A Leap

“They thought they were finished….” Quaos said dramatically. She was telling the story to Kayli and Edjica, the only children currently in the Magiary, but Aniya and Devrin were listening just as intently. “But then, a miracle happened. Hundreds of seahorses came up and surrounded them to protect them from--” The story was interrupted by a thunderous pounding at the door.
　
“No, don’t stop!” Kayli protested.
　
“I’ll get it,” said Devrin, already on his feet. “If you get interrupted they probably won’t get to bed till midnight. You or Aniya can tell me what happened, later.” He strode down the corridor to the front door. It was storming too hard for him to be able to see anything through the peephole, so he opened the door.
　
The man on the doorstep was not dressed for the weather, and his clothes were soaked and ragged; his face was dirty and sporting ragged stubble, his hair unkempt. Devrin thought he must be a beggar, until he spoke. “Is there a woman named Quaos here?” he asked. His voice had a hint of Sarcish accent, under the desperation.
　
“Possibly,” said Devrin with caution. “Who’s asking?”
　
“My name is Iaedan. Quaos is a friend of mine, and she’s in danger, though she probably doesn’t know it.”
　
　
Devrin studied the man carefully, then nodded. “All right, come in.” He led Iaedan inside.
　
Quaos was just finishing the story. “And she married the prince and they lived happily ever after.”
　
“And then she killed him,” added Iaedan.
　
Quaos gave a bark of a laugh that was cut off when she recognized Iaedan. She stared at him in shock. The children were not amused. “No!” cried Edjica, and Kayli also looked stricken.
　
“Don’t worry, he’s joking,” Aniya assured them. “They loved each other very much and lived happy and peaceful lives, and never had to kill anyone again. Now go to bed.” With only a few token protests, they went.
　
“Iaedan, what have you been…? what are you…? What happened to you?” Quaos asked.
　
“They’re after us,” he told her.
　
“And that explains it all!” said Devrin
　
“It does, actually,” Quaos told him sharply. “How close are they, how many are there, and who’s behind it?”
　
“Close. Lots. King Evrich, who eventually emerged as the demon’s heir.”
　
“Since this is you talking, by ‘lots’ and ‘close’ I assume you mean armies that are about to descend on us at any moment.”
　
“That’s about right,” Iaedan admitted.
　
“We have to go tell Malexandra.” Quaos led Iaedan toward the stairs, but stopped at their foot. “Can you wait down here… just in case?” she asked Aniya and Devrin. They’d never heard her sound scared before, and they agreed anxiously.
　
“Who exactly is coming?” Devrin asked.
　
“Armies, apparently, from Sarca, to arrest Quaos for regicide.”
　
“Right, of course. Well, while we wait to fight off armies by ourselves, what did I miss in the story? I don’t want to die without knowing.”
　
“Fine, it’s not like there’s anything better for us to do. Basically, there was an epic battle, with the girl and the seahorses and all the creatures of good on one side, and all the creatures of evil on the other side. Quaos went into great detail on the descriptions, but I don’t really remember exactly. Anyway, they were losing and then the prince rode in with an army behind him and joined the fight, and they defeated their enemies and got married and lived happily ever after. Until she killed him, if you believe Quaos’s friend,” she added with a smile.
　
“You have to admit, in real life it would be more likely than a happy ending.”
　
“Come on, Devrin, even you’re not that cynical.”
　
“I’m not saying that people killing each other is always more likely than them getting along, but royal marriages don’t tend to work out, if one of the people wasn’t born royal and it’s a love match rather than being political.”
　
“They do sometimes!” snapped Aniya.
　
Devrin was about to continue the debate, until he saw her expression. “I thought you and Skyler were just friends.”
　
“We were! And then we were practically enemies, and now that we’re friends again, well, I don’t think we are just friends.”
　
“I don’t even want to think about giving romantic advice, but you do need to remember that 98% of the country hates you.”
　
　
“I know! I know! I didn’t say there was any way it could possibly work out--” She froze. “He said ‘armies,’ didn’t he?”
　
“Yes… what’s your point?”
　
“Armies aren’t going to march through the capital of Majardea, right under Skyler’s nose, and knock on the front door. They’ll come across open country and arrive around back.”
　
They rushed through the house. Aniya reached the back door an instant before Devrin, and flung it open.
　
Iaedan had not been exaggerating. A full army stood facing the building. The rain and wind didn’t seem to faze them in the slightest. A single, armored man rode forward, holding up a scrap of white cloth that was nearly blown out of his grasp.
　
“Turn over the criminal, Quaos of Sarca, and we will leave you in peace!”
　
Devrin thought of trying to stall, pretending not to know who they were talking about or saying they didn’t have the authority. He glanced at Aniya. She gave the slightest shake of her head, turned to the soldier, and said, “Hell no!”
　
The man rode back to join the other men in front of the house. He said something, and they rushed towards the Magiary.
　
Before they could reach it, a shimmery, transparent wall sprung up around the building. The army hesitated. One of the soldiers touched it, tentatively, then tried to ride through it. It stopped him as surely as if it were made of stone.
　
“Let’s go see what the plan is,” Devrin said, and they closed the door and went upstairs.
　
A strong wind blew through the room when Devrin opened the door to the top of Malexandra’s tower, and he saw to his surprise that despite the weather, one of the large windows was flung open. Malexandra faced it, concentrating intently on something, and Quaos stood on the window ledge, facing outwards. Drops of rain battered her and flew past her into the room, but no one seemed to notice. Iaedan was asleep in an armchair in the corner, and they could sense the sleeping spell laid over him.
　
“…can’t let innocent people take the blame for what I did!” Quaos was screaming into the storm.
　
“No!” cried Aniya, and before Devrin even realized what was happening, Quaos leapt.
　
They rushed to the window. They could barely see Quaos’s crumpled figure through the storm, but it was clear that she wasn’t moving. The shimmering wall disappeared as Malexandra joined them at the window, but the army stayed where it was.
　
“How could you let her…?” Aniya demanded.
　
Oddly, Malexandra smiled. “Surely you can’t think I would have let her kill herself.”
　
“But… she jumped.”
　
“Breaking a fall is one of the easiest things to do, magically, you know that. And Quaos is a good enough actor to play dead quite convincingly. We just need to take her inside before they decide they want her drawn and quartered, or some such thing.”
　
Devrin began to laugh rather hysterically, and a tear rolled down his face, and he rushed to the stairs. Aniya and Malexandra hurried after them.
　
Malexandra stopped them at the back door. “Wait here. If either of you go outside, you might give it away.”
　
Devrin would have protested, if he hadn’t known she was right. Aniya took a tentative step to follow Malexandra outside, but Devrin grabbed her arm. “Do you really want to risk her life on your ability to act as though she’s dead?” His voice was not his usual sarcastic tone but something darker, and Aniya stayed inside.
　
They waited tensely, both aware that Malexandra was facing down an army who would quite possibly insist on taking Quaos’s “body.” She wasn’t dead, but that could only mean she wasn’t dead yet.
　
Finally, the door opened. A gust of wind and a shower of rain flew in their faces, and then Malexandra came in, Quaos floating at her side, looking dead.
　
As soon as the door closed, she popped up and jumped down to the ground. Relief flooded over Devrin and Aniya. “We thought you were dead!” Aniya said.
　
“I’m sor-” Quaos began, but before she could finish her sentence Devrin embraced her fiercely, and kissed her. It might not have been best of kisses, since Quaos was drenched and shivering, and her near death was on both their minds, but it lasted a long time. Aniya stared at them, then fled. Malexandra had already slipped away.
　
“I thought I’d lost you,” Devrin said finally. “I didn’t even know there was anything to lose, not like that.”
　
“That makes me even more glad that I’m not really dead.”
　
“Was it horrible? They could have killed you.”
　
Quaos nodded. “I would have jumped for real, if I’d had to. I’m just glad I didn’t.”

