Dear Erik, wrote Ann. How are you? We miss you very much, but…

She looked up and over her shoulder, wincing. “Maggie, sweetheart, are you sure you wouldn’t rather…”

Maggie threw a gesture at her, not even bothering to lift her head, sobbing, “Yes! Eye… Eyewitness testimony is… is shit!” The rest was muffled against her mother’s shoulder. The General had even deigned to put an arm around her, and was offering an occasional tissue. Mordecai also had an arm around her, but he was only staring into space. Ann was almost more worried about him.

Hyacinth was leaning on the dresser in the other room, supporting herself with both hands. On the surface in front of her was the crumpled body of a small brown stuffed bear. She did not look up, and she did not speak.

“She can’t!” Maggie said faintly. “She can’t, she wasn’t even there…”

“Maggie, darling, I think I have the gist of it and you’re busy now,” Ann said gently. “If you really need me to do this, I will. Maybe you can help me fill in the last bit,” she added. “When I get there. All right?”

Nothing from Maggie but more muffled crying.

…but we are fine, Ann wrote. We’re all keeping our spirits up and I’m sure we’ll see you soon! I hope you’ll forgive us if we get a little mixed up! A lot has happened, and it’s been a funny sort of day…

◆◇◆

Milo was standing beside the drugstore pay phone, a place he was not accustomed to be, rocking nervously in his cold rubber boots with both shaking hands stuffed in his pockets.

Ann had said, It’s nice of you, dear. I think we should do that soon. Just maybe not this time? I mean, it’s sort of important. We need to know if that boy Radek has been anywhere near Calliope’s school…

Maggie just smiled and shook her head. Cin and I can do that. Milo hasn’t talked to Calliope or the kids in ages and he misses them.

Yes, dear, but he can’t exactly…

She’ll know it’s him, Maggie said. She loves him. Go on and get changed.

That was enough for Ann, but when Milo came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, already nervous as hell, he signed, EXPENSIVE. WASTE.

NO, Maggie signed. And she spoke while signing approximately the same thing, except it didn’t rhyme both ways, The drugstore has the phone and you got the tones, my man! I’ll stand in front of you and they won’t see.

Maggie was big enough to hide him if he crouched a little, if only just.

Terrified, he had drawn the mini tape player out of his pocket and plugged exactly fifty sinqs worth of boops and bips into the receiver. That would get them approximately an hour of international phone time, depending on the exchange rate. Nobody yelled at him or tried to drag him off to a gulag, and the police hadn’t shown up yet, so he guessed they got away with it.

He’d given the phone to Cin, because he couldn’t even say “hi.”

Hyacinth didn’t seem to be enjoying her phone time with Calliope, which he found rather irritating, but he guessed she was trying to find what-his-name, the kid.

“Okay, I just want to be very clear,” she said, plugging her other ear with a finger. “I love them all, but please do not make me go over every member of your extended family by name. Has anyone who should know about something like this told you about the Acadamé St. Honorée providing free education to outstanding students from Prokovia? Not just coloured ones, students of any kind. And not actually free because the government is paying for it. The Prokovian government. I’m sorry, but I sound incoherent because you’re driving me insane. Not literally. Right. Okay. And do you need me to hang up so you can check?”

Hyacinth raised her voice to a shriek, and the man at the soda counter dropped an entire strawberry float on the floor, “No, I do NOT want you to have Euterpe call them on another phone! Euterpe’s brain is even worse than YOURS!”

She broke off with a yelp, as Milo had swatted her on the back of the head.

“I am very sorry,” Hyacinth said mildly. “Both your brains are fine. I love you. I’m just a little upset. It’s very stressful here. Thank you. Okay.” She smiled. “Hey, I’ve got Milo here…”

Milo crossed both hands in front of him and stepped back, shaking his head.

Maggie tugged him gently by the coat sleeve, and smiled at him, without quite looking into his eyes. She signed, YOU OK [NEAR FUTURE]. «you’ll be okay.»

Hyacinth nodded against the receiver. “Yep! Nah, but if you wanna say hi, you can. Could you put the kids on and call home on another phone?” She laughed. “Okay, you’re right, hang on.” She gave Milo the phone. “It’s Calliope. She misses you.”

Trembling, he juggled the receiver and put it to his ear.

“Babe?” Calliope’s faint voice said.

All the colour drained out of him, what little he had left, and a single tear spilled out of his eye. Oh, gods, I can’t…

She laughed. She had a really great laugh. “I guess it must be! How’re you doing?” She laughed again. “Heck. I don’t know what to say. Oh, hon, don’t take this the wrong way, but this connection is kinda dodgy and I’m scared you can’t hear me…”

Now Milo outright sniffled. But he didn’t even know if she heard that. He barely made any noise when he cried, it had been that way since the workhouse.

“Babe…?” Someone else was talking. He heard her try to muffle the receiver. Her voice came back suddenly, louder and clearer. “Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea! Hey, hon? Tap on the phone.” She did so, demonstrating, three light thuds. “Once for yes, twice for no,” she broke off with a snicker, “three times ‘I love you,’ like…”

Milo banged the phone on the side of the booth three times, so hard he almost dropped it, then he put it back to his ear.

“It is broke…” Maggie began, but Milo cut a hand at her. It was hard to hear!

Calliope giggled. “Babe, I love you too, but you can just use your finger. It’s not actually a pipe like Tony Orlando and Dawn, yeah?”

Milo bapped the receiver once lightly, with one finger.

“Awesomesauce,” Calliope said.

Milo sighed and made a grateful smile. Awesomesauce.

“I’ll be right back, but I’m gonna give you to the kids so I can see about the school, okay?”

Bap. Yes.

“Dad?” Lucy’s voice.

Bap. It’s me! Hi, Lu!

“Hi, Dad! Davy, come on, it’s Dad! Yeah, for real!”

