This is a continuation of the March 11 story. Read the first installment about another One of the Men in Red and then read on below.

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http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/snow-people-walking/

Relany thumbed her phone nervously. She’d never done anything like this. It’s not that she was categorically opposed. Why would she be? It’s just that the situation had never arisen. In the abstract, it always seemed an easy decision. But now that it stared her in the face, previously unthought-of consequences creeped into her mind.

What if he’s crazy and attacks me? What if it’s some kind of sting operation by the police? Though that seemed pretty far-fetched. The crazy part did not, except she’d been following the guy, quite by coincidence, for ten minutes. Since before the Seeking Snow began to fall and his bag began to change.

“The hell with it,” Relany muttered to herself. She stopped walking and dialed the hotline number and pressed the phone to her ear.

“City Tip-line. This is Onnika.”

“Hi. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do,” Relany said, embarrassed at the nerves in her voice. “I’ve never called for this kind of thing.”

“Well what do you see, dear?”

“There’s a man walking in front of me, and his bag started to change color.”

“Change color?”

“When it started snowing, I mean. This is Seeking Snow?” Relany said, a momentary panic that she’d read the city-wide bulletins wrong last night, that this was all an enormous misunderstanding and that she was wasting the police’s time and resources.

“Yes. Ok, so his bag is changing,” Onnika said, her voice more engaged now that she had a fish on the line. “How’s he reacting to that?”

“Doesn’t notice. It’s a backpack,” Relany clarified.

“That’s great. Very lucky for all of us. Where are you?”

“Mardi Park, walking towards the temple-school.”

“From the south lanes or the north?”

“South.”

“Great. I’m going to alert some people, but I don’t think anyone’s in that immediate area,” Onnika said. “If you think it’s safe, are you able to follow him?”

“For now, yes.” Relany said and, to her own great surprise, her feet started moving again, taking her after the man with the once-black, now-red backpack. “We’re in the park and other people are around.”

“Go as long as you can. Don’t lose sight of other people. If he goes down an alley or into a building or anywhere enclosed, abandon ship.” Onnika delivered instructions in a cool, collected tone. It gave Relany a sense of confidence that she knew was false. Still, her concern was starting to turn to excitement. How dangerous could it be, really? The police were on the way, she had a city official on the line instructing her, and people were all around. Relany wondered if her name would get in the news if this guy ended up arrested and charged.

While she followed, she went through the information in her head. The bulletins had gone out last night. Reports of a break-in at the City Museum. Luckily, nothing was stolen. But the authorities feared it was a proof-of-concept crime, that it would lead to break-ins down the line at other facilities around the city where thefts would take place.

So the Scholars had been directed to organize a Seeking Snow storm. Bulletins had gone out and the city, as it always did, used it’s citizenry as auxiliary police. It was remarkable the capacity people had when their leaders trusted them to do the right thing.

“Honey, I’m going to put you on hold for a second. Everything still ok?” the operator asked.

“So far. We’re a minute or two from the walls around the domes.”

“Great.” There was a click. But then Relany heard her speaking. The operator must have thought she’d hit hold but had, in fact, not.

“How long? 6 minutes? Where the hell were they, vacationing in the tropics? She sounds normal. Trustworthy. Do I tell her about the safe, the compound the guy used on the painting? Well she must have heard the bulletin, so she knows nothing was stolen. Yes? Because I’m not convinced. Alright. Alright, ok.” There was another click. “Still with me?”

For a moment, Relany didn’t answer. She had no idea what any of that meant, but clearly it was not for her ears. Someone broke into the City Museum and did something to a painting, but didn’t steal it? Did they ruin it? No, because that probably would have been in the bulletin.

“Honey, I need you to answer me now,” the operator urged.

“Sorry,” Relany finally said. “I’m still with you. He’s headed inside the walls. Might be a student at the domes? Or he works there?”

Silence from the other end of the phone. Relany looked down at the screen – no signal.

Of course not. The Scholars block signals around the building. Relany swung her head, scanning the park and the few neighboring streets. She strained her ears. But she saw and heard nothing. The police must still be on the way, but they weren’t close enough.

She stepped under an arch, out of the snow. Across the courtyard, the man casually climbed the steps, nodding to a passing teacher. In a few seconds, he’d be inside. She wasn’t supposed to follow, the operator had been clear on that. But this was the domes, not some dim apartment building. It was lousy with meteomancers, fire-speakers, Scholars of every stature and skill level. If there was anywhere she could expect help from strangers, it was in here. Right?

The man disappeared into the tall front doors, and Relany hurried after him. Her heart thumped in her chest. How had this happened? Ten minutes ago she was on her way to pick up food before a morning meeting. Now she was following a possible criminal through a magical snowfall into a sacred place. She never did things like this.

Inside, she saw the man head for one of the three massive spiral staircases that led to the upper floors. She timed her walk well, allowing a group of younger students that appeared in a hurry to get on the steps between her and her quarry.

