Shadowplay

by Laura Lam

  “Any strange voices in your head? Or visions? Feeling bizarre around Vestige?”

  I stopped.

  “I thought so. I already feel like I’ve abandoned you and not done right by you. Let me make sure you’re alright, at least. Please.”

  “Alright,” I breathed.

  Doctor Pozzi went into the next room and returned with a medic bag. He took out a stethoscope and asked me to unbutton my overshirt. I did, my hands shaking. It reminded me of all the other doctors I had seen, how I was nothing more to them than a freak on display.

  But Pozzi was different to the others. He looked at me like a person rather than an object to be studied. He took off his gloves, and every time the cold clockwork hand touched me, I tried not to shudder. His hands – both the human and the Vestige – were gentle and diffident, but I still flinched when he moved the Lindean corset to take my pulse. It both reminded me of the cold, antiseptic smell of the doctor’s offices and of the night Bil “checked” I was female.

  I expected him to ask me to undress, but he did not. Perhaps he knew I would bolt at that. Instead, he asked me to describe the intricacies of my anatomy, which was embarrassing enough. He asked for clarifications, and I blushed to the roots of my hair, but I far preferred answering questions to taking off my clothes.

  He pressed my abdomen, asking if there was any pain or tenderness, to which I answered no. He asked about menstruation and I answered truthfully – that I did but so far only twice, three months apart. Doctor Pozzi took no notes but I knew he memorized every word I said.

  He examined the color of my nails and the veins underneath the skin of my wrist. His false skin of his clockwork hand even had the tiny wrinkles and folds around the knuckles of a true hand. Hidden deep within the brass-like mechanisms, I thought I saw tiny flashes of blue crystal.

  “How did you lose your hand?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

  He released my arm, holding the clockwork hand aloft, the dull brass glinting beneath the translucent muscle and skin.

  “A creature ate it,” he said.

  I blinked. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What?”

  He tidied away his medical supplies. “It was night in the Temnian jungle, and very dark. Something attacked me. It might have been furred or scaled. Or both. It attacked me.” He pushed up the hem of his shirt, and I gaped at the four deep, red scars that scored his stomach. Claw marks. He tugged his shirt down. “It took my hand. I managed to stab it with the knife in my belt and it fled. It only had a snack as opposed to a meal, I suppose. It still almost killed me, between blood loss and the infection that followed.”

  “But where did you get your… new hand?” I asked, almost mesmerized by the slow flexing of his false fingers.

  “I already had it in my collection.”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I saw some of it. At the Mechanical Museum last summer. I saw the clockwork woman’s head. I recognized your name on the plaque. The night I ran away, I heard my parents talking about the surgery. And you.”

  The clockwork woman had been beautiful. She had rested in a glass display case, levers attached to pressure points at the base of her neck, which, when pulled, caused her to show different emotions. Aenea and I had gone on an afternoon when we were courting and watched a little boy pull the levers. My eyes clouded with the memory of Aenea’s face beneath the glass globes as I leaned in to kiss her.

  The clockwork woman had spoken to me: “Two Hands. Penmoon. Penglass. Copper.” It did not made any sense until that horrible night when the ringmaster came looking to sell me out to save his circus.

  “Ah, yes, I remember her well,” Pozzi said, startling me from my memories. “A lovely specimen. I put her in the museum so that others could see and admire her as well.” He rubbed his beard with his false hand. “Well, young Micah, I have good news. Physically, you appear to be in perfect health, and I don’t see any of the markers of the illness some of the other children have shown, aside from you fainting when you met me.”

  I sank back into my chair in quasi-relief.

  “But if you have any physical problems – a fever, a cough, flu, anything of that nature – you must come see me as quickly as possible. You are without a doubt one of the children with abilities I have come across. I can tell by your color and musculature, and how slowly your heart beats.”

  His confirmation frightened me. “I was in a circus for months. Maybe I’m just especially healthy.”

  “No days off from lessons from being ill growing up?”

  “I stayed home sometimes and pretended I was ill.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched. “How often did your brother feel under the weather?”

  “I don’t know. Twice, three times a year.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Maybe the same.” My stomach hurt. Even this winter Drystan, Cyan, and Maske had all suffered small cases of the sniffles. Not enough to lay them down and stop them working, but enough to make them a little crankier. But not me.

  “Would you like me to prove it?” he asked.

  “How?”

  Doctor Pozzi calmly reached over and clamped his false hand over my nose and mouth.

  For a second I did nothing. And then I realized I could not breathe. Making a muffled squeak of dismay, I grasped the clockwork hand and tried to pry it from my face. I could not move it an inch. Gradually, my attempts to free myself weakened. My lungs burned, and my vision swam. My head felt fuzzy and my ears rang. Splotches danced across my eyes.

  “It takes five minutes before a person loses consciousness from lack of oxygen,” Doctor Pozzi said, calmly. “After that it could be brain damage or death. You haven’t breathed in seven minutes, nearly eight. You feel terrible, but you’re still conscious.”

  I was, but not for long. My hands drifted to my sides and my eyelids fluttered. The doctor took his hands away.

