Twig

by wildbow

  “I—” Mary started. She glanced at me. “I don’t know. My feelings are… mixed.”

  “I abandoned you,” Percy said. “It’s understandable.”

  “No,” Mary said. Then she shook her head, “Not that, not only that.”

  “What, then?”

  “The children,” Mary said.

  Percy’s eyebrows came together. “Which?”

  “That’s just it,” Mary said. “There’s so many. The ones you kidnapped and cloned, the ones you raised and used as weapons, myself included, now the Ghosts? Always children.”

  “Does that bother you?” he asked. “Or does it bother you because it bothers them?”

  The statement ‘I didn’t design you with a conscience’ was so implicit in the question that he might as well have said it out loud.

  “I don’t know,” Mary said. “But it’s not about me. I’m trying to understand you, Mr. Percy, and I don’t know if I understand this.”

  He smiled. “I won’t sway you from this topic any more than you could be distracted from your duties, I don’t think.”

  “Answer the question, please,” Mary said, that last word applying only a veneer of civility to the demand.

  “It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, with—”

  “Why children, Mr. Percy?” she asked.

  “Because they’re the easiest to use, Mary. They’re the most malleable, the easiest to shape. That’s the pat answer, isn’t it? You have only to look at the Lambs to know this is a maxim the Academy believes in, too.”

  “What’s the not-pat answer?” Mary asked. Her voice was firm. She still wasn’t relenting.

  “If I’m a little bit poetic in how I phrase this, you’ll have to blame the Reverend,” Percy said. He looked sad, even as he joked, “In wartime, children suffer the most. I think a part of me knew that, that it was most efficient to get that out of the way, perhaps?”

  “I don’t think that’s right at all,” Lillian said. “That’s demented.”

  Percy smiled a sad smile. “Then we’ll go back to the first answer, as pat as it might be. I took very few Academy classes, and the ratios and numbers involving children and childhood were fresh in my mind when I started work. Narrow minded as I am, I didn’t think to change course.”

  “Yet you said you spent time in Cynthia’s service, regretting past choices. Now, with the Ghosts, you’re making the same choices again.”

  “No, dear Mary,” the puppeteer said. He reached out, to put a hand on her face, and she stepped back out of the way. He recovered, and he said, “For what it’s worth, I made the new ones dumb. I didn’t want to become attached to them, only to lose them. I learned that much.”

  “I see,” Mary said. As she was wont to do, she’d shifted to a more imperious stance and tone, the young lady, the Mothmont girl. “With all due respect, Mr. Percy, I don’t believe we’ll be joining you for tea, whatever happens.”

  I could see the hurt on his face. Even with that hurt, he managed to respond with decorum, “Then I wish you the best.”

  Mary turned to Gordon, and the two of them turned away, with Lillian and Helen following.

  I was the last to step away. Percy’s eyes bored into mine.

  I might never know all of his reasons for why he’d done what he had, but I could guess as to some.

  I gave him a nod. He didn’t move.

  I hurried to join the others.

  Cynthia and Fray were still embroiled in their private discussion, the rest of the room standing well clear, but for the men I took to be Cynthia’s lieutenants. This had gone well beyond the point where a delay was comfortable. The attack was imminent, and we hadn’t had a chance to talk yet.

  We were counting on Fray for an escape route and options, and when she looked as troubled as she did, it left me feeling anxious too.

  Trouble, I signaled Gordon, as he looked back to see where I’d gone to. I caught up with the others.

  We-go away-talk-question. Should we break away, plan?

  I shook my head. We wouldn’t get a chance, anyway.

  Helen stood in front of the man with the birthing saw. She seemed to bounce on the spot as she said, “Hi!”

  He glowered down at her.

  A chair clattered to the ground. The room was tense enough that more than a few hands went to guns, though only one or two were drawn from holsters.

  Cynthia had pushed it over.

  She pulled herself together, standing straighter. One hand went to the front of her jacket, fixing it at the collar.

