“I'm not an addict,” said Merrill.
“Of course not, of course. But you’re also not making wise decisions.” The teaching tone had disappeared, the mocking smile gone, the woman’s voice turning harsh in a flash, her voice dropping low enough to be a whisper.
“To understand what's occurring in this room, you must understand the history of the gardeners. Long ago, when we were often at war, we realized the importance of not having to rely upon other nations or the heavens for aurels. Look around you. Do you see all these books? All this knowledge? These are where you can find any of the aurels known on earth, all documented here. That’s what makes this room so valuable—the knowledge contained within it. But this knowledge is only useful if applicable.
“Losing a single supply line to a crucial aurel could put the nation at risk, so we created sources here, in our very city, to ensure our survival. For instance, should you seek out the silver of the moon, essential for certain types of healing, you can find it in a valley far to the south. There, the trees part their branches under the full moon, only allowing that light to touch the ground once a month. Over time, it is purified, producing the highest quality in the world through slow, natural aggregation. But to visit this valley is several days' ride, through borders and bandits, and a sphynx is rumored to guard its treasures.
“But what if someone, such as yourself, could simply have taken one of the plants that produces silver moon aurel and only allowed the light of the full moon to reach its leaves? Granted, you will not have as powerful aurel as if you had traveled to the valley, but you still have something that can accomplish common magics. Not the most powerful, of course, but a substitute.
“However, that was long ago. Now, we are at peace. The other nations fear us. Their borders do not close. The bandits flee our Keepers on sight. That means you are no longer as important as you once were. Bernard here seems to slowly grasp the fact of his own obsolescence, even through the haze. So he has let the gardens die, and I supply him with his drugs to keep him from getting too many ideas.”
The woman cleared her throat and leaned back, shaking her head.
“I give you the offer of a lifetime to leave your business behind. Anything you could ask for are but trifles to me. Name your price. The era of gardeners has ended, and so too must you depart with it.”
Merrill hesitated. What was it that she actually wanted? She’d never actually had time to think about that. On the streets, she had wanted food. Under Fel, to make him proud. But now, merely trying to survive seemed so directionless. There was something else that spoke within her; the desire not just to survive, but to succeed. She had already proven herself a worthy gardener, and if she accepted this Keeper’s offer, then she could set up in another city, where she would be welcome.
But just before she spoke agreement, Rhea continued, taking her hesitation for indecision. She dropped her voice to a whisper, leaning forward on the table top, even the creatures in the windows seeming to pause to listen.
“Let us be rid of the secrets in this room. Let us lay the cards on the table. I know that you are not Abigail.”
Merrill froze under her glinting eyes, and Rhea continued, delight touching the edges of her voice.
“It was a worthy attempt, though a futile one. You are not who you say. However, I cannot act upon it. Why? Because if the other Keepers learn that you’ve been running the sole garden in the city for months, without any sort of license, it will come at a great embarrassment to my house through association with Bernard. His laziness has come at a cost, as I never would have overlooked this. We had not expected someone to take Fel’s position so quickly, nor for him to succumb so fast. That might give the other Keepers ideas—ideas of more gardens.
“There’s a simple reason I know this. Abigail died. Even before then, Fel had always been a thorn in my side, refusing to leave with the other gardeners, to take an incentive. He did love southern spice, did he not? Even Fel could not grow peppers that hot here, though he did try. Like aurels, the substitute just isn’t as pungent. If I remember correctly, and I do, you were the one to purchase them for him at the market. Fortunate, then, you did not share his enjoyment, though they did not end him so much as accelerate his old age.
“Now, you could have the same fate, but that would arouse suspicion. Someone might look into two deaths at the same garden within a year. So, I am offering you now the chance to leave. If you refuse, well, accidents do happen all of the time. Plenty of your plants could kill a careless hand, just as my peppers have.”
But Merrill was no longer listening. A chill rushed over her as she thought back to when she had started doing Fel’s shopping. That had been when he had started losing his memory.
She had never known Abigail. She could never grieve her completely. She had never felt that as a personal loss.
But Fel was different.
When the Keepers had tried to poison Merrill in the streets, Fel had taken her in. And now, the Keepers were trying to feed her lies of a journey around the world—one that was surely laced with its own poison. For an accident on the road would be far easier than an accident in the city itself, and who would question if Merrill never returned?
But what if Rhea was bluffing? What if she had simply researched enough to know of Abigail’s death? And still, why did she care so much that Merrill left?
“I will not ask you for an answer today. I think this is a decision to be slept on. Already, you have much to take in for an outringer,” said Rhea with the same smile, now reeking of self assurance. “As Keepers, we bend reality to our wills. I already bent Fel to my will, and I shall not hesitate to do so again. You have two weeks, and that is being gracious.”
Under the table, Merrill’s fingers clenched. Rhea had killed Fel—killed him as if it were no more significant an act than drawing a rune, or thinning a germinating plant. To speak of it so casually made Merrill’s breath catch in her throat.
“Sure, it may take time. It may take more work than I'm accustomed to. But I will act. Think upon it, and realize that Bernard was right about one thing. You are an insect. And the door is open for you to fly away, little bee.”
