Twig

by wildbow

  “You seem to have civil conversations with professor Hayle, Sy—Sylvester.” She’d switched to the long form of my name at the last second.

  “Yeah,” I said. I met her eyes. “I respect him, if nothing else.”

  Three students had hands-on roles with the Wyvern project. With me. I had no idea how many were peripherally involved. Looking at Lacey, one of the three students, I couldn’t see any trace of a smile on her face. The look in her eyes was a mixture of dislike and pity.

  Pity. And she wondered why I hated her as much as I did?

  “I see,” Lacey said. “Understood. Can I ask—”

  I tensed a little, leaning forward with my hands on my knees, and I heard the hitch of hesitation in her voice. A momentary pause.

  “—Why now?” she finished. “I won’t say there haven’t been incidents in the past, but why are you suddenly taking issue with me today?”

  “You can ask,” I said, and I left the statement hanging.

  She turned her head, looking out the window I’d been staring out of a moment ago. Apparently she wasn’t too surprised at the non-answer.

  “Every day for the last week, you knocked on the door, you tried to talk to me, to reassure, to offer food, sheets or clothes.”

  “And you wanted to be left alone?” she asked.

  “I did, but that wasn’t it. Give a man a gun, tell him to shoot his neighbor or he gets shot. The first man we put in this situation does it without a care. He pulls the trigger. The second man cries and moans, he begs his neighbor for forgiveness, then he pulls the trigger. The third man cries and moans, begs for forgiveness, and pulls the trigger, and the fourth man takes a bullet because he won’t bring himself to do that.”

  “The second and third men are the same?”

  “Oh. Right. The first and second man went home and went to sleep and rested easy,” I said.

  She worked through it aloud, summing up, “First shoots without a word, sleeps easy. Second man asks for forgiveness, shoots, sleeps easy. Third man asks for forgiveness, shoots, but doesn’t sleep. The fourth dies because he won’t shoot. You’re going to tell me the first man is the best of the four?” Lacey asked me.

  I gave her a disgusted look. “No.”

  “The third, then. You’re implying I’m the second? It’s a pretty massive, incorrect assumption on your part, Sylvester, if you think I sleep easy,” she said, and there was a touch of heat in her voice. I’d upset her a little.

  “No,” I said, calm. “I didn’t say anything about someone being better or worse. They can face the situation any way they want to. They’ve got a gun to their head, it’s their choice. You? Maybe you’re like the second man, maybe you’re like the third, but you definitely don’t have a gun to your head. If you’re being nice to me, it’s for your benefit, not mine.”

  I leaned back, turning away from her, my attention returning to the window.

  Human nature. If I’d simply said it, one line, one sentence, she wouldn’t have listened. But I’d gotten her thinking, pulled her in, and then forced her to face it.

  The remainder of the coach ride to Mothmont was blissfully silent.

  Mothmont turned out to be an interesting building. Four stories with a steep, slanted shingle roof, it took up a third of a city block, it had no yard that I could make out. The walls were eggshell pale, and the ivy that crawled across the brickwork was dark, almost leafless. It wasn’t in an end of town I’d frequented, but even among nicer buildings with gargoyles that spat out water from the gutters and built-in stables for stitched horses, it stood out as something prominent.

  A woman was waiting for me by the arching entrance that led into the building.

  Lacey didn’t say a word as I left the coach, pulling my hood up to shield off the rain.

  “Sylvester, I take it?” the woman asked. She was buxom, the word was, businesslike in a pink jacket and short dress, brown hair curled at the sides, with a touch too much makeup.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You have manners. Good. I’m the headmistress. Let’s have a look at you.”

  I pulled down my hood.

  Somehow she didn’t look particularly pleased. I was a little scruffy.

  “Come, inside,” she said, guiding me with a hand at my back.

  She led me in past the front office, pointing me to the boy’s bathroom.

  “Uniform on the chair by the sink. Take a moment to wash your face before getting dressed. I’ll bring you a comb so you can tidy your hair.”

  I nodded, and I did as she asked.

  The uniform turned out to be white. White slacks and a button-up shirt with short sleeves and a straight, stiff-necked collar. The white of it was likely a nod to the Academy.

  I hated white. I’d seen too much of it, and it didn’t suit. My hair was black, and even with grease or glue or whatever else I put into it, the ends would curl up and it would find a way to break loose.

  I made myself as presentable as possible, knowing it wouldn’t last.

  I stepped out of the bathroom and presented myself to the headmistress. She knelt before me and smoothed out some of the clothing, picking at one piece of lint.

  “It suits you,” she lied. “You look like a young gentleman.”

  Two lies in two breaths, straight to my face. I almost liked her.

  “It’s lunch time. You can introduce yourself to the others. The afternoon classes are all dedicated to biology. On Fridays, we visit the Academy. Now, a boy named Jamie was staying at the orphanage. Do you know him?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’ll be in the same classes as him, and you’ll sleep in the same quarters. You should find him sitting under the tree in the yard, I think.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “This is strictly temporary, you understand?” she asked. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  “I understand, ma’am,” I said.

  She straightened, looking down at me. “Mrs. Earles believes you might be motivated to try harder, seeing what we have to offer.”

