The Mullinix Book 1: Ascension

  Chapter 13 - Howard’s Pub

  "Here it is," Simon said as they approached a dilapidated building, "The traditional first night spot for first semester civil service students."

  "Looks like a hole," Copeland said, looking at it, "You ever been here before?"

  "Have to be at least 18 to get in," Simon said, "But the drinks are good and so is the music."

  "Records or a band?" Copeland asked him, pulling out his wallet, "And what is the cover?"

  "Probably a bit of both," Simon shrugged, "Sign says five coins and two drink minimum. You get the cover and I’ll get the first round."

  "Deal," Copeland nodded, "Let’s go."

  Copeland paid the ten coins for the two of them and they entered the room. Suvorov watched them enter and smiled. He remembered the place from when he was a student. Simon had been right. It was definitely the place to go the first night of freedom.

  The music was live that night, a fair to middling little band was playing a lively number as Simon made good on his promise to buy the first round. The two boys sat down at the end of the bar and started drinking the sweet ale that made this place so popular. While the boys were taking their first sip of their drinks Rav Suvorov slipped in to the pub and ordered something a bit stronger.

  "So this is what it’s all about, eh?" Copeland said, sipping on the ale, "Being out without the parents able to bitch at you."

  "That’s if your parents even notice you," Simon shrugged, "There were ten of us, man. I was lucky if they noticed when I did something wrong."

  "Which I’m sure you did often," Copeland grinned, "Right?"

  "Constantly," Simon chuckled, "I was the practical joker of the bunch, always playing jokes on my older brothers."

  "You the youngest?" Copeland wondered.

  "Nah," Simon shrugged, "Five of ten. You?"

  "I’m it," Copeland told him, "Mom was frail and didn’t have the ability to have anymore than me."

  "No fun in that," Simon said, "They always had to know it was you."

  "Yes," he grinned, "But I didn’t have to share my toys."

  "There is that," Simon agreed, downing his pint, "Still, I’ve had a lot of fun with my brothers over the years."

  "I still can’t imagine that many people," Copeland shrugged, "Just not something I’ve ever had any experience with."

  "Surely you must have had friends back home," Simon said, "Do you miss them?"

  "I was a loner," Copeland sighed, "Nobody to really miss me, I guess. I read, I watch. I guess I never really got into the thick of things."

  "That isn’t going to happen here," Simon promised, "You’re the nicest guy I’ve met in ages. I’m not going to let you wither away alone here."

  "Gee thanks," Copeland grinned, "I bet you’re a real hit with the ladies."

  "I try to be," Simon grinned, "I think I see some of our year mates over there. Wasn’t she in the class with us?"

  "Yeah," Copeland nodded, "Pretty too."

  "You must have ice water in your veins, Steele," Simon told him, "She’s more than just pretty."

  "So you go approach her," Copeland told him, "I’ll stay here and enjoy my drink."

  "Come on with me," Simon said, "You never know what might happen. You might actually make a new friend…"

  "Bullshit," Copeland chuckled, "I’ve never been any good at this sort of thing."

  "Finish your pint and you’ll do much better," Simon grinned, "Come on, Steele. You know you can do it."

  Simon waited for Copeland to down his pint before ordering a couple more and all but dragging his new friend to the table where the girls were sitting. The girls recognized them from class and took the offer of company from people their own age. Simon and Copeland took seats across from the comely young ladies and tipped their pints to them.

  "Saw you sitting alone and figured you might want some company," Simon said, "My quiet friend here is Copeland Steele. I remember you from class, but I don’t remember your names."

  Rav Suvorov watched with interest as he recognized one of the girls as one of his own year mates, which meant that she was one of the guards assigned to the Mullinix possibles. He ordered another drink and kept a discrete eye on the group, knowing that he could get details out of Stacy.

  "I’m Miranda," the smaller one said, "Stacy is my friend here. What did you think of Mr. Irons’ introduction class today?"

  "It was odd, to be sure," Copeland said, "Something funny about that man, especially the way he looked at some of us."

  "I know it!" Miranda said, "It’s like his eyes were boring right into me during some of those questions."

  "I didn’t get that feeling," Stacy said, "I still think you were imagining it."

  "I saw the way he was looking at Miranda and Copeland," Simon shrugged, "With all the talk going on in the capital about the Mullinix-Elder being at death’s door you never know."

  "Oh gods," Miranda said, "Don’t even suggest that they are thinking about me for that."

  "You get that feeling too, eh?" Copeland asked her, feeling a bit of kinship, or perhaps the effects of a pint of sweet ale with the girl, "It scares the hell out of me."

  "Me too!" she exclaimed, "I don’t know why I would even be considered."

