“Calliope, are you certain you’re managing all right, dear?” Ann asked. For about the third time. Since they’d passed Swan’s Neck.

Calliope smiled. She picked up her feet and walked with exaggerated care. “I’m good, Ann. If I’m gonna do a cartwheel or something I’ll let you know so you can catch me, okay?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea in those pants,” Maggie said.

“Eh, the suspenders still work,” Calliope said. She slid her thumbs under them. “I’m decent in boxer shorts anyway, aren’t I?”

“Definitely not,” the General said.

“Huh. I wonder why they bother about the boxers with hearts on them when people’s pants fall down in the cartoons, then?”

Erik considered this. “I think it’s only okay for boys.”

“I think it’s only okay for cartoons,” Maggie said. “And you are not one,” she added in Calliope’s direction, as if to assure herself.

“I think it’s better than no boxer shorts at all!” Sanaam put in, grinning.

“What about Lucy? Would you like me to hold Lucy?” Ann said. Again.

“Glorie has her.”

“Yes.” Ann narrowed her eyes at the General and spoke with slow suspicion, “Perhaps when she is… done?” Before she turns into an eagle and takes Lucy’s eyes out, she added silently to herself. Please.

They were walking up Sabot Street, in the direction of MacArthur Park, Maggie and Sanaam already with fireworks in tow. Calliope had her sweater tied around her waist and Mordecai was in his greatcoat for when it got cold.

It was about an hour before sunset, but that didn’t make any difference to the people with loud fireworks, only with pretty ones that looked better in the dark. A group of teenagers had already gone by toting a large papier-mâché frog with what looked like sticks of dynamite wired to it and going off in sharp succession. Some older men had also walked past with a figure of the Czar, done up similarly but not on fire yet. Mordecai told Erik this was called “burning someone in effigy” and was not a nice thing to do — usually. Nevertheless, he tipped the men a subtle salute.

Hyacinth had to stay home, she was basically a public institution at this point, open Sun’s Days and bank holidays like the hospital and the police station. Barnaby was with her, either as some kind of half-assed nurse or because he just hated the outdoors that much, and Room 101 never came out, whatever it was.

Everyone else was along, though. Even Milo, because it wasn’t like he could stay home and still have Ann look after Calliope. He was hiding from the loud noises and potential loud noises, but he did make an occasional comment when he felt something warranted his attention. Mainly Calliope and how she and Lucy were getting along on their first day out.

Ann, we need to have a pram again. Like you used to have for the shopping. Except a nice one. And no metal so Cin won’t take it apart. Then Calliope won’t let that woman hold Lucy, she won’t have to.

Well, I think that would be a very nice thing for you to work on, Milo. You should do some drawings when we get home.

…Calliope probably won’t like it, anyway. Or if she does like it, she wouldn’t like me to give it to her.

Ann sighed.

“Ann, am I making you nervous?” Calliope asked, frowning.

“No. No, dear.” You’re making Milo nervous, she thought. Everything around you is making me nervous. There aren’t any safety spells out here for the bricks. Ann cleared her throat. “It’s only… We’re not on a bus route if you get tired, and they’re on a limited schedule today.”

“We can have a taxi, Ann,” Sanaam said defensively. He hadn’t exactly made out like a bandit this trip, but he wouldn’t have gone out of the house without enough money to feed Calliope and take care of her if she needed it — even if he had to take some out of the bank. He had also noted that Mordecai seemed to be jingling a bit more than usual today.

“We’re gonna go by that drugstore with the payphone, right?” Calliope said. “You guys said you didn’t mind if I call my mom and dad. Are we still gonna do that?”

“I see no reason to deviate from our plan of attack now,” the General said. “We will purchase supplies and you will update your parents on your condition. It is perfectly efficient.”

“I have plenty of change, dear,” Mordecai added. He placed a hand on Calliope’s shoulder. “I’d be annoyed if we didn’t spend some of it.”

Calliope snickered. “Yeah. You sound like Yule already.”

“I suppose there are benches,” Ann muttered. “Even before we get to the park. It won’t take long to send someone to the store… But Calliope, what if you need water? Or something to eat? Or something we don’t know because Hyacinth isn’t here? Oh, my gods!”

A boy ran through the group of them, dragging a wheeled Xinese dragon which was firing what sounded like blank cartridges out of its mouth.

