J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

The question hit like a lightning bolt. “Yes…” Mira said, her voice shaking. “I mean no. She’s not… dead. She’s…”

“Succumbed,” Ben finished for her. Mira’s eyes widened. Sometimes his ability to deduce things was staggering. But he just shrugged. “You said ‘yes,’ at first, which means she might as well be dead, but if she’s not, the closest thing is Succumbed. There’s only one thing I know of that could Succumb a Heedless.” He was right. Even now she was aware of the horrible artifact that sat in her pack. “When you were getting your artifact… Lenore said I was the one who told her about it,” Ben said slowly. “You feel betrayed.”

When she spoke her voice wasn’t shaky anymore. It was stern and cold. “Did you?”

Ben looked back at her but said nothing. He just turned and started walking down a path between half a dozen rusting helicopters. “You’ll need your Lexicon,” he said.

Her Lexicon was one of the last things on her mind, but he was right. She would need it if they were going into the Strange Lands.

Mira stared after Ben a moment, then followed him. A small brass dice cube appeared from one of his pockets, the same die he always carried. He juggled it on his hand, floating it between his knuckles, back and forth. It was a habit for him, something he did when he was deep in thought.

“I was the one who told Lenore,” he finally said.

A wave of heat rushed through Mira. She was surprised by how tangible the anger and pain was. Even after Lenore had told her, even after she’d seen Ben’s name on the Scorewall outside the Unmentionables column, a part of her hadn’t believed it. Or at least, hadn’t wanted to. But now it was real.

Mira stopped and stared at him. “How the hell could you do that to me? You were the one person I could trust! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through because of what you did!?”

Ben turned and studied her calmly. He seemed introspective, not ashamed or hurt. It only made Mira angrier.

“No,” he said. “I won’t pretend I do. But what I do know is that whatever it was, you could handle it. And that’s the reason I did what I did. It wasn’t an easy choice for me, Mira.”

Mira spoke slowly in a voice laced with so much venom she barely recognized herself. “Please try to explain it in a way that makes sense to those of us without your ability to intellectually rationalize every goddamn thing you think and want.”

Ben sighed, as if summoning patience. She wanted to hit him. “It was my opportunity to get a Severed Tower expedition. You know how important that is.”

“More important than me, apparently,” Mira shot back.

“Like I said, I knew you’d be fine. You’re always fine, you always get out of whatever mess you’re in. It was mathematically certain you’d escape, and then either come back with a plan to get your artifact—or accept Lenore’s offer, which, by the way, wasn’t a bad one.”

“Ben…”

“If it was certain, really certain, that you would be okay, if I knew you would make it—then why shouldn’t I take Lenore’s offer? Everyone wins. It’s easy math.”

“Because people are dead because of what you did,” Mira replied. “There’s more than just you and me in the world, Ben.”

“Not as far as I’m concerned.” Finally there was a hint of emotion in his voice.

Mira sighed and looked away. She felt tired all of a sudden. It was the kind of answer she should have expected from Ben, and in its own way it actually did make sense. But that didn’t make it feel any better.

“I… know you’re mad at me,” he said. She looked back up at him. “But you have to believe I knew we would be together again. It’s the only thing other than the Tower that matters to me. I wouldn’t risk either. I promise I’ll make it up to you. You’re back now. Everything’s over. You and I can go to the Tower like we always—”

“I told you, I have to go with my friends to the Tower.” She walked past him, back down the path through the old helicopters.

Ben followed silently. The die reappeared, dancing on his knuckles. “Hauling a non-Freebooter, a little girl, and a dog through the Core is suicide. And why the Tower anyway? If not with me, why with them? You don’t need to reach the Tower to destroy your artifact. The fourth ring Anvil is far enough for that.”

He was figuring things out, Mira knew, about to be lost in a stream of thoughts that would lead to one inevitable conclusion.

“The bounty hunter is a means to an end. He helps you survive, I get that, but there’s no reason for him to go to the Tower either. It must be because of the girl. She’s the only unknown.”

“Ben…” Mira said.

“Then there’s your and the bounty hunter’s eyes, clear of the Tone. He could be Heedless, there’s no way to know, but you definitely aren’t. ”

“Ben, stop—”

“The girl probably factors into that, too… but how? ”

“Ben…”

“There have been rumors, even here, of someone who destroyed the Assembly army at Midnight. Someone who stood on the dam and unleashed the waters. I hadn’t put much credence in it, it didn’t add up. But maybe—”

“ Stop! ” Mira yelled and quit walking. “Just… stop. ”

Ben looked at her oddly. Studied her like she was new to him all over again, like she was a mystery. Ben liked mysteries. “What have you gotten yourself into, Mira?”

“Like I said…” She stared back at him, feeling the anger starting to build. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

They started walking again.

It was weird moving through the Crossroads in its abandoned state. Buildings and planes and structures she’d been in countless times before, for various reasons, now all stood empty and quiet. It was unsettling.

Ahead was the wingless fuselage of a colorfully painted old bomber. A B-17 Flying Fortress. She knew that because her grandfather had served on one in the Pacific.

Mira and Ben moved toward it. One of its doors hung open, a red δ spray-painted next to it, and they stepped inside. The walls had been rigged with old lockers from a ruined school or gymnasium, probably. Each was padlocked and decorated with different ornaments and pictures, making the room an arc of color all around the inside of the old airplane.

Mira moved to hers, a dull yellow one with M.T. written on the side in white paint. There were no pictures, just the writing. She’d never gotten around to properly decorating it, because there had always been other things to do. Now she wondered if this was the last time she would ever see it.

Ben watched as Mira dialed in the combination and opened her locker. There was only one thing inside, hanging from a rusted coat hook.

At first glance it looked like a big leather-bound book with a long shoulder strap woven into the binding, but it was actually much more than that. It was Mira’s Strange Lands Lexicon, a vital tool for any Freebooter. In fact, the possession of a Lexicon is what made you a Freebooter. Only those who completed the Librarian’s training and survived their final trial received one.

Lexicons were handed down from Freebooter to Freebooter, either collected after they were killed in the Strange Lands, or turned in before the Tone took them. As such, they represented the collective knowledge of every Freebooter who had owned it in the past. The loss of a Lexicon in the Strange Lands was nothing short of a tragedy.

Mira’s was bound in thick, faded red leather with frayed edges, worn smooth from years of use. Etched into the cover was a gray δ, and she ran her fingers around the outline of the symbol. Straps passed though tarnished brass buckles, keeping it sealed, and two metal locks on either side ensured that only she could open it. Inside were detailed maps of the Strange Lands’ rings and the Core—if any of its owners had made it that far—as well as writings, drawings, sketches and diagrams for the Anomalies that inhabited the different rings. No Freebooter went into the Strange Lands without their Lexicon, and being without one inside meant certain death.