If they could work together like that claimed, what the hell could they do free? What else can they do? What else have they done?
“Hey. I'm Park,” says the guy, holding out his hand.
Go away. “Yeah. Hi. I'm Harry.” I don't shake his hand. “Is it the type of bird?”
Gorish capers a little. “Sort of.”
A hint! “What kind of bird is it?”
“What's he talking about?” Park peers at me. “Your little Sundered guy, I mean. He's cute. Ever consider selling him?”
Go away. “I'm not selling him. We're playing a puzzle game. Makes the time go faster. Just ignore us.”
Park doesn't. Instead, he dips his brush into my tar and leans into my space. “You sure? You don't really use him for anything much. Other than talking, I mean. I've been watching.”
What? Why? “Yeah. I'm sure. Back off, okay?”
“I'll give you a hundred and fifty for him.”
So, Park's out of his mind.
A hundred and fifty? Gorish wasn't worth that freshly caught, and he's clearly not in that condition now. “I said no. You need to back off.”
“Suit yourself,” says Park a little coolly, and goes to apply tar at the other end of the cargo bay.
Good job with the diplomacy there, Harry. “What was his problem?” I murmur.
Gorish lifts the tar bucket and balances it on top of his head. Cute. “He asks questions.”
The bucket is stable as I swirl my brush in it. “About what?”
“Others ask, too. I am unclaimable, nice master.”
Well, yeah, he's supposed to—
Oh.
Oh.
I ... am so, incredibly stupid.
I should have expected people to wonder about this. You sense a low-tier unclaimed Sundered, of course you're going to try to claim it—and if you can't, you're going to wonder why. “He knows? How many people know?”
Gorish sniffs. “Bunches.”
Bunches? Freaking bunches? “Since when? How?”
He squeaks, which could mean anything.
I didn't think of this complication. Son of a bitch. “So what kind of bird is it?”
“Can't tell you that, nice master,” chides Gorish.
“Of course you can't.” Baaaah. I keep working the tar, working hard, earning money. The sooner we can afford to leave this city, the better.
Birds. Somebody must know about birds. Desperation drives me to the Academy of Sundered Sciences, and there, I learn there's barely an Academy left.
The Sundered here look worse than at the docks. Children learn about predators, about money and inter-city bartering rates, and that's it. There's no art or music, history or culture. Birds? Who needs to know about birds?
I must have been one of the last classes that got a real education.
At least they kept their old textbooks. There's a moldy one here I've never heard of called The Psychology of the Sundered. It's so old the title page is typeset—books today are entirely handwritten and Sundered-copied. According to this, Sundered Ones must be kept separate from one another at all times.
Funny. We're taught today that Sundered Ones work best together, but this book says if you do that, they'll develop an odd kind of united front. They can't blatantly disobey their claimers, but they can create a twisted support system that helps them to subtly undermine your commands.
Sounds like people in the old days knew more about Sundered than we do now. Sounds like we've been losing what we used to know since long before I graduated.
I'm trying not to be paranoid. Paranoia helps no one, especially when the pressure is on, but how else can I view this? It's like some kind of horrible conspiracy.
What do we know about first-tier, really? If Aakesh is typical, then they love their fellow Sundered with a fierceness that's frightening. They all have crazy power, and can hide effectively when they wish.
Aakesh is capable of a convoluted plan involving maneuvering people hundreds of miles away from each other.
I know they hate us, and ... I guess they should. We own them. And someone in my family ... sundered them. Maybe Parnum's right. Maybe they are too dangerous to live.
There are no books on birds. I'm screwed.
I leave The Psychology of the Sundered at the Academy. Maybe some other kid will read it and figure out things aren't right in the world.
It's been a while since I looked at my map.
There's just enough room on the narrow floor to unroll my map and crouch beside it. It's stabilizing to look at it, to see where I've been, how far I’ve traveled. To remember who I am.
