The Elementalist

8. Fine Print

Fine PrintHow…” Still thoroughly shocked, Voi shook her finger at Ms. Furlan’s briefcase full of daggers. “How did you do that?”

The woman laughed then boasted about how teaching Voi how to bend metal would require an affinity for the element. “Still,” she continued, “the principles behind elementalism are the same no matter which element you have a connection to. That being said, an elementalist on urche can no better manipulate her element than she can walk in a straight line after thoroughly inebriating herself, which is why I asked you not to take any urche. I don’t expect you to fully understand, dear. After all, you’ve practically been brainwashed your entire life.”

Voi scoffed, disliking the way Ms. Furlan talked down to her as if she hadn’t been ‘brainwashed’ like the rest of their kind—as if she’d somehow skipped the whole brainwashing process and was superior because of it.

Ms. Furlan ignored this. “You can call me Milia, by the way. This isn’t an office, and I don’t entirely care for the title—at least not when it comes from a woman. And besides,” she said, smiling, “you and I are going to become quite intimate before the end of your training.”

Voi noticed a charm in the shape of three razor-sharp crescents that were centrically welded hanging from the diplomat’s neck on a silver chain. The symbol of Orden. Voi understood exactly what kind of woman she’d be dealing with now: one who’d be exacting and relentless in her pursuit of order and perfection. Voi lifted her gaze from the charm. “Somehow, Milia, I sincerely doubt that.”

Milia just smiled as if to say “We’ll see” then went to sit on a bale of hay. “Now, where shall I begin?” She tapped her fingers on the bale. “Well, it really is a grand feeling to be completely liberated from urche, to feel at one with your element and the aetheric sea that surrounds you.”

Voi suspected she’d begun to experience this feeling, yet something in the diplomat’s suggestive tone made Voi question whether she should want to have these feelings.

She said nothing.

Milia kicked her leg playfully, smirking as if recalling a pleasant memory. “It’s very much like falling in love, what takes place between an elementalist and her element. When you can’t stand to be away from your beau for more than a moment, he’s all you can ever think about. The mere thought of him gives you chills in all sorts of places, and to make yourself vulnerable to your beau, to make love…” She gazed over at Voi, her mouth open slightly. “Such a transcendental experience, wouldn’t you say?”

Voi thought of her false rapport with Micál, how it had ended in betrayal and the near-loss of her life. He’d accused her of being ‘cold’ towards him with her love, often withholding parts of herself for fear of rejection—a self-fulfilling prophecy, it seemed. Voi liked to blame it on the urche, which often left her feeling numb, though truthfully, it had only been part of the problem. She held her chin high. “I’m afraid I’m inexperienced in these matters.”

“You’re lying—if not about making love then falling in it.”

Voi scowled. “And what if I am?”

“Falling in love isn’t something to be ashamed of, Voi.” Milia c****d her head empathetically. “Neither is being an emelesiac, for that matter.”

Voi averted her eyes.

“Unfortunately, if an elementalist does choose a lover, it can do more harm than good if she lacks control over herself. We are complex, inherently dangerous creatures.” Milia laughed derisively at a private thought then uncrossed her legs. “As for me, I gave up on love ages ago, though not for fear of being vulnerable or getting hurt—quite the contrary.”

“You were afraid you might hurt your lovers,” said Voi, though not necessarily with sympathy. Judging from her steely aura and the blonde’s demonstration of her affinity with metal, Voi was certain that Ms. Furlan was very capable of hurting someone.

Milia’s expression turned pensive, distant. “Yes, but it has more to do with the practicality that a woman with child is hardly in any position to be saving the world.” She gave Voi an earnest smile. “I prefer my global missions to the idea of motherhood.”

Apparently, she didn’t think it possible to accomplish both.

Such candid talk helped Voi to see Milia in a more human light, though at the same time, it also illuminated an unusual amount of detachment in her character. Voi found a seat on a bale opposite Milia. “Surely you exaggerate the importance of your work.” After all, ‘saving the world’ seemed a bit dramatic.

Milia’s harsh edge soon returned, her expression souring. “You haven’t the slightest idea about the importance of our work.” She bent over, reached for her metal briefcase, then pulled out a sheet of paper, which she placed, along with a pen, on a clipboard before passing them to Voi.

“What’s this?” the aviatrix asked.

“A nondisclosure agreement stating that anything and everything discussed between the two of us relating to matters of elementalism, other psychic abilities, covert endeavors, and so forth are to remain confidential between you, me, Agent Callahan, and other qualified League representatives. Such representatives will be dictated to you either by your case officer or a senior intelligence officer—which, in your case, would be Agent Callahan, me, the Intelligence Council serving the League, or one of your heads of state from Apexia and Borellia. Breaching this agreement could result in various disciplinary actions, depending on the degree and nature of the breach. Of course, with your dual citizenship, it should be noted that state secrets should be kept according to their respective owners.”

Voi’s forehead wrinkled as she scanned the document. It had bold typeface on the right-hand corner reading ‘L-S1’ subtitled ‘League Intelligence & Special Task Forces.’ On the left was the League’s letterhead and emblem: the silhouette of the Western nations.

