Twig

by wildbow

  “A solo mission, Sy?” Mary asked. “Into the heart of Richmond house? Are you insane?”

  “There has to be a better way to do this,” Lillian said.

  “Leaving the situation alone would be more insane, and involving more Lambs in the job creates a larger gap in our numbers that’s harder to explain or justify,” I said. “I’m willing to put myself on the line for this, for my promise to them. But I can’t ask others to join.”

  “One of us will join you,” Mary said, firmly. “You can’t do it alone. Honestly, I don’t trust you to deliver the killing blow.”

  I sighed in admitted relief. “Okay. Maybe. We’ll see how the next couple of days play out, and what we can engineer. The person that comes with me may depend on who is where, or whatever else is going on in the background.”

  Jamie kept staring at me. He was trying to figure out the nuances of what I was doing, here.

  “Duncan is going to be back soon,” I said. “So this is all I’ll say for now. I’ll try to talk privately with each of you before we get underway. But this has to be done. That man needs to die.”

  Lillian didn’t have room for fear in her eyes with the wyvern effect having a hold of her, but I could see the complicated emotions passing through her expression. Her hand slid down my forearm, her fingers intertwining with mine.

  Ashton was just barely processing the idea. I well and truly believed that he would understand the necessity of this, for his own sake and for ours. There would be room to talk to him and convince him of it, and I was sure it wouldn’t be a cause for his notorious stubbornness. This wasn’t the sort of thing that really tripped him up.

  Mary, I observed, seemed lost in thought. She was considering the mission, probably assuming I would bring her by default. On a level, it would be nice to have her along, but on another level, she was the most complicated person. Whether she left Radham depended on how many others were leaving. She was too firmly attached to Lillian, to having an actual place she belonged.

  And this wasn’t a job I planned to return from. The alibi was only cover against the other Lambs, so they wouldn’t suspect what I was really doing. The Baron would die, and I would rendezvous with other Lambs, heading for the furthest territory from Radham I could get away with. If Mary was inclined to stay here, then she couldn’t come with. She would stop me.

  I finished the last of my sandwich, eating with one hand. Duncan was making his way back, walking at a leisurely pace.

  And then there was Helen… I took a moment to study her, while I squeezed Lillian’s hand. In this moment, Helen’s expression and behavior were the focus of my attention.

  “Helen,” I said, sounding far more normal than I felt, “You damn well better not have finished off all the tarts.”

  Previous Next

  In Sheep’s Clothing—10.4

  I exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around me, a bag of the more expensive products in one hand. I was scrubbed pink, my hair was oiled back and away from my face, left unparted, though the ends of my hair were already pricking up and curling away. Any adolescent boy given access to the products that smelled ‘manly’ tended to overdo it, much as the girls went over the top with makeup, but I knew enough to go light. It was a good smell, and one that would complement the smell of shoe polish.

  The hand that wasn’t holding the bag held a fresh bandage over the ruin of my eye. It put me in an awkward spot when it came to the towel around my middle.

  “I’m guessing you don’t need to borrow any clothes?” Jamie asked me. He was lying in his bed, reading by the dim light that came through the window. That, or he’d been napping. I wasn’t sure which.

  I shook my head. “I’m still waiting on the big growth spurt that’s supposed to come. I could complain all day about it, honest, but for right now, I’m not complaining. If I’m not growing, then that’s one less person to buy a wardrobe for, more money for the Lambs.”

  I regretted the line as soon as it was out of my mouth, for my sake as well as Jamie’s. The ‘one less person’ thing stung on too many levels. Losing Gordon, for one thing. His room, next to ours, now had a vacant bed. There were other rooms with three or four boys crammed in them, but nobody had yet raised the subject of who would use the bed and stay with Ashton.

  That, in turn, led to my other source of guilt. I knew I was leaving, and saying what I’d said had left Jamie an awkward sort of opening.

