in a single line.”
They fell to it, trooping dutifully down the stairs, though some did display a bit of shock at the bodies there.
“Wait,” said Mae. She gestured to two of the older girls and nodded toward the unconscious servant. “Drag her out. She’s coming with us.”
One of them frowned. “Why take her? She’s not worth anything.”
“I’m taking her for the same reason I’m taking all of you,” said Mae. “To get you out of this hellhole.” The servant woman wasn’t a Gemman, nor did she have the sympathetic story the provincial girls here did, but it didn’t matter. No way would Mae leave her behind, and at this point, she was facing so many complications when—and if—she made it back to her country that tacking on one more hardly seemed significant just then.
The two girls obeyed, but another one was still skeptical as they walked out toward the van. “You aren’t taking us to sell us?”
“I’m taking you to a place where you’ll be free,” Mae told them, eyeing the smoke from the burning car with dismay. That was definitely going to attract attention. The confused looks on the girls’ faces said most still couldn’t comprehend the concept of freedom, and she groped for an explanation as she hurried them into the back of the van. “You won’t be sold off or made anyone’s wife unless you want to. And if you do want to be a wife, then you’ll get to choose your husband.”
“There’s no such place,” insisted one of the younger girls. “Nehitimar wouldn’t allow it.”
“Nehitimar has no hold where we’re going.” Mae shut the door behind her. The girls settled into the back of the van, no doubt breaking a hundred safety mandates back home, but Mae didn’t care. She started to step past them and then paused when she saw her niece sitting quietly in the van, taking everything in with wide hazel eyes. “What’s your name?” Mae asked her.
The girl cowered at having attention drawn to her, and Mae felt the earlier anger she’d tried to push down return. It wasn’t directed at her niece but rather at the people and system who’d made her niece this way, docile and fearful, waiting to be told what to do.
“Ada,” said one of the other girls, the one who’d wanted to know if Mae was selling them. “Her name is Ada.”
It was a pretty enough name but not one Mae was familiar with, meaning it almost certainly wasn’t part of the RUNA’s Greek or Latin registry. “Not anymore. You’ll have a new name in the place we’re going to. Ava.” It was the first Gemman name that came to mind that resembled Ada, and even though Mae knew it was a harsh thing to tell a little girl who had no concept of what was happening around her, something in Mae couldn’t help it. She was still angry at the forces that had dropped her niece here, and breaking free of even their naming system seemed like a first step at freedom, even if the poor girl didn’t realize it yet.
Mae had no more time to talk and took the driver’s seat. She slipped the keys into the car’s ignition but nothing happened. She pulled them out and tried again, only to get the same effect. “No,” she groaned. Not this, not now.
“You have to turn them.” The girl who’d told Mae her niece’s name had quietly slipped into the passenger seat. “Haven’t you seen a car driven before?”
Mae had both seen and driven one before—at least, she’d driven Gemman cars before. Most populated areas used automated cars, but military personnel were trained to drive manually since battlefield situations often required a human touch. Those vehicles—leagues more sophisticated than this one—started much more simply, with buttons or a key that sparked ignition the instant it was inserted. Heeding the girl’s advice now, Mae fumbled with the key, finally managing to turn it in a way that brought the archaic sounding engine to life. It was loud but steady, and she hoped it was in good shape.
The rest of the controls bore enough similarity to what Mae knew that she was finally able to get the van to drive with a little more trial and error. The girl beside her looked suitably impressed in the glow of the dashboard’s controls, probably because she’d never seen a woman drive before. Mae managed to get them onto the main highway without pursuit and grew more accustomed to the van’s operation, creating a less jerky ride that the scared and silent girls didn’t seem to appreciate.
“What will my name be?” asked the girl beside her.
“Hmm?” asked Mae, attempting to adjust the rearview mirror. “In the new land we’re going to. Don’t we all get new names?” Mae hadn’t really thought that far ahead. It would be a matter for those in the Citizens Ministry who maintained the national registry. “It depends,” she said. “What’s your name now?”
“Cecilia.”
“That’s Latin. You won’t need a new one.”
The girl looked so disappointed that Mae immediately felt bad. “I mean, you could go by Cecily, I guess. Or Cecile. There’s probably a few other acceptable variations from that root in the registry.”
“Cecile,” said the girl decisively, her face brightening. “I like Cecile.”
It occurred to Mae that cultivating the one girl who didn’t seem terrified of this journey she was taking them on might not be a bad thing. It was foolish to hope her niece—Ava—would immediately latch onto Mae, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t seek allies in the others. She might need them to get out of here, them and the goddess who so far hadn’t had to do much except show her a few visions.
