Young Writers Society

Harry woke up to her communicator blinking on the side table and she didn’t remember sitting it there, but she also doubted most of her memories from the night before. She wondered if she had consumed some odd amount of liquor, remembering that the Sector spirits were often weaker with the military regulations. And the generally weaker stomachs that humans kept about them, leading to the majority of her income as a teenager with an overall lack of wages in the colony.

The sounds of someone breathing beside her verified the memories floating around her mind and questioning the events. Buzzing sent the communicator off the table and Harry rolled out of bed to follow it, falling onto floor after doubting the distance between the two levels. In between the stirrings from the body in the covers above, she found the pieces of her clothing that she had folded up the night before and slipped out the window. After waiting on the sill for a moment, pieces of her mind clicked back together and plotted back a map of the necessary balconies and rooftops necessary for the location on her handheld.

Several rooftops, three side streets, and two trips on separate hay wagons later, all while in the obviously royal crimson cloak, Harry tapped a wooden cane against the door of a cottage far out from any edge of the main town. She had picked it up somewhere along the trip out of the road, in the event there came a need to mimic a certain earthen president. There was a shuffling inside, the sound of glasses being knocked together and metal clicking across cobblestone, meaning she would not be met by the person she had come to see.

“Ah Mrs. Grangear. It’s been such a long time.”

The house keeper looked up to her with an odd smirk, opening the door and ushering her inside with no amount of kindness. After the things Harry had done as a child or what she had done just a few years ago when visiting the region as a teenager, she couldn’t really blame the housekeeper for their feelings. A younger version of herself had a habit for causing trouble that involved freezing many things, including the face of one of the old lady’s eldest grandchildren.

“Mr. Macabre is within his study. Would you like to be introduced?”

“It’s really not necessary.”

Harry tried to let the protest slip out but the old lady was already within her process. This really wasn’t a scenario where she wanted anyone involved, still questioning why Grangear wasn’t questioning her own presence. She doubted that he would have had a middle man in their contact. There was already enough paranoia running through her blood and it was hard to beat it back, even with the cane currently being held in her hand. Even more surprise rose from the fact that no one tried to take it away from her.

“He is ready for your presence.”

“Already?”

“We have been waiting.”

The housekeeper opened the oak door, threw Harry inside, and left. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the rough motion, thinking back once more about how her favorite thing to do was piss people off. At least that was her favorite thing when she had only spent eight years upon the lands and hadn’t been off to war yet. The idea of her favorite activity of torture was still running through her mind as a figure approached from the shadows.

“Does the bird rise before dawn in the hollow?”

“Only to slaughter the worm that may bring the harvest.”

For a slight moment, she had worried about forgetting any of the pass signs, an unusual remnant of the childhood she had spent living in Macabre’s attic. Her mother had never been a fan of the old medicine man, thought that he was corrupting Harry’s soul by allowing her to have dreams of a future. That was all the more reason to rush to his offices every day after finishing school and hope for the smell of poisonous perfumes funneling out of the potion room.

All the more reason.

Another uncomfortable set of arms found their way around Harry’s shoulders, bonier than any of the ones before. Harry was starting to be a bit tired of being hugged but her mind pushed the awkward feeling back. Most of the people she had seen on the return home had been rather glad that she had returned home, outside those few off council members Cara had drug her past during lunch. If it hadn’t of been for Cara’s gloved hand that held her own from getting to the thigh holsters, there would have been a fight in that corridor.

“Ah, Harry! You are alive! You have returned to all of us. Come, sit, sit.” He drug her along to a set of chairs by the window where a kettle sat, still steaming and waiting to be poured into a careful china set, then continued with the welcome home speech. “How do you feel being back to Tanis?”

“Well there’s certainly some things that I didn’t miss.” She gestured to the door while saying, “Old Gin Gone Grangear out there hasn’t changed a bit and she certainly still doesn’t like me.”