Aw, man, I bet one like that’s expensive, Erik thought. He winced and looked up at Lucy, who had decided this upset was cry-worthy.

Ann very gently set Calliope back on the ground and smoothed down her shirt. “I’m so sorry, dear. It’s like the siege out here today.” Calliope just grinned — she hadn’t been in San Rosille for the siege, and the bombing runs over Ansalem hadn’t been this fun!

“While Strawberryfield isn’t exactly the main floor of Hennessy’s, goods and services are available for purchase,” the General said. She nodded towards a storefront with a torn awning and some varnished, display loaves of bread in the window. “Calliope is not as delicate as you seem to imagine, Miss Rose.”

“Lucy is!” Ann snapped, which did not have a positive effect on the crying. She covered her mouth with both hands and turned away.

The General bounced the baby and patted with expert precision. Because she did not soften or say cute things, this came across more like the function of a wind-up machine than a worried caregiver, but Lucy didn’t seem to mind one way or another. She quieted.

Mordecai cast a glance at Erik that was half-nostalgic, half-annoyed. I didn’t know they made babies like that. Is there a switch on them somewhere?

“Lucy will learn that surprising things are not dangerous or frightening if we keep our heads and react appropriately around her,” the General said. “Infants are learning constantly. It is only as we grow older that we develop a taste for mindless occupations.”

“Thank goodness for that!” Sanaam said. “What would the fireworks industry do otherwise?”

“Shells and cartridges like sensible people,” the General said. She handed Lucy back to Calliope, who tutted gently at her and then nestled her against one shoulder.

“I don’t care if they fire a cannon at us,” the young mother said, much to Ann’s horror. “I’m gonna make it to that phone.” She smiled and shrugged. “Then I guess I don’t mind. We can go home if you really hate it out here, Ann.”

Ann managed a smile too. “No, dear. I don’t hate it. …I see you there, little girl with the cap pistol! Shooting things at nice ladies is not funny!”

◈◈◈

Calliope deposited a total of ten dismes in the payphone, while wondering how come she couldn’t just jam a whole sinq in the slot in that case.

Once it was evident he was not required for more coins, Mordecai did a slow fade away from the soda fountain. Occasionally counters were available to coloured people, but this was uncommon enough that there was usually a sign… and even if there was a welcome mat out, it could be yanked away at anyone’s discretion. We reserve the right to refuse service… I’m sorry, there are ladies present… Sir, would you mind making that a to-go order…?

“Erik, let’s look at the fireworks over here…”

Erik shook his head and rooted himself to the floor. It took him a little while longer to explain why he was doing so and he didn’t want to be dragged off in the meantime, “Wanna… know… if… they’re… home…” It wasn’t dark yet, even all the way in Ansalem, but Calliope’s parents could have gone out early, like they had.

Frowning, Calliope played with the metal-wrapped phone cord like she sometimes played with her hair. The rest of the household was still hanging around the payphones too, despite the General’s intention of taking this time to purchase “supplies.” Responsibility for Lucy had been ceded to a relieved Ann, as it was difficult to cram a baby into a phone booth, and Sanaam was giving her a few pointers on infant care, which she was grateful to accept — just not from his wife.

“Yes, but… but…” I don’t want to wait around for a racist person to yell at us when we’re trying to have a nice day, seemed like a lesson in cowardice he would just have to cancel out later (or argue about. Erik could be as stubborn as he was in matters of fairness) and he couldn’t come up with a convenient lie.

Erik smiled bravely at him and took hold of his hand.

Mordecai sighed. Of course, they’re telling him the part where I’m nervous… I hope they’re telling him. The alternative was that he was just that damn obvious. He made a smile. Please, please think I’m just worried about Calliope being disappointed, dear one. I’d like to be that person instead.

“Could you try them a couple more times?” Calliope said. “It’s crazy at the house sometimes.” She covered the receiver with one hand and addressed the others, “It’s okay, you guys. I made it to the phone. I can come back tomorrow if I missed them. I just…” She startled and juggled the receiver against her shoulder. “Mom? Oh, hi, Mom. It’s me.”

There was the tinny squawk of some reaction, audible even outside the booth.

Calliope snickered. “Hi, Dad. Could you check Mom? …Because she had the phone a second ago and it sounds like you pushed her over. Yeah…” She sniffled and pushed up her glasses, then pulled them off and tucked them in a pocket. She only needed them for the numbers.

