The Sundered

by Ruthanne Reid

“Ask me questions?” Gorish suggests, trying—I think—to make peace.

  Aakesh throws his hands in the air and stalks away in the most human gesture of frustration I've seen from him. He stops at the end of the walkway, facing the black water, his back to me as if he just washed his hands of the whole affair.

  Huh. Maybe I'm crazy, or maybe I wasn't the only one manipulated into caring. If Gorish's affection is real, then this knife cuts both ways. “What does Aakesh want with me? What's he trying to do?”

  Gorish just shakes his head.

  I need to keep my questions simpler. “Okay, try this: does eating Sundered flesh let somebody see them when they hide?”

  Gorish's eyes widen. “Oh, yes, nice master.”

  That's one of the creepiest things I've ever heard. I'm so stunned I just stare at him for a minute. It makes no sense. Eating fish doesn't make me more aware of fish. Eating bird doesn't make me know when birds are overhead. “How?”

  He shakes his head.

  This is insane. “How about ... what's Bakura's problem with me?”

  “You are Iskinder, nice master,” Gorish whispers.

  That's not helpful. “So?”

  Aakesh answers instead, his voice smooth and sharp like a fine blade. “Because Iskinder is the reason we are Sundered.” He turns to face me. Breeze lifts his hair, revealing the graceful, taut lines of his shoulders. “An Iskinder did this to us. An Iskinder broke us, rendering us so much less than what we are so that we have no choice but to serve ... you.”

  In that you is every inch of disgust and anger I've ever known, multiplied by a thousand lives and a thousand frustrations. A chill runs down my back. “You're not making sense. We broke you? How?”

  The wind drops his hair again, letting it fall against his back like a flag. “I cannot answer that question. Neither can Gorish. We are both bound. Will you force answers I cannot give? It will kill me, in enough time.”

  “Who the hell bound you?”

  “Your ancestor.”

  I stare at him.

  Gorish takes my arm, his little suction-cup fingers playing along my skin like he's trying to comfort me.

  “Okay,” I say, licking my dry lips. “Okay. So if he bound you, I can unbind you, right? How do I do that?”

  “You cannot.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Harry,” he says patiently. “While I am limited, I can answer some questions. I cannot, however, guide you to ask them.”

  I need to make a chart, or something. Think, Harry. Ask intelligent questions. “Okay, let's try something else. How did Bakura even know who I am?”

  Aakesh tilts his head to watch at me sidelong with a cool, unnerving thoughtfulness. “You are Iskinder of very Iskinder, with an Iskinder's eyes, an Iskinder's thoughts, an Iskinder's soul. Any who have tasted an Iskinder would know you.”

  “You've eaten my ancestors?”

  “No. This is a different kind of tasting.”

  His patience makes me want to scream. I am not that annoying, dammit, and he's the one who brought up tasting. “Then you knew I was an Iskinder when I caught you.”

  He nods.

  Okay. “Why did you let me catch you in the first place?”

  “We need you.” Aakesh's hair stirs, and this time, there's no breeze. “We need a service only you can provide.”

  I swallow. “Is it a service you can get by controlling my body or brain?”

  “No. When the time comes, I will be unable to aid you at all.”

  That's not good.

  A service only I can provide? Is this a good thing? Am I so stupid that I'm useful to them, or am I talented in some unique way? What the hell is this service? “Where is Dr. Parnum?” I ask, shaky. I need him so badly now.

  “Parnum works to find your Hope in order to destroy it.”

  “What?” That is not what I asked. “Wait.”

  “Your Parnum is not the only one searching, but he is the closest to finding it. Bakura accompanies him in the desperate attempt to protect us. However, he, too, is bound. He will fail.”

  “Wait, dammit!” This is a lie. I stand, shaking my head. “He doesn't want to destroy it. Why would he want that? Why would anybody?”

  He shrugs one delicate shoulder. “Your Parnum believes his success would end the status quo.”

  “What the hell is a status quo?”

  “You are so young,” he murmurs. “Sometimes I forget how young you are. So unlike your ancestor, at times.”

