Twig

by wildbow

  “Final days?” Abby asked.

  Lillian spoke, “Some Academies will continue running, to look after the Tender Mercies and various other creations who are designed to survive and patrol the wasteland that the Crown States is going to become. They’ll maintain control and look after things. A skeleton crew. Hayle is going to be one, looking after Radham. But everyone else is going to leave. They’re interested enough in the rumor and lies we’re spreading that they’re making this one of the last ports of call. They’ll go from here to Trimountaine or vice versa and then make their way over to London.”

  Bo Peep was watching Quinton, tuning out almost half of the discussion. At a nudge from Shirley, she crossed the little section of garden, giving a wide berth to Lara and Nora, before settling next to Abby and Quinton. Abby picked Quinton up and scooted over to sit with her thigh touching Bo Peep’s, and set Quinton down so he was lying across their laps. Bo Peep’s hands hovered in the air, as if she couldn’t bring them down without touching Quinton, but she was too overwhelmed to make even incidental contact with the lamb.

  “I’ve left us in bad shape to do what we planned on doing,” I said. I watched as Abby took Bo Peep’s hand and brought it down to touch Quinton’s neck.

  “We’ll manage,” Mary said. “We have to. There’s no other choice.”

  We have to. We didn’t have much more of a path forward than the students here did.

  “They have to cross dangerous ground to get here,” Duncan said. “Bandits, the desperate, rebels like Mauer. So even if it’s not the targets we want, it’s going to be a scary number of lesser nobles, professors, and all of the forces and top-tier creations they see fit to bring with them as they aim to get safely over here and then cross the pond.”

  “And the Infante?” I asked. I saw a flicker out of the corner of my eye and glanced over. “The Duke? The top-tier Professors?”

  “We’ll figure something out,” Duncan said. “But that comes after. For now we need to pull together, get a plan in motion, and survive the next week.”

  “We’ll manage,” Mary said, once again.

  I almost agreed. Almost. Before I could indicate or speak something to that effect, I saw the shape out of the corner of my eye once again.

  I hadn’t seen many of the hallucinations. The people around me were no longer monsters, the Academy looked almost normal. The dose of Wyvern and the unconscious reconstruction of things had no doubt gone a ways toward that. It had helped me piece my mind partially back together, and seeing and coming into contact with the Lambs had helped me piece my heart most of the way back together.

  But it had come at costs. A lowering of defenses, doors opened I’d meant to keep shut. I no longer faced a legion of devils that nobody else could see. I faced a singular entity.

  The Infante stood at another section of the garden, watching the clouds, his hands clasped behind him, silent.

  I should tell the others.

  I can’t tell the others and destroy this small happiness we’ve found here.

  “We should talk plans,” Jessie said, giving my hand a squeeze. “There’s a lot to do. A lot of things to repair, some literal, after the warbeasts and experiments stalked the halls. There are scripts to put in place, to borrow something from Ferres, we need tools, we need organization.”

  I remained where I was, frozen, trying not to look at him even as he drew my attention with the smallest of movements.

  Mary spoke, “Lillian can coordinate the science angle, the tools, the experiments we’ll need. She knows enough about a variety of things to know what’s up. Right? And you can coordinate with the Beattle rebels? You know how Lambs think and you’ll have a sense of how they think.”

  “Right,” Lillian said.

  “I can do the same with the soldiers, train people to fight, how to think in a skirmish or a battle,” Mary said. She looked more at ease than I’d seen her in a while. She looked excited at the prospect. “If there’s no objection?”

  “None,” Bea said, Davis’s utterance only a hair’s breadth from matching hers.

  Movement in front of me made me flinch.

  Helen. With a cup of tea on a saucer, cookies arranged in a half-circle around the rim.

  “It’s medical tea,” she said. “It’ll help your kidneys stop hurting. The cookies aren’t medical, but they’re important too.”

  I took it wordlessly. She gave me a lingering, almost concerned look before turning her attention to higher priorities—to more tea and cookies.

  I tried to shake off any look of terror, to control my breathing and consequently my heartbeat, so I wouldn’t give others reason for concern. Only Abby might notice, with her eye to body language, and Bo Peep and Quinton had her full attention. I hadn’t seen much of her, but I’d never seen her more in her element than I saw her in this moment. It had been too long, by that same measure, since I’d seen a smile on Bo Peep’s face.

  I looked in the direction of the Infante, and he was gone from his spot.

  I nearly dropped my tea and the carefully arranged cookies when I saw him, standing by the railing, only a short distance from the others, his back to me. He’d moved closer.

  Not trusting myself to speak, in case I betrayed my fear and betrayed this moment, I ate my cookies slowly.

  Previous Next

  Root and Branch—19.2

  They looked at me differently. Students, whether they wore Beattle uniforms or Hackthorn ones, or whether they’d lapsed into civilian clothes, all turned their heads to follow me as I walked down the hall with Duncan.

  I’d nearly brought everything tumbling down. I’d put them at mortal risk, and I remained unpredictable. They had been making forward progress, something that approximated hope and direction, and because of me, in large part, they had seen it all in jeopardy. It went a step beyond that, because I represented something to them.

