by wildbow
“You took some time,” he said.
Amelia hugged her arms to her body. “I sat down to think and lost track of time.”
“We’re worriers, my girl. It’s an asset when applied in the right amount. Is your hair dry?”
Amelia touched her hair but didn’t venture a reply. He reached out to touch her hair, and again, he saw her flinch. “Good enough. Have a seat. The latest, what was it, a novel from this ‘Fade’ series? It was there for auction. I could send someone to track it down if you’re interested.”
She shook her head.
“Not interested in reading, or not interested in reading that?”
“Both. Mostly the second part.”
“At least you have taste. Well, the meeting begins in one or two minutes. I would like you to attend, of course. Best if you don’t speak unless directly asked a question, and say less rather than more. It’s a tactic I employ myself, leaves you less room to say the wrong thing.”
“They’re going to ask me to use my power. I can’t.”
“I understand. Yes, they probably will want a demonstration. I only know what Lung’s told me, which isn’t much, and what you’ve said, which is even less. That in mind, I still think that a demonstration would do a great deal to secure our position.”
“I can’t,” her voice was small.
Then we may well die, my daughter.
“We’ll cope some other way, then,” he said. “In the meantime, to convey the right image, it’s best if you make eye contact and speak clearly. Sit.”
“Okay.”
He stood, then seated himself on the table, his feet on the bench beside Amelia.
He gave the signal to Spruce and Whimper, and they stepped away from the entrance to Cell Block W.
All in all, there were twelve cell blocks with leaders. That meant that there were eleven leaders with eleven lieutenants arriving. Acidbath, Galvanate, Teacher, Lab Rat and Gavel were leaders of the cell blocks on the men’s side of the prison. Lustrum, Black Kaze, Glaistig Uaine, String Theory, Crane and Ingenue were the female leaders. There were other cell blocks, but twelve was generally agreed on as a good number. It left room for discussion without too much chaos, and it left enough cell blocks leaderless that they had elbow room to do business elsewhere.
“This is the healer?” Gavel asked.
“Amelia, yes.”
“My people say you’re taunting them, Marquis, having this girl staying in the men’s wing without a lover.”
“Not my intention, I assure you. I would guess some people are only looking for something to complain about.” Marquis looked pointedly at Gavel as he replied.
“Don’t waste my time with this male posturing,” Lustrum cut in. “I have women to look after. I delivered your daughter to you because you promised repayment and because she asked. I wouldn’t mind seeing that payment.”
“It was implied that I would pay you back in coming weeks or months, not in a week.”
“And if I ask a month or two from now, will you postpone the payment yet again?”
“I don’t expect I will, but maybe you could clarify the payment you’re looking for?”
“She’s a healer. Some healing would serve.”
Damn, Marquis thought. She had to ask.
“Amelia isn’t healing anyone right now,” Marquis said.
“Ambiguous,” Crane’s voice was sonorous, smooth, “Is that because she can’t or because you’re ransoming her ability?”
Marquis only smiled.
“You explicitly let us know you were open for a meeting,” Teacher said. He didn’t look like a cape in the least. He was fat, for one thing, and he was ugly, with a red face and balding pate. “Don’t be coy.”
“Coy? No, let’s say we’re simply weighing our options and getting a lay of the land. Healing’s rare. More than one person picked up on the fact that her codename meant ‘universal cure’.”
Teacher smiled, smug.
“But there’s a great deal of demand, and you’ll have to forgive me for being a doting father, but I won’t exhaust my daughter’s mental or physical resources to parcel out her healing. We’ll hear terms, we’ll discuss the offers and counteroffers over the next several days or weeks, and then we’ll let you know our decision.”
“You are holding her power for ransom,” Lustrum spoke.
A power she isn’t willing to use, one that I don’t know the particulars of. Worse, it’s tied to a deeper trauma that somehow involves the loss of a sister, and that’s not something that can be addressed in a matter of weeks.
