Val chuckled. “He could be a politician himself.”
“They’ve all been coached,” said Mae. “Everyone’s on best diplomatic behavior, both for our people and the Arcadians.”
“No one had to coach him on that,” scoffed Val. “That’s the kind of stuff he’s born with.”
Mae’s eyes lingered on Justin a few moments more until the camera cut away. She had to agree with Val’s assessment.
Once the praetorians were outfitted and given their final instructions, they were taken out to Vancouver’s military base to rendezvous with the rest of the party, who were still with the press and would be filmed and photographed leaving the senate in their cars as part of the media spectacular surrounding the trip. Mae hadn’t been out at the base in some time since working with Justin, and as their car cleared the security check points, it felt strange that her return would be in this drab dress and not the black uniform she’d missed.
The men joined them about an hour later, and when they were all aboard the jet flying them to the Arcadian border, the atmosphere took on an almost festive attitude. The press conference had been a dazzling success, and Lucian’s enthusiasm over their impending trip was infectious. If the others hadn’t been voters of his before, they were now, Mae thought. Even stern-faced George Yi looked caught up in Lucian’s visions of a brighter RUNA and accepted a glass of champagne as everyone settled in for the long flight.
“Cheer up,” said Justin, coming to sit beside Mae. She was scanning through images and charts of Arcadian data on her ego. He handed her a glass of champagne that she took but didn’t drink. “We’re embarking into the great unknown.”
Her own preoccupation with what she’d find in Arcadia was interfering with her ability to fully give into the party vibe. “Not that unknown. Our spies and satellites have made sure of that.”
“See, now that’s the spirit I’m looking for.” Justin settled back into his seat, and Mae suspected there may have been champagne in his car ride from the senate as well. “You should drink that, you know. Won’t be much on the other side. They don’t like their women to drink.”
She sipped the champagne, mostly out of habit. “They don’t like their women to do a lot of things, it seems. Wearing too much color being among them. How does that happen? Arcadia and the RUNA have the same roots. How could we have gone in such wildly different directions?”
Justin knocked back the rest of his drink. This was the kind of philosophical question he lived for. “Well, there were already a lot of regional differences in the former United States before the Decline. This extreme? No, certainly not. It’s a common misunderstanding that people think pre-Arcadia was already way off the mainstream. That was true for some, but not all. Some of the greatest works of American music and literature came out of this region. There was a lot of thinking, a lot of culture.” He paused to eye his empty glass, and Mae helpfully poured her champagne into it. Giving her a mock toast, he continued, “But per what usually happens in catastrophic situations, people panic and open the door for the loudest voices to seize control. And once they get power in a world where everything’s been destabilized, they can then rebuild that world in their own image.”
“Is that what usually happens?” Mae asked skeptically. “The loudest voices seize control? Not the reasonable ones?”
“Loudest,” affirmed Justin. “At least in times of disaster. You see, you’re not aware of it because you’re part of the military—which often is the loudest voice and, hopefully, the reasonable one. But back in the fallout from the Decline? The military was fragmented. Hell, half of it wasn’t even in the country. You and I are lucky that our ancestors listened to the loud voices that joined up with Asian countries against Mephistopheles.” He paused to rethink his words. “Well, perhaps ‘listened’ isn’t the right word. I’d say some of them were forced to hear.”
“Not many.”
“More than you’d think. Your pretty blond ancestors bought their way out, but plenty of people opposed to ‘optimal genetic reproduction’ didn’t have that luxury. It was an ugly time—uglier than most people realize. But look at us now.” He spread out his hands. “The height of civilization. The jewel of the world. Meanwhile, the Arcadians listened to voices that said they didn’t have to swap out their population and mix ethnicities . . . and they let a theocratic government take over and push a new religion that keeps its citizens ignorant and is afraid to let their women show their necks.” Mae flinched in surprise as he gently trailed his finger along her dress’s collar. “So, you tell me, did our ancestors make the right call?”
She shook her head and noticed Lucian watching them across the jet’s cabin. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know enough about the intricacies of the Decline. My guess is they made the best decision they could at the time with the information they had.”
“As do we all.” Justin dropped his hand and reached into his pocket. Moments later, he pressed something into Mae’s palm. “Here. Put this on before we land. Not now, not while Lucian’s watching us.”
“How do you know that?” she asked. “I mean, you’re right, but your back’s to him.”
“I can feel it. That, and it’s no coincidence he picked a seat with a clear line of sight on you. Why sit there if he’s not going to use it to its full advantage?”
Mae looked at what he’d given her. It was a small wooden rectangle attached to a cord that was about the right length to wear as a necklace. Etched on the wood was a symbol that looked like a cross between an N and and H.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Haglaz,” he told her. “The ravens told me I could put it on a silver or gold chain, but that would violate Arcadian vanity rules, so I went old school. You should keep it under your clothes, but if anyone does see it, hopefully it’s crude enough to be ignored.”
“You made it?”
“Yeah.” He sounded more amused than proud. “You had no idea I was so crafty, did you?”
A few moments later, the full implications hit her. “Wait . . . is this something magical? Or supernatural?” She started to hand it back, and he pushed her hand away.
“It’ll obscure you as one of the elect. Unless you want the Arcadian equivalent of a beetle mob coming after you.”
She still couldn’t help but regard the necklace with suspicion— though she didn’t give it back. “I didn’t know you were involved with stuff like this.”
“Not happily,” he assured her. “But I keep my promises and look out for my own.”
Mae looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you claiming me as your own?”
He winked and stood up. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But humor me and keep it on for this trip. Actually, wear it when we’re back too. Now.” He glanced around. “Where’s the rest of the cham—”
He froze as his gaze fell on Mae’s ego. “What’s that?”
“Just refreshing myself on mission details.” The image currently shown was one of the high priest of the Arcadian religion. His title was the Grand Disciple, and he wore robes and a headdress that were almost comically heavy with jewels. In one hand he clutched a golden cup, and in the other, he held a short golden staff with an eagle on top. “I figured you’d know who this is,” she added.
“Of course I do.” Justin stared for several more moments. “Does that particular document say anything about the staff he’s holding?”
“Not specifically. It just says this is the Grand Disciple’s most formal regalia, worn for important services and holidays.”