  It was like breaking the surface after being underwater. I sucked in deep, frantic breaths, and air had never felt so sweet and cool. I put my head between my knees, as Drystan bid me to do when I felt faint in Elwood’s apartments. Within a few minutes, I felt fine again. As though I had not nearly been suffocated into unconsciousness. I remembered when Bil had drugged me, and I awoke sooner than he anticipated. I put a hand to my chest. My lungs did not even hurt anymore.

  “Do not ever touch me without my permission,” I hissed.

  He held his hands up. “My apologies,” he said, unperturbed. “Any prolonged ill effects?”

  “No. But what if I had fainted?”

  “I would have revived you and you would have come to no lasting harm. I am a doctor, after all.” He ignored my glare, pressing his hands together. “So physically we have deduced you are in top shape at the moment, which is encouraging. Now, what about mentally?”

  I glowered at him. “Are you asking me if I’m crazy now?”

  “I’m not suggesting you are. What I suspect is that you have already experienced several oddities that you cannot explain. Things that shouldn’t be possible. Vestige passing along messages, hearing the odd phrase that could be someone’s thoughts. A dream that turned out to be prescient. Moving an object with your mind, if only a fraction of an inch.”

  I stared at him. I felt the damselfly disc, heavy in my pocket. I heard the barest whisper in my mind: Say nothing…

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  Doctor Pozzi stared at me, eyes unreadable.

  Can you hear me, Micah? he asked.

  It took everything in me to not respond. To hear someone else’s voice other than Cyan’s or Anisa’s in my head was so jarring. But I hesitated too long, and I did not think I convinced him.

  “Are you quite sure?” he asked aloud. “If you have, it’s important that I know. It could prove dangerous.”

  You’re shielded, but I still think you can hear me, Micah Grey.

  I had learned how to “think” more privately to guard myself
around Cyan, and perhaps Anisa helped shield me from him as well. I kept my face blankly attentive, though my palms dampened with sweat. Was he a Chimaera as well? Did his Vestige limb give him powers he should not possess?

  “Dangerous how?” I managed.

  A small quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Vestige is something we do not fully understand, and we never will, unless the Alder come back to explain it to us. I have one of the largest collections of Vestige in the Archipelago and most of it is still a mystery to me, despite the experts that have studied it. My hand, for instance,” he said, holding it up again. “It was attached to an arm, but I do not know where the rest of the body is, or how many of these… clockwork people were created. I assume the Alder created them, like they did the Chimaera, but for what purpose? Were they guards, or experiments? I’d give a lot, maybe even my other hand, to learn the answers to those questions.” He smiled.

  I resisted the urge to reach into my pocket and grasp the Vestige disc.

  “Some Vestige, however, is dangerous. Several store… echoes. I have heard stories of a gun that would turn on its owner, or a toy that strangled the child who played with it. It’s rare, but more prone to happen to people who have an existing sensitivity to Vestige. Which is why, if you have heard these echoes, I need to know. It could be the first stage of the illness manifesting itself.”

  He waited.

  “There’s nothing,” I whispered. “I haven’t experienced any of that.”

  He let the silence drip between us.

  “Well,” he said finally, “that is most promising.”

  “I think I shall be going now.” My head swam with all that I learned and all the doctor insinuated.

  “Another thing before you go that I’ve been meaning to ask.”

  “Yes?” I asked, not without a little trepidation.

  “Do you want to go home? Back to your old life?”

  I stared at him.

  “I could speak to your family. Have them guarantee not to operate. Shadow Elwood no longer follows you.” A tightening of the lips, as if he knew I had a hand in Elwood’s fate.

  I continued to stare at him, helpless. Did I want to go home? Did he want me to go back? And did I want this man meddling in my affairs any further? If I went back, my parents would never dare operate anyway.

  “No. That is not my life anymore.”

  “Very well. I understand.” He smiled blandly, as if it didn’t matter to him. “And so your new life as a magician is treating you well?”

  I was taken aback, but oddly pleased that he bothered to ask. “Very well.”

  “Good. I am glad. I’ve heard about the duel between Taliesin and Maske.”

  Of course you have. As has the entire city. I made sure to strengthen the mental walls I used against Cyan, not wanting him to somehow hear me. “Ah yes. Specter’s shadows against Maske’s marionettes,” I said with a wry smile. “We are practicing night and day, and I am hopeful that we will win.”

  “I’ve had an invitation from the Princess Royal and the Steward. I was thinking of attending,” he said, almost hesitant. It felt like a peace offering, reaching out past the doctor-patient relationship. After this short visit, I still didn’t know what to make of this man who had found me on his doorstep almost seventeen years ago.

  “Please do come.” I smiled, though the words were forced.

  He walked me to the window. Down below, I knew Drystan would be waiting.

  “Remember, if anything strange happens to you, come to me immediately. I have medicines that will help, both physically and mentally. And…” He hesitated. “I would feel terrible if something happened to you, after I abandoned you.”

  I pressed my lips together. “Please, don’t worry about that. For all I’m angry with my parents, I had a comfortable life and the best brother I could ask for.”