“Okay, Cecile. Do you know if any others were coming by the salon tonight? Any other men?”
“I don’t think so,” said the girl. “I think we were getting ready to leave when . . . you came. We’d just finished supper, and Mr. Pittsfield told us to go upstairs and get the rest of our things. Then we heard that big boom. Did you do that?”
“I did,” said Mae. “I needed to—oh no.”
Alternating which hand stayed on the wheel, she’d been rummaging through her coat pockets in search of the map. It was gone. It must have fallen out during the scuffle with Pittsfield.
“I don’t suppose you know the roads around here?” Seeing Cecile’s astonished face, Mae almost smiled. “Never mind. We’ll figure it out.” She’d gotten a good look at the map and had enough of a sense of direction based on the sun to know her cardinal directions. It would have to be enough to get her to the northern border until something better came along.
“You should sleep if you can,” she called back to the others. “We aren’t going to be stopping for a while. And I’ll need someone to be in charge of those water bottles. Everyone can have a drink every . . .” How long until the border? Mae couldn’t have said for sure with the map, let alone with out. “. . . every hour.”
“I’ll do it,” said one of the older girls who’d helped carry out the unconscious servant. “But what will my name be?”
&nbs
p; Some of them were starting to think this was a game, and Mae couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. It made some of them more agreeable, but at the same time, she kind of wanted them to take this seriously. Nonetheless, after a little discussion, her water volunteer was dubbed Monica. The girl took to the task happily, and she was also the one who calmed down the marked servant when she groggily woke. “It’s okay, Dawn,” Monica told her. “We’re just on our way to the new place. You had an accident. Rest.”
Mae hoped there’d be no screaming when Dawn learned the truth of the situation, and fortunately, darkness and tension eliminated most conversation in the van. They traveled north for about an hour when Mae came to a junction and signs indicating multiple destinations. East would take them toward downtown Divinia, where she most definitely didn’t want to go. West was the route she wanted, both from the lack of cities indicated on the sign and because that was where her mental map told her to go anyway until she could turn north. What gave her pause was another small northerly route, marked as leading to Holy Lake.
Holy Lake. The Grand Disciple’s words came back to her, how he’d bragged to Justin about having a private lodge and property there . . . and Justin’s speculation that was where the staff might be hidden. Mae knew the smart thing now was to turn west and put as much difference between her and Divinia as possible. Time wasn’t a commodity she could spare just then. At the same time, she was also fully aware of the complete stroke of luck that had brought her to this point. If she’d still had her map, she likely would’ve turned west already on one of the many smaller side roads they’d passed. She’d been uncertain until reaching this point but now had clear direction. Taking it was the logical choice.
And yet, Holy Lake had been Hansen’s best guess for the staff, the staff Mae knew little about, save that it troubled Justin and might hold a threat for the RUNA. It was impossible to imagine anything posing a greater threat than the hacking conspiracy that Justin was already working on . . . but who was she to say for sure just how much damage the supernatural forces swirling around them could cause? She’d certainly witnessed enough to know the potential was there, and there was a very real possibility the knife’s master had sent her down this path with the purpose of finding Holy Lake.
If you have faith, I will guide you home and help you thwart your enemies, the goddess had said. Mae had assumed at the time those enemies were the salon workers. Now, it seemed very possible the knife’s master was offering her the opportunity to thwart her country’s enemies as well.
Mae was hardly in a position to cut herself and find out, but she was, according to the sign, less than ten miles from the lake. A quick check of the area would take no time at all. And so, knowing it might very well make an already dangerous situation worse, Mae merged on to the small road that led to the lake.
CHAPTER 20
Ascendant
Religion might not have been a mainstream practice in the RUNA, but there was plenty of information about its many incarnations on the media stream for those who were interested. In some ways, there was almost too much. Following Dr. Cassidy’s party, Tessa threw herself into research on Osiris and Egyptian mythology, coming up with more questions than answers.
“All of this is on ancient stuff,” she complained to Daphne. “And there’s no real record that details exactly how they worshipped. There’s just a general set of beliefs.”
“That’s all there usually is for these modern revivalist cults,” said Daphne. “Most of these groups based on ancient gods weren’t around just before the Decline. They popped up afterward and pieced together new practices based on the old myths.”
“But there’s hardly any info on what those new practices are.” Tessa knew she sounded whiny but couldn’t help it. It was frustrating to have access to so much information and not actually get what you needed.