Milo winced, lifted his hand to the receiver, and put it back without tapping. He couldn’t say it, but Dave didn’t like to talk on the phone and Lu shouldn’t push him like…

“…Daddy?” a tiny voice said. Dave!

Bap-bap-bap. I love you, Dave! Wait… Bap-bap-bap! And Lu! Or, I double love you if she can’t hear, I dunno…

Bap-bap… bap, Dave replied, hesitantly.

Bap! Yes! Bap-bap-bap! I love you too!

“I love you, Daddy,” Dave said quickly. “Miss you. Lucy ate a cricket at the Night Market and Uncle Terp and Mommy did too and I didn’t want one. Are you mad?”

Bap-bap. No, sweetie, I’m just a little confused and worried I didn’t hear that right…

“Okay. I gotta go.” There was a clatter. He’d shoved the phone at someone else and they dropped it.

“Sorry, Dad. Was that loud?” Lu again.

Bap-bap. Bap-bap-bap!

She laughed. “Yeah. I love you too. Miss you like crazy!”

Bap!

He let Lucy fill him in on recent events, the normal home stuff he missed almost as much as his family, agreeing every so often so she knew he was still there. Then she said, “Here’s Mom!” He said I love you, one more time, for “goodbye,” but he wasn’t sure if she heard.

“Hi, hon,” Calliope said. “Could you tell Cin nobody knows anything about any Prokovian scholarships and there isn’t any Radek Kijek at the school, or anyone from Cyre at all?”

Bap-bap.

“Oh, yeah. She doesn’t know sign. Sorry. Could you tell Maggie?”

Bap!

“Okay.” A pause, and a sigh. “Are they stealing kids over there, babe? Do you know?”

He hesitated — she’d asked him two things at once — then said no. He didn’t know. And he guessed they weren’t stealing. They just said the kid could go to a good school, and the parents handed him right over. Lying and stealing weren’t the same.

“Whatever it is, I don’t like it,” she decided.

Bap.

“Babe, are you safe where you are?”

Bap!

“Yeah.” Another sigh. “But no leads on Erik?”

Bap-bap. He wished he had a number for I’m sorry.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you’ll find him. I just miss you a lot.”

Bap. Bap-bap-bap.

“I…” A muffled sound. Rustling.

“Hey, man.” That was Euterpe. “Good to hear from ya. Tony Orlando and Dawn, right?”

Bap. And, after a moment’s consideration, bap-bap-bap. Loving Calliope’s weird brother was kinda like loving a goldfish. You couldn’t pet it or play with it like normal, but it was okay if you accepted it on its own terms. A person could love a fish. Kinda.

Wait… Ann, do you think Euterpe thinks I’m the goldfish…? He glanced at the glass partition between the phones, but she didn’t have time to do much more than shrug.

“Cool. Yeah, but, uh… Calliope super hates strangers seeing her cry, so I think we’re gonna bounce. Promise you’ll come back next week?”

Milo nodded against the phone, then remembered to give it a tap. Yeah, he guessed he was still crying too. It was kinda hard to stop. Maybe it’d be better to pick this up later.

◆◇◆

…I’D eat a cricket if it were just ME, Ann wrote, but of course I’d NEVER make Milo do something like that! Now let’s see, what else…?

Ann reread a few paragraphs, then backed up and reread a few more, then realized, with a blush, that she’d gone through five sheets of stationary already, both sides.

Well, nevermind what else, dear. I’ll tell you when we find you. Everyone at home is just fine, that’s the main thing! Oh, and as far as anyone knows, John and Jenny are still making occasional appearances in Ansalem, Soup is still at the Apparent Cult, and nobody we can reach over the phone knows who that girl with the drink-mix hair is, so we really have no idea WHO that was annoying the Kijeks on behalf of the Rainbows.

While Milo was on the phone, Maggie bought the newspapers like usual, and Milo didn’t want Luba…

Ann froze up with a shudder before she even brought the pencil down to finish the tail end of the A. She flipped the pencil and erased the name. …Milo didn’t want the person who owns the doughnut shop to see him crying, so we went to the coffee shop and got some kolache. Do you know what those are? They’re local — MUCH better than boring old doughnuts! They’re a little like ronds, but they have CHEESE! Milo and I like the apricot ones!

Cin tried to call the Kijek family and… Well, dear, I’ll get to that later. I’m sure it’s… She paused, frowning, and then erased that whole line.

And then we went back to the hotel to get your uncle out of the suitcase!

◆◇◆

Breakfast, newspapers, imperfect dictionary-assisted translations, and the radio were their usual mid-morning occupations. They compared and contrasted, and it still seemed like the Prokovian and Marselline sources were in basic agreement of the facts — some jerk was out there blowing up passenger trains full of innocent people, shooting the engineers, and burning any survivors alive in the cars — with vastly different spins on why.

Prokovia said: These are obviously Marselline separatist terrorists! THAT’S WHAT THEY DO! Marsellia said: What’s a “train”? We don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no damn “train.” We only blew up some Prokovian TRACKS and started a huge war ONE TIME, AGES AGO, because those goddamn treacherous Aver-Abenians ASKED us to! Why don’t you talk to THEM?

And Hyacinth’s displaced household had come to a recent consensus that: BOTH of these goddamn stupid countries are full of shit but we’re not sure WHICH is lying about WHAT. It seemed like coloured people were involved somehow, but they were being pressured to move south and disappearing like poor Radek. Barnaby (who was an insane, dead jackass, truly, but not often wrong) said Erik had gone north — “done a reverse-Radek” as Maggie put it, and now they were all saying it that way.

Maggie set down the paper with a sigh. “You guys, if we can’t get the Kijeks on the phone, I’m gonna go back and see them in person. I won’t let anyone shoot me and I won’t tell Svetlana her kid’s not in school and scare her, but there’s a lot more I need to ask. Like, he’s fourteen, and that isn’t too young for prep school somewhere in Marsellia, but only if his birthday’s before summer vacation — and I didn’t get a good look at that report card, Uncle Mordecai. She just wanted to show you. I wanna know if…”

Mordecai shooed a hand at her. “No-no, Maggie. You don’t need more reasons. I want to come with you, I do not feel good about saying they ought to send Sofie to school.” He regarded her with a pained expression. “You know?”