  I'm numb, shivering though it isn't cold. ‘What, so I taste like my ancestor but I'm nothing like him, and Parnum wants to destroy the Hope?”

  “'Status quo' is Latin,” he says instead of answering me.” It means the existing order, the current condition of society.”

  “Latin? What the hell is Latin?”

  He looks at me sidelong. “Have your people fallen so far?”

  What is he talking about? I reach up and grip my hair, as if I could pull the extra thoughts out and let them die in the dirt. “Why would Parnum want to screw up the status quo?”

  “To destroy the Hope is to destroy the Sundered.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. That's crazy. Why would anyone want to destroy them?”

  He goes silent.

  Son of a bitch. Think, Harry

  “Bakura and Jambi are one and the same,” he suddenly volunteers.

  “He's doing that hiding trick like you did. “Oh, no.” Parnum's in danger!”

  “Parnum is not in danger. Bakura is claimed. Your Parnum is too clever to permit a false claiming, leaving himself open to reversal.”

  I can't stop shaking. “Dr. Parnum knows I want to save the Hope.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did he warn me in Tauri, huh? He could've just let me blow up and remove the competition.”

  “He feels for you, my lord,” says Aakesh quietly. “He is in loco parentis—has taken the place of the parent—and does not wish you harm. That is also Latin.”

  I close my eyes.

  Parnum wants to destroy the Hope? End the Sundered? Of course he doesn't. That would end our entire species, too. “Is this tied to the attacks on Tenisia and Tauri? He said he was being chased.”

  “Bek believes the Hope will grant them control over all Sundered Ones, and thus control over the world. Your Parnum's current goal would deprive them of that weapon.”

  “Their weapon uses Sundered Ones?”

  “They force their high-tier Sundered to steal the life-force of others, and then to combine and use that power as a weapon.”

  Oh.

  So that was the tunnel. Bek was sucking the Sundered Ones out of Tenisia somehow, wielding their souls or whatever they have like sticks. “That's horrible,” I whisper.

  “Your Parnum was not circumspect in his original research,” Aakesh says. “He explained his fears and his goal to any who would listen, and so it is that Bek is aware, and believes he poses danger to their plans. They pursue the dual goal of spreading terror, and of preventing him from destroying a power they see as rightly theirs.”

  I need to sit down.

  The rough cement rumbles with factory power, vibrating. I lean forward and put my head in my hands, exhaling, trying to sort it out, to make it make sense. “How does destroying the Hope and all the Sundered help anything?”

  “You know that as we die out, you will die out. He believes it goes further. That human laziness and supposed Sundered machinations will conspire to bring an end to mankind.”

  Sundered machinations. I'd have laughed at that two months ago. Now. ... “What machinations?”

  He doesn’t answer that. “He intends to destroy the Sundered, removing Bek's weapon and forcing mankind to be self-sufficient in one blow. He believes the knowledge to survive is there, at the Hope, which he will acquire before its destruction, and thus bring salvation. The death of the Sundered Ones is the key to all. Bek pursues him to prevent this outcome.”

  “I don't believe you.” And I'm
afraid. “How are they even able to find him?”

  “We tell them.”

  My jaw drops.” Oh, come on! Why would you do that?”

  “Because their actions slow your Parnum down.” Aakesh studies me, unblinking, urging me to understand. “Because of them, he has not yet located the Hope. Because of him, neither have they, for while they chase him, they are not searching for the Hope. We play them against one another because we have no other choice.”

  In one brief flash, I get it.

  Powerful beings, broken, shattered. Unable to save themselves from destruction, even when the threat is right in front of them, commanding them to march to their deaths. But they can force two enemies to slow each other down, saving themselves by manipulation.

  If anyone knew the Sundered were this capable, they'd ... they'd what? Hunt down all the high-tier? Slaughter them? Force Sundered to slaughter each other? “Why am I part of this?”

  His eyes glow. His mind shifts around my own, huge, heavy, greater than any I've touched before. “You have no stake in this as others do. You could tip the balance. Without you, Harry, we are all going to die.”