  They’d lived ordinary lives, before. Beattle students struggling to find a way forward, getting their second chance with knowledge that they were in the clear with a future ahead of them, that they were doomed, their goals falling to pieces, or that they were in limbo, and only hard work could see them through. Professor Ferres’ students weren’t facing the gauntlet in the same way, they were students with a slight artistic lean, but they were strong students and Hackthorn was mostly an Academy where everyone who attended had reasons for attending. The Hackthorn students had been secure.

  My appearance, for all of them, had thrown things into disarray. To the Beattle students, I’d been the first recognizable face to the new reality, that the Academy was closing and that they didn’t have a chance. To the Hackthorn students, I was the invader, the leader of the rebels that had taken over. We’d said the right things to some, and fear or hope for a better tomorrow had brought them into our camp. Others were reluctant, only with us because the alternative was being a prisoner. I was the face of the person in charge, alongside Jessie, and I was the one who talked the most and acted the most overtly.

  When they needed to put a face or a voice to the idea of what their future might hold, my face and voice were liable to be what popped up.

  I couldn’t really blame them, either. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself. I didn’t trust my senses or my judgment. I sure as heck didn’t trust the Infante, who was walking behind us, his every footfall heavy enough to drum through my trains of thought.

  “You’re quiet,” Duncan said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I know we didn’t spend that much time together, but you normally focused a great deal on the others. Spend time with Jamie—Jessie now, with Lillian, or with Helen sometimes. You’d hang out with Ashton if you got the chance, but I wasn’t exactly a focus.”

  “Yeah. Sorry if that was crummy of me.”

  “Nah. That part was fine. Lonely sometimes, but I pushed through. I took it as another political test, if I couldn’t tackle being on the outside of a tight-knit group, I didn’t deserve to be a professor, right?”

&n
bsp; “Sure,” I said. I privately thought that the stance explained a fair bit about why he’d been a bit insufferable, if he’d been taking it as a challenge.

  “But you had a pattern, kind of. Somewhere along the way, if we were interacting, you’d get on me.”

  “Get on you?”

  “Undercut me, passive remarks, find ways to contrive for me to sound like I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m… pretty sure on that last one, by the way. I wasn’t at the time, but I’ve chewed that particular cud for a bit and I can remember times when I’d say something about the Academy or Academy Science and you’d be in earshot, and then a little while later it would come up and I’d be wrong. At least in that particular instance.”

  “You chewed that cud right,” I said. “Yeah. Even if I don’t remember any specific examples, that sounds about right.”

  “It’s just odd, because this is the first time we’ve had a proper conversation and you haven’t done that.”

  “Is it?” I asked.

  “More or less.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t really sure what to say to that. It was what it was.

  There was a group of students who were gathered around a section of carpet, where the carpet stretched down the length of the hall. The carpet had been torn, and efforts to address it were complicated by the fact that there was blood soaking the area around the tear.

  They looked wary as they watched me approach and pass. Duncan stopped and so I did too.

  “Stuck?” Duncan asked.

  The student was a young man, eighteen or so, and he’d taken off the uniform shirt and tied it around his waist, wearing slacks and an undershirt. He was covered in fibers and dust, and the stuff stuck to his oiled hair. He sighed and asked, “How bad would it look if we tore it all out? If we left it bare?”

  “Bad,” Duncan said. “Every hallway has a runner like this. People might not notice specifically that the hallway is without, but they’d feel like something was off, at the very least, and that would make them suspicious. Besides, the building here went up fifteen years ago, the carpets have been here at least that long, and I guarantee you, if you tear it up, it’s going to leave a patch that’s a different color than the rest of the floor. It’ll show, and this is a trafficked hallway.”

  “We can’t sew it up, so we’re thinking silkworms. There’s some stuff in the lab where one of the student groups was producing quality textiles for fashion. Worm silk. It would take some jiggering, but we might be able to squeeze it into the schedule.”

  “Maybe,” Duncan said. “I think, for now, tear it up, but don’t leave it bare. Get one of the runners from the top floor, bring it down. Leave it bare up there for now, see what you can do on the patch job, hopefully we can manage things so the upstairs don’t see too much traffic.”

  He glanced at me. “What do you think?”

  “It’ll do,” I said. I wondered at the wisdom of asking me for advice. “It’s maybe a silly suggestion, but maybe instead of engineering silkworms to patch it together again, you could check with the staff and see if they have any spare runners in storage?”

  That earned me some long looks.

  “You might have to grill some more uncooperative staff members we’re holding prisoner, but you might be able to negotiate something. You can tell the jailer I said it’s okay. Or that Duncan okayed them getting privileges or treats.”

  The dusty fellow finally said, “I’ll go do that. You guys roll this one up, and if I’m not back, clean the floors?”

  The others nodded.

  “Good luck,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said, with a funny note in his voice. It was, as best as I could figure it out, rooted in the fact that he wasn’t a fan of taking counsel from me. The troublemaker.

  The Infante watched me as Duncan and I resumed our brisk walk.

