by Adam Vine
“Are you suggesting we should feel sorry for him, the son of a rutting bitch who killed Grandfather Mouse, Meerkat, and no less than half a hundred of our other friends and allies? Because if you are, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cheese Eater said.
Bunny folded her hands on the table. “No. I’m not suggesting that. I’m making a rational assessment based on the evidence. Maybe you should try it sometime, you mean, squinty little man.” Cheese Eater cringed at the word little.
Bunny gave a frustrated sigh, finished her mug of beer, and let out a loud belch before finishing, “The point, and I did have a point, is that former slaves are always resentful of their masters, especially if they were mistreated, which we can assume old Ratty was, if he needed to wear a magic mask to be compelled to do things. If we could somehow find him and take him alive, he might be willing to tell us the Crippled King’s secrets. An informant like him would be worth a hundred spies inside the Amber City.”
“She’s got you there, Cheese,” Barn Owl said. “Bunny, you just earned yourself a new pay grade.”
“Thanks,” Bunny said. Barn Owl clinked Bunny’s empty glass and drank.
“Wanderer damn you both,” Cheese Eater said, and then to me, “And you, you braggadocious bastard. What the hell are you looking at?”
I shrugged and sipped my wine. I was happy to have something other than the mission to think about. The grim cloud over the table had evaporated. It allowed me to take my mind off of Zaea’s falsity, the frozen sorrow of Gator’s face shattering into a million particulate pieces, and the vision of Carly I’d seen inside the lamp.
“I’ve got my own theory. Not about the Ratkeeper, though,” Barn Owl said. She leaned over the table, lowering her voice to a whisper. “This one’s about Miss Mouse. Our very own little princess lost. Don’t you dare say her name, Cheese. I see it jumping on the tip of your tongue. She’s had enough on her plate today. We don’t need to add to it. Besides, if the wrong people overhear our conversation, the kind of people who ain’t smart enough to have figured it out for themselves already, we could unwittingly put her in danger.”
“I thought it wasn’t polite to discuss religion at the dinner table,” Cheese Eater said.
Barn Owl laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing we ain’t known for being polite.”
“You think she’s the Wanderer Returned,” Bunny Rabbit said. It wasn’t a question.
“Are you saying you don’t?” Barn Owl said.
“How should I know? I never paid attention in church. I always thought it was boring,” Bunny said.
“Who gives a shit?” Cheese Eater said, submerging a bite of bread in his bowl of cabbage and bacon soup.
“The Spiral turns through light and dark. Sometimes it brightens. Sometimes it dims. But it always finds balance in the end. The last Wanderer was a man. Why wouldn’t she be a woman this time?” Barn Owl said.
Cheese Eater shrugged, popping a soup-soaked hunk of bread in his mouth. “Never said she wasn’t. I tend to more metaphorical interpretations of the whole Saga of the Wanderer, myself, and believe that it’s all just a pretty way of saying humanity is rotten by default, and that we need good people with bright ideas to make us better.
“But the cycle of murder and squalor always finds a way to continue, doesn’t it? Look at this world. It was paradise. Peaceful. Perfect. Now it’s even darker physically, not to mention morally, than it was before. You really think some girl with a princess complex, who could be one of the Crippled King’s spies for all we know, is the Wanderer Returned just because she did some fancy tricks with a weapon from the Twilight Age that none of us have any idea how to actually use?”
“I said it’s possible. And I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Barn Owl said, nodding to the other side of the table, where the woman with the twin girls was handing Zaea a woven glowmoss bracelet.
No sooner had we set foot in the Burrow than the story began circulating about how Zaea had freed the prisoners by taming the Lice. Now, three days later, many in the Burrow believed her to be the Wanderer Returned.
Zaea blushed and thanked the young mother and slipped the bracelet over her wrist. The glowmoss bloomed to full brightness as Zaea waved to the small crowd of Burrowers gathered at the foot of the dais, casting a white halo of light from her hand. The hall fell silent, then the entire room erupted into raucous applause.