“No, I’m okay,” she said quickly. “I’m okay. I’m good. It’s a girl, though. No, they wouldn’t let me. Lucy. Em thought I should name her after Mom, but he didn’t know about the trademark infringement. Did you get my postcard? You like the little kitty? No, not yet. No, we have a post box, we just don’t have any wires. Oh? Uh-huh, sure. Hi, Polyhymnia. Tell Helix and Sigma I made them another cousin, okay? No, it’s a girl. Oh, hi, Helix. It’s Auntie Calliope. I love you too.”

Ann spoke aside, “Sam, do you suppose that’s a child or a dog on the phone?”

“I…” Sanaam said. He shook his head. It sounded like some kind of science-oriented person with pets, but this was Calliope’s family. Who had named her “Calliope.”

“No, let’s not guess,” he decided. “No matter how tempting it may be. We’ll wait for her to mention it.”

“Captain, we should at least purchase cold food for dinner,” the General said. “We do not know what sort of vendors will be available at the park. I do not wish Calliope to subsist upon pretzels and hot chocolate.”

“We have time, sir. We have time.”

“Time to eavesdrop on people’s private phone conversations, Captain?”

“Yes!”

“Obviously, Mom,” Maggie added.

“Hi, Terpsichore. How’s that research grant coming?” She laughed. “Oh, yeah. Research. I thought you were only into the hard sciences? Yeah, I’ll do you a quick paper on the plight of the single mother in Marsellia. No, not really. Oh, I guess I got fired and evicted, but that wasn’t so bad. Well, it sucked for a little, but Glorie rescued me.” Calliope held up the phone. “Glorie, come say hi to my sister, Terpsichore.”

The General staggered a step back. I do not know this person, she thought. Why would I say hi to this person? Merely because you are shoving a phone in my face and smiling expectantly?

Apparently.

“Hello, Terpsichore. What? Social… Excuse me?” She scowled. “I offered Calliope my assistance because it was evident she required it. I’m sorry, I do not feel qualified to comment on the psychological effect of society on the individual. …Because I do my best to ignore it in most situations.” She blinked. “Yes, I do find that frustrating. Group unity may indeed have a detrimental effect on individual intelligence, but I am not sure how you would measure… IQ tests are notoriously biased, the science is…”

Calliope rolled her eyes, shook her head and mouthed something… It looked like, Terpsichore isn’t human, but that couldn’t possibly be it. She held out a hand and offered to take the phone back.

“Excuse me, I believe your sister wishes to speak with you again.”

Calliope shook her head more and clearly mouthed, Oh, hell no, this time, but she still had her hand out for the phone. The General gave it to her. “Are you guys due to radio home another report or what?” Calliope said. She snickered. “Uh-huh, sure you’re not. You and Polyhymnia sound almost like native speakers, you can pass. Huh? Melpomene?” She put a hand to her head. “Oh, gods. Look, could you just give me back to Mom? My sinq’s gonna run out here.”

Mordecai urgently offered her another handful of change.

She shook her head. No. No, no, no. “Mom? Yeah. No, I’m okay. I don’t know how you managed it nine times, though. Yeah. I guess it’s easier with two at once. No. Thanks. Yeah. Thanks.” She sniffled again, but she was still smiling. “No, I mean, I’m proud of you too. You’re not mad I didn’t marry the guy, are you? No, no, he was really nice, we just didn’t… Yeah. Yeah. Oh, yeah. No.” She frowned. “No… he’s not here right now, it’s Ann.”

Ann took a step forward. She deposited Lucy with Sam and hesitantly lifted a hand for the phone.

Calliope shook her head some more and adjusted the receiver against her ear. “No, they’re both really nice. No, they’re two people, it’s not like Ojichan. It’s complicated. I’ll write again when your letter gets here. Everyone here is really nice, Mom. You hafta come visit sometime. No, I know, you’re working. No, no, no. Look, save the world first, then retire. Yeah.” She laughed. “No, you’re a great grandma. Well, no. You know what I mean. Yeah. Look, I’ll come see you when the princess is a little older, okay?