Killing

Radachia Searveeth was the last person in the world you’d expect to have fuzzy yellow pajamas with pink roses on them. She was more the sort of person who’d as soon kill you as look at you, and even when she did just look at you, you weren’t completely sure you weren’t better off dead. It’s not that she was a bad person or anything, but seeing her running down the street in the middle of the night, strands of hair flying loose from a long braid, feet bare, clad in aforementioned pajamas, well, something was going on. Especially since she was holding her bow, and her quiver was slung over her pajamas.
　
Running outside to see what was going on probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but my curiosity tends to overrule my common sense. If I’d been woken up by the commotion, at that hour, I probably would have rolled over and went back to sleep, but since I hadn’t been able to get to sleep at all, hadn‘t even tried, I welcomed the distraction.
　
I was already dressed, so I grabbed my knife and ran after Radachia. “What’s going on?” I called.
　
“Nothing,” she snapped. “This doesn’t concern you, Kimithy.”
　
“So whatever’s not going on doesn’t concern me,” I said, running alongside Radachia.
　
She turned her full glare on me. “That’s right. Go home.”
　
At any other time, I would have turned tail and fled, curiosity be damned. Radachia was that intimidating. But the prospect of going home, sitting sleepless and trying to avoid thoughts that could not be avoided, was far worse than anything Radachia could do or say to me. “No.”
　
I’d expected her to yell or scold or glare more, but she didn’t. She stopped abruptly and scrutinized me. It was dark, and we were standing in the darkest of shadows, so I don’t know how well she could actually see me, but I felt as though she was peering into my very soul. “You’re too young to get involved in this. You’re, what, sixteen?”
　
I was fifteen, but I was hardly going to say so. “I’m old enough that….” I didn’t go on. My nightmares were my own. I wondered for an instant why I was volunteering for more, but didn’t rethink myself. Whatever it was couldn’t be worse than staring at the bloodstain on my floor and seeing ghosts. But I didn’t want to talk about that. “I have a knife.”
　
I think Radachia would have said more, but she must have heard something, for she froze, then whispered, “Run!” and we ran.
　
We took a crooked path, turning down side streets and between houses, and when we stopped again, it was in the darkest of alleys. “Fine,” said Radachia. “Listen, Kimi. There are… things, who will kill everyone if we don’t stop them.”
　
“That makes everything perfectly clear,” I said.
　
“This is no time for sarcasm.”
　
Personally, I thought it was always time for sarcasm, and never more so than then, but I swallowed my reply and asked instead, “What do you mean, things? What are they? Why will they kill everyone, what can we do, and why is it up to us to do it?”
　
Before Radachia could speak, at least one of my questions was answered. A group of men appeared out of the darkness and descended on us. I say men, but they weren’t, at least not completely. They had the heads of spiders. I screamed.
　
I could feel Radachia’s irritation, and cut off my scream abruptly. I clutched my knife in a sweaty hand. The things were advancing, making ominous noises and brandishing weapons. I raised my knife, prepared to strike. The nearest fell down dead, one of Radachia’s arrows in it’s heart. Then another was down, and then they were upon us, and all I knew was hacking and stabbing at them in fear and horror, and trying to avoid being hacked at or stabbed myself.
　
We were outnumbered. And they had the heads of spiders. At least maybe I’d die a hero, I thought, but it was small comfort, because I didn’t really want to die.
　
I’d probably killed some, though in the confusion I didn’t really know. Then a blade was coming at my face, and I was going to die. I squeezed my eyes shut and was surprised to find, several seconds later, that I was still alive. The one who’d been about to kill me was lying dead at my feet, several arrows embedded in his back.

