I. The Diamond Dogs
“I think she’s a robot,” he said, indicating Queene Death with his eyes as they gestured.
“(They. You think they are a robot.)” she reminded him.
“They,” he agreed. “What else could they be?”
The Queene was at the prow of the boat as it rushed forward. They seemed to enjoy it up there, where the salt and wet and cold can hit you in the face; where there is no escape from the sea and its rushing.
“(No thank you to that.)” she said, indicating the crashing waves up front. “(Would a robot want to be that close to the water?)”
“Surely robots have advanced past rust, even in the world of the Fallen.”
He was a bit more comfortable still including their new siblings in “the Fallen” — she liked the idea of belonging to the Dynasty after so long studying them, and anyway, they were out here now. They were in the Fallen World on a mission of the utmost importance.
“(I wonder if we’ll ever find out about them for sure),” she indicated. It was practically infuriating to know there were parts of the story they didn’t know yet, although of course “infuriating” was relative for someone under the Common Link. One angry word and they could both go spiraling, amplifying and transmitting the anger back and forth until… Until what, they didn’t know. Until we are frothing, she supposed.
Here’s what the Diamond Dogs knew at this time that nobody else knew: They knew Benjamin’s destiny, they knew Holder’s greatest mistake, and they knew about Solarboy. They knew about Our Lady Maeve’s Heavenly Voice, which She didn’t even know about yet. Most importantly, they knew the true purpose of the Aces, and therefore this entire quest — and that was worth a lot. Worth everything.
A lot of their adventure so far had felt a bit like a simulation. Not that it was boring, exactly, but that it all felt so predestined, knowing what they knew. Having to let Sailorboy suffer on the beach, for example: the worst part of the mission so far.
She liked to think they would have somehow gotten him into the water, but in the moment, they were both struck still by fear. That kind of thing wouldn’t do, she knew.
“Arcadia Is for the Living,” the Innocent always said: No robots, no Fallen. Fully human. The last.
The Diamond Dogs and wider Innocent population knew everything there was to know about the Chain, except its worth and how to live in it. But they were determined to save it, all the same.
What she was learning was that the Innocent view of the Fallen World was outdated in some ways. Their training for the mission had involved a lot of rote memorizing “facts” that were clearly incorrect. Silver didn’t kill witches, which they’d been told it did, which made Holder Stone laugh.
“That’s an old legend — your people need new research.”
Holder meant it as a lighthearted jest, but there was something about it that was like looking over a precipice. If their lore were wrong about a detail like that, something that could directly save their lives — assuming they were ever attacked by witches, which seemed less and less likely — there was no telling what else they were wrong about.
Which was usually where the train of thought left off. He was finely attuned to the Common Link and could feel her emotions. Fear was particularly sharp, and cold on the tongue and inner ear. Too much of that, and he’d get scared too. So she monitored herself carefully, never admitting it was less about keeping them both safe and more about keeping secrets.
Even just out of the Cradles, looking on Arcadia with new eyes, she’d been chastened for the habit of doing just that — keeping secrets. One of the worst things you could do, among the Innocent, no matter how impossible it might prove in practice.
II. Benjamin of the Beasts
A ribbon of white sand beach lined the shore, set against the dense, shadowed forest of Redwoods. A failing Benjamin roosted at the top of the treeline, watching the boat sailing closer, until the Actaæon crested onto shore and dropped her rope ladder.
Sailorboy and Thomas were quietly discussing something: presumably, whether Thomas would join the shore party or stay aboard to help Sailorboy, or take him fishing, or whatever they had been getting up to.
Sailorboy appeared to think Thomas’s place was ashore, helping Benjamin — but by the hunch of his shoulders, it seemed the Bard himself would rather remain lazing about on the comfortable Actaæon.
Flowers grew up from the Redwoods sand where Our Lady stepped, if She wasn’t careful. Holder said she’d always thought this was an affectation, but either way it certainly looked like a miracle.
Eventually, Sailorboy won the battle.
“I’m coming with you all, apparently,” Thomas shouted as he waded awkwardly toward them. “And anyway, Benjamin probably likes me best out of all of us, besides Holder.”
They all agreed to this upon some honest reflection. It was probably true.
Benjamin certainly didn’t have much time for Our Lady, who smelled desperate to him, though this didn’t seem to bother Her in the slightest. But he loved Holder, Thomas and Sailorboy. They made him feel safe in a way the others didn’t. Stone and Flame and Sea — these were things that always made sense to him.
Everything else was entropy: the changeable Wind, inscrutable Glass, treacherous Night. Our Lady Maeve, Queene Death and the eerie Diamond Dogs — they were on his list. The bad kind of chaos.
This is key: Inside Benjamin of the Beasts there was a wildness so big it made his little yips and howls — his uncontrolled transformations, his flapping hands, his discomfort in social company, all his strangeness — tame. If they knew what he was dealing with, they’d be astonished at how great he was at keeping it under control.
Benjamin knew about chaos. But he didn’t much care for drama.
So as came a timid splashing, Benjamin smiled. Sailorboy isn’t going to let Our Lady go that easily, he thought wryly from his treetop perch.
He found Sailorboy’s devotion irritating, but only insofar as it was just more adult nonsense.
Benjamin of the Beasts was wild, and he was pure, and there wasn’t a lot you could do once he made up his mind.
Holder Stone breathed in, once, almost gasping for air, and began to laugh.
“Sailorboy, come ashore! I’m pleased I get to tell you this — Redwoods interferes with your curse or something. You can come with us.”
And so: Up onto Redwoods sand he came! The last yard was a knucklebiter for everyone involved. But he did it, somehow. And kicked up his heels.