“Oh, there’s that damn operator again. I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m sure you’re very nice. Mom? Just tell Dad and everyone I love them, yeah? Yeah, him too. You haven’t seen Euterpe around lately, have you? No, it’s okay. Say hi when you see him. Yeah, I love you too. We’re gonna go down to the park and look at fireworks. Yeah. You too. I’ll talk to you later, I promise. Bye. Bye-bye. Bye.”

She set the receiver back in its cradle and left her hand on it while she spoke, “Okay, yeah. That was really fun!” She lifted her head and smiled at them, but her nose was running and her eyes were red.

Ann, what the hell did they say to her?

Only good things, Milo. Ann gently pulled Calliope out of the phone booth and held her.

Well, then why is she sad?

Because she can’t be home here with us and home there with them at the same time.

She was okay before she called them! Why did she spend money to make herself sad?

Milo… It’s complicated. I’ll get back to you. “They seem very nice, dear,” Ann said.

Calliope nodded. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Ann handed her a tissue and she used it. “You’d like them a whole lot, Ann. I hope they can come visit… Maybe not all at once.” She laughed and honked into the tissue again. Ann gave her another one. “Mom’s kinda doing a thing right now. They’re trying to get all these workhouses closed down. She’s having a hard time getting them on the human rights abuses so she’s going after the money.” She shrugged. “I hope they don’t hafta sell the house again. They’re gonna end up in a furnished room if they keep going smaller like that.”

“Excuse me, Calliope,” the General said. She had not yet departed to purchase cold food for dinner. “Is your sister Terpsichore some kind of a… a… an academic?”

Calliope considered that. “I guess the whole family is. But she gets money to do science, yeah.”

“I don’t suppose you meant she was a resident alien, with a visa?”

“Oh, no. Like, a little green guy in a human suit. Polyhymnia too. These guys came over to the house when they were still little and wanted to put them in a zoo. I mean, they said a research facility, but it’s a zoo. Totally. Thalia and Melpomene are, like, relatively normal, so it can’t be just the twin thing.”

“Terpsichore and Polyhymnia are your sisters that… er, that wouldn’t talk to you, aren’t they, sweetheart?” Ann said.

“Well, they do now. But they had their own language for a little while there, that’s how come the zoo wanted them.”

“You do mean they literally had…? Not that it was just difficult to understand them?”

“Oh, no. Ojichan thought it sounded a little like Wakokuhito, but he couldn’t understand them, either, and the zoo guys said it had a completely different structure, so you know.” She shrugged. “Aliens.”

“Oh, um, yes. I see.” Well, Ann had to say something.

A man in a striped shirt and white apron tapped Mordecai on the shoulder. “Sir, we don’t offer counter service to, uh, uh…” He groped for a word that was a little less confrontational than “magicians” and did not seem to have one on file: “Mag-magical men.”

“I’m sorry, we were just going,” Mordecai said.

“Hey, not cool,” Calliope said. “We were just using your phones. You don’t hafta go out of your way to be dumb.”

“The phones are for customers,” the man said weakly.

“Why’s it say ‘public’ over ‘em and not ‘customers,’ then?”

“Well… Well, most people seem to…” He twitched a gesture at the counter, where a young man waiting to hear back on a job interview was consuming an endless succession of cream sodas, and a young woman who had just put in a call to her husband was consoling his absence on the holiday with a strawberry float. “‘Customer-Only Phones’ looks a bit odd…”

“I’d put it in old-timey font with a guy in an apron looking unfriendly at people,” Calliope said. “Erik, come on, if they don’t have those racist-looking dragons that shoot flash-bangs out of their faces, we’ll go get fireworks and dinner someplace else. This place is Bartholomew’s dogs. I’m not gonna mess around with the phone police.”

After a brief pause to frown over his shoulder at Uncle Mordecai and the guy in the apron, Erik took Calliope’s hand and followed her.

Mordecai sighed. I guess Calliope decided it was worth making a scene over. It’s a little better than someone else doing it…

They did have the racist-looking dragons that shoot flash-bangs out of their faces. Erik was a bit concerned about laying down two whole sinqs for something that might be fun for less than a minute, but Calliope wanted one, and she was annoyed already and this was supposed to be her nice day out. There was plenty of money and it didn’t seem worth registering an objection.

“Are they racist, though?” he asked, examining the box.

Calliope shrugged. “Eh. Context. If it were on a Xinese temple or something, no, but look at all these boxes.”

