Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air (44 page)

She'd never know if this worked or not. That was the hardest thing because it was the thing that made her feel silly. And that was undermining doubt, an enemy of the Work — self-consciousness that made one flinch from doing what needed to be done not because it was frightening but because in the eyes of the bigger world it was silly, a bunch of grownups playing at masquerades, a bunch of middle aged would-be heroes pretending that they were saving humanity.

Alma took another deep breath. And if it were, it would do no harm. If it weren't, and they failed to do it… Alma nodded at herself in the mirror. If it was real and urgent and they failed to do it, hundreds of people might be menaced by Pelley. It was too late for second guesses. This was her job, and she was sworn to it.

With that thought, Alma opened the door and went downstairs.

Beatrice and George had already arrived. Bea was huddled with Jerry in the dining room, the lights already turned out and a candelabra lit on the table. Alma didn't recognize it, so she presumed Bea had brought it with her. Alma went in to join them. "Everything ok?"

Jerry nodded. "Just going over some last minute logistics." He looked down at the neatly handwritten script. "Al, this is the part where you present the elements."

"I'd rather not be on the quarter if you don't mind," Alma said. "I think I've got enough going on."

Jerry's eyebrows rose. The Magister was almost always on a quarter, not just for the honor but because that gave them added control. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Alma said firmly. "I'd rather have the circle held firmly behind me."

"Let's put George on the South quarter then," Bea said. "That's the easiest."

Jerry agreed. "We can just swap them. We'll put you between South and East, Al. That's a decent position to work from, and Lewis has East." Which was a lot of responsibility, the starting position and the spark, but Lewis had practiced for it.

"Sounds good to me," Alma said.

"You've got your lines?" Jerry said.

"Of course I do." Jerry had a tendency to write absolutely endless scripts that took days to memorize, but this one was fairly straightforward. Maybe having Bea write it with him cut down the frou-frou a bit. Or maybe it was trying to write in an older style. They'd decided from the start that since the focus of the ritual was the First Empire Legion of Honor that the form should follow the style of the period, echoing as closely as possible the rituals its original wearers would have used. That meant removing the syncretic elements introduced into the western ceremonial tradition by the Golden Dawn, which was quite a feat. Alma wasn't entirely sure where Jerry and Bea had found the references since Jerry didn't have his library with him, but certainly the script was both lovely and straightforward.

The doorbell rang and Mitch went to answer it, returning a moment later with Dr. Buck and his wife, exchanging pleasantries as he showed them where to go upstairs to change. In the room behind a record player came to life, a lush string overture beginning quietly. Alma looked around. Bea was adjusting the volume so that it was atmospheric rather than intrusive. "What is it?" Alma asked.

"Beethoven's Third Symphony," Bea said. She looked a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry I don't have anything more appropriate. But at least it's period."

"Eroica," Jerry said with an approving nod. "It was written for Napoleon."

"Before Beethoven went off Napoleon," Bea said. "I'm afraid I don't have a lot of records with us in Hawaii. The next best choice is Berlioz, and that's late."

"I'm sure it's fine," Alma said.

George came up and handed her the velvet box containing the medal. He'd already changed, and with his fair hair he looked like a knight robed in white, like a penitent knight seeking absolution. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Alma said. She opened the box reluctantly. The Legion of Honor gleamed on its dark background. It seemed wrong to use it like this, but far less wrong than what Pelley might do. "I don't remember," she said softly.

George nodded solemnly, his voice too low for Jerry and Bea to hear, who were now discussing the placement of candle stands. "Even if you don't remember, the emotions remain. What do you feel when you look at that?"

Alma shut her eyes for a moment. "Sad," she said. "We came so damn close." It was there just out of reach, a well of sadness and loss, of failing so near the prize. Not pain. Not horror. Just a deep and abiding sorrow, counterpoint to the swelling, hopeful music.

"We did," George said roughly. She opened her eyes. "And if you look at it a certain way, we won."

"I don’t see how," Alma said.