She nodded. “Yeah — I know how it is,” she added quickly. “That’s your culture, it’s not your fault. They know you like school and they’re taking advantage.”

“Fucking backwards conservative jack-booted government thugs,” Mordecai spat, crumpling the Anglais-language Editorial section in his hands. He stopped and straightened it with a wince. “Do you mind about the suitcase?”

Maggie shook her head with a smile. “I mind a little, but Papa Vitek tried to give me a face full of rock salt last time he saw me turn back into a person. I’d rather not tempt him.”

“Was there really no cover to be had, Magnificent?” said the General.

Maggie smirked. “Farms are flat, Mom. But I got distracted, I’ll do better this time.”

Mordecai had already set the suitcase on the bed. He attempted a smile, but it still looked rather sick. “Then shall we get going?”

Ann stopped him, with a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Em. Can I get you a little lunch first? It won’t take long. Unless slipspace upsets your stomach…?”

He shook his head. “And I don’t necessarily mind a doughnut, but get me some decaf to go with it, please. I’m going to have a nap.” He grinned, or tried to, but it was more of a cringe.

“Could you pick up another toy for the little monster?” Maggie said. “Maybe some stickers? I’ll give her that squirt pistol if I gotta, but I’m not gonna give up my most hilarious way of disarming a guy if I don’t hafta…”

◆◇◆

…Milo thought he’d like to go get the doughnuts. I’m not going to lie to you, Erik, we used to be rather fond of the woman who makes the doughnuts — she was very kind to Milo — but I don’t think we’re going to go back there anymore. She said some things we didn’t like. It’s a good thing she did, but I don’t think we need any more doughnuts. We have doughnuts at home.

Her daughter is supposed to be going to a secretarial school in Ansalem, and we’re all very worried about people going to school in Ansalem at the moment, so he did her a card about it. She reads Anglais, a little. Enough to understand him…

◆◇◆

Luba covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a louder greeting, and dipped a little curtsy behind the counter. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rose. I miss Annie this morning! How was call home? Everything okay? Oh, wait.” She scowled at the group of tourist-looking kids with backpacks and tennis shoes who were crowding up the shop between her and her shy friend. “Give me two minute. I get right with you. They are not stay.” She frowned at them to indicate they’d better not stay.

They concluded their purchases quickly and got out, offering Milo nothing but a wave in passing.

“Much better!” Luba said. “Come and give card! Those are from Iliodario, I think,” she added, with a frown. “We are not friends with Iliodario.” She beamed. “But Prokovia and Marsellia stride boldly into future together! Like poster I see at bus stop!”

Milo nodded quickly. He put a single small white card on the counter between them, keeping one finger on the corner to pause and select from the various prewritten messages. Hi, Luba! You can just call me “Milo”! We’re friends! was the one on top, like always. It was almost like a joke now. Luba didn’t think a first name basis between a single man and a single woman was appropriate, even if the woman was widowed and twenty years older than him.

“Oh, no, Mr. Rose. I’m shy like you,” she replied, batting her eyes. “How is little girlfriend at home?”

He nodded, swiped through a few messages and showed her: Calliope and the kids are fine. Maybe we’ll get married soon! He swiped through a few more and showed her: How is Lena?

That got him a lot of detailed Lena-centric information that he supposed sounded plausible, but he held up a hand to stop her. Frowning — but she didn’t know that meant anything was wrong, he was almost always frowning — he showed her the long message he’d written back at the Elysium Inn.

He glanced up and Luba was already nodding. With a shaking hand, he advanced the message.

Luba laughed! “Oh, Mr. Rose! You never speak and it’s so easy to forget you’re not my little baby cousin… Of course you don’t know! Your little family come here for temp job last summer. Bad business all over by then, and we don’t like to talk.”

Milo nodded blankly. Yes, they had arrived in late August, and people around here certainly didn’t like to talk about… Well, anything. Just small talk. Movies, current events. Not huge, obvious questions like: You are missing a couple thousand people and nobody seems to care, what the FUCK is going on?

“I like how you don’t ask questions,” Luba said fondly. “Not like Annie. She is real Marselline girl. You are like Prokovian man, strong silent type.” She laughed again. “But I don’t think it’s wrong to say. You are not spies. Annie talk too much for spy.”

She paused a moment, and her smile faded somewhat. “Maybe little girlfriend shouldn’t talk too much about school just yet. She does not know, cannot, but maybe have Annie say gently over phone, ‘I think you make mistake about school.’ Just for now. Keep her and little kids safe, then you get married. Yes?”

Milo nodded, frozen in his default expression of mild concern, thinking, Ann, oh my gods, is she threatening us?

Milo I… I don’t know, maybe she just thinks someone else might hurt them?

I HAVE TO GO CALL CALLIOPE RIGHT NOW!

Milo, you CAN’T! You’re going to stand right here looking like you have no idea how to operate your own face and let this woman tell us what’s happening!

He made a soft sound, inaudible, little more than a vibration, and covered his mouth with a hand. Luba was still smiling and talking about how he ought to marry Calliope.

“Anyway, you don’t need worry,” she added, shooing him with a hand. “Lena is good girl. Human girl. She just go to school, learn Anglais and get good job like you. Bad people from Kirov go to mountain village in Marsellia where they can live lives and be safe. I see pictures in paper. Nice place.”

She leaned a little closer, turned her head to the side and gave a little wink. “Ah, but don’t worry for little girlfriend and kids. I think they will be safe too.” She smiled and nodded firmly. “Yes. Quite safe. Little white children grow up in peace and learn safe, sane, human magic like you. No one bother.” She shook her head, smiling. “No, no one bother at all.”