“The servitor’s office probably has it,” Daphne said. “Smart groups keep their practices secret. But that’s not important to us. This is. And really, there’s just nothing that damning.” She tapped her ego, which had a transcription of the conversation recorded in Dr. Cassidy’s office. Daphne had gone over it a hundred times, and while there were insinuations present, the recording contained nothing that concretely linked the man to membership in a cult. She sighed. “Smart groups also don’t leave any public records of their members that we could possibly tie Cassidy or anyone in the CP to.”
Tessa disagreed with Daphne that the practices weren’t important. She couldn’t shake the feeling that understanding the worship of Osiris would be instrumental in understanding Cassidy and his subsequent agenda. And seeing as his own words and the public record offered no conclusive results, it seemed to Tessa that investigating the religion itself was their only option.
“What about this?” she asked. She had a reading tablet propped up on the March kitchen table and turned it toward Daphne. “Dr. Cassidy mentioned Osiris’s son and how the ancient Egyptians believed the pharaohs embodied him. It says here that his son’s name was Horus and backs that whole idea up—about how sovereignty is linked to divinity. I think Dr. Cassidy believes that—I saw it in his face, that Gemman leadership would benefit from godly influence.”
Daphne gave a scarlet-lipped smile and leaned back in her chair. “Sweetie, I would love that if that were true. If we had proof that the Citizens Party was out searching for the next son of Osiris to lead this country, it would make both our careers. Unfortunately, ‘seeing it in his face’ isn’t enough. You should appreciate that, since you’re always such an advocate for proof.”
“I don’t think they’re looking,” said Tessa. “I think they’ve already found their Horus. You see the way they talk about Lucian. And the press has noted for a long time how unusual it is that the Citizens Party rallied around such a young candidate for consul. Maybe it’s not that weird if they believe that candidate’s been marked with divine favor.”
”Once again,” said Daphne. “I would love if that were true. We have no proof, especially with the good senator out of the country right now. Our best bet is to try to finagle an interview when he’s back, and in the meantime, keep you on good terms with the YCC. When’s your next meeting?”
“Today,” admitted Tessa. “But I wasn’t planning on going.”
“Of course you’re going,” exclaimed Daphne. “It costs you nothing but time. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch something unexpected. Don’t forget this.” She slid the microphone over to Tessa, who took it reluctantly.
“Dr. Cassidy may not even be there,” she warned Daphne. “I get the impression his visits are rare. Makes sense since his main job’s counseling party members. Acacia will probably run things.”
Daphne nodded along, undaunted. “Yes, and she’ll report back to him, which will reflect well on you.”
Tessa had no arguments to make. She was caught up on her schoolwork and had no other plans that afternoon. So, with more of Daphne’s blessings and advice, Tessa grudgingly took the train back downtown to the YCC’s offices with Rufus. As expected, Acacia ran the meeting alone, which turned out to be a variation of the last one. They finalized project plans and had more discussions about current issues. The only surprising part came when, a few minutes before things ended, Dr. Cassidy himself actually showed up.
He nodded in approval as the group finished up debating a piece of education legislation that had been in the news that day and then bade each of them farewell when they started to disperse. When Tessa joined the others, he called her back.
“Just a moment,” he told her. “I actually came by to ask you something.” He let the others leave and told Acacia he’d lock up for the night. Tessa grew nervous at the dramatics, but his request turned out to be pretty benign. “I know you’re still getting your feet with us, and I certainly don’t want to pressure you into anything . . . but Adora Zimmer’s been in touch with me, and you’ve made quite an impression on her.”
Tessa thought back to the woma
n from the party. “Really? We only talked a few minutes.”
He smiled. “Well, apparently that was enough. Immigration reform is something she’s very passionate about, but it’s a tough sell to a lot of people. The CP sees certain benefits to it, especially with such a compelling spokeswoman.”
Such a wealthy spokeswoman, Tessa thought. Aloud, she said, “What would you like me to do, sir?”
“Adora’s group has its own share of fundraising and awareness events, and she’d simply like to meet with you to discuss possible future involvement. I know it’s asking a lot,” he admitted, looking truly apologetic. “Especially when you’re just getting to know us and have your own work and projects, but . . .”
“It’s a good cause,” said Tessa, actually meaning it. After seeing the way she’d been treated in the RUNA, she was sympathetic to any mission that might help others in her situation. But she knew that wasn’t Dr. Cassidy’s biggest motivator here. “And it’d make the CP look good in her eyes if you lent me out,” Tessa added.
“Don’t think of it like that,” he said, with a small chuckle. “We don’t treat people like commodities around here. But yes—she’s definitely someone we want to keep in good favor with and not just because of her wealth. She’s also very influential in business and has a lot of important contacts, whose endorsement could be critical to our cause. You haven’t been with us that long, but I hope you’ve seen enough to understand that we really do have the best intentions for this country.”