  My head hurts. My soul hurts. I can barely breathe. Slow breath, in and out. “Dr. Parnum believes you should all die.”

  “Yes.” Aakesh's eyes lid slightly. “Your Parnum is afraid, and not without reason. We could be a danger to you were we ever healed—but we cannot heal. Your Hope of Humanity, if destroyed, would end our lives, and the only way I have to prevent this is to maintain the balance of these things, these egos, on the tips of my fingers.” He lifts his hand into the narrow space between our faces, and a silvery mist dances like flame around his dark hand. “You are part of this balance now, Harold Iskinder, Sundered lord.”

  The whole city churns around us, busy, full. Nobody knows what's going on. If he's to be believed, no one has for years.

  I know why he’s worded everything so carefully. It's too late for me to pull out. I'm trapped, stuck in mud to my hips. I don't even know what he wants me to do. Whatever he wants, I don't even know if I should. “There's got to be someone else who can help.”

  Aakesh raises his eyebrows. “There is no one to whom we can go. Any who would listen would realize that we, the Sundered, are not as broken as we appear. For the sake of personal reassurance, human authority would view us as a threat—as Parnum does—and send us to our deaths.”

  Yeah. Anyone I tell would turn on him, on Gorish, on all of them. A Sundered uprising would destroy us all.

  I hug my knees, staring at the growing shadows of dusk. “You're all connected, somehow. You Sundered Ones. In your minds. You'd have to be to pull this off.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Parnum knows you're all connected, too.”

  “He suspects. It is what led him to fear a revolt.”

  I can't blame him. “It's not like you'd have any reason to spare us if you had the choice,” I say, half-joking. Then I realize it's not a joke.

  Aakesh says nothing. The edges of his hair curl along the ground. One passes over my hand, and I pull it away.

  All of this—all—could still be a lie. “I don't want to believe Parnum's out to kill all of you.”

  Breeze-fingers play in his hair. “I know.”

  “I can't believe for one damn second that destroying the Hope is going to save anyone.”

  “I know.” He continues staring at me, unreadable, and I realize his hair's drifting in the opposite direction of the breeze.

  Ooooh, yeah, that's not creepy at all. “Why is Parnum here now, in Cape Horn?”

  “He is following clues.”

  “Clues? What clues?”

  “To the location of the Hope, my lord.”

  Bile leaves a bitter taste in the back of my mouth. “There are clues?”

  “Yes.”

  I stare at him, shaking like I'm falling apart. “There are clues?” I bark again.

  “Nice master?” queries Gorish gently, as if he's worried this new information broke me.

  Maybe it did. “Since when are there clues?”

  “My lord. Be calm,” says Aakesh.

  My head spins. “You steered us here on purpose because of clues!”

  “Yes.”

  This is bigger than me. This is bigger than anything I'm able to handle. Maybe he picked me because I'm not smart enough to see the whole picture. “I want to see the clues!”

  “There is only one in this city, my lord,” says Aakesh.

  “Show it to me!”

  “Those who bound me did not know of the clues, and so I can. However, I cannot tell you what it means. That would point to the Hope too directly, which, by now, you may have realized is prohibited.”

  “I don't care!” Wait. “Why is it prohibited? Why would anyone in their right mind try to keep people from finding the Hope?”

  “I cannot answer. However, I can take you to a location from which you can discern the clue yourself.”

  “Dammit. All right. I'll take what I can get. Show me. And afterward, we're going to see Parnum.”

  “Seeing him at this time would be an egregious mistake,” Aakesh says. “You must come to terms with your emotional condition first.”

  Oh, don't you even start. “The hell I do!”

  “Assuaging yourself with the childish comforts of a false father is unwise.”

  You son of a bitch. You just want me to listen to you, don't you? “Maybe I just want to talk to him about Bambi.”

  Aakesh's eyebrows knit. “Bambi?”

  “Bakura-Jambi.”

  He makes an amused sound. “Do you even know the Austrian children's tale that name evokes?”