  “Thank you, everyone else, for your time. I appreciate your efforts and the sentiment. I would wish you luck as well, but it wouldn’t be sincere.”

  I looked from her to Fray. Fray’s eyes were on the ground. I knew that look, though I’d never seen it. I’d worn it on my own face when I’d been up to my neck in trains of thought and permutations and complications.

  “We’re leaving,” Cynthia said.

  Mauer chuckled. Every set of eyes in the room went to him. “Retreating to your room like a child?”

  “No,” Cynthia said, her voice low and dangerous. “Not to my room.”

  “We’re surrounded,” Percy said.

  “I’ve been fighting through warzones since I was old enough to walk. I’ve fought my share of monsters, experiment and human alike,” she said. “I don’t plan to die.”

  She gestured a wave of one hand, and her people joined her. A little under half of the people in the room migrated in her direction, following in her wake as she made her way through the door. The man with the birthing saw walked past the Lambs, followed by his ‘brothers’, putting a hand on Helen’s head as he passed her. He had to duck low as he reached the door, lest he smash his collarbone on the frame.

  The room was nearly silent, though we could hear Cynthia barking orders to her people in the hallway. A significant share would be hers.

  I looked at Fray, and she hadn’t come out of that state of focus, her mind going a mile a minute, yet to find a way out.

  Not part of the plan, huh? I wondered.

  Previous Next

  Tooth and Nail—7.14

  Gordon touched Lillian’s shoulder, then touched his wrist. Lillian retrieved her watch from her pocket and popped it open to show Gordon. When I craned my head to see, she turned it so the rest of us could see.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Genevieve Fray’s contingent was at one end of the room. Fray was still dressed up, staring a hole into the ground while her mind searched for answers. Warren was wearing his suit, Avis wore a strappy evening dress with grafted wings on her back, and the stitched girl, Whitney or Winnie or whatever it was, was wearing simpler clothes with an apron. The clothes were clean and tidy, and her hair looked nice, combed into a side braid that helped hide how dry the hair was.

  A gulf separated her group from the rest of us, Mauer’s people, a number of soldiers, three or four civilians, Percy, and the doctor with the cat-like warbeast. Four paces of empty space between us and them. The people who had been standing there were making noise out in the hallway. I could hear the sound of guns being prepared, orders given, and a discussion of strategy, though I couldn’t make out particulars.

  “Lambs,” Fray said. “I did promise I would talk with you.”

  Mauer spoke from the other end of the room, his voice low, “Given the circumstances, we should overlook old promises and focus on our immediate future.”

  “Be patient,” Fray said. “Lambs, a word?”

  We started to cross the gap between the rest of the room and Fray.

  “I took countermeasures before coming here,” Mauer commented. “Politics are something I understand. I expect them to take me alive, where possible. You? I’m not so sure.”

  “You could be shot on sight,” Avis said. “Or killed by accident.”

  “That would be the reason I’m talking to Fray and looking to cooperate and see if her strategy is still intact,” Mauer said. He had a dangerous
look in his eye. “But if she wants me to be patient, then I can give her a few minutes.”

  We reached Fray’s group. There was a table set against the wall, with a teapot, cups, and candlesticks on the top. I pushed a candlestick out of the way and hopped up onto the table. It gave me a good view of the whole room.

  Gordon leaned against the table beside me, Mary beside him. Lillian stood by the table’s end, at my right shoulder, Helen just a little further away. Hubris was under my dangling feet.

  “The books, give,” I said.

  “Contingent on us actually having a talk,” Fray said.

  “Then talk,” Gordon said.

  Fray nodded. “I received a note from a little birdy—”

  “Doggie,” Helen said. She reached down and scratched Hubris’ head.

  “Yes,” Fray said. “I wasn’t sure if you were wholly aware it was them, but I suspected. I was confused for a moment that it seemed to think you were here already, and it didn’t help that I was preoccupied with Cynthia.”

