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When Toby was sure no one was looking, he ran.
It was the money’s fault. That morning, Cait gave him an envelope full of crisp COS Leagues, six hundred, she informed him, his payment for three days of work. Toby did the math in his head, converted to the Colony Dollar, and when all of the zeros lined up right, made a break for the docks.
He had been working on the plan for the better part of the day before, since Xiphos had left him at customs. The first step was to get money. Then he’d find a charter or a ferry to Lat. From there, it’d be easy to take a train across the continent to a port town, and then back to the Colony. The last step was to figure out what to say to his parents when he got home. He wasn’t sure they’d believe him, but being there was better than here.
The terminal was a tangled mess of blocky Linian ideograms, bright neon Traditional Lat, and wispy Standard Lat. Toby shoved his way though the crowd, looking for some hint of a place to buy tickets, past cigarette shops and duty-free boutiques, past dirty food stalls and Relay booths. Close to the gateway to the docks, Toby started seeing maps of Lingguo and the 21 Kingdoms, but nothing to Lat. He passed the gateway, heading to the shops on the other side, fighting through the crowd moving in and out of the bank of doors. He glanced towards the docks, and forged to the other side of the terminal before the world caught up with him, and hit him like a rock to the back of the head. He back tracked to the gateway, peering through, making sure not to get run over by the constant surge of people.
He didn’t have his passport. He hadn’t come in with a passport. The escort still had it. And if he couldn’t get in without the passport…
Toby felt dizzy. He stumbled over to the wall, holding out his hand to catch himself. His knees gave out, and he sank down to the floor, down to the grime of a million travelers, and discarded cigarettes, and spilled duty-free whiskey. The world moved past him, ignored the Colony boy, alone, thousands of miles away from his family, regarded him as uninteresting as the rubbish bin next to him. Tears boiled up in Toby’s eyes, and he clenched his teeth, trying to muscle back the sobs.
One of the crowd broke away, sat down next to Toby, put her arm around him. Toby didn’t look, but picked up the now-familiar scent of Nina. She spoke to him, her voice low, trying to reassure him. When he settled down, was able to relax, Nina helped him up off the ground.
“We have to go back,” she said. Toby didn’t respond to her, his eyes unfocused. He wiped a tear away with the back of his hand. Nina led him out of the terminal to the Dinghy. Nina sat Toby down in the back, and drove them back to the Molyneux estate.
Nina only spoke once. “I know this sucks. But it will get better, okay?” Toby let his head rest against the window of the Dinghy, his blank stare falling on the world just past the road. Nina’s ears dropped. She put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it. She sighed, a deep exhale that was heavy with the knowledge that she could not change any of this. She let the engine hold the conversation between them.
—
Nina left Toby in the family library, a squat little building hidden behind the servants quarters. A set of guards stood at the entrance to the building, looking generally menacing, though Nina didn’t seem afraid of them, so Toby did his best to take their presence with ease. On her way out, Toby heard her say to the guards, “Toby is to stay here until someone comes to get him. In the mean time, please make sure he has everything he requires.” She spoke from behind a thousand-yard stare, and when she turned around, Toby swore he had heard her say, “this is not my job.”
The library turned out to be something of a shrine to the family’s history. Though Toby was unaware of a lot of the finer points of Molyneux history, he knew all of the major players; everybody did. The family Molyneux seemed to have a hand in many of the major world events in the last five hundred years. The first Molyneux, Gimble, saved the Archer Academy from invasion in the late 3480s, setting up the school as a fortress in a city under siege. With the help of her husband Berlin, and a few students that stayed behind, Gimble saved the city-state of Archer. Gimble was just the beginning, and the library had rooms dedicated to all of the great Molyneux. Toby began a slow exploration of his new prison cell: a giant room for the collective works of Nigel the Great, who led the then divided 21 Kingdoms to victory over Lat, Nigel the Second, who prevented civil war among the Kingdoms, and Nigel the Third, who united the 21 Kingdoms into one nation. There was a room for the great explorer Sasha, the first person to establish contact and open relations with the Sandtribe. Amalia, Cait’s grandmother, had a room close by. She had been a great explorer as well, and disappeared late in her life in Sandtribe territory. There were rooms devoted to doctors and ambassadors, so many of whom Toby had never heard of. The top floor of the library was dedicated to Montreux, Gimble’s son, and his branch of the family, all of them great artists and composers, play writes and literary figures.
And then there was Rose. Of all of the Molyneux, Rose was the most popular in the Colony, and stories of her adventures on the sea were just as deep a part of the culture there as anywhere else. Cait’s great, great, great, great aunt, Rose was a sailor by training and a tamer of pirates by sheer will. There were paintings of Rose, standing on the deck of her tall-ship, staring into the sea with the assured look of someone who understood on a completely different level than everyone else. There were murals of Rose standing in front of a table, pirate captains all around her, all getting ready to sign a document of surrender. And, off to one side, an early photograph of an elderly Rose, wearing her captain’s hat, decorated by nations from all over the world. Toby could feel her looking out of the picture as if she were looking into the future, looking at him, challenging him to do better.
