by Ash Gray
Rigg dropped her eyes to the counter, and her expression brightened as she realized Hari was right: she hadn’t lost Lisa.
“So . . .” Hari glanced sideways at Rigg. “You and Lisa, huh?”
Rigg thought of Kito, who had approached the question of Rigg’s relationship with the same awkward hesitance that was masking prejudice. The only difference here was the prejudice. While Kito didn’t believe robots were really people, Hari didn’t believe bisexuality was real. It had always been her insufferable reflex to question anyone who didn’t fall into neat categories of “straight” or “strange.” Though many demons had adapted the slang terms, Hari had once told Rigg that strangeness – homosexuality – had not been strange but common and even expected in the time before time. Though there had been no official terms for the sexualities, demons before the invasion of humans were either-or, and they were not permitted to be in-between. Thus, Hari saw the issue in strict terms of black and white, which made her like Morganith in that sense: futilely attempting to put everyone in their little categories, when it was the categories that divided them in the first place.
“Yeah,” Rigg said, suddenly feeling very tired. Her brandy was kicking in. “Me and Lisa,” she quietly confirmed and took another drink.
“I thought you liked boys,” Hari said gently, as if to remind Rigg that she couldn’t like girls as well.
“So did I,” complained Lee at the end of the bar. She was smirking as she set her flute on her shoulder and strutted past Rigg with swaying hips. She playfully tugging the back of Rigg’s shirt as she left the bar.
“I do like boys,” Rigg said patiently.
“You sure?” Hari frowned. “Sometimes, Rigg, we . . .”
“I like boys and I like girls,” Rigg said wearily. “Yes, I’m pretty sure. No, I’m not confused.”
Hari laughed softly. “Alright. I always did say you knew what you wanted. When we first met, Arda asked where you wanted us to drop you off. You said you wanted ta join us.” She laughed again and shook her head.
“Yeah, Arda wanted to slap me in swaddling and take me home,” Rigg said with a laugh. “She was a bigger mother-smother than you.”
Hari playfully lifted her chin. “Someone’s gotta look after us.”
“And I guess you gotta practice.” Rigg swallowed hard. “Hari?” she said after a pause.
“Yeah?” Hari was a little sad, poking lazily at the pretzel bowl, as if she had anticipated the question to come.
“Why do you wanna keep this baby?” Rigg couldn’t help asking. “I mean . . . I hate to say it, but Morganith is right. The kid is gonna hava rough life with us. We’re always on the move runnin’ from the Hand. Today, I got shot. Seems wrong to subject ah kid to all that. Morganith and Arda were so scared, they were scramblin’ for an abortion.” Rigg shook her head.
Hari took a shuddering breath, and Rigg almost regretted prodding her. “I’m going to have this baby,” Hari said adamantly, “because the Hand doesn’t want me to have it. They want to take our choices, they want to take everything, own everything. Being a Keymaster, being free, being outside the law means this is my body and I decide.”
Rigg shook her head. “Just like Morganith said. You’re livin’ for the Hand and not for you! Everything doesn’t have to be about them, you know? It’d be one thing if you just wanted the baby, but you’re willing to bring an innocent kid into a hellish life just to piss off the Hand?” Hari didn’t answer, and Rigg muttered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said . . .”
“No, you’re r-right, I . . .” Hari swallowed hard. “Rigg . . . there’s a good reason Morganith is so angry about me havin’ this baby.”
Rigg waited, watching Hari intently.
“Morganith, Arda, and I took the job from Pirayo even though we knew we probably shouldn’t. We needed the riggits. We were desperate. And we were desperate because . . .”
Rigg waited, her hand on her glass.
Hari took a miserable breath. “When Alteri women lay their eggs . . . they die, Rigg.”
Rigg’s lips slipped apart in surprise. “Hari . . .” she whispered in a small, sad voice.
Hari smiled sadly, her lashes fluttering to hold back tears. “We were tryin’ so hard to s-save Arda and in the end, we couldn’t. We never told you because we didn’t want to worry you. We thought we wouldn’t have to, that we’d save her and it would all be over.” She sniffed. “We were wrong.”
