Twig

by wildbow

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re saving humanity,” Fray said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Rather than Fray, it was the giant of a man who offered Avis a hand.

  Staring at his hand, she felt he was kindred, gentle.

  Looking in his eyes, however, she saw a terrible anger, no doubt worse for her being reflected in it.

  That was as comforting as anything.

  Previous Next

  Tooth and Nail—7.1

  I stirred in response to a knock on my door.

  “Nn,” I managed.

  I heard the door open, and pulled the covers down from over my head.

  “Sylvester,” Mrs. Earles said, “Breakfast. Lillian’s here, too, so don’t think you can skip eating this morning.”

  “Mm,” I said. “Isn’t she up and at ’em early in the day. Obligations?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  I sat up, rubbing at my eyes, then ran my fingers through my hair. It was long, it was shaggy, and I had the worst bed-hair of anyone I knew. I had no illusions about my ability to keep the hair tamed.

  Mrs. Earles cleared her throat.

  I looked up, looked at her, and saw her pointed look, just behind me.

  I twisted around, and saw Mary lying there, head on a second pillow.

  “Oh,” I said. “Yeah.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Earles,” Mary said.

  Behind her, some of the other children had already woken up. I saw Rick step into view, glance at the scene, and smirk. Mrs. Earles saw and shooed him off.

  I reached under Mary’s pillow, she smacked my arm, and I withdrew it.

  Fine, I thought. But that’s going to be a thing.

  Mrs. Earles positioned herself so that she filled the space between the door and the frame, with little chance of someone peeking or seeing past. “It’s my habit to avoid asking questions,” she said. “That said, given the situation, given that Sy is twelve at most, and you’re thirteen—”

  “I think of myself as a small fourteen,” I said.

  Mrs. Earles gave me a withering look.

  “You don’t have to ask,” Mary said. “Really.”

  Mrs. Earles took that in, then nodded. “I won’t, then. I was looking for you, Mary, I was worried you’d gone out earlier than usual to practice your throwing. It’s good that you’re here if Lillian needs you. Don’t take too long getting ready.”

  “Okay,” Mary said. I nodded.

  The door shut, the latch clicking.

  “I like how she takes you at your word,” I said. “But when I say something, oh, no. I could tell her the sky is blue and she’d double-check.”

  “The sky isn’t usually blue in Radham. It’s gray at best.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Mary swung her feet out from under the covers, standing up from bed, stretching. I hurried to pat down the covers so there were no gaps for the cool air to leak through.

  I looked past her to Jamie’s bed. A large notebook sat on the bed, the weight of it messing up what had been a perfectly made, entirely neat bed.

  “I missed my morning exercises,” Mary said. “I’m so used to the way the sun comes into my room in the morning. Moment it slips over the top of the window and hits my eyes, I’m out of bed.”

  “That sounds like the worst thing ever,” I said. “Why would you wake up early on purpose?”

  “I like it. It’s a good start to the day, keeps me sharp.”

  “You’re sharp enough,” I said, reaching under her pillow for the knife she kept there, holding it up for demonstration.

  Mary smiled. She reached over, touching my chin to turn my head away. I could still sort of see her in my peripheral vision.

  “Lillian does it too. The lunatic,” I said. “If it wasn’t for Helen, I’d think all girls were screwed up somehow. She appreciates a good night’s sleep.”

  Mary was pulling off her night clothes. I fixed my eyes on the ceiling.

  “She sleeps with her eyes open sometimes, you know?” Mary said.

  “I know. I’ve done stakeouts with her.”

  “It’s not the only weird sleep thing. The first night I slept here, she climbed into bed with me. Curled up beside me like a cat, no covers, no pillow, fell straight asleep. One-time thing. I don’t know if it’s about affection, or about dominance, or—”

  “Insecurity,” I said.

  “Hm?”

  “Insecurity. More rational than emotional. ‘Keep your enemies closer’ is a very good tactic when you’re a Helen.”

  “Ha,” Mary said.

  “I’m not joking.”

