"Greetings from the Twin Cities," Archibald Mudd said into his crystal radio set. "This is your humble correspondent, Archibald Mudd, winner of the Apple of Eris Award for Excellence in Muckraking, bringing you the real news of the war on your Wizard Wireless. With me once again is our special guest, a real Thorn in your side and mine, daughter of the Darkest of Dark Lords and Esteemed Enemy of the Confederation in her own right, Alex O. Quick. Say hello, Troublesome!"
Inside the RV in which they'd been crossing the country, which was of course nowhere near the Twin Cities, he had convinced her to participate in his "pirate" WW broadcasts. To her chagrin, Mrs. Wilborough had agreed that she should be not just a face, but a voice for the opposition.
"Thanks, Archie," she said. "And like I've said the last seven nights in a row, my father is not a Dark Lord."
"She may be defending her old man, but I can confirm, Miss Quick is no Princess of Darkness," said Mudd. "You want to see darkness, check out the missing persons reports from Gary, Bowling Green, Topeka, Muckle Ridge, and Pensacola. Thanks to the conspiracy theorists on the Internet who've actually started piecing together the truth about the Deathly Regiment, we know the Accounting Office—"
"Which murders children, in case you've forgotten," interrupted Alexandra.
"—is getting sloppy and desperate. Remind our listeners what the Internet is, Troublesome."
"It's how Muggles communicate and share information, kind of like the Wizard Wireless, but without magic, or Confederation censors. They're really good at it, and they're getting better every day."
In fact, Alexandra was now getting much of her information from the Internet. As far as she could tell, the Muggle government had not yet acknowledged the existence of a "wizarding world," but there was plenty of talk of strange events and weird sightings in the news.
Now, she addressed the American wizarding world—at least, the part of it tuned in to Mudd's broadcasts.
"You already know that Muggles are being killed, every day. You know that their lives paid for you to live your lives apart from them. Well, the Thorn Circle is going to keep punishing the murderers who continue the Deathly Regiment, until you, the people of the Confederation, make it stop."
Mudd said, "If you don't like what's happening, and you're afraid it's going to get worse—"
"And it will," said Alexandra.
"—then ask your Governor and your representative in the Confederation Congress why your Territory still enables the Deathly Regiment. Demand accountability of the Accounting Office. The Confederation is not a death pact."
"Actually it kind of is," Alexandra said.
"Notice the Confederation News Network suddenly isn't bringing you news from all those Territories that have seceded, pretending they don't exist?"
"Yeah, congratulations, Deseret, Yukon, Alta California, and Columbia. A little late, but better late than whenever New England and Roanoke and North and South California and Central Territory and Arcadia decide to do the right thing and stop killing children."
Mudd frowned and shook his head at her. She wasn't supposed to attack the fence-sitting Territories, but she insisted on calling them out.
"Thanks to Governor-General Hucksteen, the Confederation is alone in the wizarding world," Mudd said. "We have no friends and soon we'll have no commerce or communication."
"And the loss of wizarding secrecy, that's his fault, not mine," Alexandra said. Mudd frowned at her again. She was going off-script, but he was the one who wanted her to be a recognizable voice. "They're blaming me for what happened in New York, but I'm not the one who let a dragon loose. They're also blaming me for what happened on the Great Lakes, but I'm not the one who imprisoned Powers on Eerie Island."
Sitting in the back of the RV, Hela and Mrs. Wilborough listened silently to this somewhat revised version of events. Alexandra wasn't bothered that they were bending the truth a little. Mr. Mudd had explained how PR worked.
"And before I let Mr. Mudd tell you about Hucksteen's latest lies," she said, "I have one more thing to say: Lucy, Dru, I'm coming for you."
Both Mr. Mudd and Mrs. Wilborough had told her she shouldn't mention Lucilla and Drucilla, arguing that it would only confirm that they were important to her. Alexandra retorted that whoever had her sisters already knew this, and if they intended to use them to lure her or her father, they would have done so already.
She didn't know if they would hear her message, but if there was some chance they would, she wanted them to know that she hadn't forgotten about them.
As Mudd took over, Alexandra opened the door to the RV and stepped out into the crisp September evening. They were parked on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River, not far from St. Louis. She looked west, where the sun was setting, and thought about taking a few quick strides to Larkin Mills.