Zaea seemed embarrassed by the attention. She held her hand upraised, modeling her brilliant jewelry for everyone to see. The applause increased to a full-on din, ripped through by whistles and hoots of adoration. One of the tables started a chant that spread through the hall until everyone was stomping their feet and pounding their fists, shouting, “Zae-a! Zae-a! Zae-a! Zae-a!”
I chose not to join that miserable incantation, instead pouring myself another glass of hot wine and draining it in a single, burning gulp. I didn’t care if I destroyed the inside of Len’s mouth or upper digestive tract with the scalding liquid. I deserved the Burrowers’ adoration, not Zaea – dishonest, traitorous, falsely caring Zaea.
No, Dan. That’s yourself you’re thinking of, Carly said in my mind’s ear. Zaea is brave. She does the right thing, even when it is the hardest thing to do. She acts despite what she is, not because of it. Can you say the same for yourself?
Queen Rat urged Zaea to her feet as the chant reached its apex and devolved into formless noise. Zaea’s cheeks turned beet soup red. She waved and smiled like she was some kind of religious icon.
You didn’t want this… remember? You didn’t want to be anyone’s savior, thought you didn’t have it in you, or more likely, that you didn’t deserve it. You only came back to the Night Country because you had to.
Above the clamor, someone shouted, “Fuck the Crippled King!”
Projectile droplets of spilled beer showered my face as another voice added, “Praise the heroes!”
And a third, “She is the fire!”
The applause continued until Zaea dimmed the bracelet, gave a final bow, and sat down again. Yet the Burrowers’ looks of hope and longing for salvation lingered, all fixed upon that single face, that girl who looked so much like Carly; the girl with the whiskey-colored hair who I’d unfrozen in the bowels of the Royal Crypts and nourished back to life; the girl whose life I’d saved, and who’d saved mine; the girl who was the offspring of my enemy.
I could tell them. Turn her in. Blow her cover. Then those would be my praises they’re singing. I was supposed to be the hero, wasn’t I? It’s not too late.
It took me another three hours, two more plates of roast chicken, fried cabbage and dumplings, and another six glasses of wine – not to mention all the shots of vodka I took with my fellow Vermin – to confront her.
I followed Zaea outside and waited for her to go to the bathroom. There was no one else in the tunnels except Bob o’ the Knob, who was standing watch by the main door to the feasting hall. I waved him off and he quickly vacated the area.
When Zaea re-emerged from the privy caves, I blocked her way and said with a friendly smile, “So, Zaea. I’ve been thinking about what you said during the mission, about you being the doctor at the facility…”
“Oh, here it comes,” Zaea said, her eyes falling to the floor.
I made no effort to hide my scorn. “You’re from the Amber City?”
Zaea looked up and gave me a long, red-eyed stare. “Yes. I was.”
We were both piss drunk, verging on obliteration, which made it all the easier for my wrath to boil. I tried to be firm, but not threatening. Zaea was the closest thing I had to a friend, on this world or any other, but I was disgusted that she could deceive me after I’d saved her life, that she could deceive them.
“You say your dad’s a king. Well, there’s only one king in the Amber City. You’re the Crippled King’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Why do you think I’m still here?” Zaea said.
“You tell me.”
The word took a
long time to pass her lips. “Guilt.”
“And yet you still think about going back to him. Just waiting for the right opportunity to split and run. You need to choose. Pick a side.”
“I already have,” Zaea said.
I leaned in close, breathing hard into her face. Zaea didn’t flinch, only returned her gaze to the floor. “When are you going to tell them, Zaea? How long are you going to continue this charade?”
Zaea’s brow furrowed. “I’m not going to tell them. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I believe it is the right one, not only for my own safety, but yours, and theirs, as well.”
No. She’s not like Carly at all. Carly was honest.
“So instead of letting them know you’re a traitor and that you’re the one they should blame for their own people being abducted and murdered, you’re going to sit up there and let them praise you like you’re their messiah? Man, I’ve seen and done some twisted shit in my time, but that really takes the cake,” I said.