“I suppose I am,” he replied.
Glaistig Uaine shifted position, and Marquis wasn’t the only one to give her his full attention. What he could see of her beneath the blackened tatters of her prison-sweats-turned-shroud suggested she was barely a teenager, but that was more due to her power than anything. She’d been one of the first prisoners of the Birdcage, and he suspected she would be one well after he’d died. Not that her megalomanical delusion was true. Rather, it was the fact that nobody dared to pick a fight with her.
When Glaistig Uaine spoke, her voice was eerie, a broken ensemble of a dozen people speaking in sync. “Beware, Marquis. You will pay a thousandfold times for your arrogance when the armies of the faerie rouse and gather for the last war.”
“Rest assured, Glaistig Uaine, you’re scary enough on your own,” Marquis replied, smiling, “I don’t need a whole army of your kind chasing me down.”
“There will be no chasing, for they are already in position to strike you down the moment they wake, three hundred years hence. You’re nothing more than the dream of the faerie. I can see it, so vivacious, so creative in its movements, even in slumber. I think it might have been an artist. I want it for my collection.”
He was glad Amelia didn’t challenge the ‘three hundred years’ thing and the notion that they would still be alive then. The ‘faerie’ didn’t react kindly to such.
“You’ve said as much before, noble Faerie,” he said. “Rest assured, you can have me when I’m dead. In the meantime, I will keep your warning well in mind.”
“Your daughter, too. Your faerie is kin to the one that sleeps inside the girl. I have no doubt this Amelia is a healer, but that’s only a facet of her true strength. I have decided I will not bargain with you, Marquis.”
Marquis used his hands to prop himself up as he leaned back. “A shame, but understandable. You don’t need healing, and your people are a secondary concern.”
“I will collect them as they fall. But you are mistaken, Marquis. I am not expressing disinterest in her talents. I am saying that I will only deal with her as an equal.”
In years of using his power, of breaking his own bones and feeling the pain each time, Marquis had made himself a master at hiding his emotions beneath a mask. Even so, he only barely managed to contain his surprise.
“Very well,” he said. He reached into his pocket and deftly retrieved a cigarette. He took his time lighting it. “We’ll be in touch, then.”
“Agreed.” Glaistig Uaine replied. She extended a hand to Amelia, and Marquis tensed.
Do I stop her?
Every rational part of his psyche told him that the leader of cell block C had no quarrel with his daughter, that she was in no danger. Every other part of him was telling him to stop her.
Amelia took Glaistig Uaine’s hand in her own, then hesitated. After a moment, she curtseyed.
I taught her to do that more than a decade ago.
Glaistig Uaine returned the curtsey, then turned to leave.
The gathered cell block leaders watched as the self-professed faerie left.
There were capes who were deluded enough to think that their powers were actually magic. There were capes who were neurotic in a way that didn’t shut them down or leave them unable to function. Glaistig Uaine was one who fit both categories, and she was powerful enough to make people listen to her. He’d never thought he could benefit from it.
Her lunacy actually plays out in my favor, Marquis thought to himself, even as his heart pounded in his chest. He’d planned to let the tension ratchet up until Amelia was forced to use her power to rescue him. Applying pressure, after a fashion, without being the one to force it. He didn’t like it, but he needed her to break out of this state she was in, she needed to break out of it for her own sake, and he was willing to risk everything to see it happen.
“It seems that cell block C will be cooperating with us,” Marquis said. Then he smiled.
“Glaistig Uaine might see things, but she isn’t usually wrong,” Galvanate said. “She says the kid has power? Fine. Our issues are the usual. The dentist in cell block T charges a small fortune, and we’ve got some toothaches. Can you heal that?”
Amelia was still staring off towards the entrance to Marquis’ cell block.
“Amelia,” Marquis prodded her.
“What?” She stirred.
“Could you heal a toothache?”
“Theoretically,” she said.