Macabre sat carefully in the chair across from her, looking like at any moment he might crumble into a small ball if someone were to shout too loudly. Immortal creatures like him always looked so fragile on the outside but Harry had hung around the type long enough they were a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe there wasn’t always strength within someone’s limbs, but there was strength within their minds. And this was something that Harry had always been able to relate to, as someone who had a different size and was born to be slightly weak by design. She wasn’t their type of warrior.

“You know you shouldn’t talk about her like that and just move your head into that invisible off space. Are you ready for a cup of tea before we have to make it all over again? The kettle is getting cold.”

There was a little fight that was rising in Harry’s throat and as much as she would have wished to fight anyone that tried to give her an insult, there came the reminder of certain people. This feeling had started coming back since she came into the area of the kingdom nearly a month ago.

“You know dear, my sister, Cati, and I are very much alike. And even though I can only read certain parts of the mind, I can tell that you have been avoiding us for quite a long time. Maybe even that you have been lying to the people that you hold most dear.”

“You can’t really judge me, Mack. You didn’t tell them that you got married to that guy in the casino and you made an eight year old keep that secret for all of this time.”

“Ah, I forgot that your memory was so good or I would have never had you be a witness to all of that.”

Harry took another sip of the tea that had appeared in her hand at some point in the process, in the same way that things had already been appearing in the last day. That certainly was not a feeling that she had missed. Though the sector had given her many hardships and a lot of regrettable actions, independence existed there. Independence was the only feeling that most of the people of the sector could feel but it was enough for her. The emotion of knowing that you weren’t allowed to do anything for yourself had created some of the spite that Harry had for her mother.

“How have you been, Mack? Still the hell raiser you were when I left or did you mellow out to just be a magic mushroom.”

“For once, your mother was right about something about you.”

“And when did you have the chance to talk to her royal highness about my visit?”

“Oh, just shortly before you arrived. I believe that she knew you were coming here all along, she certainly knows by now that you wouldn’t have stood at the gates of Hell, just to come see her.”

“And?”

Harry knew that there must be more to the story than what he was letting on. All of the stories in Tanis were like that, very intricate spider webs, filled to the brim with lies, thoughts and dead flies. The loose tea leaves floated around the amber liquid in her cup, some sticking to the sides while the others continued their race around the track. Sometimes she had forgotten about the joy in slight, covert movements in life. How just glancing down at the science happening in a tea cup could change the perspective. And letting these careful thoughts rise to the surface meant that Macabre could not read her feelings.

“And I know that there are a couple of people you came back to see, including Cara, who I assume you’re going to sweep away on a white horse. If you’re considering running away to a romantic assignment, I have just the mountain cave in need of an earth enchanter.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not join the League? It’s not the easiest life but it ensures our employment and healthcare.”

He paused for a moment to read her face, setting down his tea and leaning further across the table, then continued, “Is there some big reason?”

“I’m shipping off to the Federation base in six months to be a resistance fighter on some little planet that they haven’t even told me the name of yet. It will most likely be a suicide mission and I don’t wish to have too many connections, but I already ruined that.”

Macabre took the tea back into his hand and slid back into the lounging position against the chair. He would have a plan for her. Mack always would come up with some sort of plan for whoever might come to him in a time of need, no matter who it was or what purpose they sought after. He had a plan.

“Is it truly suicide or do you just not want to face the consequences of returning home from another war?”

“I would guess to say that it is a bit of both. The Federation is not much a fan of letting anyone know any details until they are being dropped out of hover transport and diving to the ground.”

“Yes, but the Federation is also a fan of having many powerful assets. And no matter the attempts that you make to deny your strength or worth, they will find you very valuable.”

“Perhaps.”

Harry let the silence fall when she only followed with a single word, wishing to find a way out of the hole that she had dug but not in a particular mood to give away all of her thoughts and feelings.

“You know I have methods of staying alive no matter the situation. Let us have another kettle put on and then take care of this matter.”

Harry drew the water from the tap, watching it spiral and steam as it jumped into the kettle on the table.

“Ah, very good, my dear. The tea should take just a few minutes then.”