Madam Erdglass was there now, teaching kids at the Pruett School who had to know by now that their world was at war.
Brian was still there, though maybe not for much longer. Alexandra knew even if they continued to text and talk on the phone, his departure from the town where he'd lived his entire life would be a final goodbye. She could visit him wherever he moved to, of course. In her Seven-League Boots, nowhere was really too far away. But he hadn't suggested this, and she thought she understood. Deep down, he knew the two of them weren't meant to be together. She was his childhood and his past, and a dead sister and other horrors he was leaving behind. It was better this way.
Someone stepped out of the RV behind her. Alexandra sighed, assuming it would be Mrs. Wilborough with some more cynical "advice" for her, and thought again about just stepping seven leagues away.
"It's hot in there," Hela said. She'd stopped wearing a veil, but she still wore a colorful dress with a head covering.
Alexandra said nothing. Mrs. Wilborough liked to turn the heat up, and the last time Hela had complained, Alexandra had told her to shut up and cast a Cooling Charm on herself if she didn't like it.
"Are you going to map more cracks in the world?" Hela asked. "Far from here?"
Hela wasn't happy about Alexandra running around by herself while the other three were confined to the RV. Hela wasn't happy about much. She was still afraid to confront Alexandra directly, but Alexandra could feel her resentment and anger.
"Not right now," Alexandra said. "I still don't know how my father even expects to use these maps."
Hela was silent, until Alexandra was about to step away. Then she said, "I received a vision."
From another witch, Alexandra would think this was some sort of mystical pronouncement, but Hela's people apparently communicated with "visions" the way other wizards communicated with owls. Alexandra said nothing, but waited for her to go on.
"The Dark Convention is trying to claim our homeland," Hela said. "They have always had many allies among my people, but now, with Colonial wizards casting off the Confederation and the Yukon Regiment split, we may cast our lot with them."
Alexandra frowned, not sure what to make of this. "So your people are cool with joining Dark wizards who want to prey on Muggles."
Hela gave her a sullen look.
"Yeah," Alexandra said, "I know. But I'm fighting against my people who are doing that."
"And yet your father is… cool, with allying with the Dark Convention as well. It is an alliance of convenience and he will turn on them once the Confederation falls, and he expects them to do the same. We all make dark alliances, but perhaps we are less confident that Abraham Thorn cares what happens to us once we're no longer under the Confederation's thumb. We are very few, and Muggles are many, and in the north, creatures of the Dark have never been banished as thoroughly as they are here."
"What do you want from me?"
Hela looked away. "Nothing. Except perhaps that you stop humiliating me in front of Mr. Mudd and that Squib."
"You still refer to her as 'that Squib.' You haven't learned anything." She advanced on Hela, who backed away. "Don't like being bossed around in front of Mudbloods and Squibs? Any time you want a rematch, just say the word."
"No," Hela mumbled. Her back was to the side of the RV. Alexandra was starting to feel just a little bit guilty about bullying Hela, but she still feared the Thule witch would revert to form if not kept in line.
"I'm going back to New England," she said. "Just to look around a little."
Hela frowned. "Your father said we are to look out for each other. You have been abandoning me with Mrs. Wilborough and Mr. Mudd and risking yourself recklessly. Mr. Mudd is right—you endanger yourself and us. Threaten me if you must, but you are being selfish and not thinking about the war. Your relatives are not the only ones in danger."
Hela's accusing eyes almost made Alexandra look away. She was right, and Alexandra didn't like it.
"Are you worried about your family?" Alexandra asked.
Hela shrugged, and Alexandra realized she probably was. Well, they weren't friends, and Alexandra didn't know how to reassure her, not when her own family was in more danger. Everyone she knew was in danger, and Hela was complaining because she hadn't understood what she'd signed up for and now she was paying the price for not heeding Alexandra's warnings the first time.
"Fine," Alexandra said. "But I need to get away from this RV. You can come with me while I get a burger and fries down the road."
At the fast food restaurant, she was surprised to see Hela pull out a cell phone. "Where did you get that?"
"At a Muggle store."
"But…" Alexandra saw images of colorful boots and gloves and scarves.
"Mr. Mudd showed me how to use it," Hela said. "I found our dragon on the Internet."