Merrill shook as she stood, and the woman took note, the pleasure showing on her face.
“Bees sting,” she snapped, then she whipped around and departed into the hallway.
Chapter 38: Merrill
Merrill’s guide chided her the entire way back to the lift.
“You can’t speak like that to Keepers! Do you realize who you were talking to? That was–”
“Yes, you’ve told me a hundred times about the oh so high and mighty Keepers. I came here to have a business discussion, not to be threatened, so unless you are asking about buying crops then I’m not interested. In what you or they say.”
“Talk like that will get you killed, or–”
“The damage is already done. We’re already deep into that territory,” Merrill said. “I don’t think a few words now will alter the risk, no matter how insulting.”
Her guide kept talking, but she ignored him as they entered the lift and began to descend, the walls flying upward. After that meeting, the depth of the ground beneath her no longer seemed as pressing; rather, it was secondary, like worrying of dying of sickness while a lion opened its jaws from only a few feet away.
When they reached the bottom level, Merrill’s thoughts were racing through her mind so fast that she hardly noticed. Had Rhea been truthful? Or lying for negotiation power?
When Merrill stepped out of the lift, her two eyes met the three waiting for her. The knower watched, and Merril could tell that she was aware of her thoughts—after all, that was the knower’s nature. And she answered the bargain that the knower had left open.
“Deal,” Merrill whispered.
The knower’s mouth twitched upward, and she removed the darkened monocle over her forehead.
The familiar sensation came over Merrill as she rushed forward, splashing through the barr
ier of consciousness into the knower’s mind to be surrounded by white fog once more. This time, instead of twisting into vines, the fog spiraled into the shapes of people, the knower speaking as they started to take form.
“For you, this knowledge is old, much of it over a decade,” she said, "but to me it is quite young. A blip in my existence, passing by in a blink. This was provided to me by the assistant of Rhea Falstor, traded away for something as small as a few years' wages. A pouch of coins, hidden in the city for over two hundred years, forgotten after its owner was killed by the friends of those he was paid to murder. Dirty money, now in clean hands.
“The assistant left after that, to my knowledge, which of course is better than anyone else in the city. Rhea has never known these secrets to be divulged, nor that I am aware of them. Now, watch closely, for I give you this knowledge only once. There will be no repetitions.”
“Wait!” Merrill cried out. “I have one other condition for you!”
“For me?” asked the knower, amused. “I am not some mere Keeper to be bargained with at the last minute. I may be trapped here by them, or at least part of me separated by them, but don’t think you can change the negotiation with me.”
“But you just stated your own stipulations!” protested Merrill. “All I ask is that you do not share what I tell you.”
“The nature of knowledge is to be shared! Secrets escape because they cannot be contained. What you ask goes against my nature.”
“Fine, then we can reach an agreement. I ask for six months. Six months before you can share what you learn. After all, for you, that is a blip within a blip.”
The knower stroked her chin, thinking and making a sound that reminded Merrill of a purring cat.
“Fair, it is but a blink. Six months, then after that, it is mine to do with as I see fit. We have a deal, young one.”
That word, deal, seemed to sizzle in the air with energy. The smoky figures fleshed out, and tendrils of foggy air wrapped around Merrill, adding a layer on top of her, until she looked through the eyes of another. One smaller than her by at least six inches, judging by the height of Rhea before her. This Rhea wore not so many wrinkles on her, the crows feet just starting to form, and sat at a table with a man who Merrill had never seen, yet whose face was the shadow of Bernard’s had he aged another decade.
Merrill’s hands moved without her command, and for an instant she panicked, fighting the motion. Her arms broke through the skin of the body she inhabited, turning into wisps of smoke. She caught her breath and let the will of the smoke pull her along. The gentle tugs were just enough to move her like a puppet, and they carried her along in the body of Rhea’s assistant.
She waited upon the two of them, her hands shaking as she prepared the tea, knowing that the smallest mistake would result in heavy beatings later. Perhaps worse, for Rhea knew how to use her magics to inflict pain without leaving marks.
“We need more ember's core,” the man was saying as he drummed his fingers on the table. “The prices are high, your mines are failing, and you cannot provide enough for the city.”
“I provide higher quality,” said Rhea.
“Not always, in fact. One of our gardeners, a man named Fel, can provide nearly the exact same as what you bring, since yours must be transported. And yet you block it. You try to prevent him from growing it in the city, destroying the seeds any time they are near. Don't say that it was the bandits, or the storms, or that they were confiscated for security concerns. We both know it was you."
“Ah, I am in command of the external aurels, as we agreed. And all those events occurred outside the city.”
“Don’t be coy with me. If we are going to play that game, I'll destroy anything of your products that enter the city, since I own the interior aurels.”
“Oh, Bernard,” she said, as Merrill realized he shared the same name as his son. “We have ourselves a quandary here. For whenever you gain money, I lose it. When I gain money, you lose it. One grows while the other shrinks. The pie is only so big—there is only so much to be had. This interlocking will be the undoing of both of us. It is what has caused our families to decline, ever since yours introduced gardening. Yet you still refuse to raise your prices. And now you ask me to allow ember’s core into the market.”
