Shadow Heart (40 page)

Two-five-seven Thirty-Z
. Her slave name. She had barely thought of it in the time since her escape, but she could not forget something so momentous as the loss of her Undocumented status. She had become a part of the System, that day. She had never considered the full implications.

“Is this some kind of game?” she asked quietly.

“Perhaps,” Bruce admitted. “All I can tell you for certain is that the central computer spat out that message just moments after you crossed into the borders of this city. We believed the Code Zero was for a purpose, and it would be hypocritical for us now to reject that its end has a purpose as well.” He paused, watching her closely, and then went on. “Two-five-seven Thirty...
A.
Grace Sawyer. Please ascend to the throne of the Stone Hall, where you will be confirmed by the rulers of Corridor Prime.”

She looked again at the stone chair and felt some reluctance. What would it mean if she did as they asked? Would she become a hypocrite? A part of the machine she had spent her life trying to drag down? Or was this that once in a lifetime opportunity, a chance that only Providence could have given?

“What if I refuse?” she asked.

Bruce hesitated for a moment and then smiled confidently, “You won't.”

Before he even said it, she knew it was true. She could take Corridor Prime without a single bullet, without even one swing of her blade. The System itself had chosen her. What did that even mean?

She stepped forward, past Jeremiah Bruce and up the stairs to the dais. She ran her fingers over the arm of the stone chair. It was cold, hard, likely uncomfortable. A seat made of rock—a reminder that leadership was not meant to be a thing of luxury. No, this place was not like Alexandria at all.

And now it was hers.

Grace sat down on the throne, and Bruce got down on one knee, “I, Jeremiah Bruce, Vice-regent of Corridor Prime, do solemnly swear fealty to you as Magistrate of Corridor Prime, chosen under the law, and will uphold your rule so long as we both live. I confirm you.”

He remained still for a moment in silence, and Grace realized he must be waiting for her to respond. “Thank you, Vice-regent Bruce. I accept your fealty.”

Bruce rose and joined the throng. Then one-by-one, all of the rulers in the chamber came before her to swear fealty—some eager, some reluctant—each in their own way. And then the men who had brought her in—two of whom, she learned, were generals of the Great Army—were invited inside to do the same. She tried to internalize each of their names, to remember their faces. They called her many things, titles that would follow her from now through the rest of her life.

Shadow Heart. Magistrate. Lady of the Stone Hall. Queen of the Wilderness.

Supreme Ruler of Corridor Prime.

L
IZ WAS ON HER
feet the second she heard the door click, and by the time it opened she had gathered enough momentum to slam into the soldier coming to take her and tackle him into the hall. He cried out in surprise and attempted to throw her off, but she got her legs around his torso and squeezed, refusing to let go. Ignoring the complaint of her wounded shoulder, she pulled back to land a punch on his jaw, but something crashed into her side and knocked the wind out of her, forcing her to lose her grip.

The soldier succeeded in pushing her off, and she tried to rise before they could pin her down and continue whatever dark plans they had in store. But then a shout rang out through the hall, “Stop!” and everyone froze, including Liz. She knew that voice. Against her better judgment, she turned her back on the soldiers to face the source of the command, and nearly went into shock.

“Grace?” Liz straightened slowly, suddenly sure that she must have hit her head in that last fall. For there stood the commander of Silent Thunder, dressed in the robes of the World System ruling class—the very same garb she had gotten used to seeing on the Ruling Council before they had broken away. It did not have all the trimmings, true enough. Only the Ruling Council had worn the red and silver accents on their shoulders and on the undersides of their ornate capes. Grace’s uniform was almost completely black—a color she was no doubt used to, with Silent Thunder. The only exception was the World System X on one shoulder and the red, white, and blue banner of the United States on the other—a forbidden symbol in the World System. Seeing them together was somewhat disconcerting. Her cape fluttered a few inches from the floor and made her seem more regal, an enhancement she certainly didn’t need.

But when she smiled Liz saw the same woman she had survived the perils of the Wilderness with, and the smile seemed to say that they would survive this as well, “Morning, Liz. I warned them to be wary.”

Liz positioned herself so that she only had to turn her head to see both Grace and the men she had attacked. They both rose from their positions on the floor, and at a motion from Grace backed away. “What is this?” Liz asked. For the first time she saw the people who were with Grace. In the shock of seeing her in World System robes, she had barely noticed them. There were three people, a man and a woman also dressed in the robes of the ruling class, and a general.

“I am not under any kind of duress,” Grace said, anticipating the direction of her thoughts. She swept aside the cape so that Liz could see the Spectral Gladius hanging from her hip, which was as much of a confirmation as she could need. If they were trying to control Grace, then they never would have returned her weapon. As if to solidify that belief, Grace nodded to the man on her left, “General Laban.”

He slipped a second Gladius from his belt, its red ruby casing sparkling in the low light.
Her
Gladius. Before she could even demand its return, he tossed it to her. She caught it and noticed that the two soldiers she had tussled with took a few more steps backward.
Smart, boys
, she thought with a smile, testing the hilt in her hands. It felt good to hold it again, especially after that feeling of helplessness with Rowan in the woods.

Rowan
, she shook her head sadly.
You deserved all you ever got from me, but you didn’t need to die. Not for him.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked, allowing some of the tension to escape her limbs. “Or are we playing a really boring version of charades?”

“I have been confirmed as Magistrate of Corridor Prime,” Grace replied.