  “Were we responsible for that confusion too?” Gordon asked.

  “No. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it was a question of ideology,” Fray said.

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Cynthia started on the bottom, at one of the lowest points a human being can occupy, orphaned, alone, barely more than an animal. She fought her way to the place she holds now in the world, and she plans to keep on going. I believe she wants to supplant the Crown, even in a token manner. To be the new ruler or a major power when the Crown is ejected from the western Crown States. She doesn’t like my plan because giving everyone the power to study Academy sciences takes away from her exclusive power. Raise everyone else up, and she is effectively less powerful. She would rather control that power, utilize some of the best and brightest minds she can collect, and be well situated to take power as it becomes available.”

  “Until the Crown brings all the force it can muster to bear,” Gordon said.

  “Yes,” Fray said. “I underestimated her hunger for that taste of true authority, however transient it might end up being. I’d hoped rational argument would sway her, and I was proven wrong.”

  I wanted to jab at Fray, just to see how she reacted. If I commented on how poor her ‘rational’ argument might be, if my estimation of her was right, then it would sting, and she might show me a glimmer of what she was really thinking.

  Instead, I frowned and only said, “That night I burned her alive, I didn’t just hurt her chances in politics. The Lambs killed some of those best and brightest minds. No wonder she was upset with me.”

  Fray nodded her head in agreement. “Telling you more would be unfair and rude, when she was at least kind enough to hear me out. I think you can draw the appropriate conclusions.”

  “What you’re doing,” Lillian said. “Giving everyone access, you’re going to cause complete and utter chaos. There are rules the Academy won’t break that novice students will. Uncontrolled growth, real monsters, real weapons of war.”

  “I was on track for a professorship,” Fray said. “I got close, close enough that I heard the stories. I promise you, Lillian, there are people crossing those lines every single day, in various places around the world. One or two of the people you’ve gone after at the Academy’s behest have been among them.”

  “I can back this,” Avis said, her voice soft. “A lot of the messages about the worst crisis situations crossed my desk. For every one the Lambs saw, there were four more within two days of train travel from Radham Academy.

  “That’s a fallacy,” Lillian said. “Just because people are crossing the line, that doesn’t mean it’s okay if you increase the problem a hundredfold.”

  “Tenfold at best, but in talking to the others, the expectation seems to be a much more conservative doubling or tripling in the number of madmen and dangerous minds,” Fray said. “Only a select portion of the population have the means, motive, inclination, and ability to truly take advantage of what I would be putting out there. Not so much the Academy couldn’t respond, but enough to keep them and the likes of you busy.”

  “Except,” Gordon said. “You’ve got Dog and Catcher, very likely Petey and the Wry Man, all on your side. You’ve been working to strip the Academy’s ability to respond to an upswing in the number of problem elements.”

  “They’ll bounce back. It does mean they’ll have a hard time controlling the spread of the books at the outset.”

  “I’m seeing what you’re doing,” I said. “Okay, let’s say that the numbers do double. Very conservative. But you told everyone here that the two factions would be attacking one last time, playing all the leftover cards they have left to play, to distract the Academy and apply pressure to them. That alone would occupy the resources that would control the spread of the book. But you’re also denying them those resources, getting Dog and Catcher and some of the others on your side. If you actually turned Dog and Catcher and some of the others against the Academy, or used information they’ve given you to lash out at key targets…”

  Fray’s expression wasn’t giving up many tells. She seemed amused, insofar as her anxiety seemed to be allowing her to enjoy herself.

  Yeah, let’s not puff you up and make you feel too happy and in control, I thought.

  “…You’re being disingenuous,” I said. “There’s more to this. You don’t intend to push them over. You want to break their back on your knee.”

  “I want to hurt the Academy,” Fray told me. “Slow them down, give the rest of us some time to gain ground. Yes.”

  “Then say it straight,” I said. “You trying to mislead us here makes me think you’re bending the truth when you give Lillian your expectations. Forget the others. What do you think the numbers will be like? How many dangerous minds are going to go too far with your books?”

