Twig

by wildbow

  Soldiers from the fringes approached.

  “Go. Round up the other groups. Ceasefire all around.”

  “You’re sure?” the soldier asked.

  Warren nodded.

  “You could come yourself,” Mary said. “It would make more sense.”

  “No,” Warren said.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because,” Warren said, drawing in a breath. He looked in the direction of his family. “A long time ago, I pledged revenge. I need to put that to rest.”

  “You pledged revenge against your family?” Lillian asked.

  “No,” he said. “But I think I wanted it more than anything. If I walk away now, I won’t return. I won’t heal what made that wanting possible.”

  Avis moved her coat, and revealed a long bandoleer of vials. She unclasped it, and pulled it free, so it was a strap, rather than a band. She swung it to one side, and I worried the tail end of it would smash against the fountain’s edge.

  “Then… last question,” I said. “Where is she?”

  “You know where,” Avis said. She swung the belt of vials the other way and released it, so it would fly through the air.

  Duncan was the one who jumped forward to catch it in both arms. I would have, but I was fairly sure my legs were too tired, and I trusted the others to handle it.

  I was standing close enough to him that when everyone had looked Duncan’s way, they could see me raise my arm.

  I gestured.

  We left the two people sitting by the fountain. Wendy walked with us.

  The soldiers that had been sent with us weren’t ours, but they served our purposes. They knew roughly where their people had retreated to—the residents of this city. Lost, confused, they had been rallied by Warren’s relations, and they had fought for their well being.

  Once they were taken care of, made to stand down, a scattered few joining us, we could find the others.

  Pierre, Shirley. Junior, Davis and the Treasurer, Bea, Fang, Rudy, Possum, Gordeux, Mabel.

  Some were in smaller groups. Some were being held prisoner. Some held others prisoner.

  Too many of them were hurt. Acid burns, excision marks from scalpels. Davis was out of the fight, which was a damn shame. Possum hadn’t been in it from the beginning, a non-fighter. Rudy hadn’t been in it since the plague had gotten him.

  There would be more Rudys before the day was over. I worried, looking at the work done to carve away the plague, throughout our soldiers’ ranks, that there were already another twenty or thirty, in varying degrees of intensity.

  We only had a few hundred people here.

  I wanted to make all of this worth what they had put into it.

  “You did a good job,” Ashton said, his voice quiet. He was talking to Helen. “Good negotiating. Your finest performance yet.”

  “In another light, that could be construed as insulting,” Duncan said.

  “I think it’s very positive,” Wendy said. “Compliments are nice.”

  “I like her,” Ashton said.

  “Of course you do,” Duncan said. Wendy beamed at him, oblivious.

  I stepped away, joining the others.

  Mabel was taking point on the dispersal of Avis’ chemical markers. We didn’t have a means of flight, but we did have access to a scattered few warbeasts.

  The Treasurer had been acting as Davis’ second in command for a while now, and Davis had been acting as our de-facto general, when Jessie and I were otherwise occupied, which we so often were.

  Not in the rude way. Not always. We had other nefarious things that occupied us, being Lambs and all.

  The Treasurer organized our troops, so to speak.

  When I raised my hand, gesturing, and swept it down as though I was bringing the executioner’s axe down on a stretched out neck, it was the Treasurer who started shouting the orders.

  The chemicals drew Fray’s Tangle away. Our army stormed the doors and other access points. We had already opened the one hatch in the front of the ship. Our chains were still dangling there. The defending forces were light.

  What remained was to take every length of chain and rope we could acquire from the city, and enact a means of getting our army up and inside.

  Lillian came to stand beside me. She hugged my arm. She didn’t have Jessie with her anymore. A task delegated to a stitched, again.

  We stood there, watching. Mary passed us, limping, and shot us a brief smile. Not a happy one, but… she had always wanted her army to command.

  Ashton was saying goodbye to his peers.

  I was left with the impression that Lillian was enjoying a moment with me that didn’t have Jessie in it. She might even have engineered it. I wasn’t about to comment either way. Her head rested on my shoulder, even though we were roughly of a height with one another.

  “You know what Fray is doing,” she said.

  “I think I’ve known for a while,” I said. “A few of the threads, at least.”

  “Can we stop her?” Lillian asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  But we aren’t going to, the voice rejoined.

  Previous Next

  Crown of Thorns—20.15

  “Did she use the word primordial?”

  “Yes.”

  “Recently?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Did she say it the last time you talked to her?”

  “Say what?”

  “Did she say the word primordial in the last few conversations you had with her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I bit my lip.

  “Did she use the word plague, when she didn’t mean the red plague?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention to that kind of thing.”

  “Did she say the word superweapon a lot?”

  “Some. But she says a lot of things some.”

  I gripped the railing ahead of me. “Right.”

  Wendy turned to look starboard.

  “Listen,” I said. “Um. Did she use the words ‘Radham superweapon’?”

  “Some,” Wendy said, looking back at me.

  “Some,” I said. “Was she talking about wild, uncontrolled? Or controlled chaos, or…”

  Wendy looked at me, lost.

