Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  Narrowing his eyes slightly, he continued, “Harald assisted people who were...desperate. Some of his customers owed money to my client. Harald also provided...protection for people who were being...pressured. My client often applied pressure to people who owed him money. Harald and I were on opposing sides of a conflict.”

  Protection? Desperate people getting loans? That all sounded like organized crime. Mr. Goodturn a mobster? I couldn’t get my head wrapped around it. “So you made Mr. Goodturn stop interfering with your client?”

  “Oh, no. Quite the reverse. I’m pragmatic if nothing else. I went to work for Harald,” he said.

  “What happened to your client?”

  “Ah, some details are best left undisclosed. He is no longer in business, at least in that particular city, and after Harald and I concluded our agreement Harald relocated here.” He waved his hand in the air in a sweeping gesture that I took to mean all of Seattle.

  “Do you work together anymore?” I asked, unsure whether I wanted to know.

  “No, no. My pursuits have changed and Harald never really needed the money he generated from the business that brought us together. He just enjoyed getting in the way of someone who was taking advantage of people who were experiencing misfortune.”

  That sounded a little more like Mr. Goodturn. Nevertheless it made it clear that there were hidden layers and details to Mr. Goodturn’s life. “How did you get familiar with medicine? Like being able to help Breno the way you did.”

  Glancing out the window at the city lights now visible in the darkness he shook his head, “Not medicine per se, more a good basic understanding of first aid. A woman I knew was a practitioner, she shared some of her knowledge, and my vocation required it.”

  “Why were you the one that Mr. Goodturn wanted me to call? He has to have other people. Why you?”

  “I owe Harald a debt. More than one actually, and he knows that even though we do not agree on some issues that he can count on me to meet obligations. Helping him recover was only one of two issues he required me to attend to.”

  “Two? What’s the other?”

  He didn’t respond, but I didn’t want the conversation to stop. I was learning more about him than I had in weeks of living together.

  “Were you like an enforcer?”

  Squaring his shoulders he stood up, brushed at his slacks where there was nothing to brush off and picked up his jacket. “Again, some terms are so inadequate. No, I was not an enforcer, as you put it. My skills were more refined. Well, enough of old times. You young man should get some rest.”

  He started to leave and then turned back to me, chin raised, giving me an appraising look. “Benjamin, I believe it is time to engage in a lengthy conversation, but beginning that discussion at this late hour is not good timing. I’m going to check on Harald and then retire for the evening, but let’s have a chat over breakfast.”

  He walked out of the library with his trademark stiff-legged stride.

  FOURTEEN: HISTORY LESSON

  OKAY, I’M NOT ten years old. And it wasn’t like it was already Christmas, but I’d had trouble sleeping after what Kenwoode had said the night before. A long chat over breakfast with a parent or friend wouldn’t mean anything substantial, but with him, especially after the conversations we had shared recently I thought it would be huge. Whether it was about him or Mr. Goodturn I was definitely curious, and hadn’t slept much as a result.

  Mr. G’s dining room was too formal for breakfast so we ate in the dining area right off the kitchen. The heavy wooden table and chairs for six was still a little much for two people to have an intimate conversation but there wasn’t any other choice. Mr. Kenwoode sat at the head of table and I sat in one of the side chairs. Breakfast consisted of juice, toast, jam and yogurt with fresh fruit. We’d prepared it together which was one more first in our relationship: working side-by-side in the kitchen.

  Carefully spreading jam on his toast with a butter knife Mr. Kenwoode took a bite and leaned back in his chair. He was wearing a starched long-sleeved white shirt and I wondered idly if any of the jam was going to land on the perfect white surface.

  “Benjamin I’ve been impressed with how self-possessed you are and the level of personal discipline you display. I know how close you are to Harald and he obviously holds you in high regard. But I think it’s time you know a little more about the community you have joined, whether you intended to or not.”

  Swallowing a sip of juice I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Just so. Let’s start with Harald’s assumption that what he calls knacks are accidents or at best unexplained oddities. I disagree and I am not in the minority of that opinion.”

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise. What he said meant that there were others, perhaps many, who knew about knacks and theorized about their origin. I had been under the impression that there weren’t a lot of people who knew about knacks and that those few were scattered over a lot of geography and time.

  Chewing another bite of toast he took note of my expression. “Yes, I see you recognize the deeper meaning in that statement. I believe that these differences are the direct result of physical mutations in the development of the brain: the growth or mutation of brain tissue that under current neurological mapping standards would be considered tumors or abnormal growths. Because these individuals are rare and do not typically exist in the same geography, these physical traits haven’t been passed on the way other traits historically do: hair color, skin color, eye color and other attributes.”

  There was no temptation to be bored. It was clear I was getting a crash course in knacks and their history. I was all in.