  “No, I know you’re not joking, but that’s clever.”

  “Someone should probably mention it to Ibott, but then he’d want to keep Helen over in his labs so he can observe and train her sleep and blah to that.”

  “Blah,” Mary agreed. She stepped closer to the bed, dressed enough to be decent. I reluctantly sat up, taking a second to rearrange the covers before I took the offered wires and knives. I set to arranging them, with only minimal help from her, while she brushed her hair.

  A minute passed like that as I set everything up. Mary made only small readjustments.

  “Gotta ask, Sy,” Mary said, as I wrapped up. She walked over to the rest of her clothes, folded neatly on Jamie’s chair, pulling on a skirt over her hose-covered legs, “Why is this now?”

  “Mmf,” I said, letting myself topple over, head hitting pillow.

  “It’s been nine months.”

  “I know.”

  “Why the change? Why now?”

  “That’s a topic best saved for a group discussion,” I said, looking over at Jamie’s bed.

  “I can recall at least three times where you’ve said something like that, and then you didn’t bring it up again.”

  “Can you? My memory isn’t that good.”

  She gave me a look, finishing buttoning a blouse over her camisole.

  “Okay,” she said, pulling on a sweater. She bounced on the spot, making skirt and hair move and sweater settle into place, then turned to me, “You don’t have a mirror, so I have to ask you for the verdict.”

  “Very pretty,” I said.

  “Good answer,” she said, seeming satisfied. She smoothed out a wrinkle. “I should go wake up Helen.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Here, you’ll need this,” she said, tossing the brush at me. I let it fall against the covers. “If you’re not out of bed by the time I come back down the hall with her, I’m going to have her wake you up.”

  I groaned.

  “I could give her suggestions on what to do to you,” she said, as she opened the door, peeking out. “What’s the most humiliating hold?”

  “I’ll be out of bed, don’t worry.”

  “Or maybe I’ll get her to chew on you?”

  “I’ll be out of bed!”

  “And dressed.”

  “And dressed! Go away!”

  Mary smiled and closed the door behind her.

  I climbed out of bed, stretching. I shivered a little at the cold, then pulled some clothes out of my dresser. Some shirts were Jamie’s. I hadn’t grown nearly as much as I’d have liked over nine months, but it was enough to need a different set of clothes, and Jamie had been a bit taller than I was.

  Button-up shirt, pants, suspenders, jacket. I used Mary’s brush to try and fix my hair, gave up, and pulled a boy’s cap over it. I emerged just in time to run into Mary and a dressed-and-combed Helen. Helen had her head on Mary’s shoulder. As she saw me, Mary gave Helen a light push. Helen staggered my way like a bad stitched.

  “Ahh,” I said, monotone, a mock cry as Helen draped herself over my back, arms over my shoulders. She swiped my cap off the top fo my head, then lightly bit my scalp.

  “Arr,” she said.

  “You overheard.”

  “I told her,” Mary said.

  “Mmf, arr,” Helen said. She adjusted position, mock-biting the top of my head a
few more times.

  “Don’t bite too deep. Sy-meat is poisonous.”

  “That’s totally not true,” Mary said.

  “We don’t know it’s not true,” I said. “I know my blood is poisonous, chemicals floating in it. Stands to reason the rest of me is a little poisonous.”

  Helen stopped biting me, resting her chin on top of my head instead. “You smell like Mary.”

  “Yep.”

  “Probably, but could you not mention that in front of others?” Mary asked.

  “M’kay,” Helen said. Then she made a snoring sound.

  More than half-asleep.

  We made our way down the stairs. Helen synchronized her steps with mine, so she wouldn’t come down a step a half-second after I did and end up driving the hard point of her chin into my skull.

  As we rounded the corner, making our way down the last leg of the stairs, she pulled away, straightening. She transferred the hat back from her head to mine.

  “Good morning, Helen!” Eliza, Fran and Iris called out in sync.

  “Good morning!” Helen said, bright, cheery, without a hint of sleepiness.