There were guys in conical straw hats whose eyes were black slashes, women in silk pyjamas with bare feet and buck teeth, elegant aristocrats in full robes, lucky cats, and wild-eyed dogs chasing flaming balls. The labels proclaimed, many of them in mock-Xinese fonts like takeout boxes: General Zhao’s Army! Xinese Ballista! Tingu, Dog of Heaven! along with Kaboom! Bang! and Zing! in random starbursts.

“I can’t prove intent,” she said. “So maybe I better say ‘stereotypical,’ or ‘caricatured,’ so I don’t get bottled for libel, but look at this one.” She picked up Tingu, Dog of Heaven! and shook her head at it. “I mean, they don’t even have their monsters straight. Tingu are bird people. And from Wakoku. They’re making it up as they go along.”

“Some of these are from Xin, though,” Maggie said, turning the boxes. She indicated a paragraph of illegible characters in real Xinese writing and a customs stamp.

“Basic marketing, I guess,” Calliope said. “If it sells better in Marsellia like that, they’ll do it like that. I’m not above commercializing my own culture. I had to do this guy with a skinny moustache holding a baguette and waving a little flag to sell cigarettes one time. They didn’t give me any ad copy for it, so I know it was going someplace foreign.”

“Is that what they think we do all the time?” Erik said. “Eat bread and have moustaches?”

“Fussy little manicured moustaches,” Sanaam said. He’d seen plenty of political cartoons, both at home and abroad. “Probably the flag-waving too. We’re a bit smug. And we wear slouch hats.”

“We sit around in cafés all day drinking a single cup of black coffee, and then don’t tip anything,” Calliope said. “Man, I probably should’ve had him doing that…”

A man with a moustache (he was going too fast to tell if it was a fussy little manicured one) ran by the drugstore window waving a little flag. He did not have a baguette. He had a sparkler. “Vive the free press!” Multiple voices answered faintly from outside, and a couple from in the store, “Vive!”

“…I could’ve put the cigarettes on the table.” Calliope finished.

Maggie lowered her voice and nudged her father. She knew she wouldn’t get a straight answer out of her mom. “Daddy, is it still a free press here? You know, with the… You know.” She didn’t want to say, With the hostile foreign power in charge of us these days out loud, even in a low voice. Not on Cloquette Day.

Sanaam frowned and set down a box of Ghostchasers. “They don’t tell us what to write. I mean, they haven’t. That I am aware of.” He sighed. “They’re just watching us and reserving the option.”

“So we can write whatever we want as long as we bear it in mind that they can stop us from writing whatever we want?”

“Maggie, I don’t think that’s fair…”

“The press is always free, Magnificent,” the General broke in. “If wielded with courage and ingenuity. That is — if we may be so bold as to assign meaning to a convenient fall holiday which is, for most people, merely an excuse to set things on fire — the true meaning of Cloquette Day.”

Erik tugged on his uncle’s sleeve. He didn’t want the General to start teaching him stuff and Maggie could not be gotten alone at the moment. “Uncle, what about the patriotism?”

“Well, he was nice enough to blow up the National News during an occupation, dear one,” Mordecai said. “To keep the press free. So we throw in a little patriotism.”

A man and a woman whose entire upper bodies, including hair and faces, were displaying bold purple, white and green stripes, walked past to complete their firework purchase at the front counter.

“…Or a lot of patriotism,” Mordecai said. “To taste. Like salt and pepper.”

“They must be sending these guys out of central casting,” Calliope said, smiling.

Erik might’ve been the only one who got that, and he had help. “It’s probably just Cousin Violet,” he said. “She thinks she’s funny.”

“Hey, Cousin Violet, you know all those pantomimes where a real rich guy shows up and solves everyone’s problems?” Calliope said broadly. “That’s so fake. That never happens.” She snickered and shrugged. “Worth a shot. Hey, Erik, you and Maggie wanna watch Lucy and teach her about Cloquette Day while the rest of us get in line? I think she’s getting bored. She likes you guys.”

Maggie doubtfully accepted the bundle of Lucy. (Ann took a half-step forward, wobbled, and did not make any remarks about holding the baby’s head or being careful.) “Pretty sure when my mom said that thing about babies learning she didn’t mean regular lessons, Calliope,” Maggie said. “More like ‘What’s gravity?’ and ‘How do fingers taste?’”

