Twig

by wildbow

  “You’re thinking a lot,” Lara said. “You keep using that word.”

  “I’m not very good at this, so I’m working extra hard to try and figure it out. Even if I’m not very good at figuring out answers, I do want to help. Because I want to do good work for you too, so you’ll want me to keep doing good work. Like I just talked about.”

  “I think I understand,” Lara said. “What you said makes sense, and it does make me feel better. If we do a good enough job?”

  “Yes,” Ashton said. He saw another patrol walk by, checked his watch, and marked down the time. Duncan was there too, with bags in his arms. He had to stop to let the patrol by.

  “Thank you,” Lara said.

  “You’re welcome,” Ashton said, automatically.

  “You’re awake, Abby?” Lara asked.

  “Sorry,” Abby said.

  Abby sat up in bed. As her movements rustled it, the lamb bleated. Her braid was messy and residual dirt from Quinton had transferred over to the front of her very simple ankle-length nightgown, leaving cloudy markings on the bleached white fabric.

  Not for the first time, Ashton thought that Abby was like Sable, from Good Simon Says. She was supposed to be better than Sable, able to understand things about humans as well as animals, but she wasn’t all the way there, and she wasn’t as good with animals as she was supposed to be. That part of her brain had never really developed, and the added systems for communication had never really developed. She was the least talented of all of them.

  “Quinton will need to make water and make a deposit,” Abby said, scooping the lamb up in her arms.

  “Deposit? Water?” Ashton asked.

  “It’s what they said at Sous Reine, to be polite,” Abby said. “Should I go outside? Would one of you come with me?”

  “Oh. Put it out the window,” Ashton said. “It’s at ground level.”

  Abby smiled. “Good idea.”

  He helped Abby get the leash on and open the window. They placed the lamb outside, holding the leash, and let it explore the bushes.

  “Were you listening?” Lara asked.

  “Sorry,” Abby said.

  “It’s okay,” Lara said. “It’s okay if you know.”

  Abby smiled. She held the leash and watched Quinton play in the bushes. Ashton didn’t need to work very hard to work out just how happy she was. It didn’t take much. She just needed something to take care of.

  There was a knock on the door. With Lara bundled up and Abby holding the leash, Ashton took it on himself to respond, peering through the keyhole before opening the door.

  “You were fast,” Ashton commented.

  Duncan answered, “I called in advance, to make sure they’d have our specific breakfasts ready. I’d have been faster, but I took a detour.”

  “Would you want me to take a bag?” Ashton asked, as Duncan made his way through the door.

  “Thank you, Good Simon,” Duncan said. “Take this one.”

  “My name is Ashton.”

  “Thank you, Ashton,” Duncan corrected.

  “That’s better,” Ashton said. He could smell the food.

  There was a table in the corner of the room. The table was likely meant to serve as a desk, but countless rings from teacups and water glasses marked it as a frequent dining table in the dormitory here.

  “Bread,” Duncan said, putting his own bag down and fishing through the one he had given Ashton. “A pat of butter, jam, some sausage from the cafeteria, some chop, some fruit, and some mystery food that the local Academy grew. No promises on the mystery food, but enough others were snatching it up that it can’t be that bad. Should do for Emmett and me, and anyone else who wants to partake. I know Ashton likes jam. Ashton, would you wake Emmett?”

  Ashton walked over to Emmett’s bed and laid an arm on Emmett’s arm. It didn’t take much. Emmett’s eyes opened, and he was out of bed shortly after. He trudged over to the table to eat.

  Without a word, Duncan handed Ashton a plate with a cloth tied in a knot over the top.

  “Thank you,” Ashton said, automatically. He found a seat at the table and undid the knot. Various fruits, vegetables, and meats were organized into a kaleidoscopic pattern of colors and shapes.

  Ashton dutifully set about taking apart the kaleidoscope from the inside out.

  “Abby,” Duncan said. “I sent a letter well before we even arrived, after talking to your doctors, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to track all the particulars of your diet.”