  The students and a number of non-students were up, about, and active, getting things done. Supplies and construction materials were being carted this way and that. Other things were more mundane. Multiple wheeled carts piled high with school uniforms to be laundered were being eased down the staircase by teams of four. They’d been cooped up for two days and a hundred scared people produced a lot of sweaty clothing.

  I wondered if it had been the fact that they’d been cooped up and now were free. There was a time limit, and as reluctant as some were, the Beattle rebel leaders and Lambs had managed to convey that we needed to do this right. There was no room for error. If we screwed up here, students would die, very possibly by way of marching single file to take their turns at a set of nooses or guillotines.

  It was a grim and very motivating image, that.

  Then, as if to stand in stark contrast, Bo Peep and Abby turned up, alongside Lara. One of them had dropped the leash, and Quinton was getting away. He was more spry and adventurous than the first Quinton I’d met, and he ducked in and through the legs of furniture as he crossed the top floor of the main body of Hackthorn. The main dining hall. The stairwell I’d sat on and watched proceedings from was now occupied with students. My ‘throne’.

  Abby threw herself beneath a bench, sliding on the recently mopped floor. Quinton evaded her hands, leaped up onto the bench, then onto the table.

  The table next to him had another table on top of it, legs sticking up in the air. Quinton leaped onto the struts that connected the legs. Bo Peep made an inarticulate sound of alarm.

  Picking herself up, Abby stood at the nearby table, planting hands on her hips.

  “Bleahhhh,” Quinton said.

  “Bleahhh,” Abby said, sticking out her tongue. “I’m glad you’re having fun. But if you keep going that way then you’re going to get that leash tangled up in the struts and you’ll hang yourself when you jump down.”

  “No!” Lara said, alarmed.

  “Bleh-heh,” Quinton said.

  “You know he can’t understand you, right?” I said.

  Abby glanced over her shoulder at me, then turned her full attention to Quinton. “Play time’s over. Come here.”

  She put her arms out in front of her.

  Quinton jumped down to the table and then leaped through the air, throwing himself into Abby’s waiting arms.

  Bo Peep practically bounced with joy on her way to Abby and Quinton’s side. Lara wasn’t far behind.

  “Well,” I said. “I think it’s going to take a crowbar to separate Abby and Peep, now.”

  “Yup,” Duncan said.

  “They’re okay?”

  Duncan smiled. “They’re good. They’re a positive influence on Ashton.”

  “Does he need positive influences? He’s such a little goody-two-shoes he probably folds his clothes before he puts them in the dirty clothes hamper.”

  “No comment. No, really, they help him be more human. It’s an uphill climb sometimes.”

  “Just wait until one of them ends up sweet on him.”

  Duncan made a face.

  “One of them’s already got a burgeoning crush?”

  “No comment,” he said.

  So many of the students in the area were watching the children interact, and smiles found most of those faces.

  “We can do this,” Duncan said, his tone changing. He was reacting to the expression on my face. I wasn’t really trying to keep tells at bay. I was conserving energy.

  “You think?” I asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  I nodded at that. “Sorry I was a shit to you all that time. You very thoroughly proved me wrong.”

  “Good,” he said. “That’s satisfying to hear.”

  “Thank you for looking after them.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “I wish I’d been able to keep better tabs on Mary and Lillian. We got our coats and we went our separate ways. I should have done more, but my head wasn’t there. I was wrestling with what you’d said about the nobles, the Crown being a lie. I saw my family, I worked in a few places that Hayle connected me to, loo
ked after Helen for a stretch while Ibbot was away, and I couldn’t get over it.”

  “No?”

  “No. Somewhere along the line, I realized I couldn’t envision a world where I kept working for my black coat, where I went on to work for nobles in the highest capacity. I crossed paths with Lillian a few times. I think, odd as it sounds, it was harder for her to come to terms with.”

  “She wanted to run an Academy like Ferres runs Hackthorn, but something better-intentioned, more focused on the people on the ground, helping those in need. It’s not as clean a break, for her.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” Duncan said. “I’m giving up a lot, and I’m lying in bed at night, trying to go to sleep, and I worry so much that they’re retaliating against me by going after my family. But Helen came, she laid it out, and I thought of those guys.”

  Bo Peep was stooped over, trying to stay still and not lose her passenger as Quinton perched on her shoulders, but that proved difficult as he adjusted his footing, hard hooves biting into her.

  “You’re a good guy, Duncan.”

  “I used to think so,” Duncan said.

  He was about to say something else when Lara turned around, craning her head. “Duncan!”

  “What?” Duncan called out.

  “Nora says there’s a problem. Urgent. They’re at the gate.”

  “Right,” Duncan said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Grab Lillian while you go? She should be near the bridge there. She was talking to the men in charge of soldiers.”

  “On it.”

  “And!” Lara called out, flinching as people turned to look. “Is Jessie still napping?”

  “In the admin building,” I said.

  “They want Jessie too.”

  Asking for people by name, and I’m not among them.

  I got it. It hurt, it sucked, but I got it.

  It was the cost of losing my mind, even as I’d tried to lose it as gently and non-destructively as possible.

  Duncan spoke, “You guys go get her. I’ll head straight to the gate, you guys go wake Jessie. You want to go with them, Sy?”