Lucy shifted impatiently and sighed. Maggie startled and bounced her a little, hoping not to engage the crying already.

“She likes talking, though,” Calliope said. “She pays attention if you make your voice go real high…” She stood on her tiptoes, demonstrating. “And real low…” She crouched down.

Lucy observed and poked out the tip of her tongue, which was about the best you could expect from a baby that didn’t have the hang of smiling yet. That and no tears or vomit or poo.

“Okay, be nice to your Auntie Maggie, kiddo,” Maggie muttered, bouncing. She observed the line. “For, like, five or ten minutes…”

“Hey, Em, I’ll buy the dragon,” Calliope said. “…’Cos I wanna play with it. Em, I know you’re not gonna fight a convalescent in a drugstore, come on…”

“I’ll buy the dragon, Calliope!” Ann cried, lifting her purse. “Milo likes it!” Milo was hiding again and did not seem to have an opinion about the dragon one way or another, but it was plausible enough…

“Nyeh,” Lucy said.

Erik yanked nervously on the side of Maggie’s dress. “Maggie… talk…!” If he tried to do it, it was gonna come out like a telegram. Emile Cloquette STOP was born STOP…

“Uh, the National News was founded in 1147!” Maggie said. She tipped Lucy more upright and crouched down to go low, “By Pierre Paul Cloquette!” She craned her neck and stood on her toes to go high, “Emile Henri Cloquette took over as managing editor in 1201! Which is blatant nepotism, Lucy!”

Erik snickered. He wondered if Calliope was mean enough to ask Maggie to do this just ’cos it looked silly. She was gathering a small appreciative audience of shoppers.

“It was a family business, little girl,” an older gentleman in a soldier’s coat and purple, white and green striped hat said. “What more do you want?”

“A merit-based hiring scheme which does not discriminate based on race, gender, economic or family background, sir!” Maggie said.

“Little radical,” the man muttered. A couple people applauded.

A teenager cupped hands around his mouth and hollered, “Equal work for equal pay!” Causing Mordecai to startle and lose possession of the racist-looking dragon to Ann. That one was popular during the revolution. Well, the one he’d been in. Oh, please, let’s not have another one of those right now, he thought.

“Anyway,” Maggie went on, bobbing with Lucy. “During the Saxon Occupation of 1219, Emile Cloquette wired up the whole building with sun cord and blew it to high heavens! So it could not be used for the dispensation of enemy propaganda!”

“Vive Emile Cloquette!” said the teenager.

“Vive Marsellia!” said the man in the soldier’s coat.

“Vive!” said just about everyone else in the store.

“For gods’ sakes, I can’t hear this guy telling me if I got the job!” a desperate voice protested from the payphones.

Maggie noted her dad and Ann and Mordecai handing money across the counter with a mild scuffle and decided not to get into the publication of the Dirty Rag with the laundry rollers. She sketched a bow. “Thank you! My name is Magnificent D’Iver, I live at 217 Violena Street and I recite history lessons to soothe fussy babies… For a reasonable hourly fee!” she added. “Happy Cloquette Day!” She waved and scurried after the rest of the household with Erik and the baby in tow.

“D’Iver?” said the man in the soldier’s coat, as if Emile Cloquette himself had suddenly walked into the store.

“I was honoured to serve my country,” the General said demurely, but loud enough to be heard.

“What happened to us at Valvienne was a crime!” said the man in the soldier’s coat.

“Oh, my gods, we really are going to have another one,” Mordecai said softly. He drew Erik nearer.

“Valvienne?” someone said. “Do the speech!” said someone else.

The General got her mouth open and that was all.

“No, no, no, sir. Please,” Sanaam said. “Calliope wants to find a nice park bench and sit down and look at fireworks. We’re not going to take over the country. You’ll upset the baby. Come on. Please.”

“Why would I do such a ridiculous thing?” the General said. “It is already my country.”

They departed the drugstore to sounds of applause.

◈◈◈

Ann wanted to be sure Calliope was all right walking the rest of the way to the park. Several times. And she overreacted to a little girl holding a sparkler only once. It was more the delighted screaming than the sparkler, anyway. “Mommy, I can write my name! Mommy, I can write my whooole name!”

Calliope seemed to be doing all right, but she issued a sigh that was either tired or annoyed when they found her an unoccupied park bench, and she put her feet up on it without asking if anyone else wanted to sit down in the empty space. She did not request Lucy right away either.