I looked around. There were only four of the things left alive, and they were all fighting Radachia. One grabbed her bow and snapped it in half. She’d gotten one of their swords and was fighting desperately, but one against four is long odds even for Radachia. It took everything I had to run into the fray rather than away from it, but I did, knife ready. It was dripping blood, and I took a huge gasping breath and told myself to hold it together for just a few more minutes. I took them by surprise, and stabbed one of the things in the back. The others turned on me, and it was all I could do not to be killed. And then they were the ones who were dead. Radachia isn’t the best person to have behind you, if she’s your enemy.
　
I looked around at the bodies scattered on the ground and the puddles of blood they lay in and realized that I too was covered in blood, and not all of it was the enemy’s. I’d been stabbed in the arm, my side had been grazed, and a long but shallow cut ran along my face. I began to cry.
　
Radachia ignored my tears and looked at the wound on my arm. “It didn’t hit anything serious,” she said. “And it’s the worst. You’ll be fine.”
　
I couldn’t stop crying. I hated it, the hot tears running down my face and making my cut sting even more, the runny nose and beginnings of a headache, the embarrassment of having hysterics in front of Radachia. She bandaged my arm with a strip of cloth she’d gotten from somewhere as I sobbed on. She glanced at me side, but it had already stopped bleeding, and gave me another piece of cloth to hold to the cut on my face.
　
I used it to wipe my eyes first, then pressed it hard to my cheek. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked at the battle scene around us, and tried to decide if it was worse that what awaited me at home.
　
“We should go now,” said Radachia.
　
“Yeah.”
　
It was dark, and I hadn’t been paying much attention to where we’d been running earlier, but Radachia walked me home. I was glad, until I arrived. There were guards in front of my house. Were they really here already? I didn’t want anyone, especially Radachia, to see this. “I’ll be fine from here,” I said, a few doors down from my house.
　
“It’s on my way. You did well, Kimi. I’m sorry you had to, but you did.”
　
“You too.” I had to say something.
　
Radachia grinned. “Of course.”
　
With each step I took towards my home, my dread grew. I was almost to the front steps when the guards grabbed me.
　
“You’re under arrest, you murderous bitch,” one of them said.
　
“He tried to kill me,” I said feebly. I knew it was useless to protest. He’d been a guard, and if a guard tried to kill you, you were supposed to let them, or at least that’s what the guards seem to think. And in my heart I felt guilty. He’d only been one man; couldn’t I have gotten away without killing him? Or maybe I should have just let him kill me. Why should I think my life was more valuable? The guards clearly didn’t. I didn’t feel the same way about the spider-headed things. They’d had the heads of spiders, and I still couldn’t quite associate that with them being in any way human. But the man I’d killed earlier, in my own home, had been.
　
“What is going on?” demanded Radachia.
　
“This doesn’t concern you.” I echoed her words from earlier.
　
“Like hell it doesn’t. That didn’t even work on you, and I’m twenty times nosier than you are.” She turned to the guard. “What is going on?”
　
“Exactly what it looks like, ma’am. We’re arresting this girl for murder. Now, you just run along out of here before we decide to take you in as well. You’re just as covered in blood as she is.”
　
“You could try. We were wounded in battle against men with the head of spiders, Garry. Do you know what that means?”
　
“That I have my choice of sending you to jail or the madhouse?”
　
“Gods, doesn’t anyone know anything anymore? It means war, but I’ll deal with that later, and with more important people than you. Now, let this girl go.”
　
“She murdered someone.”
　
“Oh, well. The two of us also personally killed seventeen men this evening. They happened to have the heads of spiders, but that doesn’t make any difference in the fact that they were alive, and then we put arrows and knives through them, and then they weren’t alive anymore. They would have killed us, and the rest of the town and probably most of the rest of the country as well, and it’s quite possible that their comrades still will. They would have killed everyone. They would have killed you, Gary. You too,” she added to the other guard. “And if the man Kimithy killed was still alive, they would have killed him too. That makes it about even don’t you think?” Radachia glared at them fiercely. They seemed to wilt.
　
“Erm,” Gary began, “Well, that is to say, it’s not really up to us.”
　
Radachia raised the sword she’d taken off our foes. She smiled sweetly in a way that was somehow even more intimidating than her glares. “How about we just agree that it’s not up to you, it’s up to me. All right? Now let Kimi go. I’ll see to it that your superiors authorize the decision.”
　
“Can you really do that?” Garry’s partner asked.
　
“Yes,” Radachia said firmly
　
The guards looked at each other. “We’ll release her into your custody,” Gary told Radachia.
　
“That will be suitable.” And the guards left.
　
“You have to get out of here, quickly,” Radachia told me. “I lied about being able to deal with their superiors.”
　
“Oh.” I was surprised, and grateful, and it took a lot of effort to keep myself from crying again. “Are there really going to be more of those things?”
　
“I’m afraid so. And worse. I think it’s likely that once it’s widely learned that you helped fight off the first ones so that we’ll at least have a little warning, you’ll be pardoned. So all you’ll have to do is hide out for a few days. I’d offer to let you stay with me, but after that little discussion it would be obvious. Is there anywhere you can go?”
　
“Yes.” There was a tree I knew of, with branches that wove into a kind of basket. When I was younger, I’d slept in it just for fun, now I could sleep in it for a few nights. I’d manage. “What about you? What are you going to do now?”
　
“I’ll have to tell everyone what’s happening and convince them of what it means. And I’ll be sure to lobby for your pardon, as well.” Radachia smiled. “But first, I’m going to go home and change out of my pajamas.”

