Rogues of The Story

Chapter 3: Martin Relen

After Mimi's dire warnings about Martin Relen and the expression on Peter's face—he looked like he was guiding Philip to his funeral—Philip had expected Martin to look like a devil or worse. What he was not expecting was for Martin to look like was a short, scrawny teenage boy with tousled black hair and deep black eyes. The boy sprang to his feet in the small but well-furnished sitting room, greeting Philip with a quick and easy smile. Philip, however, was drawn to how the boy's clothes seem to hang off of him. Didn't he eat anything? "Hello!" Martin Relen said blithely in a British accent.

"Err," Philip said. "Hello." It seemed the safest way to go.

Mimi stayed close to Philip, her hand hovering just above his arm. She seemed awfully nervous in front of the cheerful boy. Martin absently pulled the sleeve of his long-sleeved shirt up from where it was covering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he went on. Philip was distracted by the fact that he'd determined Martin was only fourteen, maybe fifteen. "I suppose you're Philip Andric, right?"

"Um ... yeah. And this is my friend, Mimi Winthrop," Philip said, finding his voice at last.

"Miriam," she corrected him sharply, sending him a glare.

Martin's smile widened. "As I'm sure you've guessed, I'm Martin Relen. Peter!" he added as the Russian tried to slip from the room. "Won't you stay for tea?"

"Nyet." Peter shook his head and hurried from the room like a frightened puppy—not normally something that could apply to the burly Guardian.

Martin's smile faded and he stared after Peter with an unreadable expression. Silence fell over them for a long moment before he turned back to Philip. "You're famous, you know," Martin commented. "All the Guardians look up to you."

"They do?" Philip questioned with a frown.

Martin nodded. "I don't mean to embarrass you," he said hastily, "but your constant attempts to make The Story better for its occupants is a worthy cause. A lot of us think so."

"Well, I don't," Mimi interrupted flatly. Martin looked at her, his eyes widening. "They aren't people. They're simply characters in a book. They no more control their fates than a fish can prevent itself from being hooked eventually. Saying they're people is like saying a dog is a person, or a cat."

"Well, there are some dogs and cats in The Story," Philip pointed out. "Like the musicians of—"

"I don't care!" Mimi snapped. "They aren't people. End of story!"

"Forgive me, Miss Winthrop," Martin said quietly. "But I believe you're wrong. How many people in The Story have you interacted with?"

Mimi blinked, obviously not expecting Martin to cross her. Normally, people tried to steer clear of Mimi's quick temper. Either Martin didn't care or just hadn't heard of Mimi's terrible anger. Her bravado was back in a moment. "I beg your pardon!" she snapped. "I—I don't interact with many members of The Story. It's simpler that way. Far less to change if you don't interact with anybody."

Martin spread his hands in a "there-you-have-it" gesture. "If you haven't interacted with any of the members of The Story, then how do you know that they're not people? You can't convince someone you know something if you don't really know it."

Mimi straightened her shoulders and glared at him. "And what do you know? It's no secret your parents kept you out of The Story. You've never even been inside."