by T. C. Edge
Our own party await him, and a question immediately rises on my grandmother’s lips.
“Just you this time it is, Artemis?” she asks, barely acknowledging Woolf’s presence.
I suppose the agent isn’t here to negotiate, but merely to use her considerable mental gifts to ensure that no lies are being spoken on our side of the discussion. Those eyes of hers are always watching, and those lips are always smirking. I pray for the day when the expression is permanently wiped from her face.
“Yes indeed, Cornelia. The other members of the Consortium have their hands full right now.”
“I see. Well, given how all they ever do is echo your words they’re unlikely to be missed,” crackles Lady Orlando. “Now come, let’s get out of the sun.”
We move into the small control building, set to the side of the gate, and the two leaders take position at the central table within the recreation room. The rest of us hover about, Adryan the only addition, and the members of the Consortium the only absentees, from the previous meet.
Immediately, Cromwell is quick to pick Adryan out.
“Ah, Mr Shaw,” he says. “I see you’ve made it this time. How are you?”
“I’m quite all right, Director Cromwell,” answers Adryan stiffly. “Eager to press on.”
“Ah, aren’t we all. We have little time for small talk. Is that what you’re getting at?”
“You are correct, Director. I am merely here to observe. I would rather not speak with you to be perfectly honest unless I have something important to contribute.”
Adryan’s eyes show a measure of distaste for the man that most Savants would have a great deal of trouble displaying. Cromwell, meanwhile, merely nods and hunts the rest of us with his eyes, that devious little smile of his always hovering on his lips.
“Adryan’s right, Artemis,” says Lady Orlando. “Now, as I informed you on the radio, Brie and Zander have confirmed this force you told us of. Our estimates show at least five thousand. They’re heading eastwards across the plains and will be at the western woods within a few days. I assume this isn’t news to you.”
“By no means, Cornelia. I know more than you do on this matter, I can assure you. It is, however, nice to see that you’re on board and have quickly performed your own checks. Regrettably, though, I’d say your estimations are rather on the short side. We believe the numbers could be twice that.”
Several sets of worried eyes dart at each other around the room before settling again on Cromwell.
“And how do you come to this conclusion?” asks Lady Orlando.
“As I told you before, we were monitoring foreign threats from the High Tower for many years before you saw it to the ground. A gathering of ten thousand strong wasn’t something we considered unlikely. I hope you realise that this necessitates the need for our cooperation?”
My grandmother doesn’t answer immediately. I feel a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach once again at the prospect of teaming up with the man. Something just feels so off about it, and I’m all too aware that everyone else shares the assessment.
Still, there appears to be no other option.
“We will form a temporary pact, Artemis,” confirms Lady Orlando after a brief silence. “Our preference will be to send out a negotiation party to meet with the leaders of this force and see exactly what they want. As you well know, the city’s defences are being fortified, though we obviously have no time to reinforce the entire perimeter. We will require you to inform the City Guards still loyal to your cause to aid us. Many still remain within Outer Haven, and we need all hands on deck just in case this potential enemy should choose to attack…”
“Oh, they will choose to attack,” says Cromwell. “I will send orders to my men, as you say, but make no mistake, Cornelia, sending a negotiation party to meet with this army will be folly. They are here to destroy the city and nothing less.”
“And you know this how?”
“For goodness safe, Cornelia, will you listen to what I’ve been saying? I have told you several times now that we have been monitoring this threat. People have come to the city for years, and we have read their minds and discovered where they’ve travelled from. We know full well that beyond our borders, we have enemies who harbour a desire to destroy us and nothing else. They don’t see this city as a shining light as we do. It is a blight to them, and they wish it gone…”
“They wish revenge,” I find myself cutting in. “It’s your fault they’re coming here. They’re coming here because of the way you treat people. And good riddance if they have their way with you.”
I stare at my grandfather with a hatred that runs deep. He merely seems amused at my outburst, a quizzical look flashing across his face.
“Ah, I see you still have that fire in your eyes, Brie,” he says to me. “Perhaps you’re right. But regardless as to your opinion on the matter, they’re coming here to kill us all.” He turns back to his former wife. “Negotiating with them will not be possible, Cornelia. I do wish you’d trust me on this.”
“Well, unfortunately I am in agreement with Brie here,” she says, turning to me with a smile. “We don’t trust you, Artemis, and we will look to negotiate first and foremost.”
Cromwell considers it for a while, and seems to realise that there’s nothing he can do to change her mind.
“OK,” he says. “So tell me, who will you be sending exactly? Surely you won’t be heading into the wilds yourself?”
Lady Orlando shakes her head.
“No, I will not. Beckett will take the lead along with several of our more potent soldiers. We will fly the banners of peace and treat with these people.”
Cromwell’s eyes swerve towards Beckett, standing typically tall and stiff.
“Good luck, Mr Beckett,” he says coolly. “I fear you won’t be returning to the city should you set out there to ‘talk’ with these people.”
“That sounds like a threat,” growls Beckett.
