Chapter Twenty – Tarky's Secret

Hamish swayed with the hovercraft's movements as it soared across the flooded city. The Peacekeepers on either side of him sat in silence, though Hamish could hear muffled commands streaming through their radios. No doubt his exploits on the arena rooftop had sent ripples of confusion and tension throughout the Gamemakers Room, not to mention the public at large. Even now, Hamish could imagine the broadcasting team huddled round a screen, rewatching that final anomalous kill, whereby a boy was thrown ten feet through the air without explanation, and looking for a way to add computer-generated effects – perhaps a powerful gust of wind, or a booby-trapped tile – in preparation for the impending televised replays.

In what felt like no time at all, the hovercraft was touching down in the Capitol. Hamish couldn't help suspect that his forthcoming punishment was making the time pass with unforgiving haste.

The hatch opened with a loud hissing, and the Peacemakers grabbed Hamish's arms and steered him down the ramp. They had landed on the roof of the Gamemakers Headquarters, where it was not possible for paparazzi to capture Hamish being handcuffed instead of being presented with the Victor's medal of honor.

Down the elevator and along an impeccably clean corridor. Through a door on the right.

Someone was already here. Sitting in a chair, with his arms behind it, presumably handcuffed like Hamish.

Aberforth.

Hamish was secured in a second chair facing the door. The Peacemakers then left and Hamish heard the door lock.

The tribute and his mentor sat there in silence for a few moments. Hamish was aching all over, and the cuts in his body that he had ignored until now were screaming in pain.

Eventually, Aberforth spoke in a wheezing voice.

'You had no choice, Hamish,' he croaked. 'Magic is an instinct. When faced with death, you can't help but use it.'

'It's my fault you're here,' Hamish said. 'Whatever they do to you now … it's all my fault. I picked you as my mentor –'

'And I had every choice to decline,' grunted Aberforth, with a little more strength. 'I wanted to help you, Hamish. You have no idea the relief, the desperation I felt, when I learned there was another wizard in Panem. I had almost convinced myself that magic wasn't real, that it never had been real.'

Aberforth's breathing had become more shallow. Hamish turned his head as far as he could, and saw that Aberforth had tears in his eyes.

'I'm an old man, Hamish. I'm glad I lived long enough to see you perform magic. My brother would have welcomed you with open arms to Hogwarts school. I can see him now … and my sister …'

Aberforth was staring dead ahead, but there was no one else in the room. His breathing was still short and shaky.

'Aberforth,' Hamish said, 'they're not here. Aberforth, it's just us.'

'No, they're right here with me,' said Aberforth with a watery smile. 'Albus … dear Ariana …'

'Aberforth,' repeated Hamish. Now he had tears in his eyes. 'Please don't die … please …'

But with one final, deep breath, Aberforth fell silent.

The door clicked open and in walked the Head Gamemaker, Tarky Ubodrown. His eyes met Hamish's, and Hamish rather thought a fleeting moment of recognition passed between them. But then Tarky transferred his gaze to Aberforth.

'What happened to him?'

'He passed away,' said Hamish, trying to keep his voice even, matter-of-fact. He did not want to give the awful people of the Capitol the satisfaction of his broken emotions. 'Just now.'

Tarky paused, then nodded. He turned to the two Peacekeepers waiting in the corridor behind him.

'Take him away, please. Remove his cuffs, and see to it that he is buried in the mentors' cemetery.'

In their robotic manner, the Peacekeepers released Aberforth from the chair and carried his body out the room. The door snapped behind them.

'If you're going to kill me,' said Hamish casually, 'I'd rather it be quick.'

Tarky stared at Hamish, but did not respond directly to his request.

'I have informed President Snow of the situation. You used duplicitous means to win the Games, and therefore the thirty-third Hunger Games will be edited to produce a more orthodox ending. I have told the broadcasting team to remove you entirely from the final showdown on the tower, as well as the footage of Feral falling off the building. Feral will be crowned victor, after his dispatching of Zoe and Metrus, and his inability to attend the relevant ceremonies will be put down to excessive camera-shyness and a wish for a peaceful remainder of his life.

'As for you, Hamish Woodburn … Officially, you died during the second week of the Games, when you were knocked unconscious by the alcoholic seawater. Your name will be wiped from the District 12 census. The revised footage will be broadcast tonight, and any confusion caused by this will fade over the next few months. Anyone from District Twelve claiming that their tribute had won, will be killed.'

Hamish said nothing, though he was reminded again of just how much authority the Capitol held over its districts.

Tarky put a hand inside his leather jacket and extracted a long, thin piece of wood. Hamish's wand.

'Can you tell me what this is?'

Hamish looked at the wand without expression. He did not see what could be gained from lying.

'It's a wand,' he said. 'It can be used to produce magic. I used magic to give me a chance of winning the Hunger Games.'

'In the training session,' said Tarky, apparently unperturbed by Hamish's claim, 'you used this to conjure a fire, didn't you?'

'Yes.'

'And in the arena, you used it to break a window.'

'Yes.'

'And to control the actions of an enemy tribute.'

'Hard to say,' said Hamish conversationally. 'Feral may have betrayed his friends without me. So I guess you did get your precious Victor after all,' he added scathingly.

Tarky's expression did not change at the taunt.

'Do you know who I am, Hamish?'

'You're the Head Gamemaker,' replied Hamish.

'Yes – but I was also born and raised in District 12. Did you know that?'

Hamish shook his head, surprised.

'Yes, I still remember what it was like,' said Tarky, absently twiddling Hamish's wand between his fingers. 'I lived in the Seam, the poorest area of the poorest District. I spent my whole teenage years wanting to leave. I met a girl there, with whom I rather loved. But I had a secret that I could not tell her. After two years together, we had our first child. But when I started to see that he had inherited from me what I was so desperately hiding, something I was afraid of, I ran away. I moved my way up through the districts, taking jobs where I could and making friends with friends of important people. By the time I reached the Capitol, I had changed my name by rearranging the letters of my surname to something more befitting for Capitol culture.'

Ubodrown, thought Hamish. And it suddenly dawned on him.

'Dad?' he whispered.

Tarky nodded, and the first flicker of emotion crossed his face. He placed the wand tip on a cut on Hamish's arm, and it began to heal itself with a pleasant cooling sensation.

'I'm sorry I left you, Hamish. I was a coward. I never learned to control my magic, and I couldn't bear the thought of passing on that fear to a son of mine. When I saw you performing wand magic with such control, I did what I could to ensure I could meet you again, face-to-face, as we are now. The last two wizards in Panem.'

'Ella's Dad – Bruce – he's a wizard too –' Hamish began, but his father shook his head.

'He's gone too. He lost it when Ella was killed by that falling skyscraper. Tried to curse the Gamemaker who caused it, and he was shot by Peacekeepers.'

'Then let's get out of here,' said Hamish suddenly. 'We can go back to Mum, in District 12, and –'

But again, Tarky shook his head.

'I'm sorry, Hamish. I've already told President Snow what I've told you. I was so desperate to see you that I told him I was your father, and that I was helping you win, only so that I could see you again. Any minute, he's going to send men in here to kill us both. We can die together.'

The door was barged open and four Peacekeepers entered, guns pointing at Tarky and Hamish. Tarky didn't even raise the wand.

THE END