Relany watched the red backpack flee before her, constantly threatening to vanish around the fat central stair post, but never quite making it far enough around. She began to generate and discard plans for what she would do when the man stopped. She couldn’t leave him to go back outside the temple-school’s anti-phone radius. He might disappear. Students flitted around each of the floors, headed both up and down the steps. She didn’t want to engage any of them, put them in danger. But if this possible criminal was here, he might have accomplices. Asking a teacher for aid, only to have the bad luck of him being involved would surely put her in a world of trouble.

Paranoia began to creep in at her edges. Why had she let it get this far? It had all happened so fast. Maybe if she went back downstairs, alerted someone in the more crowded foyer? Safety in numbers?

At the top of the stairs, the students peeled off to the left. A hallway ran in both directions. Besides the kids, they were empty.

“Oh boy,” Relany muttered. There was time to pick a direction and go. For no particular reason, she went away from the kids, down the right side hall. She began a count in her head. If she got to 100 without finding him, it was back outside to find the police who must surely be there soon. Let them scour the nooks and crannies.

The hall ran into an L-intersection where it turned only left. That corridor held two students canoodling by an oddly shaped statue of an animal she couldn’t identify. It was otherwise empty. But there was a door just before them. She considered abandoning the 100 count here, and going back outside. But something compelled her to move forward, a bravery she didn’t think she had in her. I’ll just check the door, then I’m out of here.

The door opened to the outside, an exterior catwalk that ran around bulk of the building. Directly above her, one of the four minor towers stretched up into the still-snowing blue-grey sky.

“How did you know?”

Relany’s heart practically leapt from her mouth from the fright. She swung around to see the red backpack man standing by the outer wall. He didn’t appear angry, and he kept a reasonable distance between himself and her.

“Know what?”

“That the bulletin was for me.”

Relany shook her head, her eyes darting back to the possible safety of inside.

“You’re in no danger,” the man said. “At least, not from me.”

“And I’m supposed to trust the word of a criminal?”

“From one who is no doubt about to be caught, yes.” He gestured down, toward a group of black-and-blue cloaked men standing just outside the walls. The police had finally arrived. “Because what else do I have to lose.”

Relany took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Your backpack.”

“What about it?” the man said. He swung it off his back and looked with genuine surprise at the cloth that was now almost entirely red. “Well, that is unexpected. I guess the Scholars have improved their Seeking Snow without telling anyone. Rude.”

Relany thought she saw something deflate in the man. As her adrenaline spike eased just a little, she realized he actually looked exhausted. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, and his hair was greasy like it hadn’t been washed in a few days.

As she assessed the man, he flung open the bag and dug out a crumpled piece of green paper and a pen. He scratched a hasty note.

“I have no idea how much time this will buy us,” the man said, then shook his head. “Buy you, I mean.”

“Me? I don’t want any part of whatever-”

“I don’t mean you specifically,” the man cut in. “You as in the people of our world. Everyone.”

He lifted his hand, and Relany saw some kind of tattoo from his pinky tip to his wrist. It was done in red ink. He moved his hand down, and something impossible happened. A rainbow glowed from nowhere.

“‘Painting was a dud,'” the man quotes form his note while he folds it into a triangle. “‘The Color isn’t here.'” Relany can hear the emphasis, wants to ask what he means. But the man speaks urgently now, looks as if fear is overtaking him.

“If this works, you’ll live a full life and be long dead before they realize it’s a lie. If it doesn’t…” he shook his head. “If that painting, the one I didn’t steal, goes missing, if the curator turns up dead, you should leave the city. Take anyone you love with you.”

“What painting? This is all,” Relany was in way over her head, didn’t understand anything that was happening. The man tossed the bag at her to stop her questions.

“They’ll find it, eventually. They have strange gravity. People I know ended up involved despite all my… Look, Another One of the Men in Red will come to replace me. If it’s in your lifetime, if you end up involved, kill him. Don’t think about it, ignore the morality questions. Just kill him on sight. There are gods from other worlds, some extremely powerful, glorious, genuinely good worlds. They will protect you, they will forgive you and give you a place in their heaven.”

“This is insane. I’m not going to kill anyone,” Relany could hardly keep up.

“When they find out The Color is here, you will very likely not have a choice.” The man stepped up onto the edge of the wall. “And for that, I am sorry. That’s all I have left to give.”

And he left himself fall backward, over the edge toward the distant ground.

Relany wouldn’t look down. Just the thought of the gruesome scene got to her. She threw up on the side of the city’s most sacred place. Looking down would only make her insides turn more. There was nothing down there she wanted to see. Not the body of the man splattered on the ground or the questions that lay smashed against the earth with him.

In the days that followed, Relany decided that must have been the man’s plan. To drag strange questions and stranger answers down with him, to scattered them across the ground. But it would prove a feeble, unsuccessful attempt to make them vanish, unasked and impotent.