Good, Marquis thought. Vague, but true.
“You’re cutting into my lieutenant’s business,” Teacher said. “I won’t take that well.”
“Competition is the best thing in the long run,” Marquis replied. “But maybe we can extend you a discount for your troubles?”
“Um,” Amelia spoke up. All eyes turned her way. “A silly question, but if my dad says it’s okay, maybe we can offer a deal, in exchange for an answer?”
Marquis suppressed the urge to frown. “I think we could.”
“I know the answer’s no, but nobody really talks about it outside, so I’m not sure why… but with everyone we’ve got in here, why can’t we break out?”
Marquis sighed. It was a newbie mistake, to dwell on the idea of escaping, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to counsel her. It was good that she was more animated, expressing interest in something other than regret, but this wasn’t helping their image and it wasn’t good to let people know her full capabilities just yet.
“It’s a hollowed out mountain,” Lab Rat said. “Vacuum, containment foam—”
“No,” Teacher cut him off. “You want the real answer, healer? It’ll cost.”
Amelia nodded. Marquis suppressed yet another urge to cringe.
“Measuring devices are scarce down here, so we don’t have the full picture, but there’s a solid running theory on why we can’t just teleport out or fly through the vacuum and punch our way through the side of the mountain.”
“Do tell,” Marquis said. It doesn’t matter in the end, but this is the first I’ve heard of it.
“Size warping technology. The device might be no bigger than a football, and that’s hidden somewhere in the middle of the rocky mountains. The warping apparatus would be bigger, but there’s nothing saying it’s anywhere close to the actual prison. Reason we can’t break out is because we’re in a prison no bigger than your fist. And if all of this is only this small,” Teacher held up a fist, then tapped it against the nearest table, “How far are you going to have to dig or teleport to get through a surface this thick? Or through something as thick as that wall over there? Or a hundred feet of lead with gallons of containment foam on the outside?”
“Okay,” Amelia said. “I understand. Thank you.”
That could have gone worse, Marquis thought. It’s depressing, but it could be worse.
Teacher shrugged. “Thank me with healing for my cell block.”
“A discount,” Marquis said.
Teacher nodded. “A discount is possible. What are you wanting?”
With that, the discussion was underway once more, and Marquis set about subtly setting the other cell block leaders against one another, controlling the conversation while making no promises.
This, he could handle. He felt a quiet relief replace his fear.
* * *
“Faeries,” Amelia muttered. They were venturing toward the communal dining area.
“Not real,” Marquis answered her. “She sees things we can’t, the auroras that surround those with powers. She’s named them as something else.”
“No,” Amelia replied. “I saw her physiology when I touched her. I couldn’t see what she sees, but I see how she’s carrying them inside her, drawing an energy from them. And there were three more, just beside her, and she was using that energy to feed them… but they weren’t active?”
“She collects souls of dead and dying parahumans,” Marquis replied. “Or the souls of any living soul that gets on her bad side. But they’re not souls, really. Teacher says they’re psychic images, photocopies of a single individual’s personality, memories and powers. She can have a handful active and doing what she wants walking around at any given time.”
“They’re not faeries. Or souls, or psychic images. Our powers aren’t part of our bodies, exactly. I would be able to alter them or take them away if they were. What I saw when I touched glass—”
“Glaistig Uaine.”
“Her. I feel like I just got clued into a missing piece of the puzzle. They’re sentient. Maybe they’re sleeping, like she said. But they’re not dumb, and I think I’m getting an idea of what happens when they wake up.”
“Is it something we can use?”
“Not here. Not in the Birdcage.”
“What a shame.”
“God,” Amelia muttered. “Why did I ask to come here? If I’d realized sooner—”
“Why did you ask to come here?”
The words hit her like a physical blow. She hugged her arms close to her body, and her hair fell down around her face. “My sister. I used my power on her. Unmade her.”