  I rolled my eyes. I rounded the dining table to collect my plate of breakfast, putting a hand on Lillian’s head to rock it left and right until she knocked my hand away in annoyance.

  “Sy,” Gordon said, looking up from his plate. “Sit here.”

  I gave him a suspicious look, then gave a more suspicious look to the rugrat sitting beside him. Albert. “Why?”

  “Because Al here keeps feeding Hubris.”

  I bent down to peek under the table, at the mutt, then stepped over the bench, interjecting myself between the kid and the beast.

  Mary and Helen found their seats as well. With Lillian present for this morning’s breakfast, we naturally filled the empty spot on the bench.

  Just let this meal go by without incident, I thought, staring down at the plate, methodically shoveling food into my mouth. Sausage & mashed potato with onion and boiled vegetables of some sort I’d never seen before. Don’t let this be a bad day.

  With last of us served, Mrs. Earles headed off to start getting the little ones ready. I saw her leave, and I saw Rick watch her leave.

  I sighed a little.

  “So, Sy,” Rick said.

  Smug bastard. Smug, round face, smug hair, smug fat ass.

  “Rick, no,” Gordon said. “Whatever it is, no.”

  “You’ve been on my case for the last year, practically,” Rick said.

  “Nine months,” I said.

  “Sy, don’t respond. Rick, shut the hell up, or I will beat you,” Gordon said.

  “Jamie’s in the hospital, fine, but you keep making me out to be the bad guy, and I’ve done and said nothing wrong.”

  “Even if we agree that’s the case—”

  “It is, unless you can tell me what I’ve said that’s so awfully bad,” Rick said.

  “Even if we agree that’s the case,” Gordon said, “You and Sy don’t get along. Sy’s missing his best friend—”

  I clutched my utensils tighter.

  “—and the very best thing you can do is to ignore him.”

  “I don’t think it’s fair that—”

  “Ignore him,” Gordon said.

  The little kids who hadn’t finished eating were staring, silent.

  Talking very slowly, as if he was spelling things out to a small child, Rick said, “I don’t think it’s fair that I live in this house and there are people who also live here who I’m forbidden to talk to or talk about, through no fault of mine. I feel like I and others are kept in the dark sometimes.”

  “Life isn’t fair,” I said. There were a hundred different things I wanted to tack on to the end of that sentence. There were statements about why Rick hadn’t been adopted yet that might have made the smaller children cry, and mentions of Jamie that might have made the smaller children cry. I figured it was better to leave things unsaid than to make Mrs. Earles mad at me.

  “That’s well and good, but I want to know what the rules of the house are—”

  Gordon rose from his seat. He stood there, hands on the table, staring Rick down.

  Anyone else might have backed down, but Rick only smiled, playing at blithe ignorance.

  “If you need to question the rules of the house, ask Mrs. Earles,” Gordon said.

  “Okay,” Rick said. “Alright.”

  “I don’t know what bug crawled up your rear end to make you this strange this morning—” Gordon said.

  “Ew,” Frances said.

  “—But nothing’s changed. Leave Sy alone. Leave the subject of Jamie alone.”

  “Okay, alright,” Rick said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

  The meal continued. I was making more progress than usual, just focusing on eating, eyes on the food.

  “Are we traveling?” Mary asked, conversationally.

  “Looks like,” Lillian said. “School project. We’re going to be gone for at least a week.”

  “Which train?” Helen asked.

  “It’s the train with the tea cart you like,” Lillian assured Helen.

  Helen smiled.

  “Been a while since we traveled,” Mary said.

  “We’ve been busy enough,” Gordon said, as he settled back into his seat.

  “But it’s been very low-key,” Mary observed. “If they’re sending you out to get us, that means early train…”

  “Yep.”

  “Which means we’re rushing, but not so much we’re having to skip breakfast.”

  “Yep.”

  “And we’re probably meeting someone?”

  “Let’s hope,” Lillian said.

