Part 11
“Hmm hmm hmm,” hummed Marin, one day, putting up some flowers, Prettying the doorframe of the house in which she stayed. She applied them carefully, arranged them to perfection; Marin had good taste, and always knew what would look best. “Miss Marin?” the voice came gently, upwards from below her. Marin looked down from the ladder, said, “Chrysanthemum! “What’s up? Do you like my flowers? Have you got more ribbon?” Chrysanthemum stood there, gently, suddenly unsure. “What’s wrong?” Marin asked, her white dress ruffled by the breezes. “Miss Marin, can I ask you a question?” she replied. “Sure, honey,” said Marin, climbing down from off the ladder. “What is it?” Chrysanthemum then quietly began: “Are you magic? Are you a fairy?” Marin’s eyes widened. “Um, what do you mean?” she said. “What made you think of that?” “Because your friends are,” the little girl said very clearly. “Miss Saera and Mister Ardo both are magical. I saw them one night when they were walking in the moonlight! Mister Ardo made fire appear out of thin air! And Miss Saera flew! She floated off the ground! I saw it! Can you do magic, Miss Marin? Mister Terry, too?” Marin’s sallow skin was now quite pale, as dread o’ercame her. She stood there, bent down, hands on her knees, and lost in thought. She thought for long minutes, as Chrysanthemum stood patient, Blue eyebrows furrowed and deep blue eyes astir with thought. Finally she sighed, and stood upright, and said, “Come with me.” And she led Chrysanthemum behind Daisy’s small house. The well of the village was not far from where the house was: A deep, concrete cistern long ago dug with machines. The villagers did not understand its technology, But they used it, and the bucket now was sunk far deep. Marin came up to the well; the crank she started turning, Pulling up the bucket with a slow, deliberate pace. Finally it rose up into view, brim-full with water. Marin set the bucket on the well rim, and she sat. “Chrysanthemum,” she said slowly, staring at her firmly, “What I am about to tell you, please tell no one else. This is your secret, okay? Don’t tell your mom or brothers.” “Okay,” said the girl. She nodded, green eyes opened wide. Marin smiled gently. “You were not seeing things that night. Saera and Ardo can do strange things—we all four can.” She moved both her hands and water leapt out of the bucket, Becoming a flying stream of water, clear and bright. Chrysanthemum gasped as Marin spun the water round her; She was like a planet, and the water like her rings. “Have you read about the four elements, Chrysanthemum? The four elements people believed in for so long?” “Oh, yes,” said Chrysanthemum, who nodded, filled with wonder. “Mama’s talked about them—Fire, Water, Earth, and Air.” “Well, those elements—the four of us have power o’er them. Each of us has power to control one of the four. Saera controls Air, Terry’s got Earth, and Ardo, Fire. “Water’s mine, as you can see,” said Marin with a wink. “I can move it, I can shape it, I can do things with it, Make the Water do anything that I want it to.” Marin twitched her wrist and fingers, and the water shifted, Moving in a gleaming swell upon Chrysanthemum. Then Marin’s fingers twitched and the water started spreading, Vibrating and coming apart, until it was now A mass of cool vapor—mist and fog—it came right at her, And surrounded Chrysanthemum, who gasped with delight. Then the mist rose up, and Marin loudly snapped her fingers, And there was a flicker, and a burst of sudden cold. And then Chrysanthemum laughed for joy as snow fell on her, Soft and gentle snowflakes fell out of the blue Spring sky. “This is so amazing!” she said, jumping up, excited. “You’re amazing, Miss Marin! I can’t believe all this!” “I can do much more,” she said. “I can control the weather. I can make it rain, or snow, or make it storm at sea. I can change the tides, and I can change the course of rivers. I’m not sure there is a limit to what I can do. We’ve only had all this power just about a year now. We’re still finding out all that we are capable of.” “So you ARE magic!” said Chrysanthemum with a loud shout. “No, not magic,” Marin said. “Not really, I don’t think. We’re science… and metaphysics… and high technology; I don’t really understand it, but it’s not magic. The people who made us built us with all of these powers.” “You were MADE?” Chrysanthemum gaped. “Built, like a wood doll?” “I am NOT a--” Marin started, eyes neon blue flashing, And the water in the bucket splashed out violently, And the sky above suddenly turned dark gray and cloudy, And the wind blew, and some thunder rumbled in the air. But Marin caught herself in her anger—she sighed, shuddered, And she calmed down, and the day again was fair and bright. “We were built by scientists,” said Marin, talking slowly. “We were put together still inside our mothers’ wombs. Remember when we told you we’re on the run from slavers? Those scientists were our slavers—we belonged to them. They kept us in a big prison disguised as a city, Filled it with all sorts of people, just to fool us four. Until they decided to reveal all their lies to us,” Marin’s eyes stung. “My own mother lied to me, as well. They wanted to use us and our powers how they wanted. They wanted our help so they could dominate the world. But we didn’t want it—we escaped! We fled together. And we have been running ever since, all round the world, Always running, always frightened that some day they’ll find us, Catch us, and use us to make their nightmare world come true.” Sunny skies and lovely flowers everywhere were round them, And the birds chirped, and the bugs buzzed, in the bright Spring day. But where they two stood there seemed a chill, and a strange quiet. Chrysanthemum stood in silence; Marin did as well. “So… that means you have to leave soon, right?” Chrysanthemum said. “I’m afraid so,” Marin said. “We have to leave real soon. We’ll probably leave after the festival, in two days. We can’t stay much longer—not for our sake, or for yours. If we stay too long in one place, the scientists track us, And when they find people helping us, they’re very cruel. We want to make sure they don’t find us with you, and hurt you.” Marin smiled brightly. “We want to keep you all safe.” Chrysanthemum gasped again, and then, to Marin’s wonder, She ran up and hugged the teenage girl around her waist. Marin’s eyes brimmed up with sudden, unexpected tears then. “I love you,” Chrysanthemum said, “and the others, too.” “I love you, too,” Marin said, and kissed her on the forehead. “Now, let’s go; we’ve still got decorating to get done.”
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