What did you do? Sally asked him.
She’s alright, Leonard said, taking Felix’s hand. Your mom always is.
I want to go home, the boy whispered.
What did you do? Sally said.
It’s hard to explain, Felix said. Can we go now, Leonard?
You’ve done that before? Leonard asked.
Only once. When the kids were about to throw me onto the municipal compost heap—
Don’t you hate that? Sally said.
You too? Leonard asked.
It happens to all people of substance and quality, she explained, also taking Felix’s hand. But you can’t go home now, I’m sorry.
No, really, Leonard said, I think we should.
Did the policeman ID spray your mom?
Yes, Felix said.
Then he’ll know who she is, right? She won’t be able to go home; maybe they’ll want you guys as witnesses. You don’t want to have to admit that you saw her here, right? How long will this last?
Not sure, Felix said. Ten minutes? My health meter has to calm down first.
Let’s do what we can while we’re waiting, Sally said. Leonard, you grab the justice sticks, Felix, you bring that hose to that flaming tree, and I’ll move people out of the way of some fists. When I blow my whistle, we meet back at the shining sun, alright?
She blew her whistle once for good measure and they were off.
A Baconian safehouse
When they reassembled, Sally explained that they would have to go to a Baconian safehouse for a while, till things calmed down. She ran upstairs to leave a message for Peter, who she correctly guessed was also frozen. Which meant uncle and nephew got to watch as the rioters came back to life, slowly, as if drugged. Some swung softly at the air, falling off balance to the ground; policemen looked vaguely for their justice sticks; musicians made halfhearted tweets on their instruments; food chain representatives began groggily to stumble toward the periphery of the Walking Grounds.
It’s funny, Felix said. Like a cartoon.
Except it’s not, Leonard said. Look: some people aren’t getting up. They could be seriously hurt.
Felix hung his head.
Not to worry, little chappie, Leonard said, mussing Felix’s afro. I don’t know how you did it, but you saved your mom, and lots of other people besides. You’re a hero!
I am, aren’t I! Felix said, and Sally was back with her black leather clutchbag.
Come on, she said. The library’s about to go into lockdown. I got out just in time.
And Peter?
He’s barricaded himself with the Voynich. He’ll guard it with his life.
Sally flagged a wagonette and gave the driver complicated directions for a part of town Leonard didn’t know. The driver offered to read their palms or call up spirits of the dead, but they were tired, and low on lucre.
Another time, perhaps, Sally said politely, and took the driver’s card. All wagonette drivers were mediums, she explained. Leonard and Felix hadn’t known that: they’d never ridden in a wagonette. Dime a dozen, she whispered, but helpful in an emergency.
What’s your name? Leonard asked.
Sally looked at him blankly.
Your true name, Leonard said.
Sally, she said. You’re not much of a listener, are you?
Leonard was about to object, both to her inconsistency and her characterization of him, but already it was time to leave the wagonette.
It turned out it wasn’t possible to drive to a safehouse directly. After the wagonette, you caught a caravan, then an underground railway, then you walked a verst or two, always turning corners and doubling back and looking over your shoulder. Only then could you arrive at a house that looked just like any other house from the outside except for a sign that read:
Brazen Head Enterprises
You’re looking at the Brazen Head
Leonard had thought a safehouse would be, well, safe, with security guards and reinforced, steel-studded walls, but this looked just like a house. There was a living room with a comfortable-looking settee and padded swirly chairs and the ruins of someone’s solo-game. Posters with curling edges were taped to the walls — one of something that looked like a star system, another of an old-fashioned man named Doctor Mirabilis. The living room led to a dining room, where a half dozen young people sat around an oval table.
Is that revolutionary stew? Leonard asked before he knew what he was saying. He was hungry; he assumed Felix was too.
Who’s your neo-Maoist boyfriend? a boy with face spots asked.
We’re not Maoists, Leonard said. We’re nothing, really.
They’re Baconians, Sally said. Though they may not know it yet.
You shouldn’t bring just anyone here, the boy said, standing.
Shut up, Dwane, Sally said. Several of the others giggled.
The boy took Leonard’s picture with his navigator watch, pressed a button on the side, and examined the results.
Leonard, he said. My man Stan! Leonard is interested in caravan schedules, Cathars, Marco Polo, and some useless Stan named Isaac the Blind. Why, you’re a regular Renaissance Stan, aren’t you, Leonard? Oh, Dwane added, looking more closely at his watch, as if he’d nearly missed something, Leonard has an abiding interest in Sue & Susheela. Hey, Sue & Susheela! You have a fan here in Stan the man!
From what must have been the stoveroom walked the very same, holding identical blue dish towels. Leonard blushed all the way to his shoulders.
I admire your, uh, performances, he mumbled.
He wants to know if you’re married! the boy shouted.
That’s enough, Sally said, and to Leonard’s surprise, Dwane sat down.
Pleased to meet you, Stan, Sue & Susheela said in unison. They smiled and returned to the stoveroom.
Pretty, Sally whispered, but not Dwane’s best work.
You guys have been intercepting my Brazen Head communications? Leonard asked.
You hear that? Dwane said, looking around the table for laughs. He’s wondering if we intercepted his Brazen Head communications! A couple of boys giggled.
I’m serious! Leonard said, emboldened by the presence of Sally.
Stan, you are looking at the Brazen Head!
Your inquiries got flagged, Sally said. You can understand why.
No, I can’t, actually. Look, can Felix get something to eat? Felix? Where’s Felix?
Bacon and eggs
Felix wasn’t in the dining room, or the stoveroom, or the living room.
Don’t worry, Sally said. He can’t get out. He’s here somewhere.
What do you mean he can’t get out?
It’s a safehouse, remember?
We’re locked inside?
You worry too much, Sally said.
As Leonard took the steps upstairs two by two, he realized he wasn’t sure whether he still loved Sally. There was too much he didn’t understand, like who the Baconians were, and why they hated the Cathars, and why they needed a safehouse, and why they’d monitored his Brazen Head communications, and why Isaac thought this had anything whatsoever to do with him.
This floor has the Brazen Head, see? Sally opened a door to an enormous screen room. Leonard had never seen so many screens, one on top of the other. Incoming were hundreds of faces, all unaware they were being cammed. On the floor and on folding tables were plastic toys, as if the room were a children’s playzone. And in fact, two young men sat on swirly chairs facing the screens. One played with a finger puppet, another with a handheld screen game. They looked up briefly, waved at Sally, and said no, there hadn’t been any small boys in there, not for years. Unless you counted Gideon here — at which point Gideon upended the puppeteer.