“I don’t work for him anymore, Daniel, and I never will again. Not only for my own sake, but for the sake of the people of the Amber City. They don’t even know about this place, or that the Surface is covered in darkness and cold, that the real sun has gone missing. They have a false one. And the King’s - my father’s - Pax Eterna keeps them blind. He shows them deceitful visions of how the world ought to be on their screens of dancing glass, lies they willingly accept.
“I need to show them what he’s done, not just to the people of the Burrow, but to themselves. He’s made them into monsters complicit in the murder and degradation of millions, perhaps billions of human lives. If I can somehow wake them up… show them what it’s really like outside their perfect little bubble, maybe there’s some tiny fraction of a chance we won’t have to wage this war alone. Some of them may join us. Or at least give us a way in.”
I said nothing.
Zaea’s eyebrows rose and fell. “Do you still believe I’m a traitor? Do you even believe me at all? What must I do to convince you? I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Daniel. You’re the only one I have.”
A conciliatory smile cracked the edge of her lips, but I wanted none of it. When I didn’t respond a second time, she said in a more serious tone, “If you are still my friend, you won’t tell them, either. You’ll let them continue to believe that the reason we’re both here is to fulfill some ancient prophecy, even though we both know the truth. That is your only choice if you want any of us to survive.”
“And what truth is that, exactly?” I said.
Zaea’s mouth became a hard, thin line. “That we are both here because of the man you call the Crippled King. Neither of us knows how, or why, but that, too, is by his design. You cannot begin to comprehend how powerful he is.
“Neither of us wants to be a pawn in his game, nor will we be any longer, if we can help it. But if these people discover the truth about me, they’ll execute us both just to be certain I won’t turn tail on them and go running back to daddy… and in doing so, they’ll lose the only people they have who possess any real chance of ending this war.
“You’d not only be condemning me, but yourself, along with every man, woman, and child in the Burrow. His endgame is nothing less than the total extinction of every human being not living in the Amber City, because everyone who knows the truth - everyone who he can’t control - is a threat to his rule. There won’t be a peace treaty. My father can be a ruthless man, and there is nothing a ruthless man hates more than being proven wrong.”
I still didn’t believe a word of it. “So why the sudden change of heart?” I said.
“I remembered why I was in the Royal Crypts, back when we were in the prison camp, why I couldn’t remember how I got there or anything else. It came back. Daniel… I tried to kill myself. I would’ve been successful if you hadn’t stopped me,” Zaea said.
“Stopped you…?” my voice trailed off.
There was a long pause before Zaea spoke again. “The Ganheim Research Station was my first job after university. My father specifically requested my transfer there from the lab I did my internship in. I worked in Prion Immunity Research, which is a fancy way of saying, finding ways to let people eat human flesh as a long-term survival measure.
“That’s what the Zoanthrope Project originally aimed to do - Zoanthropes are what they call Snowmen up in the Amber City - it was about keeping humanity alive outside the Amber City through the duration of our Fall Through the Darkness, in case the Amber City should ever fail.
“Of course, I didn’t know about any of this until after my transfer. Only the top, top military brass was privy to those secrets. When I found out, I couldn’t live with what I’d done. Or maybe I should say, what I contributed to. All those innocent lives… I can still see their faces…”
There was another long pause. Zaea continued. “So I made a plan. I stole a jar of the preservative we use on our test subjects. It cools the body into a state of torpor so we can operate without killing them, but in a high enough dose, the compound becomes lethal. I ran away, found a place where I knew I would die alone, and drank the whole thing down. You turning the heat back on and waking me up is the only reason I’m still alive. Sure, I couldn’t remember where I was, or…”
“There’s one major hole in your story, Princess. The heat was already on when I got there,” I said.
Zaea shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. You walking down the subway tracks from outside is what turned it back on. The system thought you were a train. Maybe I didn’t take an exactly lethal dose of the poison. I’m not sure, since I’m the only person I’ve ever tried to kill with it, and I don’t recall you giving me anything but Panacea Bars when I woke up. But I am certain that I would have frozen to death if you hadn’t come,” she said.