After a moment’s rest, she smiled and tipped back her head to look at the sky. It was darkening, and the stars were fading into view. The lamplighters had already been through the park, but the gaslights were dim. You could barely see the holes and the bare places where the grass wouldn’t grow. She didn’t mind the ugly fish fountain, it had character.

“Calliope, what about your sweater?” Ann said.

It was early November — by necessity, that was when he blew up the newspaper — and the fog was gathering in threads over the grass. It smelled of the sea. Multiple children were running through it, most with sparklers, some with more complicated constructions. A golden snake made of glittering light was following a tiny boy, tethered to a stick he was waving over his head.

Mordecai buttoned Erik’s coat and released him with a benediction, “Sparklers, yes. Matches, no. When you get sick of running around, come back here and we’ll light up the complicated ones. Do not leave the park.”

“Ann, seriously,” Calliope said. She turned and removed her feet from the bench. “Have a sparkler and sit down. Do your name… or do my name, it’s way longer.”

Sanaam did not button Maggie’s coat. He was holding Lucy, which made that sort of attention more difficult, but Maggie had taken full responsibility for her clothing and accoutrements right around the time she figured out diaper pins. “Mag-Pirate, don’t throw fireballs at people.”

“What about in the air?”

Sanaam glanced from side to side, checking for trouble. “Yes, but try to make it look like you have a firework that does it automatically, so people don’t wig out.”

“This ridiculous taboo against doing magic in public serves no rational purpose!” trouble said.

Sanaam winced and lifted Lucy a little higher — Look! A cute baby! — not that it did any good.

Maggie planted a kiss on his bald head. “Thanks, Dad. See ya, Dad.”

Ann pawed through the paper bag from the drugstore, setting foil-wrapped sandwiches aside, in search of a sparkler. “Do you want to do the dragon, sweetheart?” She held up the box.

“Nah, wait for the kids.” Calliope sat forward, “Unless Milo wants to look at it right now?”

“No, dear, he doesn’t mind waiting.” He didn’t seem to mind much of anything. He was being awfully quiet since the drugstore.

“How d’you think it works?”

“Well… It says ‘pull tab to ignite,’ dear.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Calliope shook the box expectantly. This was nothing like the carousel.

Ann smiled with teeth clenched behind it. Milo, Calliope is being very nice and trying to include you. Would you please give me something?

…Ann, is it possible to “close” a workhouse?

Milo, what in the actual hell are you talking about?

Calliope said her mom was going to close a lot of workhouses. Like, that’s her job she does. She was having a hard time but she was still gonna try anyway and that’s why she can’t visit.

Well, I suppose if it’s her job then it probably is possible. Unless you misheard or she was phrasing it oddly. Now will you please look at this damn dragon…?

I think I’d like Calliope’s mom to come to San Rosille and close a lot of workhouses here too.

Ann sighed. “I’m sorry, Calliope. Milo is more interested in what your mother does for a living.”

“Huh? Oh, she’s a lawyer.” Calliope dropped the dragon back into the bag, lit up a sparkler and wrote L-A-W-Y-E-R in elaborate script so Ann and Milo could read. It remained in the air for a good ten seconds, a trail of pale orange like a fey light. These were the good sparklers. “Her mom was, too — she had a practice back in Wakoku — but her mom died when she was really little. I guess part of it was to be closer to her, but she always wanted to do a lot of really amazing stuff anyway…”

Milo, I hope you’re listening. Calliope is telling you things about herself. This is how you figure out how people work. You listen to them.

I just like it when she talks to us, Ann… And about the workhouses.

“You were saying she was going to close down a lot of workhouses, weren’t you, dear?” Ann said sweetly.

“Yeah. Apparently, it’s not illegal to starve people if you call it ‘merit-based distribution of limited resources.’” Calliope drew some insultingly large quote marks in the air, like a sarcastic fairy. “So she’s trying to get them on misattribution of funds.” She drew a sinq sign and added an exclamation point. “If she can rack up the penalties high enough, they’ll have to close like that bank that was taking people’s houses. The whole chain of ‘em.” She swooped a big circle and drew a firm X right through it.

“Milo likes your mother, I think,” Ann said. He hadn’t said it, exactly, but this general warmth had to be coming from somewhere.

“Like he likes the taffy machine and the carousel and the dragon?”