“I’m sorry. A result of sibling rivalry? A fight?”
“Love,” Amelia’s voice was small. Her shoulders hunched forward. He took her by the hand and led her to an alcove, where far fewer people would be able to see her if she cried.
“Alas, love. The cruelest emotion of them all. I’m sorry.”
Marquis considered hugging her, but he didn’t. Part of it was the way she’d shied at his touch before. He would let her approach him in her own way. Another part of it, a small part of it, was the notion that Glaistig Uaine seemed to consider the girl to be at her level.
It was a long time before she spoke. “You said, before, that family was the most important thing.”
“Something like that.”
“I… would you understand if I said I didn’t consider you family? I—I’m glad you’re here, I’m glad to talk to you, but Victoria was my family.”
“I understand, yes.” Expertise let him mask the pain her words caused him. I abandoned you to them because I was too proud to stop being the Marquis of Brockton Bay. I should understand that you grew more attached to them than to me, yet I can’t.
“I feel like I have to do something. This feels important. If I could explain, tell someone who understands…”
“There’s no escape, I’m afraid.”
“And,” Amelia blinked tears out of her eyes, “Already, I feel like I’m betraying Victoria, that I’m already forgetting her. For just a few minutes, thinking about what I just found out from that girl, I stopped thinking about Victoria. It’s my fault she isn’t there anymore, that there’s only that thing I created. If I stop thinking about her, if I stop hurting, then I feel like I’m wronging her.”
“I suspect the pain won’t stop or heal as quickly as you’re thinking it will. It hasn’t been that long, after all.”
“Except… if it stops at all? If I ever forget, then I’ve subtracted something from the big picture. It’s not that she was perfect, but…”
“But you need to maintain the memory. Come.”
He gripped her hand and pulled her behind him. She was too busy wiping tears from her eyes and snot from her upper lip to protest.
Still, he was glad that her face was mostly clear by the time they reached their destination. A tinker sat at the corner of the dining area with tools strewn around him. Makeshift d
evices crafted from the raw materials of their surroundings.
“How much for a tattoo?” Marquis asked, “For her?”
Amelia stared at him.
“Five books and five fags,” the tinker replied.
“Old books or new?”
“Either.”
Marquis turned to his daughter. “If you decide to get it, I would advise a symbol rather than a face. He won’t get the description exactly right, and the image will distort your mental picture.”
“I couldn’t remember her face as it was when it counted, anyways,” Amelia said, a dark look crossing her face.
“You’ll have the memory of your sister in physical form, so you can never forget as long as you live. And when you’re done, we’ll take you back to your cell. You can talk to the empty room, say what you need to say, and Dragon’s surveillance will catch it.”
“It’s like praying,” Amelia said.
“Except there’s a chance someone will listen and act on it,” Marquis replied.
Amelia nodded and sat down on the bench, then she began explaining what she wanted to the tattoo artist.
* * *
The house program that monitored the Birdcage followed the girl as she parted from her father and entered her cell in Cell Block W.
When she spoke, she addressed Dragon. The program began transcribing the message as it did every word said within the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center.
Tracking programs then began reviewing the message. Flags were raised as key words came up with some frequency, descriptions were run against a corpus of records in parahuman studies and more flags were tripped.
Sixty-two miles above the surface of the Earth, the Simurgh changed the course of her flight.
Following protocol for when Dragon was deployed on a mission, the system routed the message to one of Dragon’s satellite systems. The resulting message was scrambled by the dense signature of the Endbringer en route to Dragon.
Receiving the garbled transmission from the satellite, a subsystem of the Dragon A.I. proceeded to sort it. A scan of the message by a further subroutine saw it classified as non-pertinent, and a snarl in the code from Defiant’s improvised adjustments to her programming saw the message skip past several additional safeties and subroutines. The message was compartmentalized alongside other notes and data that included flares of atmospheric radiation and stray signals from the planet below; background noise at best.