I really need to get it treated while I'm here. It's been almost a year since I did it last, and my map's had an adventure since then. I slide my fingers over the surfaces, debating how to update it with the information I have now. Tenisia and Tauri I've already marked as gone. We can't risk going there for supplies when I don't know if they'll ever recover. I hesitate over Cape Horn. Do I mark it? Do I put a bird there? It's not like anybody on Earth would see that and know what it means.
I wonder if my father ever saw anything like this in his lifetime, whole cities destroyed in a rain of horror, Sundered souls flying into the sky in a black column, power and ruin on a level that—
The bird.
That's the bird.
Or it's a stain, but I'm almost sure it's the bird. No. Yes. Yes! “Aaah!” I yell at it, flat-out-prone so my nose is inches from the mark. The bird's right there on my map! Right there!
“Nice master?” says Gorish from the bed.
The bird is in the Eastern Hemisphere, dotting the i in a city-name. “Gorish! What is this?”
Gorish climbs onto my back and peers directly over my head. Oh, Gorish. “Ink!” he exclaims, and massages my scalp with his suction-cup fingers.
Oh, Gorish. “I know it's ink. Is this the bird? Like the clue?”
“Yes, nice master!”
Yes? Yes?
It's the bird. It's the damn bird, and I found it. I grab the map and leap to my feet, unseating Gorish, and dancing in a circle like a fool. I found it! That's the clue!
What does it mean? I've never been anywhere near that area. What's this city? Shangri-la? The hell kind of name is that?
“It is a place of great danger, my lord,” says Aakesh from the bed.
I laugh like a lunatic. “Everywhere is!”
“It espouses a lifestyle of violence and strength,” Aakesh adds.
Still dancing. You can't steal my joy. “Like Bek?”
“No, my lord. There is honor in Shangri-la.”
Right-o! “Sounds terrible, it really does! Is the bird their seal or something?”
“Yes, my lord. The next clue is to be found within Shangri-la's walls.”
I leap to the bureau. My key clatters all around the locked drawer until I manage to get it open and count our money.
It's only been two days. We don't have enough to make the trip.
“Dammit!” I shout, and kick the dresser. Parnum could leave right now and we're stuck here. Bek could already be on its way, and I have to go back and scrape malleum off walls. “Parnum hasn't stumbled across this, right?”
“No, my lord.” Aakesh comes to stand by me, all grace and rounded movements. “He lacks your father's map—the map which gave him his first clue.”
I stop dancing. “Wait. He saw my father's map?”
“He was shown.”
“Father would never show it to someone who wasn't family.”
Aakesh tilts his head. “After you were rescued by Parnum, and Parnum subsequently stood up to your father, they attempted to form a congenial relationship by sharing stories.”
How the hell did he—“How did you know about that?”
“Your father was a proud man, but could see that Parnum outstripped him in many ways. He wished to impress Parnum with what he had done,” Aakesh continues, insulting my father, my life, my family.
“Father taught me never to show
the map to anyone,” I say in a slow and measured tone.
“Nevertheless, he did, and more than once. However, only your Parnum was wise enough to see the clues hidden within.”
Now my father was a hypocrite, too?
It doesn't matter. It does not matter, and I will keep telling myself that until it's true. “You know Dr. Parnum is the only teacher I ever had who taught me to respect you Sundered Ones. Kind of an odd behavior for someone who supposedly eats you.”
Aakesh's expression turns gentle. “I believe, my lord, that in your childish naïveté, you read more into his words than he intended.”
We're not getting into this. “Whatever, Aakesh. I need a way to make money fast, and my current job isn't doing it.”
“Ooh!” says Gorish.
Save me from well-meaning amoral Sundered. “You can't steal it.”
“Awww.” He droops.
Money, money, money. “There's got to be something. Something I'm willing to do that won't take away from my normal job.”
“I hardly know what you would be willing to do, my lord,” Aakesh says delicately.
Please. “Don't be a jackass. Yes, you do. I'm not whoring myself, I won't kill anyone, I won't sell you or rent you out, I won't do anything that's going to risk lives. Come on! Help me think here.”