  What the hell is Austrian? “Don't screw with me, Aakesh. You're asking a lot as it is. Where is Dr. Parnum?”

  He steps close.

  I feel his heat, even through my clothes, but not even his breath has a scent. “I know what you wish,” he says, and it’s like his words bounce inside my head, echoing. “You cannot talk him out of his plan, but he is capable of talking you into his. He has influence over you. You are being foolish, Harold Iskinder.” He swings away so quickly his hair stings my skin, and the power pulls away from me like a sheet sliding off my skin.

  That was ... intense. I can’t even answer for a second, and I have to push away stupid fear before I can. He’s claimed, dammit. He’s safe. “I know what I'm doing. Do you hear me?”

  “Foolish,” comes his whisper.

  “Fine! Maybe I am, but you're the one who picked me, so you're no better!” I am not foolish. This is the right choice. If Aakesh is telling the truth, I know Parnum will want to help me. If he's lying, then I need to know before I do make an “egregious” mistake. And if Parnum does turn out to be some mad Sundered-eating murderer, then ... I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  “Be careful, nice master,” Gorish whispers.

  “I will.” I rub the spot he likes between his bulbous eyes, and he wriggles. “I promise. Lead me to the clue.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” Aakesh says.

  ● ●

  ● CHAPTER 24 ●

  It’s a Bird!

  The clue is a great big bird.

  Only it's not. It's the whole freaking city of Cape Horn, and I have no idea what it means.

  The tallest smokestack in the city has a ladder up the side. The ladder takes an hour to climb, and leads to a balcony that circles the top like a halo. Once there, you can see the entire city is shaped like a bird.

  The smokestack sticks out of its heart. The wings are spread. Its head is turned to the left. It even has talons—they're the docks, reaching into the water as if trying to catch anyone who comes too close. It's really impressive. It's really mind-boggling. How is this a clue and why does it matter? I really have no idea.

  And I have a job now, so I can’t even hang around to admire it.

  I arrive for work on time, but only because I have to, and I'm damned lucky nobody here cares I came sweaty, pa
nting, and visibly unrested.

  I don't want to be here. I want to go find Parnum. I want to stare at the bird-city and figure out what it means. Scraping spilled malleum off the inside of a boat feels like a waste of time, but if I don't do it, our work contract could be cancelled. I can't do that to my Travelers.

  “Is the bird looking in the direction we're supposed to go?” I mutter as I sand the gunwale smooth.

  “The answer is no!” Gorish says, skipping around at my feet.

  Well. It was an idea.

  The shift manager switches me to applying tar—runoff from the factories, good for plugging holes and sealing seams. Heat and acrid air for hours in an enclosed space—yay, that's my idea of fun. “Who shaped the city like this in the first place?” I ask, muffled through the mask.

  “Cannot say, cannot say!” Gorish dances around. Aakesh isn't speaking to me. Gorish is. We're like some crazy feuding couple, talking through our kid.

  The power it took to create something on this scale freaks me out. This was more than simple planning. Someone had to actually shape the landfall. How insane is that? They cut into the land. “Does the direction of the beak or claws or wings matter?”

  “The answer is no!”

  “Is it the number of claws?”

  “The answer is no!”

  “Huh?” says a guy behind me. Someone else sent in to apply tar. Tall, ivory skin, slanted eyes. A true southern-city native.

  Go away, man. “Nothing.”

  Gorish nuzzles my knee.

  “There aren't any feathers. Is that it?” I say, keeping my voice down.

  “The answer is no!” says Gorish.

  The other guy looks like he thinks I might be crazy.

  He's right. “Does it mean I have to fly?”

  “The answer is no!”

  A drop of tar splatters onto my hand. “Son of a bitch.”

  The guy gulps and dribbles tar on his boots. “Uh. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I'm having a rough day, okay? Just don't mind me.” Apply the pitch. Smooth it out. Fill in any gaps.

  Aakesh has the kind of mind to shape cities into clues, doesn't he?

  He does, but not even he has the power to shape land like that. Maybe a group of first-tier Sundered did this, working together in secret, working around their owners' commands.