RuTing hid the mist generator in an illusion as soon as they left the barracks. There was no turning back. They were committed. Leaving Bannerburg was a necessity. Sooner or later, the Ogres would discover the missing generator. The prisoner, named Paris after his conversion in life, wouldn’t tell them more about his history. Fintan guessed the pain of his confinement was secondary to another secret. He couldn’t guess how long the pain would hold his tongue. If he was untrue to Zeus, he would have to earn Fintan’s trust. After all, Paris admitted he was a traitor.
Fintan wouldn’t leave anyone in such a prison if it was within his power to help, but RuTing kept him realistic. It wasn’t within his power. The Zeusopolans had levels, and so did the Ogres, even if they didn’t want to admit it.
With each level added to his mind, Fintan felt his skills increase. The ogres tapped into that with their serum, but he expected, like the Zeusopolans, they all had the same Skill: ogrification.
When their shift ended, they had few options. The tally clerk kept track of their daily wages the same as when they worked as farmhands. Bannerburg kept track of credits and debits with a system of ledgers. The shops and cafes all used ledgers. That way, Bannerburg controlled all trade and services and exacted ‘fair’ taxes. The doctors didn’t stand in the same line as the regular workers. They drew from a pool of tax credits.
For RuTing’s illusion to work, they needed to be seen. They needed to spend their few credits on a night out.
Instead of going to the crowded cafeteria, Fintan bought tickets to the Gathering Green. Behind the painted walls, the city of Bannerburg blended into the forest. The buildings were architected into trees with branching limbs and hidden supports. The smaller shops added details to the enhanced landscape suited for ogre-sized proportions, but serving orginary-sized people. The Gathering Green was different. It was a place absent of the decorative gardens and painted murals. It was simply grass.
On that grass, the people met to celebrate, sing, drink, and, so far as Fintan understood, vote. The music didn’t end until late in the night and they kept fans running continuously to blow the mist away from the Green.
Fintan and RuTing brought a little mist of their own. With the generator running, they appeared stretched out on a blanket, enjoying the song and dance and their own private picnic.
He studied her illusion from all different angles. They appeared real and even moved when he drew closer—rolling around in a way that told any viewer they did not want to be interrupted.
“Disturbing,” Fintan said. He hid behind his weak illusion while he watched a simulation of himself draping an arm around RuTing’s narrow shoulders. If he walked away from the generator it was difficult to remain hidden, but outside the Green, the mists were strong in the city streets. “How did you make it so real?”
He wasn’t offended by her illusion, but he had difficulty creating a seeming that articulated.
“It’s anchored to the grass,” RuTing said. “When the grass nearby is disturbed, the illusion changes.”
“One thought leads to another.”
After tonight, they could move the generator into a cafe and perform a similar illusion. Each time, they would be seen publicly.
The expense would count against them, adding debt to their accounts. When they went to the library Cherry checked them in. How long before the lists were reconciled? They don’t have computers. He suspected days or weeks but not longer. They were investigated for witchcraft—a charge proved all too true.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
When they reached the library, one of the heavy doors was ajar. Fintan maintained the illusion at their back, and the dry air sheared his manifestation like a sharp knife. RuTing’s illusion lasted only a little longer, and she pulled him behind her as they crawled behind a row of scrolls.
RuTing was shorter than Fintan, and he was on his knees while they circled the shelf.
Cherry was behind the counter, but an Ogre was with her. The doctor wore a suit instead of a lab coat, but it was sized for his immense body. Beside him, Cherry was minuscule. She was cornered into the counter. Her flame-red hair was like a fire the ogre was warming his hands at.
“Bannerburg spent a lot of credits on your library, don’t you feel you owe us something for that?” the Ogre asked.
“My balance is in good standing,” Cherry said. “The scrolls are better than the foil pages and I make the scrolls.” She batted his hands away.
“We’ve all seen the machine. That wasn’t the only thing you taught from the Union. I find the society refreshing. They have different moral standards.”
“My choice. I didn’t do anything against the law.”
“Maybe you didn’t,” the ogre said. “Maybe he did. Maybe it was an honor.”
His hands were folded behind his back. In between the rows of scrolls, Fintan could see the giant forearms twitch. The ogres held Paris with ease despite his levels. He and RuTing had strength, but judging from that bucket, Paris had at least thirty levels. If they were applied to strength, than the Ogres had hundreds of levels. How could he deal with a monster with over a hundred more levels? Surprise? He readied himself to Step. It would cost him in this dry air, but he wasn’t willing to sacrifice Cherry.
RuTing grip bruised his arm.
“Maybe it was a mistake,” Cherry said.
“A doctor’s wife has many advantages. They have access to all his accounts.”
“You have a wife.”
“And you have freedom and this library. Those are things to think about,” the ogre said. He turned sideways to walk around the counter. The opening was a tight fit for him. “But regardless of what you think, I will see you at your next exam. All of you.”
The ogre said the last with a mirthless smile and Cherry visibly shuddered. The ogre left, going out the same heavy door. Cherry was frozen at the counter when RuTing appeared around the edge of the shelf.
Cherry didn’t seem to recognize RuTing.
“Do you want to talk about it?” RuTing asked.
The words broke Cherry out of her trance.
“When did you get here? Did you hear?” she asked.
“Yes,” RuTing said.
“You need to leave,” Fintan said. “Run away from Bannerburg.” His first thought was to get the authorities, but in Bannerburg the doctors were the authorities. He died trusting in the Union. He knew he sounded brash. This was probably the worst thing to say, but he couldn't help himself.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cherry said. “I have friends here, closer than any family I ever had in the Union. I can’t leave.”
“Sometimes you have to make an accommodation,” RuTing said.
“What are you talking about?” Fintan said.
“A few minutes isn’t worth ruining their lives.”
“He’s powerful,” Cherry admitted. “He destroys his enemies—physically and financially. Only the most ruthless become department heads. The others look to him for protection. The city depends on him, so he has their respect.”
“Accidents happen around powerful people,” RuTing said. “If you deny him, nothing might happen at first. Later, you might get hit by the proverbial bus.”
“Or my friends,” Cherry said.
“Sometimes you can’t run, and you can’t fight. You just have to give in and ride it out.”
“You don’t really mean that,” Cherry said. Her eyes had cleared. The hint of unshed tears were blinked away. RuTing had led her in the conversation, but Fintan saw that Cherry had recognized them for what they were. Behind lines of grief, he saw anger, and he couldn’t tell where it was directed.
“How do you know?” RuTing asked. She was good at hiding her emotions, but Fintan detected the surprise. In a few minutes, they would be on the run. If Cherry turned against them, they would be caught for certain. They still didn’t know where to go after Bannerburg.
“Because you cracked my counter,” Cherry said.
She was right. RuTing had gripped the heavy oak countertop in both hands while she talked to Cherry, and there was a line where the wood split. Fintan hadn’t even heard the fracture in the plank.
“You have strength,” Cherry demanded.
“A girl has got to have a plan,” RuTing said. “What’s yours?”
