Fugitives of Chaos

"It's about—oh! Can't you sit down?"

"You wanted to ask me whether I can sit down?"

"Please sit."

He resumed his seat.

"Victor, I have an important question to ask you."

He looked attentive.

"I—I—"

"You…? You…?"

"It is about us."

"Define'us.'"

"'Us'means'us'!"

"The whole group, all five, or just you and me? English is ambiguous when it comes to inclusive versus exclusive first person plural."

I said crossly, "This would be easier if you would at least try to guess what I am about to say!"

He leaned back in his chair and regarded me with what I can only call a Boggin-like expression. "What wavelengths can your brain generate? If you have a way of broadcasting a signal I can pick up, it would be very useful to secure communications practice."

I sat in miserable silence for a few moments. "Well—"

I could not ask him. I groped for some different question to ask.

I finally said in the most lame and insincere tone that has ever come out of a girl's mouth, "I was wondering if you knew what Vanity and Quentin were keeping from us… ?"

"Of course," he said in a tone as bland and certain as could be. "It's obvious."

"What?"

He seemed a little surprised. "Quentin does not want to tell us that we ought not go home."

4.

I blinked. "Not… home… ?"

He favored me with that Victor-raising-an-eyebrow look I knew so well from my youth. "Back to Chaos. Myriagon. Ialysus. Cimmeria. Phaeacia. And wherever Quentin's people hail from. We ought not go back."

"Why can't we go back? We don't even know what's there. It's unexplored terrain!"

"I did not say we could not. Obviously, we could jump on Vanity's boat as soon as she can summon it here, and, if the Argent Nautilus functions as promised, and nothing stops us, we could be in those places within a day. I said we ought not, not if we want to preserve the human race and the organized universe from attack. Our enemies, even when talking among themselves (in a situation we have every reason to believe was not arranged for our ears) seemed honestly to think this was the most likely outcome of our escape back to Chaos. I think we cannot ignore that opinion without some clear proof that is it false."

"But what about seeing our parents? Our families?"

"Good question. The people whom the war would kill have parents and families, too. Now then, they are just mortal men, or, as Corus would say, 'cattle.' But since you seemed to think it inadvisable for me even to influence the captain's glands while he was thinking, I assume you do not share the view of Corus on this matter."

I said, "I certainly do not share Corns' view on the matter. How dare you think that of me?"

"Well, there is also the matter of the promise you and Quentin and Vanity made to the Head of Bran.

Quentin takes such promises very seriously; broken promises directly interfere with his abilities to manipulate his magnetic entities he calls 'spirits.' Need I say that, if the universe is destroyed, it is unlikely that the British Isles will be preserved? You at least would need to exact a promise from our relatives to spare England from general and universal destruction before we went home and triggered the general attack from Chaos."

I sat there, a sinking sensation in my stomach. I had been hoping to see my parents, whom I had never seen. Helion and Neaera. I am sure Quentin felt the same way: people who would understand us, for once; people who would be on our side, for once; people around whom we would be the normal ones.

Our people.

People who would be glad to see us.

Loved ones.

Colin did not even know the name of his mother. I don't think we knew the name of either of Victor's parents.

I said in an empty voice: "But—what else can we do… ? We cannot go back to the school."

Victor shook his head. "As long as we put a higher priority on freedom than on staying alive, no one can imprison us again."

He meant that we should kill ourselves rather than be captured again.

Sometimes I love how calmly he puts things. A "higher priority," he calls it.

5.

He continued, "Besides, I am not certain you have exhausted all the cases. We could remain at liberty on Earth. We could return to Chaos in disguise. We are alleged to be shape-changers, although I have not noticed Quentin or Colin practicing to see what new shapes they could form themselves into. We could hire actors and actresses to impersonate us, and have them go back to the school in our stead, so that the Chaoticists will continue to be reluctant to attack."

I said, "I don't know how likely any of those options are." Victor said, 'The most likely scenario is one that has several severe disadvantages. As I see it, the enemy obviously thinks our aid, given to one side or the other, could allow a clear victory in the coming civil war. I am not sure why they are so optimistic; myself, I do not see how I can do anything Dr. Fell cannot do, for example. I think, by the way, there is still a mystery here as to what they so fear from us. I have been assuming they were afraid of something personal we could do that they could not. Although, the more I think about it, it is more reasonable to assume that they are simply afraid that we can summon aid from the various armies of Chaos."

"What about your 'most likely' scenario? You didn't say what it was."

"Sorry. I thought it was obvious from context."

"Mate it more obvious."

"We could select which faction among the Olympians to help, and use our powers or position to set one of them on the throne of Heaven. Once there is a strong leader, an army, and whatever else the Olympians need to fend off an attack from Chaos, we are no longer an issue in any way. Then we can go home."

"And if we are not willing to help the Olympians maim and murder each other? That is what we are talking about. War is murder, king-sized."

"If we are not willing to help the Olympian civil war, there is always life. Life on Earth. We may have more than one Earth to choose from, if Vanity's boat does what she says it does. There is also the possibility that Vanity can go home; her situation is not exactly parallel to ours (if my understanding of the situation is accurate, which, I admit, it may not be)."

I looked around at the wide swimming pool below our balcony, at the windows and balconies around us, the tastefully appointed corridors I could see, the chambers and shops beyond that. I smiled and said,

"Life on Earth does not sound that bad to me, considering—."

I turned to him and leaned forward on the table, and said, "What are your dreams, Victor? What do you want to do with your life on Earth?"

He looked a little surprised at the change of topic, but he answered, "I think I want what all young men want: a wife, a home, and a family."

I had to smile at that. "The average young man wants a harem, a beer, and a pot of gold, or maybe a race car."

"And how would you know what the average young man wants?"

"I've never heard any young man say he wants a home."

"And you've met so very, very many young men…"

"I know. I know what the average young man wants."

"And what does he want?"

"He wants the egg of the Roc. He wants to find the lost city of El Dorado in the Amazon. He wants to ride the decks of a man-o'-war and give the pirates blast for blast, even while the scuppers fill with blood. He wants to plant the flag upon the desert sands of Mars, and leave the first footsteps of Man upon that frigid, rust-red world. He wants to cross blades with Cyrano de Bergerac and match him rhyme for rhyme, blow for blow, parry, riposte, and counterparty! He wants to slay the dragon. He wants the Most Holy Grail."

"So I take it all men are unhappy and frustrated, except for Sir Percival, Saint George, and maybe John Carter of Barsoom and Captain Horatio Hornblower, right? Is there anything else men want?"