  Duncan trailed off. Ashton watched as Duncan uncovered what looked like a heaping bowl of uninteresting shades of brown.

  “Mashed nut, shredded mushroom, raisins, onion.”

  “I can eat normal food,” Abby said, protesting even though she looked very happy with the boring bowl of food.

  “But your doctors said you don’t like it, because your palate is different,” Duncan said. “So long as your needs are met, there’s no use in making you eat something you don’t want to. Especially when you might dislike it enough that you have fits. You had a good night’s sleep, you’ll have a meal of the foods you like, and we’ll start the day off with the right foot.”

  “Thank you,” Abby said.

  “It just makes sense,” Duncan said.

  “You’re supposed to say you’re welcome when someone says thank you. It’s impolite if you don’t.”

  “Be quiet and eat,” Duncan said.

  “That’s not very polite either.”

  “It’s not polite to hound someone who is nursing a hangover from a tranquilizer gas,” Duncan said. “Take a note of that, and leave me be, alright? I’m allowed to be grumpy.”

  Ashton turned his attention back to the colorful plate. He made sure to do as Duncan had asked and make a note about not bothering grumpy people.

  “And Lara… protein,” Duncan said. He handed over a jar. “Have some of the mystery meat and sausage. Doctor’s orders. Your stomach gets sensitive if you don’t vary things any.”

  Lara nodded. She opened the jar and worked at fishing out her prey.

  “Lastly, well, just about lastly,” Duncan said, fishing in the second paper bag for the first time. “Quinton.”

  He retrieved a cloth sack and a bowl, and set the bowl on the ground, before pouring out a small share of beans from the sack.

  Abby threw herself at Duncan, wrapping her arms around his middle, which nearly made him drop the sack.

  Duncan remained frozen, as if not sure how to handle it, then relaxed a bit. “Go on. If you’re happy, show it to me by eating quickly and listening to me. We’re all here to do a job.”

  Abby obeyed, making sure that Quinton was eating before serving herself.

  “This is good,” Ashton said, as Duncan retrieved a jug of what looked to be tea from the same bag that had held Quinton’s food. “The breakfast. You did well. I don’t think anyone is unhappy.”

  Nobody seemed to disagree. Lara didn’t look particularly enthused as she choked down her still-wiggling meal, but she didn’t look too upset either. Mealtime wasn’t a pleasure for her. It wasn’t a big pleasure for Ashton either, but he did like the colors.

  “I have to, don’t I? I have to do well,” Duncan asked. “I want to run an Academy or be a noble’s doctor one day. If I can’t manage the breakfast of four experiments and one animal at seventeen, can I really expect to manage a whole Academy at thirty? Can I expect to get away unscathed if I make a mistake with a noble’s meal plan?”

  “No,” Ashton said.

  “Exactly. You’re a trial run. You’re one step out of many,” Duncan said. He set down a cup of tea in front of Emmett, then poured out one for Abby. His response had left a bit of a silence, as everyone ate. He served Ashton, then himself, then rummaged in his bag for a small jar and popped it out, before doling out the large, yellow pills. Only when he’d ensured that everyone had had theirs did he sit down to eat.

  Not that he really ate. He rubbed at his eyes some, and grimaced with pain, b
efore setting one elbow on the table and resting the bridge of his nose against the heel of his hand. His head hurt, probably.

  “Now tell me what I missed last night,” Duncan said.

  ☙

  Everyone had dressed, and they had dressed in the lightest clothes they had. All of the boys and Abby were wearing their shoes without socks, just to have less fabric to trap the heat in. Lara still wore her shroud to keep the sun off, but the fabric was thin and she wasn’t wearing anything to cover her feet, letting the cloth of the shroud hide the claws there, while the air circulated around them. The edges of the cloth was getting dirty as it traced along the damp road.

  Emmett had his shirt open, while Duncan and Ashton had the first few buttons undone. Abby wore a gingham dress and walked with Quinton on a leash beside her. The fabric of her dress flapped against her legs as the wind picked up.