  I jumped to thinking about how to respond to him, and about the things I needed to say and do to manage this whole situation, but those thoughts were obstructed by a complicated tangle of thinking and emotion. Ashton would move into this room with Jamie, wouldn’t he? But that was only if they both stayed. Did that mean I would be alone? Why did I tell myself that Jamie wouldn’t come with? Was it because I’d noticed some clue and hadn’t fully processed it, or because I didn’t want him to?

  Jamie was putting his book aside. I pretended not to notice him as I took care to set the bag of oils, soap and scents in my closet, out of reach of the littler Lambsbridge kids who would wreak mad havoc with the little glass bottles. I fixed my gaze on the mirror that hung on the inside of the closet door.

  “Sy,” he said. “Earlier, when the others were out of earshot—”

  I looked over at him, shooting him a look.

  “We need to talk about it,” he said, in response to everything I’d attempted to convey with the look.

  “I need to get ready,” I said. “Do you mind? A little privacy?”

  It was his turn to shoot me a look, irritated, even disappointed. He raised his feet and spun himself around. Now sitting with his back to me, he pulled his legs into a cross-legged position. Putting all of the repressed frustration into the tone of his voice, he repeated himself, “We need to talk about it.”

  “It’s a dangerous mission, but it’s doable, especially if I have Helen, you, or Mary with me. I’m going to leave out Ashton and Lillian for obvious reasons.”

  “I’m not concerned with the mission. I’m concerned with what you’re doing and what you told Duncan.”

  “Are you going to tell on me?” I asked.

  Silence.

  “Let me know sooner than later. It’ll change how I interact with the others.”

  “Do you really see me doing that, Sy?”

  “I don’t know what anyone is going to do,” I said. I peeled the bandage away from my eye. I blinked a few times. The orb was gone, a placeholder was set into the ruin, but the flesh around it was swollen, ragged, and red, with a cut at one eyelid stitched up where the sword’s edge had parted flesh. “And it’s not knowing what anyone is going to do that really eats me up inside.”

  “Yet you don’t want to talk about it, clearly.”

  “Right now, I want to have a nice night with Lillian,” I said. “I wanted the whole Lugh thing to be a nice thing we did for her, and I wasn’t able to give her that. It became something bad, and taking the Baron down, rescuing Emily, that’s how I’m going to make up for that. But I still want to do something nice for her. That’s what tonight is.”

  “And tomorrow?” Jamie asked. “Or the day after? Whenever you decide you’re going on the mission? How do you see that unfolding, Sy?”

  “I don’t know, Jamie.”

  “You said ‘I don’t have another mission in me’. Your words. That wasn’t you laying groundwork for a scheme. You’re setting something up, getting ready to leave.”

  I pulled clothes on. Slacks, a belt. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw the ruin of my eye. Beyond it, I saw the Lambs dead in their individual, detailed ways, Lambsbridge’s staff and occupants maimed or altered.

  I’d been thrust into the world of adults, out-thinking grown men and women, facing mortal peril in a way that even soldiers didn’t necessarily have to deal with. At least they had moments of rest and moments of peace. I’d been faced with being on call, dealing with things on the spur of the moment, with regular situations and simple jobs becoming nightmares
.

  Even now, as I got dressed in a casual suit, like the preppier Mothmont or Academy kids might wear, all of the pressures and the confusion added up to make me feel far from ready to face the world of adults.

  I’d been given a set of tools to help me adjust, to put me in the right frame of mind and give me the flexibility to deal. It wasn’t the wyvern formula. It was the Lambs, first and foremost. Now I faced losing them.

  “Sy,” Jamie said, pulling me out of the deep well that was my thought process. “Are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” I said.

  “The others are dealing with their own issues. Mary’s still nursing the fresh wound that is losing Gordon, Lillian is preoccupied, Helen and Ashton are detached, though Helen is paying more attention than some, and Duncan, with all of his Academy know-how, can’t quite figure out how to extract his head from his own ass.”