"What world do we live in? A world of absolute monarchs and the Church universal? Or a world that at least pays lip service to democracy, where more people every year enjoy the Rights of Man?" He gave her an ironic smile. "We won. Just not for us. For those who came after. That's what building the Temple is."

"Yes," Alma said. And at that her heart did lift. It was true and it meant something that he said it, warming as brandy in the stomach on a winter day. "You don't ever doubt this is real, do you?"

"About half the time I think it's all nuts," George said. He shrugged. "And then something like this happens. The fetch was real."

"Oh yes," Alma said. "It was real. And it could have killed you."

"So. We do this." George shrugged again. "Let's do it."

Alma squared her shoulders. Sometimes it really was that simple. "Then you have South."

The doorbell rang again and Lewis went to answer it. Lily followed him in, a nervous smile of greeting on her face. "I've brought my old robe," she said. "I don't know if you…."

"I'm sure it will be perfect," Alma said firmly.

"The woman from the Coconut Club," George said, a genuine smile lighting his face. "Lily, was it?"

"Yes. And I had no idea!" Lily spread her hands to include the room and the Lodge half-robed.

"I forgot you'd already met," Alma said.

"You said you'd like to help me," Lily said. "I didn't think…."

"That I meant it?" George asked.

"No, I thought that." Lily smiled. "The curse is broken. He'll never have that kind of power over me again. I've learned to fight it."

"Sometimes that's all it takes," George said. "And now we're taking the fight to him."

"I'm proud to be part of it," Lily said. "Anything I can do."

"Right now you can change," Alma said. "Lewis, will you show Miss Lauder to our room? I think the Bucks are in Mitch and Stasi's room."

"Sure," Lewis said. "Come on back."

D
ouglas wondered how much Mr. and Mrs. Sorley were paying Miss Lee to babysit tonight. If it was a million dollars it wasn't enough. This had to be better than anything you did with 4-H or the Boy Scouts or anything, not that he'd done any of those things because he was too young for 4-H and the Boy Scouts until last year, and then his dad hadn't wanted to do any of that stuff. But maybe Mr. Sorley would want to do 4-H, because it seemed really neat to raise piglets. Anyway, this was better. This was about the best thing on the whole planet Earth.

The charter boat chugged out through the channel, its wake white in the dark water behind them. The lights onshore suddenly seemed very far away, even the bright lights that marked Battleship Row along Ford Island and the
USS Arizona
lit up at anchor. It was quiet. Even the bustle of traffic was stilled. There was only the sound of the engines and the tourists talking to one another excitedly on the deck above, a smartly dressed couple leaning on the rail while he pointed out to her the sights of the shore. Douglas and Jimmy were down below, right in the bow of the crew deck. Miss Lee was sitting with her brother and a Hawaiian boy named Rick who seemed to be paying her a whole lot of attention. Douglas had never seen Miss Lee smile this much, though she was usually pretty cheerful. It was better down here than on the tourist deck. Not only could you see better, but you didn't have a bunch of grownups wandering around with cocktails and stuff.

"See Hawaii by moonlight!" the sign by the dock had read. "Enjoy Oahu's most romantic cruise aboard the
Pau'a
. Departs nightly 8 pm — midnight. $2 per person, drinks available aboard." The boat belonged to a friend of Miss Lee's brother, Douglas gathered, and somehow Mrs. Sorley had talked Miss Lee into taking him and Jimmy even though it was way past bedtime. He was awfully glad Mrs. Sorley had unreformed.

Even Jimmy seemed to think this was fun. He was standing right up in the bow, the wind blowing over him as he looked out. Douglas went and stood beside him, being careful not to lean too far out over the rail. The pitch of the boat changed suddenly as it cleared the harbor, choppy waves changing to long Pacific rollers, lifting and falling. There were lights out to sea, another ship distant on the horizon. "I wonder what that ship is," he said.

"I don't know," Jimmy said. He took a deep breath, like he was really breathing for the first time in a long time. "Maybe it's the
Emden
."

"Maybe," Douglas said. He looked sideways at his brother. "You really like the
Emden
, don't you?"

Jimmy shrugged, which might have been encouragement.