“I can’t train you any further as an elementalist until I have your full consent that these things will be kept in accord. Once you are initiated as an elementalist, you agree to not only become a protector and practitioner of a very ancient art form but also to live a double life of sorts. Given your brief streak as Aeronetti, however, I doubt this will be too much of a challenge for you.”

Voi stirred, keeping a grin to herself.

“In any case, both elementalists and mentalists have lived amongst ordinary men and women for centuries, yet few people are aware of our existence since we go about our work in secrecy. We are doctors and nurses, politicians and soldiers. We even employ attorneys.”

“Attorneys?” Voi thought of Jacob Sawyer, who’d represented her against Micál after his betrayal; she could only imagine the advantage a psychic attorney would have over his colleagues. Had the League been protecting Voi all this time, shaping her life to lead up to this very moment? Her mouth went dry while pondering this question.

She stared at the contract, becoming increasingly disillusioned by these notions.

“Yes,” said Milia, “attorneys. Now, as a pilot, you will provide your flying services unofficially to the Apexian Intelligence Agency, one of the affiliates of the League; Agent Callahan will counsel you in that regard. As an elementalist, however, you will report directly to the League. I will be responsible for training you in the proper use of your abilities. After you’ve completed your training and have proven your ability to carry out the League’s missions, you will then receive a full briefing on—”

“I’m sorry, but what is L-S1?”

Milia blinked, lost in thought. “I beg your pardon?”

Voi pointed to the agreement. “It says here ‘L-S1, League Intelligence & Special Task Forces.’ What does L-S1 stand for?”

“Ah, yes. L-S1 stands for ‘League Sector One,’ which refers to the emelesiac population that has been activated for service, in addition to a select few non-emelesiacs who’ve been cleared to receive and handle information regarding emelesiacs such as the nature of their abilities and other confidential information.”

“I see.” Frankly, it baffled Voi to think that this noble peace-keeping organization was the same group that determined whether emelesiacs like herself or her aunt spent the remainder of their lives in a mental institution. She wanted to believe that the League had good reasons for handling such a problematic population as they did. At the same time, she found it difficult to come to terms with the League’s sudden interest in her as an elementalist.

Considering the alternative, however, she sighed. “Well, alright. Carry on.”

“As I was saying,” said Milia, “once you’ve completed your training and the League has had the chance to evaluate your performance, you will be presented with the option of remaining an active elemental agent. Should you choose that route, you would be asked to take an oath of loyalty to the League and its tenets, officially joining our secret elite ranks.” She leaned in and wrinkled her nose as she said this, much like an older sister mischievously letting her younger sibling in on a special rite of passage prematurely.

Voi squinted at the document, locating where these things were mentioned; some weren’t mentioned at all. She tapped the pen on the briefcase. “Forgive me, but I’m still not clear as to what takes place after you’ve trained me. Will I still need my medication? What kinds of things will I need to use my abilities for?” Not that she had yet accepted the notion of having special abilities; still, she was curious.

Milia explained, “Utilizing your abilities will make taking the urche pills unnecessary, Voi. I’ll explain this in detail later on. You see, your case is unique to most others. I personally requested to train you for precautionary reasons, as I suspect you’ll only use your powers for self-defense, if at all. Really, it depends on how successful you are with your mission. As I’m sure Agent Callahan has already explained, you’ll be test flying a prototype aerocraft officially for research purposes under the banner of the Apexian Aero Corps. However, your main objective is to carry out an…” She seemed to be avoiding a term. “An aerial scouting mission over Darmoil. Simply put, Voi, if you don’t get caught, then you won’t have to use your abilities. Not publicly, anyway.”

Voi hesitated. “And what if I refuse this route after successfully completing my mission? What if I decide not to keep so hush-hush about all of this?”

“Well,” said Milia, folding one hand on top of the other, “now you see why we don’t officiate potential agents until after they’ve proven themselves; this gives the League time to judge the sincerity of their loyalty. As for spreading the word about our covert operations, we have ways of discouraging snitching or, should sensitive information manage to leak, ensuring that the situation is contained before lasting damage is achieved—shadow agents who trail would-be elementalists and such. Even I have others who monitor my activities.”

“I see…” Truth be told, she really didn’t want to. Voi didn’t like the idea of being watched, or followed.

“However,” said Milia, “if you no longer wish to remain an elementalist, Voi, there is a procedure that could permanently disable your ability to exercise psychic feats; it’s called a lobotomy.”

Voi swallowed, having heard the term before. Lobotomy had been used to treat mental patients with questionable degrees of success. Her Aunt Clara had refused the procedure when it was offered to her, claiming it denied the woman her ‘birth rights.’

Such a solution would be risky, to say the least.

“We at the League take it on good faith that our hand-picked recruits won’t a***e any privileged information that is shared with them,” said Milia sternly.

“Of course.” Voi returned a flat smile.

“Now, have I thoroughly scared you off yet, dear, or are you ready to ditch those urche pills for good and learn more about your hidden potential?”

Voi looked down at the agreement once more. She scribbled her signature then handed the materials over.

“Excellent.” Milia filed these away in her trusty aluminum briefcase. “Let’s continue, shall we?”