"Our dragon?"
"Well, I didn't put it there."
Alexandra shook her head. "Are you starting to appreciate Muggles?"
"I thought they must be cleverer than I thought until I read their Internet. They really are quite stupid. I think they're like goblins. They make such useful things, it's easy to forget how ugly and violent they are."
"What about Billy?" Alexandra asked.
Hela gave her a sullen, resentful stare.
"This is why I can't trust you," Alexandra said. "You're still a bigot who thinks you're better than anyone who doesn't have a wand."
For a moment, Hela's eyes narrowed. Then she lowered her head.
"At least I am not a murderer," she said quietly.
Alexandra wasn't sure why Hela thought that made her better, but she wasn't going to argue the point since she hadn't even done what Hela thought she had. The two of them finished eating, while Alexandra thought about her sisters and Hela poked clumsily at her phone with two fingers.
Alexandra did not like passively absorbing news of the war, especially as it spilled into the Muggle world.
From Louisiana to Florida, the Dark Convention was waging war almost openly. The Confederation News Network claimed atrocities against wizarding folk and Muggles alike. Alexandra feared they weren't lying. She wondered if Martin Nguyen, once Maximilian's secret lover, now commissioned in the Florida ROC, was out there, fighting warlocks and Dark creatures, or if he had quit when he found out about the Deathly Regiment. Which way would his honor lead him, and which side was really the most noble one? Alexandra badly wished she could talk to him, if for no other reason than to get his insight about what Max would think.
She also wished she had a way of contacting Angelique Devereaux. She should have stayed in touch with her former Charmbridge classmate after leaving New Amsterdam, but now she didn't even know if Angelique had stayed in New Amsterdam, or was back in Louisiana and once again being threatened by forces unleashed by Alexandra's father.
Alexandra could run to New Amsterdam in minutes, and Louisiana in even less time, but she'd finally taken Hela's words to heart. She shouldn't try to visit her old friends, for the same reason she didn't try to visit Julia and Ms. King in Croatoa—whatever protection the Kings had, being law-abiding witches despite their association with Alexandra and her father, would be threatened if they were seen receiving visits from either Enemy of the Confederation. And the Special Inquisition was probably watching all of her friends and relations.
In the weeks their little band had been on the road, they'd spoken to many witches and wizards, in meetings arranged with the secrecy of a terrorist cell network—which Alexandra supposed they were, in the eyes of the Confederation. She expected the dissidents and the revolutionaries to be mostly Muggle-borns and half-bloods, but even members of the Elect were moving to unseat complicit Colonials.
Her father had said she could be good at politics. She didn't think she was. She remembered names but neither remembered nor cared about the importance of everyone she met. Telling and retelling the story of her discovery of the Deathly Regiment when she was thirteen crushed her every time, because every time it reminded her of returning from the Lands Below without Max. Telling them about Governor-General Hucksteen's complicity, the diabolism of the Office of Special Inquisitions and the Accounting Office, and what she witnessed at Storm King Mountain, was easier.
When she knew she was mostly talking to non-purebloods, sometimes she described the Pruett School and what Franklin Percival Brown had done there… though she could not bring herself to mention Bonnie by name.
Mr. Mudd arranged most of this, through means no doubt communicated with her father. Mrs. Wilborough almost never spoke in the company of all these witches and wizards, but now and then she would coach Alexandra with words whispered in her ear or a tug on the arm. The old woman had a knack for knowing the audience and what outraged or moved them most, and also for telling Alexandra when she was mumbling or looked tired or wild.
Alexandra felt like a strange sort of celebrity on a tour whose impact she couldn't see while it was in progress.
Sometimes, she would ask about Lucilla and Drucilla—had anyone heard rumors? Did they know where the Wizard Justice Department might be keeping them? Nobody knew anything.
Hela, always, was at her side, usually veiling her face. This drew curious looks and sometimes rude questions, but Alexandra had to admit Hela was right that Colonials would just be more curious and rude looking at her scars. And it kept her face from appearing in any of the pictures Mr. Mudd took.