  “I think I will, ma’am,” I said.

  “Go on, then,” she said.

  I went. A woman stood by a gate, opening it to let me through.

  The building formed a square, with the yard in the center, the precious pupils safe within. A glass was erected with trees grown to support it at the corners, keeping those beneath dry. The glass roof itself crawled with vines and small flowers.

  Youths aged seven to fifteen were gathered within, many playing, or gathered in groups. Blankets were laid out here and there for them to sit on, so they wouldn’t get their uniforms dirty.

  Just as the students of the Academy had possessed a refined, polished air, these students looked proper.

  It didn’t take me long to find the others. Gordon was in the company of the boys, a larger group. Helen was among the girls. Jamie was under one of the trees at the perimeter, book and pen in his lap. He’d seen me before I saw him, and was on his feet in a moment.

  Lillian, I found off to one side, with an obese girl and a taller, skinny, buck-toothed man who looked to be about fifteen. Gordon whistled, sharp, and got her attention. She quickly said her goodbye to her two friends.

  We collected.

  Gordon took one look at me, and I saw genuine worry in his eyes. “You had an appointment.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “We’re supposed to be there for each other when it counts.”

  “You didn’t know it was coming. I didn’t either,” I said. “At least I don’t have to worry about it for another thirty days.”

  He looked unimpressed.

  “You’re intolerable after an appointment,” Jamie said.

  “I’ll try to be intolerable in a useful way,” I answered. “Let’s get down to it. I heard you got stuck.”

  “Wait, before any of that, did you come alone?” Gordon asked.

  I frowned. “I got dropped off by Lacey.”
>
  “Damn,” he said.

  “We’d hoped Hayle would come too,” Jamie said. “I thought he’d be more concerned at our lack of progress.”

  I looked between the two, confused.

  Gordon frowned. “Look, we’re more than stuck, Sy. We’re in danger.”

  “Danger?”

  “They know who we are. They’re onto us,” Helen said, and her voice was soft and entirely unconcerned. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t cause for concern. It was just Helen.

  “Five attempts on our lives in the last seven days,” Jamie said. “And the way we figure it, that means they’re either very, very clever…”

  “Or rogue elements from the Academy,” I said.

  Jamie nodded.

  “Talk to us,” Gordon said. “Let’s hear your ideas, fresh eyes, before we start giving you reason for bias.”

  “Alright,” I said. “Knowing what little I do, I don’t think the kids are killers. I don’t think they’re assassins, either. They’re tools.”

  Gordon nodded. The others were still.

  “The killings are steadily improving in quality. That suggests the kids are the weapons, and the killer is out there,” I said. “and I think you know that already.”

  “We do,” Gordon said.

  “What you don’t know, and why I think you’re stuck, is that you’re too prone to patterns. You have your own way of doing things, but it’s too rigid, when your enemies are hiding in the shadows. You need to shake it up.”

  “You have an idea how, I imagine.”

  I smiled.

  The pain in my head was going away by the second.

  Previous Next

  Taking Root 1.4

  Our conversation had to stop for a moment when a group of boys veered our way, kicking a ball between them. They circled the tree that was holding up one corner of the glass roof, then headed off toward their makeshift goals.

  “The lunch hour is going to end before too long,” Jamie said. “We should hammer out details.”

  “Sy’s idea, making sure we’re all on the same page…” Gordon said. “Okay, that makes sense. Sy?”

  “Hold on. I can change details based on where you guys are at. Fill me in, quick.”

  “Okay. As far as everyone here knows, including the headmistress and the rest of the faculty, I’m the son of a butcher mogul, Helen is the daughter of a diplomat, and Jamie is the orphan son of a military captain who died and left him some money. At Jamie’s suggestion, the story is that we were all staying at the orphanage as a matter of convenience before our enrollment at Mothmont. Favors were called in, whatever. It’s happened before, given the ties between Lambsbridge and Radham Academy, and it’s not going to surprise anyone.”

  “I’ve been here before,” Lillian said. “Before I was a student at the Academy. Teachers know me, they like me. We leaked the idea that I was suspended, and the rules of Mothmont mean I can come back here whenever, to get some classes in, use facilities or brush up. I might have to explain to my parents, but I think it’s okay. Nobody’s asked how I know you guys, but I don’t think it’s a problem.”

  “I suggested the ‘ties to the orphanage’ thing because I recognized faces among the students, and those faces have probably seen us out and about as a group,” Jamie said.

  “Overall, we have a cover,” Gordon elaborated. “Nothing so questionable that anyone’s going to raise questions. But people have a way of taking things at face value, and this situation hasn’t really bucked the trend.”

  “Except for the attempts on your life,” I said.

  “Except for that. But there aren’t any holes in what we’re saying that should have raised suspicions,” Gordon said.

  I nodded. “Mr. Hayle filled me in on most of that, but it’s good to have the details. He said he was intentionally vague about who I was, so I could adapt as the situation required. He did say that it was a special favor from the orphanage to work me in later than the rest of you.”

  “Really,” Gordon said. He smiled a little, “Why would the orphanage be so eager to get rid of you?”