“Your Parnum would pay much for a look at your map,” Aakesh says.
Is he trying to piss me off? “I don't show people my map.”
“I am pleased to see you are not a complete fool,” Aakesh says calmly.
“Excuse me?”
“You have a few simple options before you.”
“Did you just test me?” I blurt.
“One of those is, indeed, visiting your Parnum, but I would advise against it.”
I raise my voice. “I will see him if I want to see him! Can you even give me a solid reason not to, or just more vague lies?”
Gorish cringes.
Aakesh just keeps talking. “He is too clever for you, and you would give away too much, no matter how careful you try to be.”
He doesn't want me to see Parnum? Well, then he shouldn't have pissed me off. “I'm seeing him. Today.”
He just looks at me.
My hands flex. “You're not the only one with pride, Aakesh. You've been walking all over mine for too damn long. I'm seeing my mentor.”
Gorish moans. Yes, that's right, mommy and daddy are fighting again.
Aakesh tilts his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps this plan is not irreparable.”
“What?”
“Parnum knows you seek the Hope. He also knows you dislike being city-bound. For you, I believe he would donate to aid you in simply leaving this place.”
Wait. We're agreeing now? “Suddenly it's a good idea to go to him?”
“I can see you will not be moved,” he says mildly. “You will find a cause to visit him even if all your reasoning is undone. It is evident you require proof from the man himself that he is what I have claimed.”
Not stupid, is Aakesh. And okay, so maybe I do just want to see Parnum. There's nothing wrong with that. “You really think he'd give me money?”
“Yes. He cares for you, and his personal funds are vast. He and Bakura are currently at the low-tier market in the southeast.”
First time I've heard of that. “Low-tier market? What's that? Never mind. Lead the way.”
He does.
● ●
● CHAPTER 25 ●
The Sundered Market
I’ve been to Sundered markets before. Of course I have. But this ...
This isn't like anything I've ever seen. It's only low-tier, and worse than that, it's only Sundered Ones who are dying.
In a filthy square with rickety old scaffolds, merchants make their cloudy-eyed Sundered Ones dance. They cavort, showing people their limitations. It's not even practical. Treating Sundered Ones like this uses up what worth they have. It's like these people are doing it just for fun.
“Gorish?” I say quietly. “This isn't like where they sold you in Danton, is it?”
“Oh, no, nice master!” Gorish reassures me, patting my arm. “Nothing like this.”
Nothing like this. It still wasn't right. “Stick really close to me. Really close.”
We walk for a while, following Aakesh's prompts—a touch on my left arm, or a wash of heat on my right—past dozens of low-tier Sundered who dance with white, clouded eyes. There are a couple of dead ones on the ground, Sundered Ones who didn't make it. Nobody cares. They leave the corpses where they lie.
I'm going to be sick.
How can anybody see a place like this and be unmoved? I don't care what the hell is being sold here. You wouldn't treat rats this way. Things have changed since I was a child. Or maybe I was more sheltered than I thought.
There's Parnum.
He stands by one of the sales blocks, wearing a look of hard, hot anger I wouldn't want aimed at me. He's utterly still in the middle of this chaotic market place, his hands folded behind him. His yellow travel cloak is immaculate, his shoulders are broad and powerful, and his expression is dark wrath.
The Sundered One he's watching is a little guy, about waist-height, so low-tier I can't even initially tell its gender. It's star-shaped, with a point for the head, points for arms and legs, no hands or feet. It's reddish, and has simple slits for eyes and mouth. Its master is making it caper, one foot to the other, left and right, left and right.
Its eyes are cloudy. Her. Her eyes are cloudy. She has teeny little teats.
“How much for that one, my good sir?” Parnum calls with a cheerful voice that doesn't match his hard eyes.
The guy laughs. “Oh, I think a couple coins, don't you? She's in good shape here, still able to move and all. Course, she ain't got no hands, so she's no good for jerking you off.”