  He nodded. “I hope you reconcile with your parents. I remember how much they wanted you.”

  “Perhaps we will.” The memory of my mother’s hopeful face at the séance came back to me. “Good evening, Royal Physician Pozzi.”

  “Good evening, Micah.”

  Until we meet again.

  His words twined through my mind. A promise.

  Or a threat.

  I ran into Drystan’s arms when I reached his hiding place beneath the trees. So many conflicting emotions swirled through me, I didn’t know whether to sob, or scream, or laugh. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Pozzi was toying with me much the same as Anisa was – dangling answers just out of reach.

  Drystan did not ask me about the appointment with the doctor as we walked home, for which I was grateful.

  The stairs leading to the loft felt so steep. Exhaustion overwhelmed me.

  How did it go? Cyan asked me from her room as I passed.

  To be honest, I’m still deciding. But don’t worry – I don’t think he knows about you. Not definitely. I know why you can’t read him though. He can speak mind-to-mind as well. Guard yourself around him.

  I’m not the only one? Hope surged through her.

  Stay away from him, I warned. At least until we know more.

  I know. I will. Good night, Micah. She left me alone with my own thoughts.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Drystan asked when we dressed for bed.

  “Not really. It was… complicated.”

  “I can imagine. It’s like your past has caught up and careened into the present and smacked you in the face.”

  He shocked me into a laugh. “Something very much like that.” I hesitated. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can, but it’ll cost you,” he said, smiling, quoting one of our first conversations together when we had been in the circus, when he had seemed so strange and mysterious.

  “Alright, a question for a question.” I tried to figure out how to form the words. “Has Vestige ever acted strangely around you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Visions?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so, though sometimes certain pieces make me uneasy. My parents had an automaton of a Naga that used to scare me. Can’t remember why, now. Maybe it was just childish fancy.” He shrugged. “My question, now.” He paused, considering. “Why do you ask? Did Pozzi mention something about Vestige, or did you tell him about the visions?”

  “You cheater. That’s technically two questions.”

  “The questions are linked by a comma, so it counts as one.”

  “Oh, really? I’ll remember that for next time and ask you fifteen, all strung together with commas.”

  “I’m waiting for your answer.”

  I sighed. “He kept asking me if I’d had anything strange happen around Vestige.”

  “And you have.”

  “Well, yes, but I didn’t tell him that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I felt like… if I told him, he’d have some sort of hold over me. And if I see him again, I want it to be on my terms.”

  “You want to be in control.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not in control of anything involving him.”

  Drystan rubbed his hand over his face. “I wish he’d never found you.”

  “Me, too. But he’s known about me for a while. He knew I was in the circus, I’m sure, when he hired Shadow Elwood. But I think he’ll always keep tabs on me.” Me and the others, I thought. I sighed. “Let’s go to bed. We have yet another long day of practice tomorrow.”

  He groaned. “Like every other day.”

  We slid into bed. Within moments, the cold quilts warmed with our body heat and within minutes, Drystan was asleep. Drystan had not had any nightmares since we pushed our beds together. Sometimes he still went quiet and haunted, and I took care never to mention Bil or Aenea. Sometimes, they were almost ghosts in the room with us, swallowing our words. But other times I felt a closeness to him that I had never felt with anyone else.

  I envied him his easy slumber.

  26

/>   THE NIGHT THE WORLD NEARLY ENDED

  “Why have the Alder left? Did Chimaera ever exist? Will they ever return? These are questions that have haunted historians for centuries, and will likely haunt them for several more.”

  A History of Ellada and its Colonies, Professor Caed Cedar, Royal Snakewood University.

  In the middle of the night, I crept back to the roof and pressed the damselfly disc. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, and the Penglass of Imachara glowed under the light of the full moon. Anisa swirled into view.

  “What did you think?” I asked her.

  “I do not trust this Doctor Samuel Pozzi, and I do not think you should, either.”

  Annoyance flared. “I can make up my own mind about him, thank you. Could you read anything about him? Is he the one who wants to kill the Chimaera?”

  “I cannot be sure. It is possible. Like the one who was Matla, he was closed to me.”

  “Do you know anything about this sickness?” Always dancing around the truth. My patience stretched to a breaking point.

  Her lips tightened. “No. Chimaera in my time never succumbed to disease – only injury or advanced age. It has been a long time since Chimaera have been in the world, and we do not know why people like you or the one who was Matla have returned. The abilities seem dampened, and more mental than physical. The one who was Matla is strong, but only when around what you call Vestige. If you and she went somewhere where there was no Vestige, she would not be able to hear a single stray thought. We amplify the latent abilities. I hope that in a few generations, the gene will again grow stronger and flourish. If you have the chance.”

  I did not follow all that she said, but her words frightened me just as much as Pozzi’s had. “Vestige is changing us?”

  She shook her head. “I do not know. Some aspects of what is happening are a mystery to me as well. Alder tools have been around humans for millennia. Something else is at work.”

  “Is Vestige dangerous, as Pozzi said?”

  “Anything sufficiently powerful that you do not understand can be dangerous.”

  I wanted to ask: are you dangerous? But I feared I already knew the answer to that.