  “Because I’m intolerable,” I replied, smiling back.

  “Going by the fact that we’ve been seen together, and we’re being seen together now, who are you, and how do we know you?” Gordon asked.

  I shrugged, and I was reminded of just how uncomfortable the uniform was, and the spots where it was rubbing against the new skin. “I’m an orphan. We were about the same age, I offered to show you around town.”

  “That won’t go over well,” Gordon said.

  “I’m betting it won’t,” I said. “Scrubby kid with messy hair from wrong side of the tracks. I’ll stick out.”

  “Which is your plan,” Gordon concluded.

  “In part. But before that… what have you done so far? What angles have been covered?”

  “Oh, you know me,” Gordon said. “It’s only been a week and I’m almost the best student in my class, best at sports, and most can’t even bring themselves to hate me for it. I’ve been mingling with the top dogs among the boys here. Helen’s done the same for the girls. Between the two of us, we’ve been able to get the word on who the victims were, as well as keep an eye out for who the potential victims might be.”

  “Anything conclusive?”

  “Less than I’d like. We’ve asked for extra help to get up to speed with our classes, and that’s let us keep an ear to the ground when it comes to the faculty. There’s a chance that the person turning children into murder weapons is one of the teachers.”

  “Only a chance?”

  “Every weekend, students go to the Academy. Get a taste of it, keeps them invested in Mothmont. Split up into groups based on interest and age. Students who were extra good get special lessons with professors.”

  “That’s… messy,” I said. “Too many things to cover. You didn’t visit me?”

  “I was recovering from being poisoned,” Gordon said. “Lillian was hovering, making sure nobody had reason to get too curious about me. That left only Helen and Jamie, and they were busy following up on likelies.”

  “Poison, huh? I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “That was the most successful attempt out of the three, two for me, one for Jamie. One object fell from the roof, almost caving Helen’s head in, and Jamie very nearly got pushed in front of a fast moving coach while he was on his way to the Academy. Helen saved him.”

  I nodded slowly. “No sightings?”

  “They’re careful. And they’re a they, we’re pretty sure. Plural.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Starting to get a more complete mental picture.”

  My eyes glanced over the collection of youths around us. Would there be overt signs? They couldn’t be too obvious, or the others would have noticed.

  Without knowing more about how the murders were being done, I didn’t know what to look for. We were surrounded, and letting our guard down could be dangerous.

  Jamie, maybe thinking I was still hurt that they hadn’t come for me, commented, “I looked for you at the Tower, poked my head into Hayle’s department, to check the labs to see if you were around, and because I wanted to ask a quick question about Gordon and the poison. I got word on where you were, but I didn’t have much time to look around.”

  Hm. I probably would have been where Jamie looked for me if I hadn’t barred myself in the office after my appointment. Live and learn.

  The Tower, Mr. Hayle’s department opposite end of the Academy campus from the Hedge where I’d been, was largely focused on research and development regarding the brain. Widely viewed as a dead end, the department had defaulted to handling a lot of information storage, memory banks, and files.

  If Jamie had been there… I spoke my thoughts aloud, “Jamie went to the Tower because… you guys were thinking about mind control? Something to do with the brain?”

  “We were thinking it could be some neurological manipulation,” Jamie said. “Helen was looking into hormones and dr
ugs at Claret Hall.”

  Claret Hall being the center of campus, where students gathered and ate, where key administration facilities were available, and where some of the key elements of the campus and core classes were taught. If all aspects of Radham flowed from the Academy, then all aspects of the Academy flowed from Claret Hall.

  “And you didn’t find anything,” I said. “If you had, you would have told me.”

  “Nothing meaningful,” Jamie said.

  I nodded.

  Gordon’s head turned. I followed his gaze. Students were still playing, gathering in groups, but his focus wasn’t on the students. “More teachers appearing around the doors.”

  “Trouble?” I asked.

  “In a way. We’re out of time. Lunch is over. If you’re going to fill us in, now’s the time to do it.”

  “We’re close enough to the door that people will see us,” I observed. “Everyone but Helen, keep an eye on the crowd. Don’t be obvious about it, but keep an eye out for hints.”

  “What am I doing?” Helen asked.

  A shrill whistle drew the attention of the various students. It sounded again. A teacher was signaling for others to come indoors. Hordes of students began moving toward the doors. Some lingered, like we were, and some were quickly wrapping up their games.

  “Fix my hair,” I instructed Helen, “Give me a kiss on the cheek or something, be tender about it.”

  “I like you?” Helen asked.

  “You’re a big sister to me, but actually acting like a normal big sister. It can be misinterpreted.”

  She hadn’t quite adopted her deadpan expression, but as I gave my order, her expression changed. She smiled, and it was warm.

  “Your hair is a mess,” she said, and her voice matched her expression. She reached up and fussed with it, running her long fingernails against my scalp as she fixed it up a bit. Probably better than I could have if I’d had a comb and more time. She fixed the hair that went from the center of my hairline to my temple, brushing it up and more out of the way, and then let her hand linger, a quarter second too long. “You should focus more on appearances.”

  “I should,” I said. “There’s time to learn.”