  I smiled despite myself.

  “But I’m here, and I’m paying attention. I know you’re trying to make something happen, Sy, but as far as I can see the whole picture, it’s haphazard. I can’t figure out what you have going on in your head, and I’m scared things are going to move forward on this really unsteady foundation you’re building. What you said to Duncan, the timing, the high-risk mission, and the contingency plans you outlined to us.”

  “I’m still finding my way to the answer,” I said. “Figuring out the key points, figuring out the key players… The mission will come together.”

  “It’s not the damn miss—” he started. He stopped. “You’re doing that on purpose. Dodging me. Let’s talk about what happens if it doesn’t come together. What if your hand gets forced, or if you find compelling reasons to abort your plan and stay, Sy? You had a tone in your voice when you talked about wanting to make this mission against the Baron happen in the next few days. Knowing the patterns you fall into, I get the impression you’ve already started this ball rolling, probably to push yourself forward. Your desire to abort and return to the status quo is so strong you’re putting contingencies into place against yourself.”

  Couldn’t argue that. This Jamie was becoming so different from the Jamie I knew, and it was irritating that he was getting to be so good at picking me to pieces. All of the things in the world that he was capable of, and he chose to analyze me.

  I buttoned up my shirt, fixing the sleeves. I looked over to where he was sitting, his back to me.

  “Sy?”

  “Still here. Focused on getting ready. I did warn you.”

  “I’m worried,” he said. “This is major. There aren’t any second chances, and there’s a lot of room for collateral damage. I heard what the Baron said.”

  I looked at my eye again.

  “I’ll let you know what I’m doing as soon as I figure things out,” I said.

  “Is that a promise?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess I should thank you for paying attention, for caring.”

  “I guess,” Jamie said, in a funny tone. I’m going to remember that promise, Sy. Don’t get slippery, don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, alright? With something this risky, knowing how the cards are stacked against you, you can’t mess around.”

  If I did, what would happen? I wondered. I’d spent some time with Jamie, I’d learned how he operated and I’d learned to respect what he brought to the table, even if he wasn’t my Jamie. But there were so many question marks, blanks in my mental picture of who he was, that I couldn’t figure him out.

  I couldn’t ask the question I’d just mused on, about what Jamie would do if I crossed the line and broke the promise. Instead, I asked him, “What do you think you’re going to do?”

  “You’re worried I’m going to tell on you.”

  “As far as I can figure, you want to secure things, keep the Lambs safe. The deaths don’t weigh on you the way they weigh on me, though I imagine you mourn and remember your predecessor in your own way,” I said, as I fixed my tie. “But there’s clearly another side to you that’s more caring. The way people operate, they’re all the protagonists of their own story. Everyone wants to be the hero, and for that to happen, the story needs to be tellable in a way that puts them in a good light.”

  It was his turn to be silent.

  “So I can’t help but imagine a scenario where you tell yourself I’ve gone off rails, the horse is running away with the cart, and in that scenario, you make the decision to put the bystanders first, the wrecked train or the runaway horse second. If I don’t sell you on this, or if I break the promise, now that I think about it, maybe you tell, because that way, the Academy can’t justify hurting the Lambs.”

  He remained silent.

  “If you do decide to tell, whatever your reason, I won’t blame you,” I said. I pulled on the jacket. There was a dried drop of blood on the inside lining. I picked at it with my thumbnail until it came free. “I’ve blamed you for an awful lot of stuff that wasn’t your fault. It makes sense if, should you decide to go to Hayle and tell him I’ve gone rogue, that I can’t hold it against you. It might even be an optimal way to go. It would tell the Baron that you serve him, first and foremost.”

  “If you wanted to make amends, you could avoid putting me in that position entirely. That seems optimal.”

  Socks on, feet slipped into shoes, I stepped back from the mirror, doing my best to look myself over.

