by wildbow
“You look like a proper professor in the making,” I said.
“Don’t,” she said, focused on the approaching husband and wife pair. She didn’t look at me. “Please don’t raise me up just to make a bigger crash when you trip me up and I fall. Any other time.”
“Said the frog to the scorpion, who was asking for a ride across the water,” Gordon said.
“You too. Don’t make me nervous,” she said. “Don’t—”
She let her voice drop off as the pair drew close.
I whispered, “Like I said. Your lead. You get to take point.”
Lillian gave me the smallest nod.
Husband and wife. He was a middle-aged gentleman with obviously altered features, cut a little too sharp. His face was clean shaven, his blond hair waxed to the point that it looked artificial through and through, as if it were finely carved of wood. He wore a jacket with tails and thin slacks, and held a bone cane, more for style than out of any need for one.
She was a woman who’d had more work done on her body than most. I might have taken her for his daughter, but she was wearing the open-front blouse that was so common to yesteryear’s high courts. The cut of the dress bared the space between breasts, and the resulting picture was decorated with low-hanging jewelry and framed with ruffles and lace. It would have been the style for Lillian’s mother when the woman was Lillian’s age or a few years older, if Lillian’s mother was born to a good family.
That dress told me a lot. It suggested she was forty, for one, her apparent age cut in half by good care by good doctors. It wasn’t unfashionable, but it took courage or reasons to wear it when she could have an easier time following modern fashion trends. The risque styles of dress had been a reaction or signal of support to the Crown around the time the infighting between Crown and Church had started. It was very possible that she or her entire family had a deeper stake in that particular fight, remembered even today.
She also had a tic, one finger moving rhythmically where she thought we couldn’t see, one hand in the other arm’s sleeve of her. If I remembered right, it was a problem common to people who had had certain augmentations placed within their forearms. A precursor to the same sort of thing that let Fray hide needles in her fingertips.
No, even from the way they held themselves, and the ease and care with which they moved, it was clear they were augmented from head to toe. Grafts, physical alterations, drugs, changes to their biological construction at the ground level, and more.
They weren’t nobles, but by golly, they wanted to be.
“The so-called Lambs?” the man asked.
“Yes sir,” Lillian said.
“I heard stories, I inquired, and what I was told led me to expect monsters dressed up like children. I was skeptical. Now I’m not sure whether to be disappointed or impressed. Are you the monsters I heard descriptions of, with particularly good craftsmanship?”
I bit my tongue rather than make a clever reference to Helen. Three sprung to mind.
“We’re very good at what we do, sir,” Lillian said. “Without knowing the stories, I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you.”
He looked us over.
“Very well. This is my wife, Mrs. Adelaide Gage. I am Everard Gage. I am grateful to you for coming.”
“We’re happy to render any assistance we can,” Lillian said.
“I would request that the dog stay outside,” the man said.
“I’m sorry, sir, but Hubris stays with me,” Gordon said, voice firm. “He’s a member of this team and a resource. May I suggest that I leave and take a walk down by the water? I can wait for the meeting to conclude, without bringing him inside or leaving him behind.”
The man studied Gordon, looked again at the dog, then shook his head. “No, both you and him can come in. Follow us, please.”
We followed the pair as they took the path to the front door.
I continued to bite my tongue. Gordon is willing to suggest having me wait outside, but the dog, oh, no, the dog is a member of this team.
Heavy double doors of black wood opened with Everard and Adelaide’s approach, though there were no eyes watching through nearby windows, and the doors themselves lacked openings. I glanced to one side as we passed through. The man in a servant’s uniform wasn’t stitched, but something else, lacking eyes, ears and hair. The man on the opposite side was a close match.
“In here,” Everard said. “This sitting room gets more light at this time of day. Not that there’s much to enjoy these days. All overcast gray.”
Lillian started to open her mouth, then stopped before voicing anything.
I stuck my elbow forward and to one side to push it into her back.