Rigg stared at the counter and didn’t know what to say. She realized her glass was empty, and she refilled it from the bottle with a shaking hand.
“Goin’ after Pirayo,” Hari’s thick lips spread in a trembling smile, “this is my last great adventure. Then I can die in peace, knowing I lived well.”
“And when you’re gone,” Rigg said bitterly, “Mor and I are supposed to just raise this kid by ourselves? Assumin’ it survives,” she added angrily. “Most halflings don’t live past a few months, and you’re willin’ ta die for this.” Suddenly furious, she slammed her fist, and several heads turned. “Why!” she demanded, tears starting to her eyes.
“Rigg. . . .”
“Why are you doing this?” Rigg’s lip trembled and her beetle-black eyes searched Hari’s face. “Because of Arda?”
Hari’s lashes fluttered harder and her eyes shimmered with tears. “Arda and I c-came from the same egg,” she said, her voice breaking. “When she died. . . . it was like a part of me died too.” She sniffed and dropped her eyes. “My people have a saying, that an egg bond is deeper than any other: Arda and I were born together and it’s only right that we should die together.”
Rigg stared at Hari, her eyes wet with unshed tears.
“If I have this child,” Hari went on, “Arda and I will live on. Among the Alteri, this is an honor. It’s even expected. It is a beautiful thing when a woman lays an egg. We are the life givers. We give our last breath to help another take their first. And,” she laughed sadly, “I think it’ll make Morganith happy. She wanted ah child with Arda so badly. She loves children. This is the closest she’ll ever get. Even if Arda had lived,” Hari shook her head, “it wouldn’t have happened.”
Rigg frowned. “What do you mean?”
Hari glanced at Rigg as if she’d said too much, but she shook her head and confessed, “Arda was never gonna marry Morganith, Rigg.”
Rigg’s frown deepened.
“They fell outta love years ago but kept sleepin’ around like an old habit,” Hari went on. “Then one day, Arda got pregnant. Morganith blamed herself for all of it. Said she felt like she’d sentenced Arda to death.”
Rigg stared miserably into her glass. “Maybe it’s a good thing I unplugged Lisa,” she said tonelessly. “We’ll never have to go through the pain of fallin’ outta love.”
“No, don’t say that. I hope it’s different for you and Lisa, Riggy. I hope you stay together for many years.” Hari smiled warmly. “The two of you are so sweet. That you could find love in the middle of all this misery and hatred . . .” She lifted a pretzel from the bowl and smiled at it. “It’s like a flower bloomin’ from a pile of junk.”
Chapter 12
Self-Evident Truths
Castle Atrocitas was just as Rigg remembered it. It hovered suspended over a black lake on a jutting precipice, a looming monolith made of rusty brown stone, yawning with yellow windows like the eyes of some jagged beast. Black smog chugged from the chimneys, while gears and metal sails slowly turned in the ramparts. Onboard Tin Pin, Rigg, Morganith, and Hari stood at a great porthole, looking out at the castle as it peeled forward through the mist. Hari quietly explained that Castle Atrocitas, in the time before time, had once been a holy place of worship.
“In those days, it was known as Marda’miras. It was a temple,” Hari said, “to one of the Old Gods. The Aonji worshipped her as Marda, the Benevolent and Wise.”
“Unless Marda the Benevolent and Wise is gonna help me open this can,” said Morganith, who was wrestling with a can of beans, �
�I don’t care, Hari.”
Rigg noticed Morganith’s mechanical hand was shaking too unsteadily to open the can: she was hung over.
Hari rolled her eyes and snatched the can. They watched as she pulled Rivet out of her satchel. Rivet clicked cheerfully as its slender legs unfolded, whizzing with small blades and saws that immediately set to work opening the can.
“Thanks lots, babe,” Morganith said to the robot when the open can was handed back to her. Scuttling up on Hari’s shoulder, Rivet clicked cheerfully again, and Morganith tipped the can back like a cup, letting the cold beans slide down her throat.
“I coulda just made my hand ah can opener, yanno,” said Rigg with a short laugh.
Morganith glanced at Rigg. “Yeah, but don’t wear yourself out, Riggy. We dunno what we’re up against.”