  It was warm. Ashton liked the heat more than the cold. He liked being in the light. He liked the drizzle.

  The yard was a field, with tracts of dirt with painted markings on them, worn by the weather and the rain to the point that the lines were faint and ragged, now. There was grass here and there, normally kept short, which had grown long.

  There were also, by the largest field, two long, squat buildings. One was more open, a roof and three walls with benches sitting within. The other was enclosed with a door, maybe it served as a place for changing clothes.

  The open building was empty. They walked by it slowly, looking over every detail.

  “Nobody’s been here,” Duncan observed. “No signs of food, clothing, no blankets…”

  “Nobody,” Abby agreed.

  They approached the other building. Duncan hauled open the door, and froze where he was. Ashton joined Abby in peering under Duncan’s right arm, while Lara peeked past his left. Emmett looked over Duncan’s shoulder.

  A boy and a girl, kissing, lying astride a bench. They’d stopped as the door opened, lips still touching, their eyes going to the door.

  “I’d like to have a word with you,” Duncan said.

  The boy on the bench slid his hand up the girl’s side, while she lay very still, glaring.

  “Please,” Duncan said.

  The boy on the bench stood in a very fluid motion. In the process, he raised his arm, very fluidly pointing the gun he’d just picked up at Duncan.

  Ashton and Abby moved quickly away from the door, to get out of the line of fire. On the other side, Emmett and Lara backed away. Duncan was too squarely in the gun’s sights to join them in taking cover.

  “Damn it,” Duncan said.

  “Okay,” the boy in the building said. “My name is Maurice. The girl with me is Noreen. I’m going to need you to listen very carefully. All four of you are going to back away very slowly. I want to see you standing as a group, about twenty feet behind… Duncan?”

  Ashton could see Duncan sag a little at the mention of his name.

  “I want you where I can see you, far enough away I don’t have to worry too much about you,” Maurice declared. “Especially the red haired one.”

  “He got to you,” Duncan said.

  “Sylvester? He did. Get moving, all of you. Come on now. Unless you don’t care about his welfare.”

  Abby and Ashton moved back, following the instructions. Lara followed their cue.

  Emmett remained where he was.

  “Emmett,” Ashton said.

  Emmett didn’t budge.

  “Please,” Abby said.

  “Bleehh,” Quinton added.

  Reluctantly, Emmett backed off. They formed a group, standing a distance behind Duncan.

  Duncan backed away a few steps as Maurice and Noreen left the building and came to stand in the doorway. Noreen stared them down as she buttoned up her blouse. Maurice continued to point the gun.

  “What happens next?” Duncan asked.

  “I detain you,” Maurice said. “I inconvenience you as much as possible. I’m allowed to shoot to wound. I’m quite a good shot.”

  “Lying,” Abby said, loud enough to be heard.

  “Let’s not antagonize them,” Duncan said. “Please.”

  Maurice smiled. “Alright. I admit, I’m a terrible shot. That should worry you more than me being very precise.”

  “It does, frankly,” Duncan said.

  Behind his back, Duncan gestured.

  Move. Gas. Move.

  Ashton wasn’t very good with the gestures. Sometimes his brain wasn’t very good at putting things together that the others were very good with. Things like this, where move and gas and move had so many meanings and combinations, it confused him.

  Slowly, he was able to piece together a likely interpretation.

  The trick was how to do it. If he simply walked over, it would be a problem.

  “I want to do something, but I don’t want any of us to get shot” Ashton said, quiet.

  “He’ll shoot,” Abby said. “But only if he really, really has to. Can’t you see?”

  “I’m not very good at understanding expressions,” Ashton said. “Especially from this far away.”

  “I am,” Abby said. “I don’t think he’s going to shoot.”

  Ashton reached for Lara’s sleeve, and gripped it, holding the end of her claw up, closer to shoulder height.