“Fine. What were you going to say before I interrupted?” I said.
“I think maybe part of me wanted someone to come, that what I really wanted was forgiveness, not to actually die. But I didn’t think anyone would.”
“You want me to forgive you?” I said, unable to hide my incredulity.
“No. I want you to listen. Memory loss is a side effect of the FR-BD9 preservative, but it usually isn’t permanent. Now that I remember everything, I don’t want to die anymore, but there’s no way I’d ever go back to my father’s house or the Amber City unless it was at the head of a conquering army. Their whole system is flawed and corrupted by design. There is no salvaging it. It must be destroyed and completely rebuilt. I believe I am the person to do this, and you, if you’re willing to help me.”
I don’t think she expected an answer, because she didn’t stop for me to give one. “Does this explanation for my horrible treachery suit you? Or shall I keep going?” Zaea said.
She tried to kill herself? Goddamnit. How could I not have seen it? But even if she’s telling the truth, how can I forgive her?
“I… I’m sorry, Zaea. I didn’t know. I believe you, all right?”
“You’re not going to kill me?” Zaea said.
I released the handle of Zaea’s boot knife that I’d been gripping under my cloak and stepped aside to let her past. Zaea muttered a small, “Thank you,” kissed my cheek, and vanished back in the direction of the feast hall.
I was alone again, or so I thought, until a familiar voice startled me from the shadows just beyond the reach of the torchlight. “Bravo, Leech. It’s never easy forgiving a friend after they’ve broken our trust. For a second there, I thought you were going to turn her into carpaccio,” Queen Rat said.
She stepped out of the darkness holding the Glass Book in her hands. My first thought was, She heard everything, then Hey, that’s my book. I hid that thing under a mountain of blankets. She had her people turn over my apartment. So she didn’t trust me.
Bob o’ the Knob stepped out of the shadows next to the queen, his hand resting on the pommel of his Wyvernwood sword. I relaxed my posture to show them both I wasn’t going to try anything. “You couldn’t just ask
?” I said.
Queen Rat gave me a pitying smile. “No, Leech. I couldn’t. Wonderful moniker, by the way… Agatha was right. You really do suck the fun out of everything. This lovely game of find-the-egg, for example. You hid this very special golden egg in your bed, so I wouldn’t find it. I looked everywhere, and found it I did. Now, who couldn’t see the fun in that?”
Queen Rat handed me the book. I took it. I assumed Agatha was Barn Owl; I’d never heard her called by her real name before.
“How do you know it wasn’t going to be a gift? That I wasn’t planning to share it with you as soon as the feast was over? There hasn’t exactly been a good opportunity,” I said.
“A gift,” Queen Rat mused. “Indeed, it was. Let’s say I buy this little play of yours. I don’t, but let’s pretend for a moment that I do. Let’s say you wanted to read me that book, since you’re the only one in the Burrow who can, and not in fact keep what might possibly be the most invaluable source of intel on our enemies we have yet discovered hidden from me. Or do you know someone else who can read Old Ithic?”
Zaea can, I thought, but shook my head no.
“Have you read it yet?” Queen Rat said, the eagerness catching fire in her eyes.
Visions of lost planets falling through black, dark space, of promised second suns that would never come, of native species enslaved by an oath, replayed in my mind’s eye.
Slowly, I nodded. “I read it this afternoon.”
“All of it?” Queen Rat said.
“Every word.”
The queen clapped. “Splendid. In that case, here’s what we’re going to do. My dear friend Bob here is going to escort you to my chambers, where you’re going to read me that book. Not the whole thing, mind you. It’s a bit too late, and I’m a bit too drunk, to sit through that right now. Later on, perhaps…”
She stepped close to me, her hand trailing up the front of my leg. I tried not to flinch as it brushed past my groin, stopped, and squeezed. “Tonight, I only want to hear the really juicy parts. Highlight the plot points, give away the twists, and reveal to me what you’ve learned during your wild ride through the mind of the Crippled King. I want to hear everything.”