Rigg nodded and swallowed hard, peering out the porthole with a drawn and brooding expression.
Hari watched Rigg, frowning slightly with worry. “You alright, Riggy?”
Rigg glared at Castle Atrocitas. She couldn’t escape the feeling something terrible was going to happen, and the dread welled up inside her, silently sealing off air. Her heart was beating so hard, it hurt. She swallowed down her anxiety and stammered, “I’m f-fine.”
Hari affectionately touched Rigg’s hair.
“Lisa’ll be safe here with Kito, Rigg,” Morganith assured her. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling in disgust. “I think.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rigg muttered, though she stared out the porthole and felt every bone in her body telling her otherwise.
***
When the sun had reached its sparkling climax in the dead sky, Kito dropped them off at the bridge and sailed away again as fast as he could. Morganith muttered in disgust as they watched Tin Pin speeding rapidly along in a trail of black smoke, as wild in its terror as if some slobbering monster were on its tail. The long and enormous bridge to the castle had been broken decades ago during yet another attempt of the Regime to liberate Nottica from the Hand, who had renounced the Regime forty years ago and gone rogue. The Keymasters had been dropped off on the far side of the broken bridge. A hot air balloon stood on the edge, waiting to carry them across, and beside it sat a small black cat.
“Great,” Morganith muttered as they approached. “I hate cats.”
“What? Why?” Hari wondered.
“I’m allergic,” Morganith answered. She scowled at the cat and shouted, “Shoo!”
To their surprise, the cat leapt forward, and in a burst of black hair, it changed mid-leap into a woman. The Keymasters stood stiff with shock as the woman dusted herself off, sending small black hairs spiraling everywhere. She was clearly an Aonji demon, cold and coldly beautiful, with lips dark as wine and small brown freckles scattered across her nose. Her eyes, like Rigg’s, were coal black, but when the light hit them, they reflected green. Her hair, again like Rigg’s, was a thick puffy cloud standing erect on her head, only she’d pressed it to the side with a silver hairclip, so that the magnificent mane spilled over one shoulder. She was wearing the standard uniform of a Crow – a long black coat and heavy boots – only she wasn’t wearing a mask. She stood with her hands behind her back and appraised them with the gleaming, pitiless eyes of a cat. It suddenly occurred to Rigg that she was the woman Lisa had spoken of, the governor’s head of Intelligence and right hand. Rigg noticed that Morganith seemed to recognize the woman and it only confirmed her suspicions.
Without a word, the woman opened the door in the hot air balloon’s basket and waited for them to board. The Keymasters filed inside, and the woman boarded after them. She took hold of a lever that stood on a pedestal in the center of the basket and started cranking it, slowly and deliberately, like a woman churning butter. In response, the hot air balloon started creaking across the lake. The balloon was rigged to the shattered bridge on either side of the lake with ropes and wheels. Rigg could see the enormous black wheels under the castle itself, gleaming gently, like the black insides of some sea monster as they hung suspended above the water. There were dozens of wheels ranging in all shapes and sizes, but the largest ones were for opening the castle gates above them. The great gates were already open, and Rigg could see a small black crowd waiting between them, so far away it looked like a smear in an oil painting.
The woman kept cranking the lever, and the ropes carried them steadily higher and higher toward the castle on the precipice above, until they were at such an alarming height, Rigg felt her head spinning. Gasping and blinded by a sudden shower of spots, she backed in a silent panic toward the center of the basket and felt the back of her coat collide with the lever. The lever stabbed her, and with a yelp of pain, she reeled forward again and caught herself against the side of the basket. She bowed her head, gasping desperately and still unable to breathe and humiliated by her own fumbling.
“She’s hyperventilating,” Morganith muttered to Hari.
Hari quickly reached into her satchel and shook out a paper sack. “Breathe into this, Riggy.”
Rigg fumbled to take the sack and started breathing into it, hating that their solemn escort was watching her with a smirk. When her head had cleared, Rigg took a chance and glanced over the side. The water below reflected the hot air balloon like a black mirror.
It took them such a long time to reach the castle, Morganith lit up a cigarette and muttered, “This was much easier when we just broke in.”