Milo staggered back a pace. Ann screamed at him and he froze again, looking no more than mildly-concerned, with a crippling anxiety disorder. It was the wink. The wink.

He remembered, almost like when he remembered the workhouse — in full colour with all the sound and sensation overlaying this surreal reality like the memory was the real thing instead. He remembered a teenaged Soup explaining patiently to a roomful of concerned small children that Hyacinth needed to have a look at Samantha, because she was an old dog, and she might be in pain. Samantha might need to go live on a farm, he told them. And he turned his head to one side and winked like that, so only Ann, Emily and Hyacinth could see.

Hyacinth had groaned, shoved him aside and said, Kids, if the dog is suffering and I can’t help her, she’s going to die and I’ll help her die with as little pain as possible. Any questions?

The small, puzzled faces had remained silent for a time, then Pablo slowly raised his hand.

Hyacinth said, Yeah?

Pablo said, Can we watch?

But that was just how Strawberryfield was.

Luba eagerly tapped both hands on the counter, making him jump. “Oh! So sorry. What for lunch, Mr. Rose? Sandwich or six assorted like usual?”

Milo nodded, slowly, nonsensically.

Luba knocked a fist on the side of her head. “Ah! I ask two things at once. Hang on.” She picked up the card and began swiping through the messages and reading it herself, in search of a lunch order.

He snatched it away, half crumpling it, and numbly shook his head. He pointed to the éclairs-with-features on the top shelf.

“Ah!” She clasped her hands. “You like my little bunnies!” She took a folded cardboard box and opened it with a practised snap. “How many?”

After a long, awkward pause, which Luba waited out patiently, Milo held up one finger.

She grinned. “Ah, now I know why so scared! You are sneaking!”

He nodded, thinking, Now I’m going to a gulag. I’m so sorry, Calliope…

“Small box I have hold three,” Luba said. She plopped three dumplings inside. “I give you one for Annie, and one for Dad!’ She winked again. “Or three for Mr. Rose, if he very sneaky, like spy. Yes?”

Milo nodded.

She drew a heart and a smiley face on the lid, “See? I am using cute little pen you give me!” and handed him the box. “No charge! You very good customer and I so sorry I scare. Now you be a good boy and marry that girl as soon as you get home to Marsellia! Make lots of babies!”

He turned with no further communication, staggered out the door, and walked right into the middle of the street. It sure was a good thing almost nobody wanted to drive to the bad part of town where all those dead people used to live!

◆◇◆

…but I’m almost positive it’s just another one of those “programs” or whatever they call them around here, Erik, dear. A relocation. And the whole Kirov Ghetto could’ve left all on its own before anyone bothered them! Don’t worry.

Ann broke off writing and covered her mouth with a hand. She didn’t want to hurt Erik, or scare him — and it probably didn’t even matter because she was also almost positive he already knew what was going on and he was trying to stop it — but even she didn’t buy “Don’t worry.”

She left it as it was, it probably didn’t matter. She went on, Milo ran up four flights of stairs, then Cin opened the door for us and she knew right away he didn’t have lunch or a stuffed animal, but he can’t talk to her. He couldn’t even talk to Maggie. He just said “newspaper” about ten times in a row, then he walked into the other room, shut the door and got changed…

◆◇◆

Ann opened the connecting door, pale, without makeup, and with her long red hair still half-braided. “I am so sorry about that. Milo and I have had a bit of a scare and we can’t stop kicking ourselves, because we’ve been so stupid. We have been reading the wrong newspapers,” she said, firmly and clearly. “We need to go to the library and find the microfilm with the papers from last year, before they killed all the people in the ghetto.”

Maggie stood up, and Mordecai did, too, and basically the whole room said, “WHAT?”

“I don’t know,” Ann said tearfully. “I really don’t. But that woman… That woman with the doughnuts certainly thinks they did, and she’s fine with it. She also thinks they might hurt Calliope for talking on the phone about the school, and we’re losing our mind right now because there’s no safe way to call her and warn her… But I don’t know what to do about that so can we please go to the library?”

“Ann,” said Hyacinth, “I love you and I’m so sorry, but I can’t help you do real research — I can barely read!”

“Oh,” Ann said, blinking. “Do you think that awful woman at the front desk will let us make a local call, or shall we just go back to the drugstore? I’ll call someone who can.”

◆◇◆

…I do know they’re always saying you shouldn’t split up, but that’s just for horror movies.

Ann glanced aside. It sounded like Maggie was almost done crying.

This is a MYSTERY!

She regarded her plausible, matter-of-fact handwriting and nodded once firmly. Yes, that was her story and she was going to stick to it. “We’re going to find out this was all a big misunderstanding,” she muttered. “This story is safe for children. I am Nancy Drew!”

Hyacinth finally turned away from the stuffed bear on the dresser. “Ann…?”

“Sorry.” Ann gave a weak little laugh. “Just thinking out loud.”

So Maggie and Em went to the Kijek farm, and Hyacinth and I went to the front desk. The General stayed in the hotel with the radio — she said someone needed to hold down the fort, and I suppose that’s true, but her eyes get tired, too. And she has NO people skills, Erik, you know that. Fortunately, I do!…

◆◇◆

“Ukhodite!” snapped the day clerk. Ann knew that one — go away — but this time, the day clerk didn’t mean them. She shoved the white cat with a hand, warding it away from the open magazine on the desk. It resisted and she insulted it again, too fast for Ann to get the meaning, but with obvious intent.

Misha the ghetto survivor — who was indeed pure white, with one blue eye and one green — mashed his entire head into the palm of her hand like a wrecked car, then turned and rubbed each cheek against it in turn, a tiny society lady giving an air kiss.

“Agh,” said Miss Mila, disgusted. The animal was drooling, and audibly purring. When Miss Mila ducked behind the desk to retrieve the large black phone, Misha crawled into the centre of the magazine, and lay down on it.