Everybody laughs.
Parnum doesn't. He nods once.
Bakura comes out of nowhere.
I have no clue where he was hiding. He lands on the platform with enough force to shake the whole rickety thing, tail lashing, and most everyone around him screams and pulls back.
Bakura's gaze is reserved for the flesh-star-owner. He leaps right at him, and the crowd hoots, cat-calling, making idiot noises like they think they're going to get a free show. Some ragged lawmen edge forward, spears and guns in hand.
The flesh-star looks up at Bakura as if he's her savior.
Her owner tries to run away. Bakura grabs him by the back of the neck, yanking his still-running feet off the platform. The crowd cheers, a few people scream.
Bakura balances two coins on top of the guy's head, then puts him down.
The guy scrambles to catch the coins as they slide off his greasy hair. Laughter starts at one end of the crowd, spreading through the whole awful crew. The lawmen relax. Everybody's relieved, like that was just funny, and there's nothing bad going on here.
Bakura picks up the little red flesh-star like she’s his bride and carries her down the stairs to Parnum.
Wow.
That was ... classy. Powerful. A massive statement, made without breaking the law or endangering anyone. Parnum watched the whole thing with a critical eye, judging everything Bakura did, but he's smiling now. I know that smile. He gave me that smile when he coaxed me out of my hiding place, when I was five.
For one second, I lose sight of Bakura. The next second, it's Jambi, cradling the flesh-star in her arms.
The flesh-star keeps squeaking, higher-pitched than Gorish, clearly terrified. “Easy there,” says Parnum, taking her from Jambi's arms and kneeling to put her on the ground. He stays down there, at her eye-level. “What's your name?”
“Q-Q-Quimby,” says the little red Sundered, pawing at him with her handless arms.
“It's all right now, Quimby. I'm going to claim you. Once I do, you'll be safe. Do you understand?”
She twists. I think she's saying no.
He does it anyway. He smooths his hands down the cone of h
er pointed head, eyes fixed on hers, and she goes still. Her focus settles completely on him, calmed with an utterly painless, seamless claim.
“There,” he says. “Now you're safe. No one can—“He spots me.
I open my mouth. Anything fancy I was going to say just goes right out the window. “Doctor,” I say thickly.
“Harry!” He hugs me tight.
It's him. It's the only man alive I actually trust. “You made it! You're all right!”
He grips my head in both hands. “I worried. The explosion came so soon after I left. Jambi! Drinks!”
And everything in my head sort of ... shifts.
It's certainly Jambi standing there, insect-eyed and prettily female, carrying a little tray with drinks in tall frosty glasses. Parnum is pretending I didn't see Bakura obeying him a minute ago. I'm pretending I didn't, either.
But there is no Jambi. “Doctor. I have so many questions.”
“Come, come, this is a happy occasion!” Parnum says, his hand on my shoulder. “You ought to be rejoicing, not weeping.”
I wipe my face. “I am rejoicing. There's things we have to discuss. And you're weepy, too.”
“Yes, but I am an avowed melodramatic.” He hands me a glass with a smile.
Oh, wow. It's pineapple juice.
I don't even know where he gets this stuff. Parnum always has a supply, and while I've encountered it in one or two other places, it's rare, so rare, and oh it is good. I groan like a fool and chug the whole thing down.
Parnum laughs. “You really ought to have your first-tier bring that to you. You do still have him, yes?”
“Yeah,” I say, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.
“Jambi, give him more,” Parnum says without even a blink.
He's a good liar. He lies convincingly.
So does Aakesh.
Parnum sighs and rests his forehead against mine, and just for a second it's like I'm a boy again, safe, understood, unafraid. “Harry. We need to speak privately.”
“Yeah, we do.”
“Come. Let's leave this horrible place. I've done what I can today.”
“I saw.” I saw Bakura, too, but we'll address that in private. I point at the little red star. “What's this?”
“She is Quimby, and she is accompanying me out of this dreary place.”
The Sundered Page 18