In the middle of the building, under a frosted glass skylight, were the newest generations of Molyneux, the 23rd and 24th generations. This was an auspicious time for the family: Cait and her brothers and sisters were the last generation of the twenty-three generation cycle, Nina and her cousins the first.
Cait had her own small section of wall, adorned with framed photographs and newspaper clippings of her achievements. Cait had captained the University of Anchorhead’s sailing team. In the photos, Cait hung from schooners and sail-powered Storm Runners, posed with trophies, sprayed her teammates with champagne. She had three championships to her name, not including the second-place victory as a co-captain her freshman year. In these pictures, Cait was strong, her eyes sharp, the look Rose could give developing inside her.
The atmosphere of the room suddenly changed, and Toby could feel himself being watched. He turned quickly to find Xiphos behind him, looking over his shoulder at Cait’s pictures.
Toby squeaked, and tried to stammer out a few words.
Xiphos placed her hands on her hips. She exhaled sharply through her nose, glaring down at him. “Shut up,” she said. Toby could guess that Nina had gotten to her. Xiphos went back to staring over Toby’s head. After a moment, she gestured to the pictures. “She was cute, wasn’t she?”
Toby turned back to the photos on the wall, holding his hands up in front of him, playing absently with his fingers. “I wasn’t really looking at that…”
“Hmm.” Xiphos tilted her head at the pictures. “Every Molyneux is expected to be great. Can you imagine how much that must suck? I think Cait even believed that, too, you know? The Rose looks like it should be great, but…”
Toby nodded along, trying to make sure he kept up, as to not upset Xiphos. He glanced over at her, watching her ears flick around as she studied the pictures. She didn’t break her attention.
Xiphos hesitated, and then, her voice lower, spoke. “I like these pictures. Cait looks proud, like she knows she can do what she wants, and no one could take that away.” She leaned closer to one of the pictures. It appeared to be a candid snapshot, college-aged Cait in a quiet corner of a party. Next to her, arm around her, was a boy. Bottles in hand, they were oblivious to the camera, but clearly not too far gone. Cait still looked sharp, but relaxed. And the boy looked so comfortable with her that he either didn’t realize who she was, or didn’t care. They looked happy.
“I’ve always wondered who that is,” Xiphos said. “It’s weird to think there’s someone out there who actually got close to Cait, someone could break her wall down.” She straightened up. “Anyways, come on. You’re needed.” She started towards the door. “Well, not so much needed, as Cait said you should be with the rest of us. Apparently, you’re a flight risk now.”
Toby didn’t say anything to this. He kept pace behind Xiphos, watching the ground as he went.
Xiphos took Toby into the manor. Servants moved quickly between rooms, preparing for the next day’s feast. Every inch of the manor was being cleaned and repainted, last minute adjustments being made to every decoration, every detail. The head of the manor appeared now and then, running off to meet the different house groups, the butlers, the chefs, the stewards. Xiphos had to squeeze her way through, dodging people as she went. Toby struggled to keep up.
Cait had managed to find the one quiet corner of the manor. She sat in a comfortable-looking chair, a tea set in front of her, and watched the house’s heart beat. Xiphos delivered Toby, and disappeared back into the fervor of the house. Cait motioned for Toby to sit down.
Cait didn’t say anything at first. She took the time to pour Toby some tea — instantly, Toby picked up the familiar scent of Molyneux Tea — and handed him the cup. This time, Toby didn’t wait for Cait to tell him to drink. It was wonderful. Molyneux tea was complex. Its flavor started strong, but blossomed into something bright, something ever expanding. The more Toby lingered on the flavor, the more the flavor grew. He sipped again, knowing he’d never be able to have this on the Continent.
“So,” Cait said, twisting her cup on the tea tray.
Toby’s ears dropped.
“Oh, Tobias, don’t do that. I am sure you have figured out by now I knew you were going to run. You are a smart enough boy to know that. I needed you to see that, right now, there is only one good way to do this. It is not ideal in any situation, but it is what we have with which to work.”
Toby looked down at his tea cup. He managed, “I’m sorry.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about. You do not know me, and each day we sail takes you farther from home. Is that a correct assumption to make?”
Toby nodded.
Cait sipped her tea. “I need you to trust me. We will never harm you, that I promise.”
Toby considered this. Cait took another sip of tea. She poured more from the pot, first into Toby’s cup, then her own. Toby slumped down in his chair.
“Sir?”
“Yes, dear?”
Toby shuddered with the stark panic of realization. “I…I can’t ever go home, can I?”
“That is an awful thing to say, Tobias.”
Toby looked up at her. “What would have happened when I got home? I didn’t even think about that. It’d be the same thing. I’d be… abducted again. While they watch.”
Cait leaned back in her chair and considered this. “We will get things straightened out.”
Toby crumpled in his chair with a whimper. Cait leaned forward. “Tobias?”
“I don’t know what to do.” He forced each word out, stifling back a sob.
“Work,” Cait said. “And… Move forward. Survive. And when in doubt,” she raised her cup, “there’s always tea.”
[g]
“sprayed her teammates with champaign” would be a mud fight?
Also, I wondered when Toby was going to figure that re-abduction snag out. It’s good to see that it didn’t take long.
Check. Forgot my Brannigan pronunciations: “Sham PAGin”