  “Aberrants in earlier times guessed that they were not alone in their differences, but rarely sought each other out, avoiding relationships. In modern times Aberrants are more inclined to seek each other out, become linked romantically and produce offspring. Over the last century two groups have developed, each with different views on how to interact and behave within normal society. The groups are referred to by different names. Members of the socially averse group are called Shades. The other group is referred to as Naturals, sometimes Melior. The Shade philosophy views differences as something to exploit and use for personal gain without reservation. The piratical nature of these individuals means they do not usually collaborate. Shades operating in a similar locale or business sphere often strive to remove other Shade competitors. More recently, the last hundred years or so, some Shades see the advantage of banding together, providing mutually beneficial support. Their efforts have, for the most part, failed.”

  “Melior?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “It’s Latin. Don’t they teach anything in school anymore? It means “better”. As such the Naturals don’t use it to describe themselves. The Shades use it because they believe that Naturals have made themselves out to be better than them, and that our collective differences make all aberrant people superior to Normals.”

  “Is Sonja a Shade?” I wondered aloud.

  In response he held up a hand and continued without answering. “Naturals see differences as an evolutionary development and a change that does not elevate them above Normals. They see themselves as having a responsibility to conform to social and cultural norms. But, and this is where Harald’s disconnect comes in, they actively seek out physical unions to procreate and foster the gene pool for naturals. Each group knows about the other and occasionally there are fierce competitions or aggressive attempts to thwart the interests of the other group. But all such contretemps have been localized. There have been no far flung coalitions in the past.”

  “Which group does Mr. G belong to? The Naturals, right?” I said it as more of a statement than a question.

  Stroking his goatee, he frowned as he went on. “No. Not specifically, although the Shades that know of him would certainly classify him as such. Harald is an outlier. He adamantly refuses to align with either group. Harald believes that all of the historical instances of aberrant individ
uals are accidents or freaks that cannot breed true and represent nothing more than supernatural oddities. He has steadfastly refused to associate with either group, but has on occasion cooperated with the Naturals when it suited his purpose.”

  “So, that means that Sonja, Miss Hoch, a Shade.” I said.

  Shaking his head, Mr. Kenwoode responded, “Yes and no. I was unaware of her until recently. Like Harald she is an outlier and a dangerous one. She’s also a sociopath. The aberrant community refers to individuals like her as a rogue. She has and will prey upon members of either group because she sees herself as a group of one. She has no loyalties and because of that people like her don’t survive long. Harald’s manipulation of her mind, and her attribute itself, hid her from the aberrant world for decades. Her presence in his life is something I know little of except that it causes him great pain.”

  My mind struggled with the multiple concepts and interlocking definitions that I was being bombarded with in such a short period of time.

  “How long? I mean, how long has all this gone on? This secret society?” I asked.

  He shook his head again. “Society is not the right definition. Culture is even a stretch because there aren’t enough individuals operating together within the same region or locale to call it that. Defining aberrants as a race is inaccurate too. Community is perhaps most apt. The mental changes are just another step in man’s journey to whatever we will become in the future. How long have aberrants known about each other? Several hundred years but there were almost assuredly aberrant individuals in every culture throughout recorded history. Ancient beliefs, superstition and a fundamental lack of scientific knowledge prevented aberrants from interacting with each other. Some aberrants did collaborate but operated from a deluded misunderstanding as to where their attributes really came from. Satanists, practitioners of Wicken, sorcery, are examples of incorrect labelling of aberrants and there are just as many motivations for why people choose to do so.”

  A thought occurred to me. “How did you learn all of this? If you’re not...Natural...then how could you acquire all of this information?”

  Picking up his glass of juice and taking a small sip, he took his time answering. Setting the glass down, he fixed me with that ice-blue stare for a long moment. “This is where I am prepared to take a leap of faith as it were. If I share something of myself, something I rarely do, you must commit to me that you will not share it with anyone else.”

  “I wouldn’t—” I began, but he held up a finger.

  “Take care, Benjamin. When I say no one, that is exactly what I mean. That includes any of your friends with which you may have shared your secrets.”

  That stopped me cold. For whatever reason, Mr. Goodturn had not shared any of this with me. I needed to know, to understand.

  “Yes.”

  His eyes never left mine. “Does that indicate that you not only understand but that you agree to keep anything I am about to share to yourself?”

  My mouth felt very dry, making it almost impossible to swallow. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well then. Here is the one detail that will enlighten you: I am an aberrant.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me but it did. “Does that include keeping that from Mr. G? He must already know that.”

  “He does. But Harald doesn’t know all of my affairs. It’s important to share that with you because it will help you understand our relationship better. And it will also give you a better sense of why Harald and I don’t always see eye-to-eye. Before I met Harald I was affiliated with the Shades. It was Harald, despite his status as an outlier, who convinced me to become a part of a bigger, more benevolent whole. And his convincing me ironically had nothing to do with any overt effort on his part. It was more a matter of what I learned from him than anything he said, and what the Shades took from me. Harald also quite literally, saved me. But that’s an entirely different story.”

  Several pieces of our earlier conversation tried to click into place. “The thing you did with Mr. Goodturn, the client you quit working for and Mr. Goodturn leaving the east coast, were you working for a Shade?” My palms were sweaty. It felt presumptuous to ask the question but now that we were really talking I wanted to understand more.