Execution

I’ve been here for a few months now, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Here—I’m not sure what to call it. Someone called it a menagerie of mages, a Magiary, and the name seems to have stuck somewhat, but since it was meant as an insult, those of us who stay here are torn between rejecting the name and trying to reclaim it.

The Magiary is a large house with lots of towers, and is intimidating from the outside but a friendly, cozy place inside, for the most part. The house is not inside the city, but the main doorway is set into the city wall, which is only a few feet high there.

It’s a school, sort-of, and probably several other things as well. People come here to learn magic, and Malexandra and whatever other magic-users happen to be around teach it. There’s nothing official about the Magiary. It’s in Majardea, but everyone knows the king has no control over it. There aren’t many rules here--most of the normal things such as don’t kill or steal are assumed to be obvious. Besides for that, it pretty much amounts to everyone here being expected to not do anything cruel or utterly idiotic. The king’s laws don’t apply here, and so problems are dealt with by Malexandra—you can imagine how relieved I was very when I heard that, considering there’s a warrant out for my execution. But official laws are highly frowned on, and I don’t worry about anyone here turning me in. On the same note, we’re not allowed to go watch executions or other public punishments.

You wouldn’t think that last one would be a big deal. I’ve never had any urge to go watch someone being killed, and the fact that it could easily happen to me has made the idea even less enticing. And it’s not like my friends would want to, either. Devrin’s a bit squeamish, and while Quaos is the last person in the world I’d call squeamish, seeing people die isn’t entertainment for her either.

But we were walking around the city, just for the fun of it. It had been raining for a week, and now that it was bright and sunny we wanted to get out. At first we thought the crowds were just other people who felt the same. But they were all headed in the same direction, and a cheerful woman with a small child on her shoulders told us that we should hurry, because all the best places to see the execution from would be taken.

“Oh no, we won’t be able to get a good view of someone being killed! Whatever shall we do?” Devrin was being even more sarcastic than usual, which is saying a lot.

“We should go,” I said.

“Back home, you mean? This does rather ruin the beauty of the day.”

“No, to the execution.”

Quaos and Devrin both stared at me. “Because your idea of fun is watching people die?” Devrin asked.

“No, because it could have been me.”

“And it could still be you, Aniya, if anyone recognizes you,” Quaos said sharply. “I’ve had friends in line for execution before, I’d prefer not to repeat the experience.”

“I’m not just going to go home and pretending nothing’s going on,” I said stubbornly. “You can, if you want.”

They didn’t, of course.

Executions took place on a stage in a large, beautified square. The square was packed, and we stood far from the stage and right next to the path leading to it which the accused was marched down. The path was empty; everyone knew it was bad luck to stand on it, and most people tried to stay as far away from it as possible.

The path stretched all the way to the prison, and was relatively straight, so we could see the guards marching the prisoner towards us from a long way off, and they marched very slowly. As they drew closer, we saw a scowling woman in chains, held on each side by a uniformed guard.

That could be me. The thought repeated in my mind over and over. I could feel myself in her place, barefoot, wearing only a thin prison shift and thick chains, marching to my death. It could be me.

“We should stop it.” The words popped out of my mouth before I could think them through, but I had no desire to take them back.

“It’s not that easy,” Quaos objected.

“We could do it, though. Just, grab her when she comes by, and we know enough magic by now we could probably get away.”

“What if she’s a murderer?” protested Devrin.

“Well, then, that would make two of us,” Quaos reminded him.

“Same goes for treason,” I added. “So you’re in?” I asked Quaos.

