Wattys shortlist 2021. One morning the sun rises a few hours early, striking levitating skyscrapers in Soliara ahead of schedule. People in the streets stop to look up at the sky and then down at their watches. Most of them, puzzled but disbelieving...
Fog spends thirty minutes Googling on her Mac desktop computer, the one with the see-through orange back, when she gets home. She thinks the pen Sapphire took might be worth like $2000 on eBay.
The eBay listing she finds reads Rare Aurora Ocheano Graciale Altico Fountain Pen 18K. It may even be Sapphire's listing, if she's trying to sell the stolen loot. It's in San Francisco, and it's up for $1789. According to the listing, the nib and tip are pure, 18K gold. There's no mention of the shaft's material but it twinkles beautifully like diamond crushed up and mixed with pink pearl. Words are inscribed around the band in its center. The one side visible in the picture show the letters 'U R O R A' above the smaller letters 'A D E I N I T A L' which would supposedly spell out 'AURORA OCHEANO, MADE IN ITALY.'
Anyway, it's a nice pen, whether to collect or to supplement an income made by selling stolen valuables.
Fog need not have gone to the effort of so much research. Hanging out in Oz in the early afternoon of a Saturday, a fellow student, Winter has no problem talking about it.
"No shit, Sherlock," says Winter, sipping deep amber apple cider out of an oversized beer stein. "Here's the problem. Sapphire took that pen from Ligya, but Ligya presented a very good target. She can't keep her mouth shut. She's been talking about how much she loves that pen ever since her rich auntie gave it to her. For the last 24 hours she's been inconsolable, but no one will give up the larcenist." As he leans back on his barstool and crosses his arms, Winter clearly includes himself in that. "Everyone fears Sapphire. No one has a clue what to do. There's no consequences in Oz, right? That's what Prospero says. We're not to impede on one another's liberty, so we can't exactly try to stop her, and there's no such thing as detention here. So there's no point in tattling. The teachers won't do anything. She'll smile her way out of it and say it wasn't her, and she lives in accordance with Prospero's Libertarian Principle, she wouldn't violate another magician by taking their personal belongings. Then the rest of us have to worry about becoming her next target."
He took another long drink from the stein and Fog just thought about what he was saying. He swallowed, smacked his lips, and sighed. "The lesson, my friend, is don't bring two thousand dollar belongings into Oz unless toy have protection spells on lock."
Slouching in her stool, Fog says, "I'll leave my Jimmy Choos at home."
"In all seriousness, I wouldn't let Sapphire know your flip phone has a camera. Those go for 500 plus on Craigslist."
"I don't go waving my stuff around bragging," said Fog, feeling a little less sympathetic toward Ligya. Before Aunt Sophia got her new (illegal) occupation, before their new car and top tier racing bikes, back when Aunt Sophia had been working a second job in addition to late-night nursing, Fog thought what she would do for two thousand dollars. Like it came out of nowhere, conjured by magic — the only victim a crying rich girl who waves her valuables around in front of city kids.
She doesn't say this to Winter. No one needs to tell him. "I'm guessing, from what I've observed, that it's not just Sapphire."
"There's definitely a band of magicians who don't follow Prospero's one rule."
"Hmmm, what do we do then?" she asks.
"Like I said, don't bring your Monets into Oz. Leave your Versace and Fendi too. I know, you already made basically the same joke. Anyway, I realized something. In order for Prospero's kind of complete personal freedom to work — a completely free society, with no limits to anyone's liberty — everyone in it needs to participate. Everyone needs to sign on to not violate the freedoms or rights of others, and every single person needs to follow through on the contract. If one single person," he held up a finger, "breaks it, it's not libertarianism we're following, it's pacifism. And in a system of extreme pacifism, a predator can hurt us or steal pens from us, and we won't do anything about it."
"Maybe we pacifists could shield each other. Start a band of protectors." Fog tried not to sound over-eager, but her excitement came out in her voice. Trying to sound cooler, she asked, "Would you have my back?"
Winter shrugs inside his huge wool sweater. "I only got here three weeks ago. I can't work anything you'd call a protection spell, nor do I have any connections. I've yet to infiltrate the cliques here. Still working on my charm and charisma incantations."
Nothing seemed to be wrong with Winter's charm, Fog thought.
"So you're nobody," she said, "and you know nobody. Same. At least now we're two. We can start a . . . faction!"
"The faction of the pacifists who aren't going to take it anymore!"
Funnily enough, after he says that, Winter just slides away, like he's had enough human interaction for one afternoon.
Time to work on her own shield incantations and charms.
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