  “Uh huh,” Rick said. I gripped my utensils tighter again. I could sense Gordon tensing beside me. Hubris, under the table, was reacting to Gordon’s body language. “It’s kind of rude to talk in code, with everyone else at the table.”

  “Code?” Frances asked.

  “There’s no code,” Gordon said. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

  “Why don’t you try carrying on a conversation that includes everyone else at the table?” Rick asked. I had the impression he was actually irritated enough to show it, for once. “Like, say, Mary, why weren’t you in your own bed last night? Do you have anything to tell us?”

  I sighed. I could see the look of confusion on Lillian’s face. Mary was shaking her head. She signaled something at Gordon I didn’t catch. Unbeknownst to Rick, Gordon shifted position in his seat.

  “Are you and Sy a thing now?”

  The bench, complete with me and the other three people on it, scooted backward, as Gordon pushed it back from the table. I reached for and grabbed my bowl, holding it back out of the way as Gordon traveled around the length of the table to a wide-eyed Rick.

  Rick was only half out of his seat when Gordon hauled him up and over, throwing him down against the ground. He let Rick get halfway to his feet, then threw the boy into the wall.

  “Mrs. Earles!” Eliza screamed, shrill.

  Rick was bigger, Gordon was stronger. Every time it looked like Rick was going to get his bearings, Gordon shoved him, or drove him back into the ground with the sole of one foot.

  “If you do that again, I’m going to hit you back!” Rick called out.

  “Step outside,” Gordon said.

  “I’m not—”

  Gordon shoved Rick again. Rick’s head cracked against the wall. I saw some of the girls wince. Helen was among them, but I knew it was for show.

  Rick raised his hand, starting to throw a punch, and Hubris closed the distance, biting his sleeve, stopping him short. Gordon punched Rick in the collarbone, driving him down to the ground, then grabbed him, sliding him out and through the back door.

  There were three stone stairs Rick had to roll down to reach the backyard, I knew, though I didn’t have an angle to see it happen.

  Shame.

  I continued eating, polishing off my breakfast. Mrs. Earles c
ame down the stairs, took in the situation, and then stepped outside.

  I met Lillian’s eyes, measuring the confusion and the hurt, and shook my head.

  She gestured under the guise of fixing her hair, lie?

  I nodded a little.

  I could see her relax a little at that. She had the best vantage point to see the fight, from the end of the other bench.

  “I guess I need my luggage?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Lillian said.

  “Be right back,” I said.

  I took my dishes to the sink, rinsed them, and put them on the drying rack. I glanced at the trio of Mrs. Earles, Gordon, and a very sorry looking Rick before taking the stairs two at a time to go upstairs.

  A set of luggage was always packed, ready to go at a moment’s notice. Still, I undid the clasps and opened it up, revealing a collection of clothes weighed down by two notebooks. If someone unpacked the clothes, they’d find the pistol and ammunition, vials of poison, and various small supplies and tools.

  I walked over to Jamie’s bed, picked up the notebook there, and put it inside the luggage case, before closing it up again.

  Heavy, but I didn’t mind.

  “Next best thing to having you along with, huh?” I asked the empty side of the room.

  I ran my hands down Jamie’s shirt, making sure I hadn’t been splashed with anything when Gordon pushed away from the table, or that little Albert hadn’t dripped on me. I ran my hands through my hair once more, found a tangle, and pulled through it.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Next best is pretty fricking lousy.”

  I closed the door behind me.

  ☙

  The train car rolled back into motion. People were mostly heading into the city, and those leaving were mostly made up of soldiers and stitched. Seven of the eight train cars were occupied with military forces, the eighth was made up of people.

  We’d been placed in a military car, but even then, we’d kept conversation to milder things.

  When the single squad of soldiers entered and found places to sit on the other end of the car, I said, “I think we’re good to have a proper discussion.”

  “The Duke told Hayle the specifics of this job, and Hayle told me to tell you,” Lillian explained.

  “Look who’s moving up in the world, lil’ miss Lillian, doing the briefing.”

  Lillian kicked at me.

  “What are we after?” Gordon asked.