“I’m always up for stopping executions!” Quaos said with a crazy grin. “At least I won’t have to kill a king this time. Hey, the worst that can happen is that we end up on the block next to her.”

“So it’s not like anything really bad could happen to us.” Sarcasm, of course, but Devrin had said ‘us.’

“So, our plan is really just to grab her and run?” Quaos asked rather incredulously.

“Um… we improvise after that,” I said. I was very nervous, even terrified, and maybe beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing, but I had just to glance at the woman to see myself in her shoes, and my second thoughts disappeared.

And then, they were next to us. The guards had swords; I, stupidly, hadn’t thought about that. Still, they didn’t have them out, and were holding the woman’s chains. So I let myself kind of stumble into the guard closest to me, and when she was off her guard, so to speak, grabbed the chain from her hands. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she reacted quickly and grabbed it back, and we were playing tug-o-war. Devrin, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, had grabbed her sword from its sheath, though he wasn’t doing anything with it. I took a deep breath and used a bit of magic to heat the chain. It hurt the prisoner as well as the guard, but it only lasted long enough for me to jerk the chain from the guard. Quaos, I saw, had the other guard on his knees, holding his head in his hands.

We ran.

It wasn’t just the guards behind us; the crowd wanted their entertainment. The prisoner, still chained and now burned under the chains on her waist and left ankle, was not fast. This was the part we hadn’t planned for, and the dangerous part—if they got us now, we were all dead.

Devrin, who had been at the Magiary the longest and was the most studious, did something magical that seemed to slow down everyone else, as though they were moving through thick syrup. We got a bit of a head start, but he only managed to keep it up for a few seconds, and the use of so much energy tired him. We began to slow, and the crowd was upon us, the people at the front just reaching out to grab us—

And suddenly, I felt a large jolt and the four of us were in Malexandra’s tower. I felt rather nauseous.

“That was quite impressive,” Malexandra said. “I haven’t seen a rescue like that since I was- well, in a long time.

The woman who was to have been executed finally spoke. “Who are you? I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but who are you and what the hell is going on?”

We introduced ourselves. Somehow, our names didn’t seem to lessen her confusion.

“Okay, it’s nice to meet you and all, but where are we, how the hell did we get here, and why?”

“You’re in my tower. I was alerted to the unusual occurrence by a friend and brought you here in order to keep you from the bloodthirsty mob and bloodthirstier, if rather inept, guards. Now who are you, and why were you about to be executed?”

“Smuggling. I’m a smuggler. I was a smuggler, I guess, I don’t think I’ll be going back to it. My name is Wrayli.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m worn out from transporting all four of you, but if you give me a few minutes I’ll do something about those chains, and your burns.”

“Sorry about that,” I said.

Wrayli shrugged. “Better than being dead.”

We all stood around awkwardly for a minute. Suddenly, Devrin laughed loudly. We all looked at him.

“Um, you know how we’re not supposed to go to executions? Well, we rescued the condemned prisoner, so we weren’t actually at an execution, since nobody was killed.”

“Well, I’m so glad you’re not in trouble,” Wrayli said, but she laughed.

Pearls

Denise Strimer was returning to her expensive New York penthouse apartment from walking her purebred Papillion, Tutu. After walking up the apartment stairs she put Tutu down for the first time since leaving the apartment twenty six minutes earlier took her keys out of her seven hundred and sixty two dollar purse. She unlocked her door and picking Tutu up, opened it.

She was shocked to find her apartment in what she considered complete disarray, although a normal person would only have considered it slightly messy. Denise was an extremely organized person and she was always careful with her expensive belongings. But now, in the middle of her living room, was half of one of her favorite shoes, which had cost her four hundred and seventy nine dollars. When she went into the hallway, there was a slight char mark on the bottom of the wall. In the kitchen, the bottle of honey was lying on the counter with holes in it, honey oozing from the sides. In her guest bedroom there was a slight rip in the pillowcase, and in the dining room a plate was chipped. In the bathroom, he toilet seat was not only open, which would have been unbearable, but actually halfway gone!

If she hadn’t had Tutu with her Denise would have suspected her dog, but as it was she didn’t know what to think. Someone had broken into her house, obviously. As the thought struck her she ran into her bedroom and opened the jewelry box. At first it seemed that no jewelry was missing. But when Denise opened her closet to check on the damage there, she realized something was missing. She had hung up the clothes she was going to wear to a party that night on the inside of her closet door, and with them, a pearl necklace, That necklace was gone. Still carrying Tutu, Denise to call the police as fast as her four inch heels would permit her.

Fortunately she hadn’t looked down. She would not have known what to make of the shiny, pearly, broken eggshells on the floor of her closet.

-----

I didn’t steal anything from that bitch. I didn’t vandalize anything either, the place was like that when I got there. And yeah, I broke in, but only because I heard what sounded like a baby crying. I knew Ms. Strimer doesn’t have a baby, and I’d seen her leave to walk that piece of fluff she calls a dog. And I waited outside the apartment for a minute, but the noises didn’t stop, and I didn’t hear anything else. So what was I supposed to do, leave some abandoned baby alone to die? I don’t think so. So I broke in.