  “Okay. Was she being exceedingly careful?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Wendy said. “No more than usual.”

  That rules out some grim possibilities, I thought. At the same time, it left me at a loss.

  Our initial attempt at getting moving had failed. The craft had started to move, then faltered when some of the legs proved too damaged to drag us forward.

  I stood at the railing and watched as teams lashed Fray’s pet Tangle to the front. Wendy stood beside me, holding an umbrella to keep the worst of the rain from soaking her.

  Our means of locomotion was macabre, but it gave us a way forward. Some of the warbeasts were being gathered nearby, a share of our rebels were wrapping up a discussion about them. I couldn’t see nearly well enough to read much more than broader body language, the simplest gestures, like a pointing finger, and who was speaking, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out.

  They divided the warbeasts up, one group more injured, another not, and led the injured within range of the Tangle. Chains and ropes were distributed, so the beasts were lashed to the same rigging that was attaching the Tangle to the front of the Infante’s ship.

  When the crews had tied everything down and retreated far enough away from the warbeasts, orders were called out. The warbeasts were lunging, pulling at the rigging while the greater Tangle remained still. They didn’t like their proximity to this strange thing, especially when they were hurt and tired.

  They liked it even less when chemicals were cast out over them.

  It was an indication for the Tangle to go on the offense. It reached out for the warbeasts, gripped the rigging and the beasts themselves, and then set to work attaching them to itself, while harvesters swarm
ed down its limbs to do the stitching work. The beasts fought a futile tooth and nail battle against the attacker.

  I was a considerable distance above the ground, standing at the very highest point of the ship, and I could still hear the sounds they made.

  “The Lady Gloria is dead,” Duncan said.

  “Oh no,” Wendy said. “What a shame. Who is she?”

  “She’s a noble.”

  “Was she a good noble?” Wendy asked.

  “She wasn’t one of the worst,” I said.

  “Oh no,” Wendy said, again.

  “Alright,” I said.

  He approached from behind and came to stand beside me at the railing.

  Pawing at the ground where some of the chemical had landed, the Tangle tugged on the restraints that bound it. The crew of rebels hurried to get out of the way in case it made any headway.

  “You really see a way forward?” Duncan asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  The people who were still in view below were looking up, trying to see me through the rain. I waved my arm, the motion exaggerated, then extended my arm forward.

  A horn blew. I recognized the pattern as the de-facto call for retreat. Ironic, when we weren’t running.

  “I’m in a weird place in the Lambs,” Duncan said. “I’m the newest member, in a way, discounting the pseudo-Lambs. I actually have outside attachments.”

  “Having doubts?” I asked.

  “No. No, there isn’t much room for doubt, is there?”

  I shook my head. I looked at the devastated terrain and the shattered city before us.

  “I know Lillian and you do your thing, you negotiate. You and she figure out where you’re at.”

  “We do.”

  “And I don’t mean to disparage her at all when I say that she’s emotionally entangled.”

  I looked over at him. His hood was down, his hair wet. Water streamed down his face and into his collar. It was that kind of day, though. We’d been out and active in the rain for so long that being drenched was something we’d resigned ourselves to.

  The Tangle hauled forward, hard, making us stumble into the railing. One of our rebels had taken off on a warbeast, the others presumably onboard or soon to be onboard. The rider had something held aloft, and gas was streaming from it, tinted so it was clearly visible.

  The Tangle was trying to chase, clearly interested in the gas.

  “Just the way it is,” Duncan continued. “You’ve all known each other for a long time. You were introduced early on. Lillian aside, you’ll probably die in each other’s arms.”

  “Oh no,” Wendy said.

  “Dark thoughts,” I said.

  “But not wrong, am I?”

  “No,” I said.

  The intact legs of the ship began clawing at the ground. They were strong, and they provided the initial forward momentum. The Tangle compensated, providing power the weaker legs couldn’t.

  We started moving.

  “The Lambs have their roles. You were conceived of as a gestalt. It’s part of the whole plan, y’know? And I’m not part of that.”

  “You’ve found a place.”

  “As a secondary Doctor. As oversight for the little ones. Lillian fields you, Jessie, and Mary in large part. I’ve immersed myself in the workings behind the vat-grown ones. There’s a division of labor.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “As attached as I am to Ashton and Helen, I wouldn’t say I’m as tied into things. I hope I don’t sound arrogant or too forward if I say maybe I have another role. I’m… about as objective as you guys are going to get, without actually being an outsider.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And outsiders don’t get it.”

  “They don’t,” Duncan said.

  “What’s the objective take?” I asked.

  “Not a take. A question.”

  “Sure.”

  We were picking up speed now. Once something was in motion, it was easy to keep in motion. We had momentum. We charged toward Radham.

  “How worried do I need to be?”

  “That depends on Fray,” I said.

  More people were ascending to the upper deck. The windows below didn’t afford the same view of things. The Lambs were among the people ascending. A stitched carried Jessie, and Lillian and Mary walked on either side of it. The stream of people was disrupted with a pause—people had given a wide berth to the younger Lambs, in large part because of Nora.

  “But you’re not asking about Fray,” I said.