"I think when I'm grown up," Douglas said slowly, "I think I'm going to go to sea." He hadn't been sure of it until now, but tonight off Hawaii, the drone of the engines beneath them, the bright lights of the shore receding under a perfect dome of starry sky, it came to him like he'd always meant it, like it had been waiting for him all along.

Jimmy turned and looked at him. "Really?"

"Really," Douglas said. It unfolded inside him, like wings stretching out somewhere in the middle of his chest. "I'm going to do this forever."

"You might," Jimmy said, and put his hand on Douglas' shoulder.

"Did you mean it when you said I was good with engines?" Douglas asked.

"Yeah."

"Ok."

Up on the tourist deck music started, a record player beginning some kind of sweet song, the kind grownups liked to dance to. The full moon was rising out of the sea, a silver sliver above the horizon. Miss Lee laughed at something Rick said.

"Hey boys," Miss Lee's brother called. "You want to hear a ghost story? Come on down here."

They climbed down into the shelter of the deck above and Douglas perched on a box. "I don't believe in ghosts," Jimmy said stalwartly.

"This one's 100% true," Miss Lee's brother said with a grin. "Absolutely factual. It happened to a friend of mine from high school. See, one night he was driving home along the Wailea Road…."

"Come on, Frank," Miss Lee began.

"Boys like ghost stories," he said. "They're not scaredy cats. Are you, guys?"

"Of course not," Jimmy said. "I just don't believe in ghosts, is all."

"Well, one night this friend of mine was driving home along the Wailea road when he saw a girl in a white dress standing by the side of the road. And he wondered what she was doing there at night all by herself. He thought she must be in some kind of trouble. So he pulled over and opened the door and asked her if she was ok."

"Was she?" Douglas asked. A friendly chill ran down his back.

"She said she needed to go home and he asked her where she lived. He thought her dress was kind of old fashioned, but she gave him an address in town and said she'd be glad of a ride. So he said sure and she hopped in. He drove her to the place she asked, a nice little house, stopped the car, and went around to open her door for her." His voice dropped. "And what do you think he saw?"

"What?" Douglas demanded.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Jimmy said dubiously.

"Nothing. There was nobody there. The front seat was empty." He paused dramatically. "So he went to the house and knocked. An old woman answered the door and so he told her what had happened."

"But what happened?" Douglas asked. "How could the girl just disappear?"

"She was never there to begin with. The girl was a ghost. The old woman's daughter had died twenty years before on her way back from a dance, and so she haunted the Wailea Road in her white dress, always asking motorists to take her home."

"Wow." Douglas shivered. "Wow."

"I think that's made up," Jimmy said. "Cause I heard exactly the same story only it happened on the Denver Highway."

Miss Lee laughed. "He's got you," she said. "Jimmy's smart."

"Oh," Douglas said disappointedly. "I wanted a real story."

Rick, the Hawaiian boy, cleared his throat. "I can tell you a real story," he said. He came and sat down on one of the boxes beside Douglas and lit a cigarette. "A true story, a Hawaiian story."

"Ok," Douglas said. "Please."

"Once, in the time when all the stories happened…."

A
lma lay with her eyes closed, the wash of candlelight around her. Someone had tucked a blanket around her so that she wouldn't be distracted by cold, another blanket folded beneath her. The voices went on and on, quiet, soothing.

As they were supposed to be. This was supposed to induce a trance state, a state of unthinking. It almost was. She was aware of the beating of her heart, her breath, all the worries of the day becoming more and more distant. She lay at the heart of the world as though held up by the hands of her friends, as though she did not lie on blanket and floor but on their outstretched arms. Quiet. Peaceful.

Lewis' voice was sure and calm, speaking the words that Jerry and Bea had written. "Truth he has, and all truth is power, truth too deep to be denied. Truth to bind his power's working, truth that cannot be defied."

This was true. It was all true, all the stories, no matter how unlikely. There was power in Story, and these stories were true. Pelley knew that, and so did they. Knowing, they could manipulate it too. Knowing, the story was theirs as well.

There was a murmur around the circle, everyone speaking the response. "May its true nature be revealed."