I found the source of the noise nearly as soon as I got inside. I was right. It was a baby. The only thing I was wrong about was that I’d been expecting it to be a baby human. It wasn’t.

The first one I saw, the one that was crying, was sitting in the middle of a charred spot on the hallway carpet. It was just sitting there, same expression as any scared baby or puppy or anything, howling. It wasn’t a puppy, either. It was small, about the size of my thumb, its skin was a kind of metallic green color and its furled wings were a shimmery purple. Each time it took a breath after a long scream, it let out a little flame.

Yes. It was a baby dragon.

I wasn’t scared or anything. I’ve always loved fantasy books, and it was really small, and it had that round cuteness that babies of any species have. And it was really upset. So I went over and picked it up, carefully. I let it sit in my cupped palm and gently stroked it with a finger.

It stopped crying. It let out one last little spark, which burned my finger but not bad enough to matter, and then curled up and went to sleep in my palm.

I stood there marveling at it for a few minutes. Then I started wondering what to do. I couldn’t just stand in someone else’s apartment holding a dragon, and I couldn’t just leave the dragon there, but I wasn’t sure if it would be right to take it home either. And how would I take care of a dragon? But I knew I’d be better at it than Denise Shrimer, so I was just about to leave when I heard the crying sound again, but coming from another room.

So I followed the noise and found another little dragon, trying to torch the bathtub. I searched the house and found four more, six in all. The last two were in the closet, and when I was looking for them I saw the remnants of the necklace. Six pearly little hatched eggs and some silver chain the six pearls had been strung on. So I knew I’d found all the dragons.

Yeah, I admit, I took the eggshells and the chain with me. It’s not that I was trying to make it look like a robbery… but better she be looking for a thief than for something that hatched out of pearls. I was already feeling downright protective of the six little dragons, and I didn’t want anyone looking for them.

I didn’t think about anyone looking for me. I just put the hand holding the dragons in the pocket of my sweatshirt and caught the bus home. The whole bus ride I was terrified that one of the dragons would start crying, and I even thought up an explanation—it was one of those gag birthday cards that make noises when you open them, but it had gotten stuck so it went off randomly. But the dragons stayed quiet the whole ride.

My roommate was spending the night at her boyfriend’s, so I had the apartment to myself. I was glad; I wasn’t sure how I would tell Melissa about the dragons. I thought I should give them some food, but I had no idea what they ate. I tried googling “What do dragons eat,” but all the answers were either for Komodo dragons or had varying answers that seemed to apply more to adult dragons. I made up a plate of everything I could think of, all cut up into tiny pieces—various types of meat, some bread, a squished grape, lettuce, a piece of chocolate (it’s bad for dogs, but they clearly weren’t dogs), I even added a couple live spiders. I put the dragons in front of it and watched to see what they would eat. One went straight for the spiders, and once it had gobbled them, the meat. Another ate the grape and some of the lettuce. Three of them ate a little bit of everything, and the last one, which was the first one I’d picked up, ate only the chocolate. It didn’t seem like enough, so I offered it a Redvine, and, remembering the mess they’d made, some honey, and it ate those too.

I put the dragons in an old fish tank I had sitting around, with some more samples of food and a little shallow dish of water. I didn’t mean to leave them there for long, but I had to go to the bathroom. When I came back in the living room, the food was gone, the tank was sitting on its side, and the dragons were lying peacefully in the corner of my couch. That was my one and only attempt to put them in any kind of box or cage.

I sat down next to them and watched them sleep, then roughhouse around with each other, then sleep more. They were sleeping when I heard the knock on my door. I pulled a blanket over them—I didn’t know if I’d want whoever was here to see them—and opened the door.

Two police officers stood there. “Are you Jessica Rawlitz?”

“Yes, is there a problem?” Could they know about the dragons? Was there anything illegal about dragons?

“You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will…” They read me my rights, handcuffed me, and took me to the police station.

“I want a lawyer,” I demanded immediately. “I’m not going to say anything without a lawyer. And I need a phone call.”

They gave me a phone. They probably thought I was going to call a lawyer. I called Melissa.

“Hi, Melissa? It’s Jessica. I’ve been arrested. Can you go home and feed my pets? Yes, you heard me correctly. I’ll explain later. Yes, I have pets. I do now. It’s complicated. There’re six of them, and they pretty much eat anything but one only eats sweets. You’ll be a little surprised when you see them, but I promise I’ll explain everything. Okay, and also, once you make sure they’re okay; can you go talk to a bail bondsman? Thanks so much.”

I had to wait in a cell overnight, and I was arraigned the next day. I got a public defender, Ana Clay, who told me I was accused of burglary and grand larceny, which basically meant breaking into Miss Strimer’s house and stealing her pearl necklace. Apparently someone saw the neighbor’s babysitter—that’s me—going into the apartment.

I pleaded not guilty, but I didn’t know what I was going to do. “Your Honor, it wasn’t me, it was baby dragons,” isn’t the best defense, unless you’re trying to go for insanity. Melissa had come through and bailed me out as soon as she could, so I didn’t have to go to jail.

“Okay, so what the hell is going on?” she asked as she drove me home.

“Are the dragons okay?”

“They’re fine. Now you promised an explanation.”

