“For every tyrant, there is a ‘free’ society which destroys itself,” said Reina, who knew enough ancient history to grasp the faults of hubris. “Power is not meant for those who misuse it.”
“Is not the worst tyranny that which perceives itself to be noble?”
“Greed is greed,” said Reina flatly. “Even if I accepted your perception of the Society’s flaws, why should I believe your intentions any different?”
Nothazai smiled. “I only suspect, Miss Mori, that you will soon change your position on the matter, and when you do, know that you will not be left to your own devices. Should you require an ally, you have one,” he offered, and bowed low.
The symmetry of the moment reminded her of something.
“Are you some sort of Caretaker?” she asked him, thinking of Atlas Blakely’s card. Inexplicably, she remembered what Atlas had said about the others who might have taken her place; a traveler, as he had specifically mentioned, whatever that meant.
Were the members of the Forum merely Society castoffs?
“No, I am nothing important. The Forum cares for itself,” said Nothazai, and turned away before pausing, doubling back half a step. “By the way,” he added in an undertone, “perhaps you know already? The Tokyo billionaire Sato has just won parliament’s special election, displacing the incumbent candidate.”
The mention of Aiya was startling, though Reina tried not to let it show. “Why should Aiya Sato matter to me?”
“Oh, she doesn’t, I’m sure. But it’s very interesting—she was the one who uncovered the incumbent councilor’s corruption. Almost as if she had information the government itself did not. The incumbent denies it, of course, but who to believe? There is no other evidence aside from Sato’s own dossier, so perhaps we’ll never know.”
Briefly, Reina recalled what Aiya had summoned during their brief interaction in the reading room: an unmarked book. Reina quickly blinked it away, obscuring it. Even if this man were not a telepath, there were other ways to prod inside her head.
“Assassinations,” Nothazai said. “Development of new technology that enters mortal copyrights, but never public domain. New weaponry sold only to the elite. Space programs developed in secret for warmongering nations. Biological warfare that goes unreported; illness that wipes out the unmentionables, left to the fringes of poverty.”
“You blame this on the Society?” Broad claims, and as far as Reina considered feasible, unknowable ones.
“I blame the Society,” Nothazai clarified, “because if it is not its job to cause such atrocities, then why not undertake the effort to prevent them? Inevitably, it must stand to gain.”
Somewhere in the administrative offices, a small fern dying of thirst let out a thin, wailing scream.
“Someone always gains,” said Reina. “Just as someone always loses.”
Nothazai gave her a brisk look of disappointment.
“Yes, I imagine so. Good day, then,” he said, and slipped back into the museum’s flow of traffic, leaving Reina to look down at his card.
An odd thing, timing. She’d had a feeling, hadn’t she? That something would disrupt the peace she’d found within the Society the moment she stepped outside its walls. It was a narrow window to reach her without the Society’s wards; only a matter of hours remained before her return, which was much too specific to guess.
Could this, like the installment, have been another test?
The idea that anything would keep Reina from initiation into the Society was enough to reflexively curl her fingers, crumpling the card within them to a stiff, unwelcome ball.
The others could do with power what they wished. She tossed the card into the bin and strode out into the cold, ignoring the seedlings that sprouted up between cracks in the sidewalk. The argument itself, that she should turn on the Society in order to save the world, was ludicrous. Look at her talents, for instance. Wouldn’t the Forum be the first to have her sacrifice her au
tonomy, all to sustain a planet that had irresponsibly overpopulated itself? There was such a thing as asking too much, and she had known the demands of others all her life.
Depending who viewed it, Persephone had either been stolen or she had run from Demeter. Either way, she had made herself queen. The Forum, whatever they were, had misjudged Reina poorly for being free of principle, when in fact her principles were clear: she would not bleed out for nothing.
If this world felt it could take from Reina, so be it. She would gladly take from it.
VI: THOUGHT
LIBBY
Libby slammed the apartment door shut, turning to find Ezra waiting expectantly in the living room behind her.
The unfortunate thing about Manhattan apartments was the incredible lack of having any other space to be. That, and thin walls. Not being overheard by someone was probably never going to be an option so long as she lived in this city. She’d ruled out privacy the moment she signed the NYUMA student contract, which was a fact that moving in with her first year R.A. three years later had not improved. Funny that.
“I take it you were listening,” Libby said gruffly, and Ezra slid one hand in his front pocket, buying time before his response.