“Not a threat, no,” retorts Cromwell. “Merely a statement of likely fact.” He looks back to Lady Orlando. “Might a make a suggestion, Cornelia – if you are keen on treating with these people, might I suggest you send out soldiers you’re willing to sacrifice. I am well aware that Mr Beckett here is a highly capable hybrid and military commander. It would be foolish to send him to his death.”
“I won’t be going to my death, Director Cromwell,” seethes Beckett. “I’m going to talk and nothing more.”
“Yes, perhaps you are. But don’t expect them to talk back. They will kill you if they get a chance along with whomever you take along for the ride. So I reiterate my point – don’t waste any of your more powerful soldiers on this. They will be needed when this army attacks in full. And believe me – they will.”
His words seem to have some impact, a veil of doubt settling over the room. For a few moments I share looks with my allies and see the ripple of concern flash through their minds.
Even Lady Orlando seems to be giving the advice a little more time to process in her mind.
“I have more information that might help you make your decision,” Cromwell continues, taking his opportunity to break the short silence. “I have deployed some of my scouts to the far reaches of the western woods and beyond. I have some incredibly gifted Hawks among my Stalkers, and they have been relaying information back to me regarding the movement of this incoming force. I told you, I know more than you on this matter. And unfortunately, you are wrong when you say they’ll take several days to get here…”
“Speak plainly, Artemis. You’re saying they’ll be here sooner?”
“Oh, not all of them, no. The force is splitting. The main army is travelling at the rate you suggest, and will arrive, as you say, within days. However, a forward force of Dashers and hybrids appear to be making speedier progress. It appears to be a unit designed to clear the way through the woods for the rest when they arrive. So, as I say, if you send Mr Beckett and some of your soldiers ahead, they will likely be going
to their deaths.”
“You underestimate me, Director,” growls Beckett. “I have no fear of these wildmen. If I can deal with your Stalkers, I’m sure the same is true of these barbarians.”
“Ah, perhaps you’re right. But once more, Mr Beckett, you don’t really know what you’re talking about, do you? There are people out there unlike any you’ve ever faced. I find it ironic for you to suggest I don’t underestimate you, and yet you’re doing the very same thing to the very people who are coming here to destroy you.”
“OK, Artemis,” says Lady Orlando. “How many are we talking here? This forward unit?”
“Hard to know for certain. At least a hundred or two, and perhaps more. They will spread through the western woods and clear them out, killing anyone they come into contact with. That is their aim…”
“What about Rhoth,” I breathe, my worries bubbling to the surface. “His whole tribe is down there. They’ll all be killed.”
Zander nods, adding his voice to the debate.
“He’s a stubborn man,” he says. “I advised him to head eastwards, and even offered the Fangs sanctuary in the city. He declined. They’ll either kill them all, or recruit Rhoth into their army. Neither is particularly palatable.”
“Well then, there appears to be only one way to combat this,” says Cromwell, his voice beginning to bristle with an energy that makes me nervous. “We ambush them on their path. I will allocate some of my strongest Stalkers, and you can do the same with your hybrids. If we can destabilise this forward force, it will severely weaken their advance.”
“Sounds a little too convenient for you,” says Beckett, staring daggers at the man. “You just advised us to keep our stronger hybrids back, and now you’re telling us to send them all out there to fight? You don’t have a secret agenda, do you, Director Cromwell?” The sarcasm in his voice is impossible to miss.
“I stand by what I said,” confirms Cromwell immediately. “Sending a few men would have meant your deaths, yes. Sending a larger force, along with my Stalkers, will not. It is a standard battle tactic and will hold them back and give you more time to sure up the city’s defences…”
I see Lady Orlando turn to Rycard and Freya, standing together to one side. I know that both are coordinating in seeing to the buttressing of the walls and gates.
“That is true,” says Rycard. “We could do with some extra time.”
“Freya?” asks Lady Orlando.
“I agree,” booms the white-haired woman’s deep voice. “The more time we have, the better.”
“No, no, that’s not good enough,” says Beckett. “I smell a rat here. The Director is manipulating us, as usual. He wishes to get us all out there away from the city and kill us himself. He’ll set that task to his Stalkers, I guarantee it.”
“Utter nonsense,” says Cromwell, waving his hand dismissively. “How exactly would killing you aid me? You know full well what’s coming. I’m certain my Stalkers would do their best, but not even they may be able to hold back this storm alone. Do not be so naïve to think that there are not extremely powerful hybrids out there, Mr Beckett. There are. And they’re coming.”
I look at Beckett, who continues to adopt the position of ‘doubter-in-chief’ when it comes to anything my Machiavellian grandfather says. Yet his concerns are generally based off of distrust for the man, rather than logic. Looking at the latter, he might just be right.
And, after Kira’s disappearance, we’re all well aware of the sorts of people lingering out there in the distant lands. I saw it myself, and I saw it in West’s memories too. And clearly, if these people are sending soldiers ahead, then they’re quite confident in what they can do.
“We are aware of the sorts of threats we might be facing,” confirms Lady Orlando calmly. “However, we are all very much in agreement with Beckett in so far as trusting you goes, Artemis. You have a solid track record of manipulating people and so you’ll understand Beckett’s concerns.”
Cromwell concedes on that point, nodding and holding up a conciliatory hand.