To Rigg’s surprise, their Aonji escort laughed softly in genuine amusement. Morganith caught her eye and they smiled at each other.
When the hot air balloon finally reached the opposite side of the lake, it rose slowly over the edge of the broken bridge. Rigg could see several masked Crows, all standing in dutiful lines, carrying black rifles that gleamed in the gray sun. It was a small army of at least one hundred Crows, all paraded out in style to intimidate the Keymasters. Rigg quietly wondered if they should be flattered by the governor’s show.
The balloon finally alighted on the jagged bridge-half, and the Keymasters looked up to find Governor Evrard staring back at them, positioned calmly before his army of black clad-soldiers, his hands behind his back.
The Aonji demon opened the door to admit them. They filed out of the basket, and as they approached the governor across the gray, barren dirt, Rigg could feel the sweat breaking out over her skin. The Aonji demon stayed at their side, and when they came to a stop before Governor Evrard and his crowd of Crows, she stood like a soldier beside Morganith, straight and cold.
Thunder clapped from the rumbling rusty wall of amber clouds that rolled alongside them in a billowing mass, obscuring the colorless sky beyond. It started to rain, the water tapping down as immediately as if someone had flipped a switch. Rigg tugged her hood down tighter against the wind and clutched at her coat. She thought the thundering sky expressed her dread perfectly.
Governor Evrard snapped fingers that gleamed with rings, and one of the Crows leapt forward, shielding him with a crooked umbrella. The governor’s eyes were fixed intently on the Keymasters, and when they passed in cold disdain over Rigg, she felt her silent fury shudder through like the breath of winter. She was angry just looking at Evrard, but her anger was cold, a chill that pricked her lungs, until she thought her frosty breath was a result of her hatred and not the cold air.
Evrard was a dark man with a menacingly handsome face. His square chin and mouth were framed by jet black hair, and the black hair on his head had been smoothed into small braids that trailed in neat ropes behind his shoulders and to his backside. Rigg knew his type, for she’d seen it before: uncaring, charismatic, self-absorbed, and commanding. He was wearing a black coat that was buttoned from his belt to his chin. The tails of the coat were open and pulled back, lifting in the wind to reveal his high trousers and button-up ankle boots. He rubbed his chin as he silently appraised the Keymasters, and when his hair and coattails streamed back in the wind, it gave him the appearance of a magician preparing to levitate. His was a lean but solid build,
and his muscles pressed through his clothing, taunt and toned.
They stood in silence for so long, simply waiting as the governor studied them, that Morganith finally called across the space between them, “Well, we’re here. Whadda ya want?”
“I think you’ve figured that out by now,” was the governor’s calm reply. “I wanted you to work for me. Then you stole,” he snapped his fingers, and a Crow rushed forward and dropped a head on the ground in front of them. Rigg gasped: it was Lisa’s head.
“-- my pet from me,” went on the governor with growing rage. “What did you do with her compass and databanks? They were the very core of her being, and they are gone.”
Rigg’s knees were shaking. It was Lisa’s head. Lisa’s head. Not a copy. Not some other unit’s. Lisa’s. Her golden eyes were open, dull and unseeing. Her lips were parted, and severed wires snaked from her neck, sparking white fire. Rigg took deep, shaking breaths, trying to keep herself from sinking away into the dizzying darkness that crept at the corners of her vision. She felt Morganith’s comforting hand squeeze her shoulder, and her eyes started to clear.
“. . . what’s this?” said the governor slowly. He laughed and his eyes glittered nastily. “I don’t believe it. Don’t tell me you care about the thing.” He looked from face to face in disbelief. The Keymasters were glaring at him. Rigg’s fists were shaking at her sides. Beside her, Hari looked as if she might spit fire, and perched on her shoulder, Rivet trembled with indignation.
The governor laughed a sharp, cutting laugh that rang in Rigg’s ears. “Good lord! And here I thought you’d harvested her, broken her into expensive little pieces and made a few riggits.”
“H-How?” Rigg stammered angrily. “How did you get her!”
The governor looked at Rigg as if she were something small and disgusting that wouldn’t understand even if he explained. “Because I own Kito,” he said, shrugging slightly, his hands neatly behind his back.
Morganith tensed.