  "That’s why you’d be considered," Simon said, "The Mullinix never wants the job. It’s sort of forced on them."

  "I don’t think you have anything to worry about," Stacy said, "I’m sure that there are far more qualified people than you two."

  "I don’t know," Simon shrugged and drank some ale, "I’ll put in my vote for Copeland. I think he’d do well in the job."

  "Don’t even think that, man," Copeland said, "I’ve been told that a few times and I’m still not sure it’s a compliment."

  "Amen to that," Miranda said, holding up her drink, "At least they haven’t chosen a woman in many years and with the problems down south I doubt they will now."

  "Perhaps what they need down there is a woman’s touch?" Stacy suggested, "Maybe then that stupid war down south will end."

  "What’s so stupid about it?" Simon asked her, though she was starting to grate on him, "King Facie of the Mavelans is trying to take some of our citizens away. That’s something that we can’t take lying down."

  "Twenty years ago that land was part of the Mavelans," Stacy reminded him, "My uncle was down there as a trader then."

  "King Facie is an idiot, Stacy," Miranda told her friend, "Those people left the Mavelans by choice. We don’t conquer people who don’t want to be Mullinix Citizens. That’s dumb."

  Miranda impressed Simon much more than her friend Stacy, but Miranda was more taken with Copeland. Stacy didn’t like either of the boys, but since Miranda seemed to, she put up with them for the present. Copeland was doing well, especially for someone with as limited social experience as he did.

  "So why are you so afraid of it, Copeland?" Miranda asked him, "I know I don’t want the job either, but you seem to be terrified of it."

  "Because it’s something that I’ve been told more than once might happen," Copeland explained, "And that sort of power is something I never want to have over someone."

  "But wouldn’t that type of power be wonderful?" Stacy asked, fishing for reaction from Miranda, "I mean to do what you want and how you want it…"

  "I’m no better than anyone else," Copeland said, "I haven’t done anything to make me deserve that sort of power. I wouldn’t even know what to do with it."

  "He’s right," Miranda said, "It’s all well and good to have that power, but exercising it would be something else again."

  "I still don’t see why you’re so sure you’re going to get nailed," Simon asked his friend, "There are a few hundred of us here."

  "Back when I was a kid," Copeland said, remembering back, "It was at a fair just outside of Skolnik when we went to one of those fortune teller’s shacks."

  "Come on," Simon said, "Don’t tell me you believe in that hooey."

&nb
sp; "It gets better," Copeland said, "Now do you want me to finish the story or not?"

  "Go on, Copeland," Miranda said, interested, "What happened?"

  "Well, we all thought it was going to be a joke," Copeland continued, pausing only to take another drink of sweet ale, "Me and two friends went in to see what they’d say."

  "Getting better," Simon said, listening and raising his hand for another round, "So what happened?"

  "Well," Copeland said, "It was an enlightening experience."

  "Especially for your wallet," Stacy scoffed, "Right Miranda?"

  Miranda just looked at Stacy and then turned back to Copeland to listen to his tale.

  "Anyway," Copeland continued, "We went in and there was this old woman there, old enough to have been around for the founding it looks like. She looked wise and acted the part."

  "They all do that," Simon protested, "It’s all a sham."

  "Usually is," Copeland agreed, "Until she started the fortunes."

  "Ok," Miranda said, indicating to continue as she started on another pint of her own.

  "Charlie went first," Copeland told them, "He was my age, actually just a bit older, one of the few friends I had at the time. We were all of eleven or twelve at the time and looked it, but she took our coins and sat the three of us down at the table. Marky and I looked on as she took his hand in her old gnarled one and looked into his eyes."

  "Let me guess," Simon said, "A dark and spooky shack."

  "How quaint," Stacy frowned.

  "Anyway," Copeland said, as Miranda listened, "She made a good show of it with Charlie and started making predictions. The first of which was that he’d become an artist."

  "Was he one already?" Miranda asked, dispelling her own doubts.

  "No," Copeland said, "Never really tried before then, but became an avid artist afterward. She also told him that he would come into family pain due to something he was and his family wouldn’t accept, but that at the end of hard times he would find who and what he loved."

  "Sounds nice and vague," Simon said, "What happened?"

  "Charlie was fey, though he didn’t figure that out for a few more years," Copeland said, "When his parents found out during school over the past couple years they went nuts and pretty well disinherited him. He went to civil service last term though and is madly in love with one of his year mates. When he came home in the fall he was the happiest I’d ever seen him. This term he’s working as a designer for the school systems, drawing up a storm and loving it."

  "Freaky," Miranda admitted, "Something similar happen to the other one with you?"