The war was happening. It was being waged from Florida to Alaska. Regiments were battling the Dark Convention, Aurors were trying to maintain wizarding secrecy, the Office of Special Inquisitions was hunting the Thorn Circle, and the Thorn Circle was terrorizing Confederation officials. A troop of werewolves was slaughtered in Texarkana—the Muggle news reported it as the work of drug cartels, but Mudd told his listeners that it was the Free Wolves Army, a lycanthrope rights organization that had been outlawed under the MORDAMND Act.
Alexandra remembered the Indian werewolves that Henry Tsotsie and his fellow Aurors had protected in Dinétah. Some of them were kids.
The four of them criss-crossed Interstate highways and spoke to people in wizard villages and Muggle towns. Sometimes they met Territorial officials who wanted a channel to negotiate with the Thorn Circle without being seen to do so.
In late September, they gathered at an elegant, decaying mansion on the banks of a muddy creek overflowing with recent torrential rains. The mansion didn't look like it was normally inhabited, but with her newfound eye for mending, cleaning, and repairing spells, Alexandra recognized hasty magical restoration. The invitation had come by a sinister black owl, and when she and Mudd and Hela arrived, they were greeted by an elderly witch who wore pale lace and had a head of white hair like a great cotton ball. Mudd told Alexandra she was a former Governor, though the way she doddered around as she greeted them, Alexandra thought she had either become dotty, or was doing a very convincing job of pretending.
The other guests wore solemn robes or business attire, and masks covering their faces.
Alexandra and Hela and Mudd were ready to flee at the slightest hint of trouble, or the sudden arrival of Inquisitors. Mudd had verified there were no Anti-Apparition Wards. But they still took a great risk with meetings such as these, where everyone knew the daughter of the Enemy was a guest, while she didn't know the names of most of the people she was meeting.
She wore formal robes and tried to look like a grown-up witch and not a bored and impatient teenager playing a role. Hela had it easier, with her face hidden.
In an overstuffed chair that was soft and comfortable but smelled faintly of mildew, Alexandra faced more centuries in lifetimes before her than she'd seen since meeting the Grannies the previous summer in the Ozarks. It wasn't until half an hour into the preambles—talk about the Thorn Circle's intentions and whether the Dark Convention was actually unifying beneath Abraham Thorn or simply taking advantage of the chaos he caused—that Alexandra realized her presence wasn't just symbolic. Mr. Mudd said little, Hela said nothing, and Mrs. Wilborough hadn't come at all, and when they asked questions about what Abraham Thorn wanted, it was she who answered.
She was the one they were here to meet, even if it was because they believed she spoke for her father.
"What does Abraham Thorn want?" they asked, and she realized: I do speak for my father.
"An end to the Deathly Regiment," she said.
"We all want that," they said.
"Then end it," she said.
They hedged and equivocated. It wasn't that simple. These things take time and finesse, they said. Centuries of wrongs can't be undone overnight, they said. When a knife has been plunged into someone's heart, you can't simply yank it free, they said.
Alexandra listened to them—
Pretty sure that's the Governor of Hudson Territory, Mudd said to her with a Whisper Charm. And the fat, dark lady with the red mask is definitely Louisiana's Chief Justicar.
—and stood up in the middle of their chattering. They fell silent.
"Which one of your Territories added someone to the Deathly Regiment today?" she asked.
No one answered.
"Someone died today, a child, because the Deathly Regiment hasn't been ended, even after everyone in the Confederation found out about it. Governor-General Hucksteen is telling you to preserve the Confederation for the sake of wizarding unity and protection from Muggles. He's warning you that the wizarding way of life will end if the Thorn Circle gets its way."
She glanced at Mudd. Once again, she'd gone off-script—she was supposed to collect whatever tepid promises of reform they made and take them back to her father, who would judge whose resolve was weakest, whose position was most precarious, and decide based on that where to try using persuasion and where to unleash terror. But Mudd, for once, didn't shake his head at her.
"The wizarding way of life as you knew it is going to end," she said. "You're not pulling a knife free, you're twisting it. You think it's my father you should be afraid of, but you're wrong. He's just one man. It's the entire world you should be afraid of, because we're all watching you. Your children are watching you and they're ashamed. The Muggles you can't hide from anymore are watching you and they're afraid. The rest of the wizarding world is watching you and they're disgusted."
She looked around at all these adults, who a few months ago would have dismissed her as an unruly child and the daughter of the Enemy.