“Fair enough. Yes, you are entitled to doubt me, of course. Most likely, you probably believe that I’m going to try to use this situation to my benefit?”
He looks around the room. All but Beckett just stare. The gruff commander, however, nods quite firmly.
“I see that I’m right,” Cromwell says, offering a smile. “Now, how can I show you that I have no ulterior motive here? All I wish is to defeat this incoming force and maintain peace within the city. I am well aware that your victory in Inner Haven has altered the status quo. My plans have been put to bed on that account. Now, should we combine our forces to defeat this army, we can then discuss a possible future that can be mutually beneficial.”
Beckett huffs audibly.
Cromwell ignores him and goes on.
“So,” he continues, “we stand here at an impasse. I have laid it all on the line. I have nothing to hide, I can assure you.”
“Prove it,” comes a rather loud voice from the back. All eyes turn to Freya, white eyebrows hovering low. “Let Zander look inside your head. If you’re telling the truth, he’ll find out.”
The gaze of the room shifts to my brother.
“I could try,” he says, nodding. “If Director Cromwell will allow it?”
Cromwell lifts an artificial smile.
“I welcome it, I truly do,” he says brightly. “Perhaps you’ll then see that I have no wish here but to defend the city and its people.”
As he speaks, a memory flashes in my mind. During my first meeting with the man, up at the summit of the High Tower, I’d tried to creep into his thoughts and found myself immediately repelled. He’d told me then that he was immune to such things, most likely in a manner similar to Rhoth and some of the outerlanders.
It’s a concern I have to raise.
“Hold on,” I say, as Zander prepares to step forward. I look directly at my grandfather. “You told me once that mind-manipulation doesn’t work on you…”
“And I was absolutely right to tell you that, Brie,” he says hurriedly. “It’s true. I can repel Mind-Manipulators if I so choose. However, I can quite easily open my mind for exploration too. I am more than happy to do so now. Please, young man, step before me and take a look. Then perhaps you’ll all be willing to trust me.”
Zander looks to Lady Orlando. My grandmother – our grandmother – nods.
My brother moves into position. And the exploration begins.
3
It’s an entirely unusual sight, watching my brother inspect his grandfather’s malevolent mind, neither of them knowing who the other really is.
I can see that that’s not entirely lost on Lady Orlando either, the two of us catching eyes on several occasions as the mental excavation takes place. The rest of us merely sit or stand in silence, most likely wondering just what Zander is seeing in the depths of Cromwell’s mind.
I can imagine, having been in many Savants’ minds now, that it’s a sprawling landscape in there, well ordered and vast. I did manage to dip in during my botched assassination attempt, and recall seeing a place of immeasurable intellect. It will, no doubt, take Zander some time to fully collect a decent impression of just what Cromwell’s thoughts are on all of this.
Yet, I maintain the suspicion that this is just for show. That he can, if he so desires it, close off certain portions of his mind, conceal them from my brother as he goes searching. Is he merely showing us what we want to see? Or is this really a man who has been forced to go to plan B? A man who has seen his designs for the future dashed, and now will genuinely want to build one alongside us?
Of course, that would never be possible. We will never change our opinions on the world, and I’m fairly sure he’ll never change his either. And whatever Zander might find, or whatever he might tell us, I feel fairly certain that he still wishes revenge on us for what we’ve done. That he will, if and when this force is defeated, look to gain the upper hand once more, and see his remaini
ng Savants prosper in the remains of his new world.
The presence of Agent Romelia Woolf also serves to unnerve me. She sits, watching each us like a hawk, eyes coolly passing from one to the next and working up a picture of how each of us are feeling. And, if ever she manages to catch eyes with one of us, she’ll no doubt sneak right in and attempt to read our thoughts too.
In fact, given how she once managed to get Adryan to try to kill me with little more than a glance, I consider it best if we all avoid eye contact with her completely. So I inform the rest to do so, and Adryan and I share a knowing look. And though I don’t look into her ice-cold eyes, I do see that smirk of hers rise a little higher.
My brother takes a little over ten minutes before he withdraws from Cromwell’s mind, a long enough stretch to make a fairly accurate assessment of his wishes.
As he begins to stir, we all sit up and take notice as he turns to us with a flat expression.
Before he begins, Lady Orlando speaks.
“Artemis, please could you and Agent Woolf leave the room for a few minutes.” It’s not a request, but an order.
Cromwell nods, stands, and exits the room alongside his sidekick.
Only once he’s gone does Zander address us.
“He’s telling the truth,” he asserts. “Firstly, there is an advance force incoming that will be here very soon. They appear to be well ordered and organised and it looks like negotiation might be off the cards…”
“Well of course that’s what you’d find in his head,” says Beckett. “I don’t doubt that the Director believes that, given his stance…”
“It’s more than that, Beckett,” says Zander. “The Consortium do know a good deal more than us about these people. And yes, they are coming to destroy us, not to barter for some sort of peace. We have no choice but to fight back and engage early, as Director Cromwell suggested.”
I wonder, as I listen, whether Zander rather likes the idea. In some ways, I wouldn’t consider him the most reliable man for the job when determining whether war is necessary or not, given his obsession and need for battle.