  It wasn’t me, but the suit had been bought with good money and tailored to fit my frame, the dark color intended to fit my complexion. It was as good as I was going to get when it came to ‘nice clothes’.

  I could have trimmed my hair where it was getting longer across the back, but beyond that, and the ruin that was my left eye, I was pretty presentable.

  I grabbed the eyepatch from my bedside table and pulled it on.

  “No need for privacy,” I said.

  Jamie turned around. He gave me a once-over.

  I spread my arms.

  “I think Lillian will be happy, seeing you put in the effort.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I also think you’ve got too much going on in your head right now. I’m worried,” he said. “I don’t think you can just take it all and deliberately push it out of your head, and give Lillian the night you want to.”

  “It’s what I do,” I said. “And besides… I have to.”

  “You have to?”

  “For her.”

  “There are a lot of things I could say to that,” he said. “Points I could make. But I think I’ll settle with… have a good date, Sy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope Lillian enjoys herself as well.”

  I gave him a mock salute, and then opened the bedroom door.

  Without Wyvern sharpening my wits and giving me an edge, I might have let one very muddy Kenneth run straight into my nice clothes. As it was, I stepped out of the way, letting him pass.

  I navigated the demented hordes of Lambsbridge orphans. I passed Gordon and Ashton’s room, where Ashton sat at the window, staring out over the backyard. He’d been at it since before I’d even started my bath. Jamie read, I tormented people, Gordon had played or ran errands to keep busy, if he wasn’t practicing something or other. Helen primped or wandered without any particular aim until Mrs. Earles gave her something to do, Mary altered her clothes, spent time with one of the other Lambs, or she left the house to practice with her knives and wire.

  And Ashton, in the idle hours, just sat. He liked to have a window, but he didn’t need one.

  Whatever went on in his head was more colorful than what the rest of the world was doing, apparently.

  Mary was coming up the stairs as I made my way down. It didn’t leave much room for us to squeeze past each other. She smiled as we both stopped, each figuring out how to navigate past the other.

  “You’re seeing Lillian?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You look nice,” she said. “But you need to do something about that eye.”


  “Soon,” I said. I thought about the Baron. “Soon.”

  “In the meantime, can you do me a favor?” she asked, clasping her hands together. “It would simplify things.”

  “Simplifying isn’t my usual agenda,” I said, playing up the hemming and hawing. “What do you need?”

  “I’ve got a box of things. I’m going to be staying at Lillian’s, and instead of having to walk all the way back here, I was thinking… it would make things easier.”

  I could understand her thought process, on quite a few levels. It wasn’t just that being here sucked, that it reminded her of Gordon, but having a portable box of things and making herself scarce were ways to prepare for the job we were pulling, targeting the Baron.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “How big a box?”

  “Portable,” she said. “It’s already in the front hall.”

  I slid past her, walking down the stairs until I could look around the corner and see down the length of the front hall. A small luggage container sat by the chair in the entryway.

  “You wouldn’t have to carry it far,” she said. “Just from the carriage to the dorm.”

  Carriage?

  “Carriage?” I asked her.

  “They’re picking up Rick any minute now,” she said.

  “Oh,” I said. I made a face. “That would be awkward. I’d prefer to walk.”

  “Alright,” she said.

  “It’s not heavy, is it? Because I can carry it.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “You’ll get sweaty, and I don’t want to do that to my friend.”

  “That’s all I am to you?” I asked. “Not a colleague? Not ‘practically family’? A mere friend?”

  “I was thinking about Lillian,” Mary said, giving me a light smile. “But now that I think about you—”

  Ow, my heart.

  “—You could use a bit more muscle on those bones.”

  Ow, my pride.

  “But tonight isn’t the time to work on it. Leave the luggage. I’ll send it up with Rick, with instructions for them to leave it at the gate, I’ll pick it up as I arrive. That was the original plan, anyway.”