I told her everything. “God, Jessica, what have you gotten yourself into?” was her only reply.

I rushed to the dragons as soon as I got in. It took me a few minutes to find them, as they’d scattered throughout the house, but they were all fine. They seemed to have doubled in size already. My house was less than fine, but it hadn’t burned down or anything. The damage wasn’t really much worse than what a puppy would have done. Plus a few burns on the walls.

“I just can’t believe this,” Melissa said, holding one of the dragons. I was holding another, my favorite, the first one I’d found, and the rest were roughhousing on the couch cushion between us.

“Me neither. Which part?”

“Everything. Dragons, and you getting arrested, and everything.”

“I’m so glad that my being arrested is as much of a surprise to you as dragons. You can be my character witness.”

She laughed. “But seriously, Jessica, what are you going to do? “

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m guilty or not. I mean, I did break in and take the dragons, which are the remnants of the pearl necklace.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“No, but still. I don’t regret it. I mean, we are holding baby dragons. Magical, mythical, fire-breathing dragons. That is way worth getting arrested for.”

“Okay, but is it worth spending the next five or ten years of your life in jail for?”

“Does it matter? It’s not like I can say, okay, I don’t want to go to jail, I’ll give up the dragons. Telling the truth would just make more problems, I don’t want to go to a mental institution either.”

“I guess you’re right,” Melissa agreed, petting the dragon absentmindedly.

The prosecutor tried to get me to plead guilty, but none of the offers were good enough. My lawyer said that she tried to get him to agree to a plea to vandalism and community service, but since Ms. Shrimer was dating the mayor, he wouldn’t go for anything less than serious prison time. And I couldn’t just agree to that. So I’d have to have a trial.

By the day of my trial, the dragons had grown to about the size of my fist. I’d named them all. My favorite was Sweettooth, and the others were Sunflower, Hunter, Trickster, Puppy, and Victoria (Melissa named her). I know, not very draconian names, but they seemed right.

Dragons are surprisingly easy to sneak into a courtroom. Well, they’re not metal or anything. You might think it was stupid of me to bring them to my trial, but I wanted them there. They were my moral support, and my luck. I’d explained to them that they needed to keep silent and hidden and told them exactly what was going to happen. I think they understand most of what I tell them. Anyway, they stayed in my pockets and sleeves for the prosecutor’s opening statement, and my lawyer’s. It wasn’t until the prosecutor was questioning his first witness, right after he’d had her identify me, that anything happened.

“Can you identify the woman you saw going into the apartment in this courtroom?” he asked dramatically.

“Yes.”

“Please point her out to the court.” She pointed at me, then looked away. The prosecutor said, even more dramatically, “Let the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant.” He looked right at me, and it was then that Sweettooth poked his head out from my collar.

The prosecutor screamed. His first scream was just a wordless shriek. His second scream was, “A dragon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” He pointed.

The whole room was staring at him, but they turned to look at me when he pointed. By then I’d scooped Sweettooth into my pocket, so everyone assumed the prosecutor had just had a mental breakdown. The judge called the room to order, a bailiff escorted the prosecutor away, and the court was adjourned for the day.

The next day, the prosecution was represented by a young woman from the prosecutor’s office, who said that Mr. DeZone had checked himself into a mental institution and the prosecution was dropping the charges in this case. There was some paperwork and stuff, but I got to go home a free woman.

As I was walking out of the courtroom, my lawyer said quietly to me, “What cute dragons. How old are they, six months?”

I turned to her. “You mean you know it’s real?”

“Sure. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Anyway, hearing that that jackass is in an insane asylum is the highlight of my month.”

It Must Be a Mistake

I was just walking down the street, minding my own business. I know, that’s what they all say, right? But I really was. In a way, I wish I had done something wrong—mouthed off in class about the government, or hacked into classified documents, or jaywalked in front of a security camera—anything to explain why they took me. But I hadn’t. I was walking home from school, just like every other day of my life, when they jumped out of the van and grabbed me.

They were obviously government agents, in their black uniforms armed with guns and high tech radios and little computers clipped to their belts. Their voices were those of authority as they barked orders- “Hands in the air! Against the wall! Don’t move!” They patted me down and restrained me with the brusqueness of people who did this kind of thing every day, just doing their jobs. The van they shoved me into was grey and unmarked, the kind everyone knows is seen right before the kind of disappearances that aren’t talked about.

I think the man in the back of the van must have been some kind of doctor, but that part is woozy. I vaguely remember him leaning over me, and I know he must have injected me with something, because my panic began to dull and everything went very fuzzy and finally faded to black.

When I woke up I was strapped to a chair in an interrogation room. Everything was still fuzzy, and I still can’t remember that part with any clarity. They questioned me. I can’t remember what they wanted to know. I think that was probably the point of the drug; that I wouldn’t remember afterwards. Except, if they expected I’d be dead…. I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t plan that far ahead yet, at that point. What I do remember of that interrogation was my terror, and confusion—I had no idea what they were talking about, what they wanted from me. I remember trying to explain in a slurred voice that this must be a mistake, and my outraged indignation at the injustice of it all. I remember the feeling of the hot tears on my cheeks as I cried and tried to answer their questions, “I don’t know! I’ve never heard of that! I’ve never met that person! I don’t know anything about any of this! You’re making a mistake, maybe you have me confused with someone; I would never do anything wrong, I’m a good citizen!”