Liz laughed—cackled, more like—but stopped quickly when she realized Grace was dead serious. Her mind searched for questions, but all she could come out with was, “Wha…why—
how
?”

“She was chosen,” the man on her right said. “The central computer gave us her designation.”

Liz’s eyes narrowed, “But…you’re not part of the World System.”

“I was given a designation when they sold me into slavery,” Grace said. “I guess that was enough.”

“And who are you?” she asked the man.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Grace cut across him, probably in an attempt to abate the rising tension, “Liz, this is Jeremiah Bruce, the vice-regent of the city. Corridor Prime has been experiencing a Code Zero for nearly two weeks, until our arrival.”

Liz paused, fear touching the back of her mind. As an intelligence officer for the World System, she had always been good at logging away seemingly insignificant data just in case she needed it. And Code Zero was a term not often discussed. But she did remember it, and she also remembered what her instructor hypothesized it could mean, were it ever to take place.

“Code Zero?” she almost whispered. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied. “But Alexander appointed a successor in the intervening period, so we have a few things to work out.”

“I’d say so,” Liz swallowed, tempted to jump right into the thoughts running through her mind. But no, she didn’t trust these people Grace had brought with her. Even if they were loyal, Grace’s situation was still precarious, and she didn’t need one of her closest confidants to be rumored crazy, which is how her thoughts would sound if she said them out loud. There was nothing to be gained by sharing this right away in any case. Later, when they were alone, would be a better time.

“In many cities, magistrates have little power,” Liz said, thinking of Costa in Rome or the magistrate of Alexandria, whose name she couldn’t even remember. “It is normally concentrated in the hands of the generals.” She spared a pointed look for General Laban.

“Not in Corridor Prime,” Bruce said. “Unlike our counterparts in other cities, we take the Systemic form of government quite seriously. The rulers rule. The warriors keep order and fight, when necessary, at the magistrate’s command.”

“Would you agree, General?”

“Of course,” Laban replied. But what else would he say?

“And when your magistrate commands you to do something different than Napoleon Alexander, or Grand Admiral Blaine? They supersede the authority of a magistrate under the laws of the System, do they not?”

Bruce flashed a sly grin, “I believe you already know the answer to that, or else you would not have phrased it as a question. You surprise me, Elizabeth Aurora. Soldiers are not normally students of the law. Perhaps we can continue this discussion as we walk. The magistrate has an appointment with the people.”

With the people?
Liz had to admit she hadn’t given much thought to the different cultures that might have developed in each of the World System’s cities. Certain uniqueness was bound to materialize when a group of people—even a large one—was kept within a closed system. But she had suspected Napoleon Alexander would direct their development as he had in Alexandria: with the brute force of the Great Army.

She had only ever been in three cities—four now, including Prime. Alexandria was a military autocracy, ruled by the iron fist of the Great Army at the MWR’s command. Both the Triad and Rome were also military states, recently recovering from military coups and—in the case of Rome—preparing for a worldwide civil war. The cult of the army in all three had been at the forefront of society.

But a different kind of order had manifested here, and she could see it in the demeanor of those around her. The soldiers did indeed defer to the rulers. And never, in all her years around the generals and the overlords of the System, had she ever heard them mention
the people
. Citizens, workers, rabble, mob, and worse she had heard, but never
the people
in that tone of respect.

General Laban made room for her at Grace’s side as they headed back up the hall, and Bruce continued, “The law is ambiguous, as I’m sure you are aware. Each of the World System’s cities, according to the original tenets of Systemic law, is to be self-sustaining. This is as true of government as it is of resources. The purpose of the overarching hierarchy was presented as a check on a city government that had gone rogue, and in that case alone could they assume command of the city’s army or order the army of another city to move against them.”

“Like a federal system,” Grace said.

“Precisely,” Bruce nodded. “That was the only way they were able to get the city councils that existed at the time to support the new unified government. It was only after they had gained power that the MWR and the Ruling Council started reaching for more, using tactics that some might say were in violation of original Systemic law.”

“The MWR would say he
is
the law,” Liz argued, stepping into the elevator. At first she worried that they would not all fit, but the soldiers remained in the hall, leaving the vice-regent and the general alone with two Spectral-adepts. A show of trust, perhaps?

“He would,” Bruce said as the doors closed and the elevator rose. “But he is wrong. The World System is a project—an experiment, if you will—in a new form of government. A government based on measurement and balance. Aptitude and population are measured and balanced with the needs of the closed system to create order. The continuity of this order is contingent upon following the calculations and recommendations of the System.”

“You mean the central computer. A machine.”

“An objective mediator,” Bruce said. “An entity without passion, ideology, ambition, or creed that can truly decide what is in the best interest of the society, based on the data it collects and not its own self-interest. Even despite its imperfections, Systemics has virtually eradicated poverty. Everyone is given a place. No one is left behind.”

“Except for those who do not wish to be told what their lives will be,” Grace said solemnly. “Order and balance is all well and good, but there is a human element that your Systemics cannot account for, and those will always feel oppressed.”

The elevator doors opened to a wide lobby, and they stepped out. Liz's eyes widened in amazement at the sheer number of people who stood to their left and right, formed up to create a kind of aisle down their center. All of them were here to get a good look at their new magistrate—or were they here to see the woman chosen by the central computer after a Code Zero? The rebel leader who had come to free them from the yolk of the MWR into a new Systemic utopia. That was where Bruce was headed, she had no doubt, and she had heard the arguments before. The only difference now was that Bruce had actual power in the city, while those who had pontificated endlessly on the subject in her past had been small voices.