Lillian spoke, “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, it’s much better than it is in Radham. The rain never stops there.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Adelaide said, speaking for the first time. Even her voice has been altered to be younger and prettier. “I’ve been, but it’s easy to forget it’s so incessant.”
“Yes, madam,” Lillian said, more enthusiastic now that a basic rapport had been established.
I would have slapped my hand across my face if I didn’t think it would get me in trouble with Lillian and the silent treatment from the rest of the Lambs.
Lillian continued, “It’s so rare that I can go outdoors without an umbrella or a raincoat that I feel strange without one.”
The woman offered Lillian a tight smile, chin drawn slightly in, and replied with a simple, “Quite so.”
Lillian glanced briefly at me. She hadn’t missed just how quickly the mood had shifted.
“Would you have a seat?” Everard asked. He indicated the chairs and loveseat of the little sitting room.
We sat. I sat beside Lillian in the loveseat.
“Tea will be along shortly. We called for it as you arrived at the gate.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gordon said. He’d settled in a chair, and hand his hand over the armrest, scratching Hubris’ head. He looked like a young aristocrat, entirely at home in this environment.
Lillian had lost her voice, it seemed, if Gordon was stepping up. I guessed she didn’t know what she’d done wrong and she dreaded doing it again.
“Mrs. Gage, ma’am,” I said. “Mr. Gage, sir. Can I ask what happened?”
“We wrote about it all in the letter to your, who was it?”
“Mr. Hayle,” Adelaide said.
“The man in charge of our project, yes sir, yes ma’am,” Lillian said. She’d picked up on my hint.
“That letter should have had the necessary details,” Everard said. “Are you so forgetful?”
Right on the attack. Defensive.
I gestured discreetly with my hand at my knee, watching the eyes of the pair to make sure they weren’t noticing. At most they might take it to be distracted movements of the hand. Paper. Watch. Hidden. Word. Paper. Strategy.
“Sir, letters get intercepted, particularly those from people of your status,” Lillian said. I could hear the tremor in her voice partway through the sentence. Not something someone unfamiliar with her would have caught, but a sign that she was anxious. “It wouldn’t be unusual to keep details out of the paper that you wouldn’t want your enemies to catch wind of. But if we’re going to help, then we’ll need all of the details. The work we do is dangerous, and a seemingly innocuous detail could get us killed.”
Good, I gestured. You.
Everard and Adelaide exchanged a glance.
“You’re right,” Everard admitted. “Well said. I’ll be blunt, and admit our second daughter is missing. She’s run away from home, and she’s done so in the worst way possible.”
“A gang of hooligans,” Adelaide said. “In Lugh.”
“An hour’s ride away,” Jamie said. “Lugh is a blight. A harbor for rebels against the Crown and illegal trade. I can see why it concerns you, sir, her being affiliated with such things.”
“Yes,” Everard said. “A blight, I quite like
that. We’ve hired help to go find her and drag her home, but it’s a hostile place. The Crown comes and stamps at them now and again, but the rats crawl into hiding, and they come out of hiding shortly after the Crown leaves. If they send people to stay and try to defend the city, they find resistance and sabotage every step of the way. We would send more people to recover her, but that would make this less discreet. We wanted quality.”
“You’re too kind, sir,” Lillian said. “I think you’ll be satisfied.”
Not how I would’ve worded the first half. Would have dropped the ‘I think’ from the second.
Adelaide spoke, “She’s altered herself. Threw in with artists and dock workers who tattoo themselves and go to back-alley hacks that alter their bodies. She’s lost leave of her senses, and now her outside shows it. Horns, altered eyes, tattoos, and who knows what else. All easily remedied, thankfully, but if it’s linked to us…”
She fanned herself with one hand. Her husband reached out to take her other hand.
“You’ll find her,” he said. “Without drawing attention.”
“Yes, sir,” Lillian said.