"We're not negotiating how quickly we should end the Deathly Regiment. We're going to end it. Right now, you're opposing us. You have no reason not to end it except whatever you get out of it is worth more than the life of the child who died today. Until that changes, you're hoping to keep writing off another life, tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, until it's convenient to stop? No, that's not what's going to happen."
The old woman with the puffy white hair looked as if she wanted to spit out her tea. Most of the others glared or smirked at her through their masks. A few looked nervously away.
"What's going to happen," Alexandra said, "is eventually the war is going to end, and the ones who fought to continue the Deathly Regiment will be on the losing side. And the ones who fought to end it will remember who fought to keep it going, and we'll decide what to do with you. I don't know what my father has in mind but I'm sure it won't be pretty. I'll bet there are others who will be even less merciful than him. The ones who saw their children get sent to the Lands Beyond, I think they've got some feelings, you know?
"So we're not negotiating, we're just telling you how it's gonna be. You can do what you want with that, but I know who all of you are, and I'll remember." She was bluffing, but she didn't think they'd know that. She hadn't felt anyone trying to use Legilimency on her, and she'd been practicing her Occlumency. "My father will remember. And they'll remember. You should decide soon which side you want to end up on. Really soon.
"Also, if I find out anyone knew where my sisters Lucilla and Drucilla White are, and didn't tell me, I swear I'll show you just how much my father's daughter I am."
She set down her teacup and walked for the exit. Hela and Mudd followed her.
When they reached the wooden threshold, warped with age, Alexandra reached her hand out, and Charlie, who had been watching outside, came to her.
While she loosened her collar and let her raven become a tattoo again, Mudd said, "Talk back at the cave."
There wasn't a cave, it was just another diversion in case anyone was listening with Auror's Ears, which they certainly were. Alexandra, Hela, and Mudd Apparated to the RV, hidden in a nearby forest with Hela's best camouflage magic and Alexandra and Mudd's Concealing Charms.
"Did you rehearse that?" Mudd asked her.
"No," Alexandra said. "It just sort of came out."
Mudd stared at her, then he threw his head back and laughed.
"What's so funny?" Alexandra asked.
"You can be pretty scary sometimes," he said.
"I've heard that before."
"I'm sure you have," said a voice behind them.
The three of them whirled, wands out. Mrs. Wilborough, who had just opened the RV door to stick her head out, immediately slammed it shut and ducked back inside.
"You are a scary little girl," said the same voice, inflected with an accent that reminded Alexandra of Angelique Devereaux and Albert-Louis Cachemarée, though it was much stronger than theirs. She recognized the large, black woman in deep purple robes with red trim who stepped out of the shadows and walked casually up to them, keeping her empty hands visible. Her face was still covered with the blood-red mask she'd worn inside the mansion.
"Brigitte Jumeau, isn't it?" Alexandra said, remembering the name Mudd had given her. "You're the Chief Justicar of Louisiana Territory." According to Mudd, that meant she was in charge of Louisiana's Wizard Justice Department.
The big woman sighed and removed her mask. "The night has ears, child. A little more discretion would be appreciated, though I realize that is not your forte."
"Not really. I'm also pretty low on patience, trust, and sleep. What do you want, Ms. Jumeau? I don't suppose you're ready to join us?"
Jumeau pursed her plump lips. "Your father destroyed Baleswood. He summoned storms that flooded much of my Territory. He's raised the Dark Convention and unleashed them against wizard and Muggle communities alike, and in Louisiana the Dark Convention has always been a particular threat. Do you have any idea what we're dealing with right now?"
"So, like, does sacrificing children help you control the weather?"
Mudd put a hand on Alexandra's shoulder. "What Miss Quick means, Chief Justicar, is that we're very aware of how devastating this war is, which is why we'd like to see it ended as quickly as possible. And since I'm sure you didn't follow us to argue about our tactics—"
"How did you follow us, anyway?" Alexandra asked.
Jumeau smiled. "I'm very good at my job." The smile faded, and she fixed her gaze on Alexandra. "I know where your sisters are."
"Tell me," Alexandra said immediately.
"In prison, where they belong, for trafficking Dark artifacts."
