Page 33 of The Tribes of Magic (Paragons #3)

DIVISIONS

W e took the train from the Castle to the Magic Emporium. The distance between the two stations was five stops, for a total travel time of twelve minutes. It sure beat running there.

The train carriage was clean and climate-controlled. It was also for the most part empty. Very few people were permitted to travel freely between the districts of the Fortress, so the trains weren’t often full.

“Look.” Nevada pointed at a poster stuck to the wall across from our seats.

I’d seen a very similar-looking poster before, shortly after I’d arrived in the Fortress. Back then, Kylie had been the one sitting next to me. I felt another twinge of guilt, another reminder that I still hadn’t found her.

Nevada read the colorful poster. “Portia and the Circus of Dreams. The first and only performance on Gaia, one night only, Wednesday night.” She looked at me. “Do you think we could score some tickets?”

“I doubt it. ‘First and only performance on Gaia’? I bet the show was sold out before they could even print that poster.”

The rest of the Apprentices had bigger concerns than the circus show—or at least Bronte and Dutch did.

“What poison are you going to use on us, Altair?” Bronte asked.

“I can’t say.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Bronte huffed with indignation. “That’s completely unfair. How are we to make an antidote when we don’t even know what the poison is?”

“These tasks are supposed to prepare you for real life as a Knight. And in real life, the villain who poisons you won’t kindly indicate what poison they’ve used.”

Altair appeared wholly unconcerned with Bronte’s mental breakdown. His indifference was making her even crazier. Dutch came to her rescue—or tried to, anyway.

“The villain also won’t warn us before they poison us,” he pointed out. “Which you did.”

“Your feedback is duly noted. The next time I decide to poison you, I won’t forewarn you.”

Nevada turned a little green. And Bronte a little red. She pulled up an antidotes book on her phone and started furiously scrolling through the pages.

I probably should have done the same, but I’d only have gotten in a minute or two of studying anyway. Before I knew it, the train doors were opening. We’d arrived at our stop.

When we exited the train, all thoughts of poisons and antidotes vanished from my mind. All I could think about was the Watchers. They were everywhere—on every train platform, on every street corner, in front of every shop. They’d taken over the Magic Emporium.

“Why are they here?” Nevada asked.

As usual, Bronte had the answer. “They’re looking for Rebels and any remaining members of the Brotherhood of Earth. It’s all over the news. Don’t you guys watch the news?”

“Sure, but you have to wade through the hysteria, melodrama, and propaganda to get to the actual news.”

“Savannah, you’re the one being melodramatic.” Bronte sighed at me, then walked to the front of the line, right next to Altair, like the perfect student she was.

I looked at Nevada. “Hey, what did I do?”

“Nothing. Yet. But the day is young.” Her eyes twinkled at me.

I was mid-chuckle when I saw something that stopped the fun dead in its tracks. Two Watchers pulled a man off the street and into their SUV.

“I know him,” I gasped.

“Really?” Nevada asked. “How?”

“I’ve seen him around the Emporium a few times.

His name is…Mr. Patterson. Yes, Mr. Patterson.

He often wanders the streets, muttering to himself and smelling strongly of old cheese.

He has lengthy conversations with himself about the corrupt Gaian Government taxing us and ruling us from the safety and comfort of Paradise. ”

“That must be why the Watchers arrested him.”

“He’s a crazy old man, Nevada, but he’s not a threat to anyone but himself.”

“They don’t see it that way. Bronte isn’t the only one who watches the news. The Government fears an insurrection. They’re scooping up anyone they think might join in. And anyone who speaks a word against them.”

“That’s…very totalitarian of them.”

“Did you expect anything different?”

She had a point. The Government was nothing if not completely consistent in their single-minded pursuit of total power.

“Come on,” Nevada said. “We’re falling behind the group.”

We ran to catch up to the others. We had to weave around merchants and customers and easy-build tents and street stalls to do it.

The Magic Emporium was especially busy today.

Here, it was business as usual, as though armed soldiers didn’t walk the streets and innocent people weren’t being rounded up and carried off to who knows where.

The Black Obelisk for imprisonment and interrogation, if they were lucky.

The Wilderness beyond the Fortress to work as Scavengers, if they weren’t.

In all the chaos, I caught a glimpse of another familiar face. “That’s Michelle.”

“Who?” Nevada asked.

“Do you remember the attack on the Oval during the Knights’ Tournament? And the man in the big, black armor?”

She winced. “How could I forget?”

“The man inside the suit was a Watcher named Jon Park.”

“A Watcher?”

“Secretly, he’s a member of the Brotherhood of Earth.”

Which meant the Government wasn’t all wrong.

There were traitors in the Fortress. That complicated matters.

It would have been so much easier if their fears of an insurrection were totally unfounded, if the Brotherhood hadn’t attacked innocent people at the Tournament and tried to poison all the Spirit Trees.

But as my mom liked to say, things weren’t that simple. They were never black and white.

“So the Brotherhood attacked the Tournament,” Nevada said. “Why?”

“Because they hate the Knights, supernaturals, and everything to do with magic. And, also, because Elandra Moore, leader of the Brotherhood, wanted to test out her techno armor before she made her big move. So she sent Jon Park. Michelle, there, is his wife. She and Jon have been married for five years, and until a few days ago, she didn’t know who he really was. Or who he really worked for.”

Michelle Park was in her early twenties—with long, straight black hair, bright white teeth, and a soft, lilting voice. She operated a small street stand in the Magic Emporium that sold t-shirts, coffee mugs, and other tourist knickknacks.

She’d always been so cheerful and full of life, but not anymore.

She stood there with her head downcast, her face hidden beneath the shadow of her rain hood.

People kept pointing at her and speaking in hissed whispers about her husband Jon.

How he’d attacked the Tournament. How he’d hurt all those people. How he was a traitor.

Michelle looked completely miserable.

A man in a raincoat passed too close to the stand.

His shoulder bumped against a shelf of bottles, knocking them to the ground.

Michelle tried to gather them up, but her pregnant belly was so round that she could hardly bend over.

The man and his companion stood there for a moment, laughing darkly as they watched her struggle. Then they walked off.

“People can be so cruel,” Nevada said quietly.

“They blame her.”

“For what her husband did?”

“Yes.”

“Do they know she didn’t know about him?”

“Yes.”

“People can be so cruel,” she said again.

“Not all of them, Nevada. Look.”

Marlow, the charming Scavenger, was helping Michelle gather up all the fallen bottles. A trio of troublemakers was closing in, mischief clearly on their minds, but they scattered and ran when Marlow shot them a fiery glare.

“Gaia is divided,” Nevada said.

“Yes, we are,” I agreed. “More and more divided every day. And if we don’t change course hard and fast, we’ll be heading into a civil war.”