“Good, good,” Everard said. He paused, then gave Lillian a curious glance. “What are you, then?”
“Sir?”
“The Lambs are creations, alterations, am I wrong?”
“Oh, yes sir,” Lillian said. “But not me.”
“Not you?”
I leaned forward a little, “Lillian is purely human.”
I could see the disappointment cross Everard’s face.
“She remains one of Radham Academy’s top students, sir,” I said. “She’s years ahead of her peers, she does errands for Radham’s professors, handles aspects of various Lambs projects, and assists us as a field medic and, I don’t want to say she’s our handler, because we don’t need explicit handling, but…”
“She’s the human element, ensuring we don’t diverge into problematic territory,” Gordon said, very diplomatically.
Everard nodded, looking Lillian over. I wasn’t sure Lillian knew what to do with herself, finding herself put on the spot like that.
“If I may, sir?” Jamie spoke up. “I’m sorry to change the topic.”
“If you may what?” Everard asked.
“You implied there were details that you didn’t include in the letter, sir. You included nearly all of what you said here. Is there more?”
My memory wasn’t so bad that I’d completely forgotten the earlier conversation. I was fairly certain that he hadn’t implied any such thing. Implications were the sort of thing I paid close attention to.
“Did I?” the man asked. Then his expression changed as he realized what the rest of us had, that he’d verified that he’d at least thought it. “Yes, there is more.”
“Anything and everything you can tell us is helpful, sir,” Lillian said.
“You’ve heard of these texts that are being shared around?”
Oh.
“These hooligans they’ve befriended, they’ve got one of them. They’ve been occupying themselves.”
“Oh,” Lillian said. “That’s problematic, but—”
“It would hardly be of concern, but for the harm it does to the Crown, and the severity of the charges that would be laid against her if she were caught by the full and proper authorities.”
“Yes sir,” Lillian said.
“…And the implications, with the alterations made to her,” Everard finished.
There was a bit of a pause.
This keeps getting better.
“What alterations, sir?” Gordon asked.
“She’s immortal,” Adelaide said.
“Immortal, ma’am?” Lillian asked.
“We don’t know the particulars. The doctor who started her on the regimen left for the war and hasn’t yet returned, though we’ve corresponded by mail. Exceptional fellow. He says that the drugs he’s given her will extend her lifespan indefinitely, and give her some healing ability. If it doesn’t, or if there are problems, she should last long enough for care to advance to the point of being able to fix it.”
“Some experiments have been done that seem to be pointing in that direction, sir, but the level of care required is high,” Lillian said. “Immortality exists, but it’s paradoxically fragile, enough that even many nobles avoid it.”
“Her doctor thinks he’s unraveled it, and our daughter was the test subject. We provided the funding. There was and is a massive chance she’ll die from complications, but the chance to pioneer something like this, we had to take it. Setting her above the rest.”
“Yes sir,” Lillian said, with less enthusiasm than before.
“It would be a grave disappointment if she were to figure out the particulars of that work and share it out at a lower cost, until it became common,” Everard said.
“We’d hoped for her to be special,” Adelaide said. “Enough to draw attention. Baron Richmond won’t be on this end of the Crown States forever. He’s a bachelor, keeping the company of his twin sisters. We need our daughter back in time to get her cleaned up and presentable, and we need it done with discretion.”
“Enough that the Baron doesn’t have to hear of it, perhaps?” Gordon asked.
Everard smiled, “We would be grateful.”
Lillian tried to speak and fail. She did a fair job of hiding her quiet shock.
They really want to be nobles, I thought.
“We excel at discretion, sir,” Gordon said, making brief eye contact with me, as if challenging me to disagree. Or maybe he was thinking of the Brechwell Beast.
“Very glad to hear it. We can provide rides from here to Lugh and back, should you need it, and anything else you require. Funds, to be sure.”
“Yes sir,” Lillian said. “Thank you. If it’s alright, we’ll confer between ourselves and then decide how to move forward?”
