The House in the Cerulean Sea(56)

“And what sort of law does she practice?”

“She works with magical beings attempting to fight … their registration.…”

“Ah,” Arthur said. “I see. And the physicians?”

Linus felt his stomach tighten. “They treat only magical beings.” He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. “There’s a reason for all things, Arthur. Our predecessors knew the only way to help assimilate magical persons into our culture was to have stringent guidelines set in place to assure a smooth transition.”

Arthur’s gaze hardened slightly. “And who said they needed to be assimilated at all? Was any choice given?”

“Well … no. I don’t suppose it was. But it’s for the greater good!”

“For whom? What happens when they grow up, Linus? It’s not as if things will change. They’ll still be registered. They’ll still be monitored. There will always be someone looking over their shoulder, watching every move they make. It doesn’t end because they leave this place. It’s always the same.”

Linus sighed. “I’m not trying to argue with you on this.”

Arthur nodded. “Of course not. Because if we were arguing, it would mean that we were both so set in our ways, we weren’t amenable to seeing it from another side. And I know I’m not that stubborn.”

“Precisely,” Linus said, relieved. Then, “Hey!”

But Arthur was already walking through the trees.

Linus took a deep breath, wiped his brow, and followed.

“It goes back to Kant,” Arthur said as Linus caught up with him.

“Of course it does,” Linus muttered. “Bloody ridiculous, if you ask me.”

Arthur chuckled. “Whether or not he was right is something else entirely, but it certainly brings about an interesting perspective on what is or isn’t moral.”

“The very definition of immorality is wickedness,” Linus said.

“It is,” Arthur agreed. “But who are we to decide what’s what?”

“Millions of years of biological evolution. We don’t stick our hand in fire because it would burn. We don’t murder because it’s wrong.”

Arthur laughed as if elated. “And yet people still do both. Once, in my youth, I knew a phoenix who loved the way the fire felt against his skin. People murder other people every day.”

“You can’t equate the two!”

“You already did,” Arthur said gently. “My point remains the same as it is in my sessions with Lucy. The world likes to see things in black and white, in moral and immoral. But there is gray in between. And just because a person is capable of wickedness, doesn’t mean they will act upon it. And then there is the notion of perceived immorality. I highly doubt Chauncey would even consider laying a tentacle on another person in violence, even if it meant protecting himself. And yet people see him and decide based upon his appearance that he is something monstrous.”

“That’s not fair,” Linus admitted. “Even if he does hide under my bed one morning out of every three.”

“Only because he’s still wrestling with what he was told he was supposed to be versus who he actually is.”

“But he has this place,” Linus said, ducking under a branch.

Arthur nodded. “He does. But he won’t always. The island isn’t permanent, Linus. Even if you in your infinite wisdom decide to allow us to remain as we are, one day he will go out into the world on his own. And the best thing I can do is to prepare him for that.”

“But how can you prepare him if you never let him leave?”

Arthur whirled on Linus, a frown on his face. “He’s not a prisoner.”

Linus took a step back. “I never—that wasn’t what I—I know that. I apologize if it came across any other way.”

“I prepare them,” Arthur said. “But I do shelter them, somewhat. They … for all that they are, for all that they can do, they’re still fragile. They are lost, Linus. All of them. They have no one else but each other.”

“And you,” Linus said quietly.

“And me,” Arthur agreed. “And while I understand your point, I hope you can see mine. I know how the world works. I know the teeth that it has. It can bite you when you least expect it. Is it so bad to try and keep them from that as long as possible?”

Linus wasn’t sure, and he said as much. “But the longer they remain hidden, the harder it will be when the time comes. This place … this island. You said it yourself. It isn’t forever. There’s a whole wide world beyond the sea, and while it may not be a fair world, they have to know what else is out there. This can’t be everything.”

“I am aware,” Arthur said, looking off into the trees with an inscrutable expression. “But I like to pretend it is, sometimes. There are days it certainly feels like it could be.”

Linus didn’t like the way he sounded. It was almost … morose. “For what it’s worth, I never thought I’d be discussing moral philosophy while wearing tan shorts in the middle of the woods.”

Arthur burst out laughing. “I find you fascinating.”

Linus felt warm again. He told himself it was the exertion. He swallowed thickly. “You knew a phoenix, then?”