  Lillian nodded. I saw her shoot me a glance, and I suspected it was a grateful look.

  I’d backed her where and when it counted.

  “More than a fivefold increase in what you’re dealing with now,” Fray admitted.

  “And how many people are going to die?” Lillian asked.

  “There’s no telling, it’s too variable,” Fray said. “But you’ve heard of the cockroaches and cats principle?”

  I smiled.

  Gordon put it succinctly, “We’ve discussed it.”

  “I think,” Lillian said. “If you’re talking about cockroaches and cats, what you’re doing is a very bad thing! You’re talking about killing nine in ten people? Nineteen in twenty? People only survive because of sheer numbers?”

  “As you can see, the medic of the group is opposed to what you’re doing,” I said.

  “And the rest of you?” Fray asked, very casually.

  It was Mary who spoke up, “If you can’t convince her, then you aren’t going to budge the rest of us. The Lambs stick together.”

  Fray nodded. “I see.”

  There was a pause. An explosion outside made the entire room jump. Too close to the deadline.

  Fray turned to Warren, murmuring in his ear. I caught the essential bits, enough to piece it together after a second of thought. “Go check on Cynthia. Let me know if she’s getting ready to go or waiting.”

  Warren nodded, then left the room.

  Fray composed herself, taking a second before turning to look us over. “I don’t think there’s time to have a full-fledged debate on the merits of one course or another.”

  “Disingenuous again,” I said. “There are a lot of courses, a lot of decisions to be made.”

  “I didn’t say there were only two courses,” Fray said, sounding annoyed, “My point was that we’re short on time. I expect only fifteen minutes, if the news about the train being early wasn’t Lamb trickery.”

  She gave us a look as she said those last words.

  “It’s not,” Gordon said, firmly. “And it’s less than ten minutes, not fifteen.”

  He put his hands in his pockets as he spoke. I could
see his thumb move. Not a true gesture, but damn close to the movement of a ‘lie‘ gesture.

  Giving her less time to work with, more pressure.

  “We would have shown up twenty minutes before the real deadline if it was, after we’d let you stew and worry for a while, and after we’d complicated your communications with Dog, Catcher and the others.”

  “As you tried to do with the Ghosts,” Fray said. She sighed. “You did force us to sacrifice a large share of them, so Petey could maintain his cover. The release of the Brechwell Beast was much the same. I believe you when you say the deadline is real.”

  “I hear actual anxiety in your voice,” I said.

  “A tightness?” Helen said. “I think I hear it too, but I’m not that good with my new ears yet.”

  Warren returned. He rejoined us.

  “Is she leaving yet?” Fray asked.

  He changed the angle of his head a fraction.

  “Soon?”

  He nodded.

  “If all else fails, we might have to let her be the vanguard, and simply follow in her wake,” Fray said. “Knowing her, it might prove difficult. She’s as liable to be as dangerous to us as the enemy forces are.”

  Warren nodded again.

  “Avis, we’ll need you to deliver the signal soon,” Fray said. She looked at us. “Catcher’s note said you had deduced that I plan to turn the forces of Brechwell against one another.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I’m flattered you think I could convince that many people. I’m afraid I didn’t.”

  “Then I think you’re kind of an idiot for getting into this situation,” I told her.

  Provoke, push, test boundaries. I’d passed up a chance earlier, because it was too hard, too harsh. This was a softer touch.

  I’d expected to gauge her response to the casual insult, in hopes of gleaning some insight into her mental state. Fray didn’t betray anything, however, and it was Warren who seemed to take offense at the slight against Fray.

  Worth remembering. Maybe I could write it down. My memories seemed to slip most between when I went to sleep and when I woke up. Since the girls insisted on sleeping with me, I couldn’t stay up and achieve a balance of recall and alertness. I wouldn’t be able to trust my brain to hold onto the little strategic details like Warren’s defensiveness of his savior.