“You can do so here,” Everard said. “Adelaide and I will see what’s keeping the tea.”
And confer among yourselves.
The two departed the room, gently shutting the door behind them.
I gestured quickly, to let the others know we were probably being listened in on.
Lillian looked at me. She seemed a little lost. I wasn’t even sure she’d registered what I’d gestured at her.
Then she smiled a little, and leaned across the loveseat to give me a peck on the cheek.
“Thank you for the nice things you said,” she told me.
“Always,” I murmured. “Even if I call you a crybaby, I’ll have a hundred other nice things to say too.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“You’re going to do your job,” I said. “You’re going to do it well. You’ll make contacts.”
“But she—”
I gestured again. Another reminder.
She nodded.
“We’ll figure out the particulars on the way,” I said.
Lillian nodded.
Then she leaned over and gave me another peck on the cheek. Her hands found my right hand and held it.
I’d opened up the relationship with a kiss to save her and to save myself. To cast doubt on her word when it came to me. I’d let her down, in a way, hurt her in the eyes of people she very much wanted to impress.
This, I could do this much. I would give her this in compensation.
Previous Next
Bleeding Edge—8.2
The wind was strong, and even if it wasn’t for the chilly breeze, the water was bound to be cold. The people on the beach weren’t going any further than getting their ankles wet, and even the ones who sat on blankets and wore swimsuits seemed to be using towels and blankets for added warmth. I imagined it was fine so long as there was sunlight, but the wind whipped the gray clouds overhead across the sky and the sunlight was intermittent.
I saw Lillian shiver, though she was trying not to show it. I shrugged off my jacket, and draped it over her bare legs, where her skirt didn’t reach down far enough.
>
“Thank you, Sy.”
I nodded, hugging my knees as we sat together on the slope that led down to the beach. Lillian moved a bit closer and rested her head on my shoulder.
“Five minutes,” I said.
“Hm?” she raised up her head.
I reached over with my free arm and pulled her head back into position against my shoulder. “Five minutes. Then you should scoot over. I think the Gages are the type that would think less of you if they saw you like this. The twits. We don’t want a repeat of the incident in the office. Or the time you slept over, last month, or the—”
“Okay, Sy. Okay. Shhh. Don’t ruin a nice moment.”
Jamie looked up at us and smiled, almost smirking. I shooed at him, and he turned forward again.
The profile of face and neck, the hair, the work in the notebook, I recognized that person. Then I remembered that it wasn’t him, and I felt a pang of loss. My best friend. I missed his talents when things were active and hectic and there was something to be done, and this new Jamie helped bridge the gap. But when things were quiet, I missed him, and the new Jamie hurt rather than help when it came to that.
I could see some of the drawing he was doing. Fine lines, wispy, each line assured and careful, more akin to the basic outlining a painter might do in ink before applying watercolor than anything else. A different hand and style than the Jamie I knew. He was drawing the boats, further down, and some of the ships he was drawing had long ago left the harbor.
Boats moved this way and that, like one of the puzzles Mr. Hayle had given us back in the day, until certain boats could slip through.
I thought of the child in the cage we’d seen on our way in. Was she already on her way out, aboard a ship?
I didn’t like the idea, and I didn’t like that acting on it would ruin things for Lil. Unless…
“Having second thoughts?” I asked.
Jamie looked up from the drawing. Lillian looked up at me.
“The runaway. It sounds like she had good reasons for leaving home. Being pushed into marriage with a noble?”
“The Baron, no less,” Jamie said. “The Duke got started early in terms of military strategy and leadership. The Baron? Sixty-four nobles would have to die before he got his shot at the Crown, possibly sixty-five if the Infante of Crown Hispana gets a younger sibling this year. The Baron is closer to the Gages in social rank than to the Duke. Five steps below the Duke, four steps above the Gages. Few opportunities, few reasons to go out and do things.”