“Like he likes when the kids are listening to a serial on the radio and the good guys win.”

“Oh, yeah. Mom’s like that.” Calliope talked and painted the air with a sparkler and Ann ferried information to Milo like water in a bucket. Hopefully he wouldn’t dribble it all on the floor while he was liking the sound of Calliope paying attention to them.

Erik had run out of sparkler number one and gone back to his uncle for a refill. “Maggie has one called… Tiger-on-a… String.”

Mordecai dipped a hand in his coat pocket and felt around for the matchbook. “Mm-hm…”

“Sanaam… brought it.”

“And you realize that means it might not even be legal in this country, don’t you, dear one?”

Erik sighed. Well, it was pointless to ask if he could play with Tiger-on-a-String now. He halfheartedly offered his sparkler. “How come… you didn’t… yell at that… phone-police guy?”

Now Mordecai sighed. “You were waiting until you got me alone for that, weren’t you?”

Erik frowned and folded his arms. I was gonna wait until we were at home in bed but you annoyed me about Tiger-on-a-String. But it would take him too long to say that and it didn’t really matter. “You… yell at… nice people… even.” Uncle Mordecai had basically taken Seth apart on that street-corner. Erik had seen it. “Calliope yelled. You… didn’t.”

“I wanted today to be nice for Calliope,” Mordecai said. “I was hoping no one would mention the counter — that was why I wanted to go look at fireworks right away. But when it happened anyway, I didn’t want to make it worse. Dear one, some battles aren’t worth fighting. There was nothing to win. We couldn’t make that man treat coloured people nicely or let them eat at the counter by yelling at him.”

“If… lots of… people… did,” Erik said firmly.

Two revolutions to quash in one day, thought Mordecai. “We can’t start a drugstore boycott and take Calliope to the park and have fun at the same time. Sometimes you have to pick, small things or big things. This is Calliope’s day and I didn’t want to pick for her.”

“Calliope… yelled.”

“Yes, but…”

But Calliope doesn’t always get how actions have consequences, he thought.

“If she wanted to do it, it was different from you and me deciding to do it,” he said. “The reasons are different. Calliope was just sticking up for a friend.”

“We… stick up for… ourselves.”

“And that’s different. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but it’s very, very different. You’re just going to have to trust me on some of these things until you get older and know more.”

Erik sighed again. He did not present his sparkler for lighting. He drew a few deep breaths. “Is this like… like how… we still let… Prokovia be the… boss of us?”

Mordecai shook his head. “That’s… I don’t know. Maybe it is. Maybe, before, when we got into fights… When Marsellia got into fights… We didn’t understand how bad it could get. We didn’t lose as much little stuff going after the big stuff. Homes. Families. Happiness. It’s different now. We’ve gotten better at hurting each other now. Maybe… Maybe we’d rather have lives together and not die, and not have people we love die, than be free.”

“Is that how come you… quit the… revolution?”

“The revolution quit me,” Mordecai said. “But I don’t know. I didn’t think about it like that. Losing little stuff to go after the big stuff. I thought we were just tired.” He shook his head. “And I didn’t want any more people to die, so maybe it was like that. Erik, I’m sorry. I just wanted today to be fun.”

Erik peered up at his uncle’s expression. Lit by multicoloured flames borne by multiple happy people, it was sad and pained and somehow embarrassed. He noticed Erik looking and he turned his head away.

You think about this stuff all the time, don’t you? Erik realized. No time off for Sun’s Days and bank holidays. Sometimes you forget you’re thinking about it and you can have fun for a little, but that isn’t the same as not thinking about it at all.

Will I be like that when I grow up?

He pocketed the unused sparkler and took hold of his uncle’s hand. “Maybe sometimes we hafta do big stuff whether we want to or not.”

“I hope you never have to,” said Mordecai.

Maggie walked up twirling a whizzing string over her head like a propeller. “Hey, Erik check this out!” A tiger made of electric blue fire ran around the orbit of the string, with multiple poses visible at once like a zoetrope. After every three leaps it paused, coalesced and roared. “Nobody’s got one like this! I’m gonna go show Calliope! Wanna come?”

Erik nodded once firmly. He swallowed and then he smiled. “Yeah. That’s fun.”

He gave his uncle’s hand a squeeze, then he let go and went with Maggie and the tiger.