“We sell to the other Keepers. To our military and government. Are you suggesting we gouge them? Hold them hostage by their wallets?”
“They hold our wallets hostage by pushing back against our prices,” Rhea spat back. “Keeping our families from advancement. Surely that alone is reason enough.”
“Your suggestion is treason,” Bernard said flatly.
“To be a Keeper is to bend reality. What is treason but a reflection of that reality? If it does not suit me, why should I live within its rules? I prefer to change it.”
“What do you intend to do, raise prices until they listen to you?” he sneered. “Let’s see how long they let that go on.”
Rhea laughed, the same exact laugh that she had shared with Merrill, the laugh of knowing something when the other person did not.
“Oh, no. No,” she said. “You're right, Bernard. Surely that would never be enough. For you see, that was never my target, there is not enough to be profited down that path. Because we still share the market.” She looked at him, then spoke offhandedly, as if addressing the wall. “Did you know that your son has started a similar taste to your own habits? Oh Bernard, we all know you carry it with you. I can practically smell it though your pocket.
“He has what?” Bernard snapped, caught unaware, and she repeated.
“He’s started using. At ten years old as well. Makes you wonder how he will make it to thirty. Why are you so surprised? In fact, the Tower is starting to wonder why you, Bernard, have lasted so long with the amount you take. It's no secret."
“Heavens, how did he get into that?” Bernard cursed, standing to leave.
“Well, that's quite simple, Bernard. I gave it to him. More than that, I encouraged him.”
Bernard froze, his hands clamping the table’s edge the same way that his son had done ten years later, and Rhea continued.
“It doesn't take much of a push when you're that young. Just someone a little older, one of your role models, needs to hand it off to you. Do you know the price of your son’s addiction, Bernard? I gave six honey rolls to a student two years older than him. Six honey rolls, for your son’s life. Strange, isn’t it, to consider the expense? Perhaps you would have wanted to raise that price.
“You, you bitch,” Bernard said, shaking his head, still trying to comprehend what she was saying. “The council will know of this.”
“That won’t stop the addiction. He’s already used a dozen times, we both know after three you can start carving the tombstone.”
“How dare you!” Bernard shouted, his face red, and he started advancing on her. But he stumbled, having to grip the table for his balance. And the girl whose body Merrill inhabited started to shake.
“What, what is this?” he said, looking to his tea and back to Merrill.
Rhea smiled up at him.
“Oh, Bernard,” she said. “Oh, Bernard. You see, we bend reality. And in my reality, you are an obstruction. Your whole family is an obstruction. One that anchors my own down. So I’m doing what any mother would do. I’m doing away with it."
Merrill felt her face contorting with guilt, and memories that were not her own flowed in front of her eyes. She saw the white powder she had been instructed to pour into his tea, a precise amount, and to make sure it was only in his cup.
“See, Bernard, this meeting of ours, it is in secret. Right now, you should be in Heaven Three; after all, that’s what I instructed your own assistant to tell anyone asking for your whereabouts. Two gold coins—that was the price to buy her loyalty. That, too, should have been higher, should it not have?”
Bernard’s face paled, and Rhea continued, sipping her tea as if they were still discussing the price of ember’s core.
“Up in Heaven Three, it's far more dangerous than here. There are all sorts of nasties you can tangle with. For you, I chose a dragon.”
“You've dared poison me,” he uttered. “I came here to work together with you, after you spent years begging me to come to the table.”
“Yes,” she said. ”I spent years waiting for this moment. It's not so much a betrayal as it is a calculation. Have no worries, however. When your body is found in Three, it will appear to have been an honorable death. I’ve taken care to give the dragon some scars—more than would be expected from you. We both know you’ve never been much of a fighter, all of the Tower knows that. I’ll leave a brighter memory for you than you could have, a semi-warrior instead of a simple merchant of second rate aurels. Your own body, well, that of course will be burned to a crisp. No trace of poison will be left behind.
“Take comfort that you will be remembered fondly. A fool, perhaps, for reaching higher than his station. Inspirational to those who seek likewise.”
By now, Bernard was as pale as salt, his hand over his heart, shaking as he fell to the floor. He raised a finger, starting to draw a rune in the air, but it flickered out before he could complete it, the lines dissipating in sparks that fell to the floor.
“I chose the poison to be painless, out of respect. Your son’s death will be the same, and the pain of watching your life’s work dissolve through his fingers will be dulled by the drug." Bernard’s eyes closed, and Merrill trembled as Rhea looked to her.
“When he stops breathing, I want his body cleared away. In the closet there is a bag. Button him up and leave him there, where others will arrive in two hours to take him off to Heaven Three. A single word of this from you, and your family will bear an even worse fate. Their poison will not be painless, and yes, I know where they live, their habits. Keep your lips tight.”
The vision faded, leaving Merrill with the emotions of the server girl, still shaking and shrinking away, her breath catching tight in her chest. But then the fog twisted again, thrusting her back into the girl’s body, perhaps a full year older now with a slight gain in height. This time it was night, and she was standing next to Rhea in a dark street. A street that Merrill recognized, that she knew too well, for it was Fel’s own estate that they stood beside.
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