The day clerk hissed another threat and cast a suspicious glance towards Ann.

“She’s just pissed at the cat,” Hyacinth assured.

Ann said, “Spa-spasibo,” softly, in Miss Mila’s direction, and was ignored. She pulled the phone away as far as the cord could reach before placing her call.

A fuzzy male voice demanded to know why she was calling, and something about the bathroom faucet, or the sink, or the fuse box, maybe. It was too fast and slurry. He sounded half-asleep — but all Prokovian sounded a bit like that, to Ann.

“Andrej, is that you?” she said.

“Oh, Annie!” he cried. His whole attitude changed instantly, along with the language. “I’m so sorry. You got me before my coffee! I work nights, you know,” he teased.

Ann smiled. Ann was made for smiling. Her whole voice and posture changed too. “I do! And how is your poor hand?”

“So much better! Swelling is almost gone. Please thank Miss Hyacinth for stitches and disinfectant. I did not know cat bites are so serious!”

“Yes, yes,” Ann said, nodding. “Well, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. You know, you did say you owe us a favour.”

“That is true!”

“Do you mind — Oh, after you’ve had your coffee, of course, dear! But do you mind meeting Hyacinth and I at the library? There are a few things we need to look up.”

“The big library downtown or the little one nearest Kirov?”

Ann considered for a moment. “I think we’d better go to the little one, dear. At least to start. It seems… quieter.”

◆◇◆

…Milo and I were thinking about the street lights, the ones at home. I think, ideally, our government would like us all to have nice electric lights, but it took about a decade for them to finally start putting them in where we live. They started uptown, then downtown, then us, and I think Candlewood park still has some gaslamps.

There was NOTHING in the microfilm about the ghetto disappearing, you see, dear. We’re not completely stupid, we DID look. Somebody went after the papers with scissors before they even scanned them in. We think, if the government thought there was anything BEFORE the disappearance that we shouldn’t see, they would get the nice places where the nice people are living FIRST.

I’m not sure if that’s how it is, but it didn’t take long for us to find what we were looking for. We found MORE than what we were looking for, actually…

◆◇◆

“Here is another one, Annie!” Andrej said. The microfilm viewers were in tiny rooms with soundproofing and a door that closed, because they were hot and loud, so they could talk as much as they wanted.

Ha-ha, I bet they’re bugged and trying to get people to incriminate themselves! Hyacinth had said, with a sharp glance at Ann that said she didn’t mean the “ha-ha” part at all. Then she sat Andrej down in the wheeled chair, spun him around to face her and said, Seems like people around here don’t like questions. Turns out, neither do I. So if you don’t ask, I won’t tell you anything that’ll get you in trouble with either of our stupid governments, okay?

Ann had warned her on their way to the library, Cin, he’s going to think we’re spies.

I don’t have a problem with that, she replied. Do you?

Ann supposed, all things considered, that she did not.

“‘Visit Magical Marsellia!’” Andrej announced. “Sounds so much nicer in Anglais!”

Hyacinth leaned in and stared at the magnified, yellowish, fish-eyed image. “This is paint again. This is a bunch of happy paint people in a paint village with paint mountains and a perfect paint sky.” She sighed and spun Andrej around again, leaning over him with a hand on the back of the chair. “Andy, my petit ami, I don’t know if you ever considered this while it was happening in real time, but I am starting to suspect we are looking at some false advertising right here, yeah?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that, Miss Hyacinth.”

She stepped back and enumerated on her fingers, “This is not a city, this is not a tour or a package deal, and it sure as hell looks like a theme park, but it’s not one of those either because the name and logo isn’t plastered all the hell over the place. Somebody is out there marketing an entire country. And they’re not even saying how much they want for it, like you can just go there. Ann’s friend the doughnut lady seems to have decided these are pictures of a real place, but I don’t think they are. Do you have any idea where this is supposed to be?”

“Your North has mountains like these, yes?” he offered.

“Our North exists in three dimensions and sells postcards of itself,” she said acidly. She tapped a finger on the screen, indicating a frozen photo of a snarling face with two staring eyes. It was the lead story, above the fold. “And who is this poor son of a bitch right here? He looks familiar.”

Andrej pushed up his reading glasses, leaned closer, and deciphered the headline. “A murderer and rapist of women, leader of a gang that does the same.” He smiled. “But this one, they caught!”

“This one?” Ann said, leaning closer. “Andrej, does this happen often?”

He shrugged again. “It is springtime, Annie. See the date? Magic season here. You have magic season?”

“In summer,” Ann allowed. “But…”

“Dangerous time,” he overrode her, nodding. “People like that go crazy.”

“Yeah, Andy,” said Hyacinth, now almost acid enough to melt through the floor. “Completely fuckin’ bonkers. I’ve seen it. Because I invite them all to my house so they don’t get hurt. Consent may be a little dubious, and I’ve had a couple grand theft autos, and one grand theft horse, but surprisingly no raping or murdering.”

Ann opened her mouth and closed it with a hand. Cin was trying to figure something out. That one time when Seth and Erik almost killed a man didn’t count. It was only an attempted murder. Anyway, the man had tried to kill them first. It was practically self-defence!

Come to think of it, she also felt there was something about magic storms…

“Perhaps the storms are not as bad?” Andrej said. He snapped his fingers and pointed. “That is why Marsellia is magical! Much better for them and safer for everyone, yes?”

“Sure,” said Hyacinth. She took off her own reading glasses and wiped them with the edge of her sleeve. “Could you roll that back about three weeks and then slow down? I’m playing a memory game.”

He nodded, someone mystified, and did as she asked. He had to page backwards through three more daily editions before they all saw what she’d been looking for.

“Toldja he looked familiar,” Hyacinth said smugly. The photo had frozen in a slightly different position, but the staring eyes, white hair, and dark, greyscale face were the same. “Did they have such a fun time catching him that they let him go again?”