  “No.”

  “I could tell you the same thing I told Mary,” I said. “That when push comes to shove… just about any of you could beat me in a fight.”

  “You could tell me that,” Duncan said. “It doesn’t really answer the question. You picking a fight is a non-concern. You have a wealth of ways to do damage.”

  I remained silent, watching the city.

  “Yeah,” Duncan said.

  He reached out, both hands. One hand shielded the other, so rain wouldn’t fall on what it held.

  A single pill.

  He closed his hand around the pill.

  “Ah,” I said. “You’re that suspicious.”

  “I would appreciate it if you took this. Right here. In the time before the others get here.”

  The pull of the Tangle and the fact that the legs were stronger on one side made the craft tilt slightly. The Tangle corrected to stay on course, and we tilted the other way. Everyone on the deck that wasn’t holding the railing slid or stumbled on the wet deck. It was wood textured to make slipping a little harder, but the acid rain had done a number on that texture, and the degraded wood had a way of filling in the gaps and making everything a little more slick.

  It slowed them down a fraction, but not enough time to really let me dwell on the topic.

  Duncan might have intended that, to give him some credit.

  “What is it?”

  “Reassurance,” he said, without hesitation. He’d anticipated the question.

  “Vague,” I said. I held out a hand.

  He closed his mouth into a grim line, clearly not intent on saying any more.

  Saying more would have given me a chance to divine what he was up to. He was intending to keep this a secret. It could be a leash, something to ensure I wouldn’t last very long after going rogue, or it could be a placebo, something that would have a minor or obvious effect like turning my mouth blue, which would reassure him that I was cooperating enough to take the pill instead of palming it.

  Or both. I couldn’t rule out both.

  Or, the voice echoed. The most distant, least connected Lamb could be a traitor. A poison pill at the pivotal confrontation.

  I held out my hand. Duncan gave me the pill.

  The others were close enough to see, now. I popped the pill into my mouth, then held it in my teeth so Duncan could see.

  “It’s a suppository,” Duncan said, dry.

  “Ha ha,” I said, pill still held in my teeth. I winced as I sucked it back, snorting. I stuck out my tongue, waggling it to show my mouth was empty. “You’re a funny guy, Duncan. You don’t get enough credit for that.”

  “And you’re a charmer. Believe it or not, I was considered one of the best jokers of the year.”

  “What’s this?” Lillian asked, as she joined us.

  “Duncan says people thought he was the funniest guy around.”

  “That says as much about the the classmates we had as it does about Duncan,” Lillian said.

  “Ow, my pride,” Duncan said.

  “You were and are quick-witted and fast with a retort. Especially when you’re in your element. It’s part of the reason I nominated you. And there’s something to be said for the fact that just about everyone else was struggling to get to the top of the class rankings, and didn’t have it in them to crack a joke. You were doing well enough in your classes that you could joke around.”

  “Feels like a horrifyingly long time ago,” Duncan said. “I c
an’t remember the last time I made a joke.”

  “I’m supposed to be the one with the memory problem. You made one about a minute ago, you know.”

  “Ha ha,” he said, without humor.

  The Lambs had gathered all around. It was nice, having them close. Even if Helen was in dire shape and Jessie was sleeping through this. They were near, they weren’t all touching me, but I could feel the warmth of them. I was familiar with them, the smells, the ways they thought, many of the ways they moved.

  It was more like being home than returning to Radham was.

  I took in the scene. Fray was one of my gods to slay for a reason. She was so hard to predict.

  I couldn’t ask what I’d do, because she operated on a different level, for reasons I didn’t know. I had inklings, but I didn’t know how to use those inklings, and I wasn’t wholly sure I could trust them.

  “Hi Wendy,” Ashton said.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you well?”

  “Yes. I’m enjoying a very strange view.”

  “Yes,” Ashton said, sounding very pleased. “I’m going to commit it to memory and describe it to Helen later. She doesn’t have eyes right now.”

  “How nice of you.”

  Some of the rest of us exchanged glances.

  “We should get away from the foredeck before we make impact,” Mary said.

  “We’ve got a little ways to go before we do,” I said, staring at the scene.

  “Did Wendy have any ideas about what Fray is doing?”

  “Nothing concrete. Superweapon, maybe. As much as I keep thinking it has to be something really wild and uncontrolled, that the Crown can’t control or get a handle on, much like the plague, nothing Wendy says suggests that’s the case.”

  “Primordials?” Lillian asked.

  “They might have factored in. She used the word. It’s a casualty of Wendy being Wendy, as exceptional as she is for a stitched.”

  “Thank you,” Wendy said. “But I don’t really have stitches. I’m sealed together properly.”

  “All the same,” I said. “We can pick up on sentiment, but if she was capable of divulging anything too concrete, I suspect Fray wouldn’t have…”

  I gestured to finish the statement. Left her behind.

  “Yeah,” Duncan said. “Maybe.”

  “It’s not as wild a thing as I thought it might be, but she might still be using the calamities as a kind of reverse effort to turn Radham and other strategic areas into an oasis in the midst of a desert storm,” I said.