Alexandra raised her wand. Mudd's hand on her shoulder squeezed more tightly as he tried to pull her back. Alexandra couldn't quite shake him off, but Jumeau pointed a finger and spoke a word Alexandra didn't recognize, without even showing a wand. Suddenly Alexandra had difficulty moving the arm that held her wand. She gritted her teeth and struggled against the paralysis in her limb. Jumeau pointed her finger at Hela, who had also pointed her wand at the woman. Hela made a strangled sound and became similarly paralyzed. Jumeau came closer—she didn't so much step as glide, and for a moment, Alexandra thought she saw ghostly black wings rising from the Justicar's shoulders, before they disappeared, blinked away as if they had been an afterimage.
"If I'd come to fight you, I would not have come alone," Jumeau said. "Will you listen to me?"
Alexandra grunted in frustration, and nodded. The pressure on her arm relaxed. It could move again, but she kept her wand at her side. Hela did likewise. Behind her, the door to the RV cracked open and Mrs. Wilborough stuck her head out. Jumeau ignored her.
"Louisiana would secede, but for the threat of the Dark Convention," Jumeau said. "We cannot defend ourselves against warlocks and creatures of the Dark and the Confederation's Regiments. Our Governor has already declared we will no longer participate in the Deathly Regiment, but we cannot stand alone. I believe Florida is similarly situated, and the rest of the Dixie Territories."
"So what do you want?" Alexandra asked.
"Rein in the Dark Convention. Make them withdraw from our Territories."
Alexandra wasn't sure her father could do that. He'd told her the Dark Convention was an "alliance" only in the loosest sense. Covens, cultists, malcontents, Dark wizards, nonhuman creatures who hated wizards, all united only by their opposition to the Confederation. He had influence over them, but could he just command them all to leave? "I'll see what I can do. What about my sisters?"
"They were arrested in New England. Right now, they await trial, which the Governor of New England can postpone indefinitely under the MORDAMND Act." She smiled. "I could arrange an exchange. You and your father for your sisters."
"I don't think so."
"You don't trust me? A magical contract is binding even on a Justicar."
"You're not the Governor," Mr. Mudd said. "And the Whites were arrested in New England."
"I have influence and I know things about the prison where they were sent," Jumeau said. "Do not ask me more, for I will not tell you."
"And if Louisiana does declare independence?" Alexandra asked.
"Then perhaps I will have things to tell you."
"That's a lousy deal. Turn ourselves in, or maybe when you all finish seceding, if my sisters are still alive, you might give us some information about where they're imprisoned?"
"Mr. Mudd, you've been trying to teach her diplomacy, haven't you?" The Justicar laughed. "Try harder. But if you change your mind, then call me."
"Call you how?" asked Alexandra.
"Do you prefer blood or fire?"
Alexandra scowled. "What kind of creepy test is this?"
The Justicar laughed again. "Even the unwanded can use pain for magic. Have you never cut yourself or thrust your hand into a fire to see what you could call? Ah, of course. You are Colonials. They would not teach such things in your schools."
"I am not a Colonial," said Hela. "And we know that is Dark magic."
"I think your Culture knows more Dark magic than that." Jumeau smiled, while Hela glowered. Then she reached into a pocket in her robe, and extended her hand to Alexandra, holding a small metal instrument. Alexandra took it before Mudd could. It resembled a miniature fountain pen, with a very sharp point.
"Prick your finger with it and let a few drops fall into a basin of water to speak to me," Jumeau said.
"I think I've read that fairy tale," Alexandra said.
Jumeau laughed again and disappeared. Alexandra heard a fluttering of wings, and then silence.
"I don't trust her," Alexandra said.
"Of course you don't trust her," said Mrs. Wilborough, who had emerged from the RV after the Justicar left. "She doesn't expect you to trust her. She expects you to relay the information back to Abraham. She's letting him know that the Confederation has your sisters and they're available for trade. She also wants us to think she might be on our side, without actually committing to it."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she's not actually speaking for the Governor at all," said Mudd. "Louisiana politics are baroque—maybe she's planning her own little coup."
Alexandra looked at the magical needle Jumeau had given her. She and Mudd both checked it for curses, and decided it probably did what Jumeau said it did. Alexandra tucked it into her backpack, and they got aboard the RV and drove off into the night.