It was true. I was such a good citizen, that I really believed they must be making some horrible mistake. I thought that maybe there was someone who looked like me, or had the same name, that had done something really, really terrible—so bad as to deserve the treatment I’d been getting, and far worse. I imagined their apologies when they realized their mistake. They’d be truly, honestly, sorry; they’d drive me home and explain to everyone that they’d made a horrible error, and I’d been so brave, and they’d eventually caught the real criminal. Maybe they’d give me some kind of compensation—money, or an award, or something to make up for it all. After all, they weren’t bad people, and they were trying to do the right thing, they’d just made a mistake.

Yeah, I really was that naive.

Eventually they either realized I didn’t know anything or decided that whatever I did know, I wasn’t going to tell them, so they injected me again. When I woke up, I was in some kind of warehouse-like building, slumped in a chair. Across the table from me was a young woman maybe five or six years older than me—in her early twenties. I don’t know how I knew she was a prisoner, not an agent, but I knew. She seemed calm and alert, but wary too. I wasn’t muddled like I had been the first time I’d woken up from being drugged, but I was scared and confused and had no idea what was going on. I realized I wasn’t cuffed to the chair, but after looking around I knew better than to try to escape. I was at a table in the middle of the room, and around the edges of the room was a sort of wooden platform, with maybe twenty agents with machine guns standing all around it. So I didn’t try to move.

I studied the woman sitting across from me, the least intimidating figure in the room. Though after watching her silently for a few minutes, I realized she probably was a criminal. It’s not that she seemed like one, but I didn’t think she was just some innocent person picked up off the streets like me. She had this… attitude of not being surprised at anything.

After letting us stare at each other silently for maybe ten minutes, two of the agents came down from the platform and stepped up to the table. One was a kind of rat-like man, and the other was a small woman with cold eyes. The man announced, “Eya Foxgold, you know why you’re here. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Terror filled me, and I began to babble, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m here! I’m innocent, I didn’t do anything, I don’t even know what you think I did but whatever it was I didn’t do it, this is all a huge mistake, I would never do anything!” I couldn’t look at the agents, so I looked at the woman across the table from me. She gave me a sad, cynical kind of smile, like, Do you really think they care? And I knew, then, that they didn’t, so I shut up.

The rat-like agent then turned to her and said in the same way, “Holly Malacrow, you know why you’re here. Do you-”

She interrupted him, mid-sentence. “Yeah, yeah, I know why I’m here. Fuck you too.”

Just a minute ago, I’d been thinking she was a criminal, and now she was confirming it, but it didn’t matter anymore. I liked her, admired her, wished I could be as brave and cool under fire as her, wished at least that we could be friends.

The agent said, in an authoritative yet somehow mocking tone, “Holly Malacrow, you are being given the honor of ridding this county of a traitorous piece of scum!” He held up a gun, not the machine gun he was armed with but a smaller one. “You understand that if you try anything stupid, you’ll be gunned down by my colleagues. Now you can shoot her, or shoot yourself.” He smirked, and looked me over, and I could feel him imagining my dead body slumping onto the floor. He handed Holly the gun.

She looked me in the eyes, and raised the gun, and I knew I was about to die. I’d never see my family or friends again, never sit down in my desk at school, never have the chance to… so many things. I’d be one of those people who just disappear, and everyone knows what happened to them but nobody talks about it for fear of joining them. I wanted to look away, but I didn’t want to spend my last moment on earth as a coward, so I met her gaze head on.

“Make it worth it,” she said, and before I could comprehend, she raised the gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

I don’t know why they let me go. I think they must have known, probably all along, that I was innocent. Was I just a trap for her? But no, the agent really had expected her to kill me. But they could have killed me too. I’ll never know why they didn’t. I was injected again, and as I slid off into unconsciousness I assumed it was a lethal poison this time. I can’t begin to describe how shocked I was when I woke up on the sidewalk sometime later.

I managed to get home. I’d been missing for a day. My parents were frantic, and demanded an explanation. “I don’t know, I don’t feel good,” I mumbled, still bleary from the drugs. I went to sleep, and when I woke up the next day I said I had no idea what had happened, and I must have gotten really sick and collapsed somewhere. Well, I couldn’t tell the truth. Everybody knows you can’t talk about that kind of thing.

I think about Holly Malacrow a lot. I’d thought she must have been a criminal, but I think now that she was actually a rebel. Before, I would have said it’s the same thing, but I don’t think that anymore. The whole thing wasn’t just a mistake, and if the government really does things that horrible—and now that I’ve been thinking about it, I know they do; not everyone who’s disappeared deserved it, and some of their laws are just ridiculous when you actually think about them—then maybe it’s right to rebel against them.

I want to find Holly’s family, or friends, or whoever her people were, and tell them what happened. I have to be careful to do it without raising suspicion, but I have some ideas. I think they’ll be rebels too, and I’m going to join them. Because what I think about most of all was that last thing she said, “Make it worth it.” And I will.