  He pushed out spores.

  “Seems like a bad idea,” Duncan said. “Staying here, when there are roving bands of criminals out looking for children.”

  “Children with nowhere else to go get pointed here. We send them somewhere more secure. Most roving bands of criminals aren’t out and about this early in the day. We thought we had time to…” Maurice trailed off, looking at Noreen. “Wake ourselves up from our morning nap.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Duncan said.

  “No you aren’t,” Noreen cut in.

  Lara’s hand shook. She started to pull away, and Ashton held on, still pushing out.

  “This isn’t the group we were told to expect. Not all of it,” Maurice observed.

  “No,” Duncan said.

  “That’s irritating.”

  “Sorry,” Duncan said. He seemed to notice something, “Are you Academy students?”

  Noreen scoffed.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Best thing you can do for yourself is to forget you saw us and listen carefully. I’m going to take a step to the side. You’re going to walk past me, and into this building, understand? You’ll be going inside one by one.”

  “I understand, Duncan said.

  Lara’s trembling intensified.

  All at once, she hauled her hand away, slicing at Ashton’s hand and some of her sleeve. She threw herself to one side.

  “Woah!” Maurice called out.

  He fired a warning shot. Lara threw herself to the ground.

  While she huddled there, spikes and scythes of bone protruded from her shoulder and sleeve.

  “No moving,” Maurice said. He didn’t seem to have anything to say about the weapons that Lara was displaying.

  Ashton hurried to Lara’s side.

  “No moving!” Maurice called out.

  “She’s scared,” Ashton said, as the one who had used his spores to create the anxiety.

  “No moving!” Maurice called out again.

  Ashton huddled down, close to Lara, and pushed out calming spores.

  “I’m very sorry I did that,” he said.

  She remained where she was, hunched over, facing the ground. Her mangled feet with some clawed toes were sticking out behind her. Ashton adjusted the cloth to cover them so they wouldn’t be damaged by the sun. The wind nearly blew the cloth back out of place. He pressed it down with one hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She nodded. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t have been nodding if he hadn’t been trying to calm her.

  As best as he could tell, based on the direction of the wind, the calming effect was being carried by the wind, to Dun
can, Noreen, and Maurice.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Maurice asked.

  “She’s not very good with conflict.”

  “That seems like a monumentally bad thing, given what you lot seem to get up to,” Maurice commented.

  “It’s not the best,” Duncan said.

  “Lords. You almost make me feel guilty,” Maurice said. He glanced at Noreen. “I’m getting too soft.”

  “Get over it,” Noreen said, voice hard.

  “We came to ask about Sylvester. We’re not here to hurt him. We just want to talk, make sure he isn’t up to trouble.”

  “I don’t like you,” Noreen said.

  “I see,” Duncan said. He sounded somewhat dejected as he said it. “I shouldn’t be surprised, given you two are pointing a gun at us, but it hurts to hear it said outright.”

  “How do you do it?” Maurice asked. “You Lambs, if you’re even Lambs.”

  “Not quite,” Duncan said. “Do what?”

  “The intensity? The danger? I like a little bit of a thrill now and then. I mean, hell, I like her, you know? She’s threatened to kill me more times than anyone I know. But danger and chaos seem to draw in you kids like flowers do bees.”

  “Some of us excel at it. I don’t think anyone in this group does,” Duncan said. “Most of them are new. We’re a distraction, sent to spring some of Sylvester’s traps and try to complicate his plots. Except we may have underestimated how many traps and plots there are.”

  “I’ve spent a few days with him,” Maurice commented. “I can virtually guarantee that you did.”

  “Fuck,” Duncan said.

  Maurice shook his head. In the midst of the discussion, he had lowered the gun a fraction. Now it lowered again. “He was a bad enough headache for us, I can’t imagine what it’s like to be his target.”

  “It’s bad,” Duncan said.

  “Give me the gun,” Noreen said.

  Maurice arched an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Something’s wrong. Give me the gun.”