  "Yeah," Copeland nodded, "Marky’s was the most scary. She saw great pain in him, which wasn’t surprising considering how abusive his parents were. She saw that he had little love in his future and a lot of pain. She didn’t want to say more, but we all goaded her to say it. She said she saw death for Marky, death after the time of his greatest happiness."

  "Again, nice and cryptic," Simon frowned, "So what happened to him, since I’m betting something did."

  "Marky was removed by the government from his parents house," Copeland said, "Best time of his life, really. He lived in a nearby boys camp."

  "So what happened to him?" Miranda asked as Stacy rolled her eyes.

  "There was an accident," Copeland said, "Marky and four others were killed when they were playing in an old grain tower. The old mortar gave out, sending the old tower down on their heads. They’d all died by the time anyone found them."

  "Ok," Simon said, "That would freak me out too. So what did she say for you?"

  "She took my hand for a minute or so, looked deep," Copeland said, remembering the event like it was yesterday, "She looked surprised at what she saw, and even more disturbed than she did when she told Marky about his future. She said she saw great power for me, a position for which I had no ambition but would have a calling to do. It would be something I would fight to avoid…"

  Copeland stopped and sighed. He remembered it all too well and he really didn’t want it to come true. Miranda smiled as she figured it out and put her hand on Copeland’s. She felt strangely better about things after that, but it didn’t do anything to ease his mind. Simon just shook his head and drank more ale.

  "Weird," Simon said, "I can see why you’re freaking out a bit."

  "Right," Copeland said, "Why are you looking so smug, Miranda."

  "Hoping that it will be you and not me," Miranda grinned, "Especially with all the rumors about Taliaferro’s impending demise."

  "Not nice," Copeland said, "I think I need another ale."

  "One more," Simon said, ordering the last round, "Then we probably need to stumble home."

  The four of them stood up, a little bit wobbly, and headed for the exit. Stacy slipped a little and then saw Rav Suvorov up at the bar. She remembered him as well, so she decided that she should find out what he was there for.

  "Where are you going, Stacy?" Miranda asked her, "Time to go home, don’t you think?"

  "I saw someone I knew from school," Stacy said, pointing at Suvorov, "Figured I’d go say hello."

  "You know Suvorov huh," Simon said as he saw Rav through his bleary eyes, "Our erstwhile roommate actually found this place. Did you tell him we were coming here?"

  "I didn’t know we were coming here, remember?" Copeland reminded him.

  "Go on back without me," Stacy said, "Rav will walk me back."

  "You sure?" Miranda asked her, "How well do you know him?"

  "Pretty well," Stacy smiled, "He’s ok."

  "It’s your funeral chickie," Simon said, "Shall we escort you back, Miranda?"

  "Yes," Miranda nodded, "I think I’d like that."

  Copeland and Simon, both aided by the sweet ale, took one of Miranda’s arms and they walked out together, heading back towards the civil service barracks that were going to be home for them. Stacy smiled as she watched them go and went over to sit with Suvorov, ordering another much stronger drink.

  "So they have you working the kids too?" Stacy asked him, "I’m guessing Copeland Steele."

  "You got it," Suvorov nodded, "Since that screw-up down south they put me here. I take it you were with the other girl."

  "Yep," Stacy nodded, "Since you’re here, I’m betting he’s high in the pool."

  "I think that they’re going to take him," Suvorov told her, "Not that your girl isn’t good too, but I think they want Steele."

  "Only the Mullinix knows that," Stacy reminded him, "Unless you’ve…"

  "Massimaferro is Mr. Irons," Suvorov grinned, "I talked to him after class yesterday. They’re going to pull someone soon. Taliaferro is dying, probably not more than a couple days left, if that much."

  "I should have figured that out," Stacy nodded, "That was so unlike what you and I went through it wasn’t funny."

  "It was worth it for the reactions though," Suvorov shrugged, "I was watching them from afar. Did Copeland say anything?"

  "He recounted a story that explained why he was so scared of becoming Mullinix," Stacy said, realizing that he needed to know, "Frankly, from talking to him there I think he’d make a good one. Probably even better than my girl, and she’d do well at the job."

  "Not with the Siraq negotiations coming up," Suvorov said, "That idiot king up there would eat your girl alive, or try to at least hit on her."

  "That’s ok," Stacy shrugged, "At least it means I stay here and out of active duty for a while. I like it that way."

  "Not me," Suvorov shrugged, "I hope they choose him and maybe I can get out of here."

  "Stop hitting that stuff so hard and maybe they’ll let you out of it." Stacy smiled, "Now finish your drink and walk me home, Rav."

  "Whatever you say, my lady," Suvorov chuckled, downing the rest of his drink in one shot.