“I think sometimes they reprint stories,” Andrej hedged. “With update. When it is slow. To sell papers…”

“Yeah, except this time he’s an arsonist,” Hyacinth replied, tapping the screen. “I’m semi-illiterate, but I know what ‘fire’ looks like.”

“Andrej, I think your papers are worse than ours,” Ann said, smiling — though she didn’t feel much like smiling.

“They just reuse photo,” Andrej said. “Stock picture, maybe, for when government doesn’t want real one in paper?”

“And the stock image for heinous criminals happens to be a coloured guy?” said Hyacinth.

He shook his head with a helpless smile. “I don’t print them, Miss Hyacinth. I only read.”

Hyacinth blew out a sigh, then folded her arms with a smirk. “Right. So, leaving the Cyre Gazette’s personal vendetta against this one guy in particular — and possibly all coloured people in general — aside, you’re telling me your newspapers have a tendency to reuse stock images to cover up things you’re not supposed to see?”

Andrej was still smiling, though it looked a bit pained. “I am only guessing, Miss Hyacinth. Maybe it is for safety? Uh, national security?” He shook his head again and shooed that away. “I don’t know. I don’t want to make trouble.”

“I don’t see how a paper using stock images for national security is going to make trouble,” Hyacinth said. “If that’s all it is, that seems perfectly reasonable to me. Somebody is murdering entire trains on the regular right now, so some extraordinary measures may be required. Right, Andy?”

“Not really fond of questions…” he muttered.

“Irregardless,” Hyacinth plowed onward, “I have come up with another fun memory game for us to play! Ann, could you get me today’s Gazette, please? From the periodicals room? It’s got that big still image of a dead train on the front, you remember?”

◆◇◆

I suppose I knew what she wanted to do, but Milo and I were distracted thinking about magic storms and not paying attention. It took a little while for us to put it together, and we got even more distracted in the meantime!

Of course, when we brought the paper back with us, Hyacinth started scrolling through the films looking for the same picture, and she FOUND it! She was very pleased to figure out there was something about the trains they didn’t want us to see and she thought we were done, but Milo SCREAMED at me — “WAIT, Ann, the TRAIN is WRONG!” — and I managed to get Cin and Andrej to stay in the room with the train on the screen while we tried to figure out what the problem was.

Milo likes trains, you know. Don’t get between Milo and a train or a dinosaur if you value your life! But there was something about THAT train, with its image blown up so big on the screen. I suppose I seemed a bit mental trying to explain it, but he finally figured out what it was, and then I got to seem rather brilliant!

◆◇◆

“It’s not a passenger train,” Ann said finally, relieved. “That’s it. Or, it is one, but these aren’t passenger engines. They’re completely different, the size of them, the streamlining… Nobody would put together a real train like… Oh, no, I see it now!”

She indicated the trail of cars with smoke stains and shattered windows.

“Do you see it? Andrej? Cin? They painted different windows and shadows on each one, but this is the same car. This is a-a-a cut-and-paste job like Calliope used to do for the ad agency. Look at the highlights. Look at the wheels! Do you see it? I’m not crazy! This is a wrecked freight train with passenger cars pasted over the cargo in the back!”

“Maybe,” Andrej allowed. “Er… Maybe they paste two pictures together trying to make it look about right?”

“Andy,” said Hyacinth, leaning casually on the back of his roller-chair. “Do you have any reason at all to believe even one real train has been blown up at this point? Are you holding out on us? Is there something else you’ve read with an actual train in it? Even a moving picture? Or maybe a newsreel?” She grinned. “To the best of your knowledge, are there trains in Prokovia? Have you seen any of them in person recently?”

He sputtered and flung a gesture at the screen. “Of course there are real trains! If there weren’t real trains blowing up, they wouldn’t be so…” He shook his head and took a few breaths, calming himself.

He managed a smile. “So sorry. I am worried for my homeland. People… Government people seem very upset and I don’t know why they would make-believe something like this. We like Marsellia. Newspapers maybe are not very reliable, but I don’t think these things have anything to do with each other.” He laughed, a little. “We bury our secrets around here. Maybe too much. You uncover a lot when you start to dig, yes?”

Ann was nodding absently. Dig, she thought. Secrets. Secrets, lies, and magic storms…

She straightened suddenly and clapped her hands. “Cin! We’ve been all over that ghetto trying to figure out what happened… They have laundromats and movie theatres and homes just like us, but they’re not like us! Where do they go when it storms? What does a Prokovian storm shelter look like? There are thousands of people living there — or there were, excuse me — they’re not just going to wander around waiting to get struck by raw magic all day. Where do they go to be safe?

“What is ‘storm shelter,’ please?” Andrej said.

Ann closed her mouth and shook her head. “Oh, dear. They live by themselves — they have their own government in those places, so you wouldn’t know…”

Hyacinth slapped the night clerk encouragingly on the back. “Andy, my boy, if you’ll come with us and help me read the signs, I will show you what a storm shelter is, and maybe we’ll find a few more ghetto survivors like that poor cat. What do you say?”

“This is exciting!” he cried, leaping from the chair. “Let’s go!”

◆◇◆

…I suppose I did sort of let it slip that we’ve been poking around the ghetto for information, but poor Andrej already thinks we’re spies, so I’m sure it’s no difference to him. He’s CERTAINLY not one. That man tried to wash a cat in a pedestal sink and almost put himself in the hospital with blood poisoning. I think he sort of enjoys playing cops and robbers with us and asking what we’re really up to would ruin the fun!

We had to explain the whole CONCEPT of storm shelters to him. I think he really did believe immies like to wander around in the glowy rain going crazy, getting struck by magic, and HURTING each other, like that’s FUN for them. Living apart like that lets people get some very funny ideas, and all those stories in the papers were not helping! It seems like they were printing all the worst things they could find on a loop, and then the ghetto vanished and they stopped.