The smile on Sailorboy’s face as he stepped onto the white sand, that movement in him — from fear to utter confidence and joy — was brightest sunshine. You nearly couldn’t look at him, for a moment. Benjamin smiled, up in his tree.
The Bard Thomas stepped toward him, just as amazed, and the two laughed together as if they’d just heard the most marvelous joke. Our Lady beamed, and the Queene rushed to congratulate him.
It was a celebration, and everybody was invited. Benjamin made his limping way down out of the trees. The Diamond Dogs gave another round of synchronized applause.
III. The Diamond Dogs
His mask was itching again; she could tell. She didn’t want to mention it, but she sympathized.
The morning they chose their masks was hazy with fog — the weather engines could deal with most things, but fog somehow bypassed Holy Perimeter’s sensors. Nobody had ever cracked it. Sometimes the fog would smell of smoke from the Fallen World, sometimes just the salt of the Sea.
That morning the fog had a steely bite to it. A tang.
The luckiest of the Innocent sat near the table, among the painted balsa trees, in chairs they’d each brought. They looked around themselves with a soft pride, to be afforded such a close seat. Even by lottery.
Nearest of all sat the rest of their class of Diamond Dog initiates — they were first in their cohort to get masks. Their friends seemed to be looking everywhere but them, sitting all in a row in their starched white capes.
No matter, she thought. If they were really jealous I’d know. We all would.
On the long decorated table were arranged a number of chrome masks, made like everything in Arcadia for adults.
Foxes, wolves, cats, rabbits, a few others.
She knew, the second she saw it, that she was choosing the fox mask. He later said it was much the same for him.
“Raise your mask,” said the Diamond Dog officiant, after what felt like an hour of ceremony.
“Place it on your old face.”
The mask was cold. It felt wonderful — the steel weight of it. The anonymity. Looking through the eye holes at him, she smiled behind the mask. His eyes crinkled in return.
“This is your face now. You have no name now. You are a Diamond Dog now.”
Five years into their lives as Diamond Dogs, they met again.
She recognized him from his affect more than his face: he was a shuffling sort, just as afraid of shadows as he’d been as a boy.
Shadows in Paradise, she thought, and dipped her mask at him. His answering nod was gracious, and not at all as shy as she expected.
“You have been selected for an incredible mission,” said the officiating Diamond Dog. “You will be asked to give your all. You will leave Perimeter and travel with a group of Fallen called the Dynasty. You will aid them in their quest — and it will become your own. You will save the Chain and return home.”
They stepped up onto the dais as one, presenting their matching masks to the Innocent crowd. They shone, reflecting the sun in a sparkling, searing glare.
“You have no name and no face. You have no defenses against the Fallen World. You will be changed. You will become more powerful than any Innocent. It will not be pleasant. It will demand everything you’ve got before you even leave Arcadia.”
She wondered for a moment whether this was all worth it, but quickly quashed the unmutual thought before it echoed too loudly in the Common Link.
She was a fifth-year Diamond Dog now: five years without a name or face. It wasn’t just easier to give in — it was what she was made for.
The process took more than a year, which the Diamond Dogs assured them was plenty of time. The physical reconditioning was the worst part. Sometimes she still ached.
Awakening to Night’s Dream was the best. She ached for that, too.
The unfolding of chaos in the blood, the absolutely imperceptible order behind all creation. It was a brilliant feeling. It bounced back and forth a few times before settling, and they agreed: This voyage would be wonderful. The pain was worth it; Night answered the question she couldn’t bear to ask.
Is this worth it? Are we up to it? Will we get back in — or come back Fallen?
And as deeply in them as the vibrations of a Merrygo when you’re at the top, about to cascade back down to Earth, they knew.
We won’t care. The Dream is worth it all.
IV. Benjamin of the Beasts
Benjamin, a wildboy for now, made his way out of the Wood. He was shivering and sick, rubbing at a slow buildup of black, fungoid scum crawling along one arm until the blight flaked off.
Not even the sun dragon shape could help him while this intolerable pain continued. It felt like he was coming apart in layers.
“I’m Prince of these Trees. Burns me too.”
He took Holder’s hand in his right and Our Lady Maeve’s in his left, and drew them all into the Wood, on a path only he knew.
Holder cleared her throat, just once.
“The Blight is apparently corruption. The Wildwood is the magic at the heart of Redwoods. They’re fighting.”
Benjamin nodded at this, and they entered the green of a wide clearing. Under the spread of leaves, he showed them a bower of leaves and blossoms. There was a pallet of furs and some of those silver blankets Holder carried, all covered in dried blood. He knelt at the bedside, closing his eyes.
“Psychometry,” Holder whispered. “He reads the emotions and events encoded in places.”
“They dropped in,” Benjamin said, “On… wings? Four of them. Identical uniforms. No faces.”
The boy stood, finally. Sprayed his bed with bullets from an imaginary machine gun.
“Dead instantly.”
Everybody was quiet for a moment.
“I still smell the ozone and copper,” Our Lady said, catching the scent on the Wind. “These assassins. But I also smell your Blight. Sweet rot under everything.”
Benjamin nodded, grunting with fever.
“It isn’t right,” he groaned.
“It spreads from here. From precisely here, in your little bed. This sickness started when they killed you. They desecrated this place. It needs cleansing.”
He nodded again, shuddering. He scratched at one arm.
“Little Benjamin, could you do that trick in a city, do you think? I’d love to know more about My death…”
Holder cleared her throat again, and Our Lady relented — after long consideration.
“We’ll get you right, have no doubt about that.”
Holder agreed. “To cleanse the Land, we’ll need the Ace of Branches. That means finding the Entwife.”
Benjamin wondered what she was talking about as he lost consciousness.