  He nodded. “Yes, and it was Harald’s unique knack, the slowing, and his amazing ability to accumulate wealth that caused me to rethink my worldview as it were.”

  “Your...so was it just about money for you then? Mr. G had more than your employer so you jumped ship to work with the...with someone who had more to offer?” as soon as it was out of my mouth I regretted saying it.

  Grinning, yes grinning, he said, “No, but I won’t pretend to resent your implication. No, what Harald and his unique existence caused me to see were two things: wealth was not an end, only a means, because Harald has never indulged in pretension or excess even though he has the means.”

  “You said there were two things.”

  “Yes. The other bit of reality that Harald’s life choices revealed to me was the existence of the Naturals. Even though he didn’t socialize with them, he was aware of them and they knew him. They presented an alternative to the way I had been living my life.”

  I was shocked. Here was Mr. Kenwoode, obviously more versed in the knack community than I was, but he had been ignorant of the existence of a significant part of the knack community, just like me. “I don’t understand. If there are these two...groups...how could anyone who has a knack not be aware of them?”

  “How long did it take for you to realize there were others who had attributes similar to yours Benjamin?” he asked. “There are several factors. First, other than rare individuals like Harald, we live normal life spans. Second, we aren’t immediately aware of each other as you know from your own experience. When an aberrant begins to manifest, it is a very private and individual thing. Many of us hide from notice and as a result from each other. Third, because we are individuals we pursue different paths. Some deny who and what they are for their entire lives. Others use their differences to achieve a form of fame or notoriety, but actively protect the secret of their difference. And yet again, others, the majority, find a way to integrate with society as Normals while using their attributes to carve out a life. A subset of that group are the Naturals, the remainder the Shades. And then you have the criminals or sociopaths like Sonja, who run amuck like wild animals doing anything they choose until their appetites undo them. We have struggled through history with overreaching or misunderstanding how we would be perceived. How we would still be perceived if normal society knew about us. So, we have a relatively high mortality rate, we live sequestered lives and pursue secrecy; none of which serves to bring us together in anything close to resembling a true society. Even community is a poor definition of what we are.”

  There was a feeling of surrealism coming over me, like being stretched in too many directions. It was so much to take in. “You worked for Mr. Goodturn, you’ve known him for...years at least...why didn’t the two of you continue to work together? You could have established a what, a colony or an enclave or something.”

  Having finished with breakfast, he gathered our plates and glasses, and walked into the kitchen to put them in the sink. He washed his hands and returned to the table. Sitting down with that stiff way of his, he rubbed his chin and settled back in the chair.

  “Like comic book heroes Benjamin? There are no super villains to forge a bond against. No government agency hunting us down, although there have been issues. Because of the cultural persecution we endured for centuries there is a healthy distrust, albeit newly discovered for each of us, as we awaken to what we are. Greed is another significant barrier to collaborating. But for Harald and me it came down to a basic disagreement of philosophy. I see us as part of mankind’s inexorable evolution, while he sees it as something else. And,” he paused, scowling at the ceiling, “we witnessed each other doing things we weren’t proud of and resented each other for it. Instead of shared tragedy drawing us close
r, it pushed us apart.”

  I couldn’t imagine what those things might be. It seemed that everything I learned brought a fresh set of questions. “Will you tell me? Or is it too private?”

  “No. Perhaps someday. Harald also was unwilling to associate actively with Naturals. He didn’t trust us or our commitment to the gene pool. And no one in their right mind would trust the Shades, unless they were Shades themselves, and even then....” He held his hands out to the sides, palms up, indicating how unreliable the Shades were.

  But his characterizing Mr. G as a social hermit didn’t make sense to me. “Mr. Goodturn is so decent though. He’s always looking out for others. He took care of me when I was in huge trouble. More than once.”

  He nodded. “Yes, he’s always been that way. Here is a question for you Benjamin: how old do you think Harald is?”

  Caught off guard I was initially unsure of how to answer. Mr. Goodturn looked sixty or seventy. Maybe younger, maybe older. But we had talked about his age-defying knack and the fact that he was actually much older, well over a hundred. “I guess he’s pretty old. Like over a hundred years old.”

  “Then here is another part of our discussion that will reveal much to you: Harald is indeed well over one hundred years old. Much older. He was originally known as Morgante, but even that wasn’t his real name, which was Baccio di Bartolo.”

  “What?” I didn’t understand what I was hearing. Who was the bedridden man down the hall who had been near death for the last month?

  “Look into those names on the internet in your leisure. There are photos of paintings done of him that you’ll recognize; they will support what I am saying. Harald stopped aging a long time ago. He was a buffoon, a nocturnal bird hunter, a swordsman, a magician, and dozens of other things. Each a compromise that he had to make to fit in with society and his surroundings; and while he has always had a reputation for being kind and clever and talented, he also suffered unbelievable atrocities during the first two or three hundred years of his life. And in fact, has never completely escaped the ridicule and abuse of lesser minds. I believe it is these things that have made him the way he is. He is truly unique in the world and in my opinion, vital to our loosely connected community. Because there are competitive forces drawing together. New alliances.”