We don’t like what Luba said — and we’re both afraid of what she might do, so we’re not having any more doughnuts ever — but it’s hard to blame her for hating them when she was being fed that nonsense for I don’t know how long. At least now we know why no one’s bothered about the ghetto — they’re just glad those scary people are GONE.

By the time we got back to Kirov, Andrej understood we were looking for a building with one high peak to put a grounding rod, or something underground — or both. Well, you know how it is at home.

She stopped writing and touched the eraser to her lips. It was… Well, it was not likely, but not impossible Erik didn’t know how it was at home. Like that poor man in the slave revolt that Erik told them about. They messed him around so bad he couldn’t even remember where “home” was…

Or, like after Erik got hurt, and he used to look at her like he had no idea who she was, and he was scared of her.

What were they going to do if they got Erik back, and someone had erased him like a big green blackboard? Even if they filled all the chalk marks back in as best they could remember, would it even be Erik anymore? Or was he already…

She shook her head rapidly, a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of the word, “No.”

She put the pencil to the paper and turned a period into a colon.

Well, you know how it is at home: We have to put the magic rod at the highest place to discharge the strikes, and you go down to the basement with Seth, who is a very nice schoolteacher we know. He gets sick when it storms too. (I don’t mean to bore you, I’m just being thorough, sweetheart. You can publish these when you’re a rockstar! Which is an ambition you’ve had since your uncle started to teach you to play violin, when you were very small.)

I suppose they could’ve done something with decoys, like we keep the magic strikes away from you, dear, but ever since you got hurt, you’re a special case. We hope very much they’re taking good care of you, wherever you are.

It turns out they didn’t have to do anything with decoys at all! They were really quite clever in Kirov!…

◆◇◆

They had followed a pointed yellow sign directing them down an alleyway to “зонтик,” which Andrej said meant “umbrella,” of all things. It was a dead end. While they were poking around, looking for a ladder or a secret passage or something, Ann noticed a bit of graffiti on the ground in yellow paint, the same shade as the sign. “Cin? Do you think they mean that?”

Hyacinth regarded it with a snort. “‘Umbrella.’ Yeah. Cute. Teenagers with too much time on their hands…”

Andrej leaned down and brushed at the snow with his hand. “Pardon me, ladies, but this is uh, uh… lyuk? Ah…”

“A manhole cover?” said Hyacinth. She dropped to her knees and wiped the snow away with her sleeve.

“Is bolted down,” Andrej said.

“Which is not a problem,” said Hyacinth. She pulled off her gloves and rubbed her hands together to get some of the feeling back in them. “Shield the man’s eyes, Ann. I don’t trust him not to look.”

“What…?”

Ann grabbed him and pulled him away. “It’s a trick she knows, but it’s a bit…” There was a bright flash, as if a short, sudden bolt of lightning had struck, but it faded quickly.

Hyacinth shrieked. “Ah! Fuck! Oh, holy shit! You guys! Look!”

The manhole cover with the umbrella drawing was gone. There was a long, rectangular hole in the ground, taking up about half of the space between the buildings.

She accused the hole with a pointed finger and said, “I almost fell into that shit and it caught me and pushed me back! It opened as soon as I touched it. Bink! Like a light switch! This is magic designed for frigged up people in a hurry, and…” She looked down and screamed laughter, tearing at her hair with both hands. “Oh, my gods, it’s a ramp. Not even stairs! This shit is accessible! You could drive one of those hilarious tiny cars into it!”

Ann scrambled to the edge, peered over it, and felt a polite little pull around her waist that kept her from leaning over too far. “Cin! Are they down there? Do you think they’re down there?”

Hyacinth grinned. “It’s lit up like a Yule tree. Wanna go find out?”

“They will kill us!” Andrej cried. “We must call police!”

“Don’t be a fucking narc, Andy,” said Hyacinth. “Come on!” She was already heading down the ramp, and she waved them after her.

“Cin, I think if they are down there, they’re going to be a bit paranoid…”

“Are you down there?” Hyacinth hollered. “Are you a bit paranoid? I’m here with my friend the narc! Ruki vverkh, eto kopy!”

“What is ‘narc’?” Andrej asked Ann.

“Um…”

“If they were still down there,” Hyacinth said reasonably, “all their things would not still be up here. The kids would at least come back for the toys, and that poor cat. I don’t think we found people, I think we found the trap door they used to do their disappearing act. So come on!”

The ramp had a gentle curve to it, a lovely carved handrail, and floating automatic mage lights every ten feet. All of this seemed quite old, handmade, but well-cared-for. The damp and mould were unavoidable, but must have been fairly recent additions. The wooden bits were all still solid and secure. When they reached the bottom, more lights popped on, and all three of them staggered to a sudden, silent halt.

“My gods,” Ann managed at last. It echoed. Ods… Ods… Ods…

This was not a simple dugout, root cellar, basement, or tunnel. It wasn’t even a sewer system, not as Ann knew them. The floor was tiled with an intricate mosaic, and the ceilings were vaulted, with soaring buttresses, a good twenty feet above them.

“Is cistern!” Andrej cried. Ern… Ern… Ern… “For rainwater! It comes down from mountains and floods. This was here before sewer, here even before city!” Tee… Tee… Tee… “Dry now, sewer does everything… O moi bogi, they burrow into it like rodents!” Ents… Ents… Ents…

“Rodents?” (ents, ents) said Hyacinth, scowling.

“No?” (oh, oh) said Andrej. “What is word?” (erd, erd) He extended both index fingers against his head and hopped a few paces on the tile. That echoed, too, little whispers like scurrying mice.

“‘Rabbits,’ dear,” (ear, ear) Ann said gently.

“Yes! Rabbits!” (its, its)

Hyacinth smirked. “And how big is it? Do you know?” (oh, oh)

“It goes all the way to the Silk Sea!” (ee, ee) he cried, laughing. “Drenazh! Um, ah… Overflow!” (oh, oh) “Incredible!” (ull, ull) “They leave and go to beach whenever they want!” (ont, ont) “Big enough to bring whole family in car!” (ar, ar)

“All right, Andy, you know this city better than I do,” (oo, oo) Hyacinth said. “So here’s one final question, could they bring their whole family in the car and get on a train?” (ain, ain)

Andrej considered it, pacing on the tile. “Nyet. No, no. Two different directions. They would need to dig…” (ig, ig) He looked up with a smile. “Easy to get on a boat!” (oat, oat)

“But to the best of your knowledge, nobody is blowing up boats?” (oats, oats)

He shook his head, but with a grin. “Impossible to say where they go, my dears, but now we know exactly how they got out!”

◆◇◆

…We poked around in there for a little while, but it was rather like the ghetto itself. There were some little shelters with walls and supplies, I suppose some of them preferred that to the big space with the echo. Still, they had plenty of room to run around and do magic, if they wanted.

There were open cans, dirty dishes, and a lot of cots and folding chairs with anti-magic blankets all over the place, but it didn’t look like anyone packed anything for a long trip. They had regular flush toilets and plumbing! There were all the places and things people need, just no people. They were down there USING it last year and they disappeared during magic season without cleaning it up, I think.

We’d eaten up most of the day and Andrej was going to start his shift soon, so we headed back. He already knew about the hole in the fence, said it had been there forever. I think he’s been poking around in Kirov, too, but he’s curious by nature. He tried to pick up that poor cat right when we got back and Misha scratched the hell out of him. Again, I should say.

I don’t think it’s just the towel, some kitties don’t like people who come on too strong. Misha dotes on that big woman who runs the front desk in the daytime, and she’s always ignoring him and shoving him away. Andrej really wants to be friends, but he’s just hopeless…

She sighed. Maggie had finally stopped crying. Ann didn’t like to upset everyone all over again, but she’d come to the last bit and she’d promised to let them help her fill it in. “Maggie?” she said softly. “Em? I’m up to the part where we came home… Er, well, not home. I… I really don’t mind filling it in myself. It’s not much. It… It’s not as if we really know. Anything.”

“We know they did not crawl into a cistern located fifteen miles away and go to the beach, with a sick grandmother and a missing son,” Mordecai replied. “We know this fucked up country of fucking liars told everyone who might help them or show them a little kindness that we’re all a bunch of rapists and murderers. Oh, and we know everyone else that looks like them is gone, and the government offered to send them to a cute little mountain village that does not exist!

“Am I missing anything?” he cried, almost a shriek. “…Apart from an entire family of human beings who never hurt anyone?”

Maggie sat up with a sniffle and wiped under her nose. “She named the bear.”

The General sighed. “Magnificent, I don’t think…”

“I didn’t write on Woden’s Day how she named the bear,” Maggie went on, in a low voice. “He has a tag on his butt that says Made in Marsellia, so she wanted a Marselline name for him, and I said, ‘Robert is a Marselline name,’ and she said, ‘With bear in it?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, that’s how we say it,’ and she thought that was great.”

Maggie pulled out another tissue, preemptively, shaking her head. “She wouldn’t leave him like that. Not face down outside in a puddle in a goat pen. She wouldn’t do that. She just got him. He’s new.” She sniffled again and pressed the tissue over her mouth. “I gave her the bag of chocolates, too, but I didn’t give her the squirt pistol. I should’ve just given her the squirt pistol. I don’t need a toy to disarm a…”

“Stop right there,” Mordecai said firmly. “I tortured myself for decades because I didn’t give my little sister this lion bank I used to have, and she died — and it’s pointless. Little girls aren’t supposed to die! So we don’t expect them to! That is just how being alive works!”

“There was no evidence of death or a struggle,” said the General. She glanced at her daughter. “Except the bear.”

“Don’t you start with me, lady,” Mordecai snapped. “People don’t just disappear and leave all their things for something nice. I don’t know what happened, but there was a whole working farm there just last week and now there is nothing left alive!”

“And nothing dead either,” said the General.

He just snarled at her, not even words.

“Even the goats, Em?” Ann said, pencil in hand. “You said…”

“No goats,” he muttered. He swiped his hand across his face and turned away. “No chickens, either. There was a coop for chickens and no more chickens. They left the eggs. Oh, and they took all Sofie’s rainbow stickers off the bed — so whatever the Rainbows are doing here, these murderers now know they are doing it. Does any of that make any fucking difference?”

“I don’t know,” Ann said weakly. “I really don’t. But now I’ve written it down for Erik, so you don’t have to worry.”

“There is no reason to expect we will find any of these people alive,” he spat. “Ever! They don’t want us here!”

Maggie touched his arm and pulled him back. “Don’t. Please. Please don’t. We still don’t know enough to figure it out and I’m going to go crazy if I keep trying to think about it, so please stop. Okay?” She made a wobbly smile, then drew out another tissue and buried her face in it. “I… I just need to stop trying to fix this. We can’t fix this…”

Hyacinth threw the mud-stained bear on the bed. “I popped his eye back in and stitched him up, but Milo’s better with fabric. I’ll let him do that part.”

“I doubt,” said the General.

Hyacinth glared at her.

“…I doubt Mr. Rose will have much of an effect,” said the General. “Let me see it.”

“Mom, you’re horrible at fabric,” Maggie said. “You’ll hurt him. Let Milo do it.”

“Very well.” It seemed rather pointless to assert that the bear’s owner was not liable to come back for him, wherever she was. The General was willing to allow a certain amount of sentimentality, under the circumstances.

Mordecai slid down to the floor beside the bed and began to cry, head buried in his arms.

But we’re all fine here and I’m certain we’ll see you very soon, Ann wrote quickly, already standing, and with her whole body angled towards the bed. Love from all of us, hugs and kisses, XOXO!

https://www.tumblr.com/asksoldieron/732088762203570176/so-10-smiling-faces