“Happy birthday, Bridge,” he said, smiling.
I looked at Jon, who gave me a sorry-not-sorry shrug, smiling.
Fighting back my emotional reaction, I forced a smile, looking around at faces. I must have had a funny expression on my own face, because most of them laughed.
Balidor clapped me on the shoulder.
“Hurry up with the cake part,” he said. “We’ve got presents.”
I nodded, wiping my face self-consciously.
“Blow them out, Allie,” Cass said. She stood with the giant, Baguen, holding his hand. Next to Jon, Dorje stood smiling, too.
Hesitating only another half-second, I leaned over the table, noting all the different-sized candles they’d dredged up from wherever. Some were white and as thick as my finger. At least one was twice as big, but the rest were close to the size of regular birthday candles.
Smiling down at them, I took a deep breath, and was about to blow––
When a shriek from the corner of the room made me jump about a foot in the air.
I’d barely comprehended the sound was real when Balidor thrust himself between me and the origin of the yell, his gun out and aiming into the dark.
“Something touched me!” Illeg said, one of the female seers.
“Unge, hands to yourself!” Tenzi joked.
“It wasn’t me!” Unge protested.
“I’m not going crazy!” Illeg snapped. “It wasn’t one of us! Do you think I would have yelled like that if it was?”
Balidor kept a hand wrapped around my arm, his gun still pointed towards the darkened corner where Illeg had been standing.
“Show yourself!” he demanded, pushing me further behind him.
Trying to look around his shoulder, I stared into the same space of dark, holding my breath as we all waited for an answer.
I could hear breathing now, and it didn’t feel like it came from one of us.
It wasn’t really breathing in the normal sense of the word, more a near-hysterical series of pants that sounded like some kind of animal.
Balidor exchanged glances with me, clearly hearing it, too.
All of the seers had backed away from that corner. Jon and Cass had, too. Several others unholstered their guns. The crowd of us clustered on the far side of my cake, whose candles still flickered and guttered in the breeze from the stairs above.
I flinched as an organic yisso torch sparked in the hand of one of the Adhipan or Seven.
Holding up a hand against the glare, I made out the outline of a form against what appeared to be a stone basement wall. Whatever the form was, it moved just enough to tell me it was alive. Its chest heaved in rapid pants, its frame trembling as though it was about to have a heart attack, or maybe some kind of seizure.
I tried to make sense of the shape of it.
Narrow shoulders stood above a thin body with large hands and feet. The ears stuck out on either side of a squarish head, but from what I could make out in the dim light by the wall, the face itself had delicate, almost feminine features despite the sharp line of a masculine jaw. Its body looked strangely underdeveloped, like it belonged to someone who’d spent their whole life sitting in front of a computer, never getting any exercise at all.
I found myself thinking it had to be a seer, but since I wore the collar, I had no way of knowing for sure.
Whatever it was, it looked severely underfed.
“Come out of there!” Balidor commanded. “We are all armed. We are not afraid to take action, if you do not do as I say… but you have nothing to fear from us if you are peaceful.”
From Balidor’s formal speech, in Prexci no less, I had to assume I’d been right, that the creature crouched before us was seer, not human.
It took a hesitant step out of the shadowed wall, still breathing in rapid pants.
The angular face reached the circle of light in a slow steady unfolding, like the moon illuminated by the sun. The skin of the stranger shone so pale under the light of the yisso torch that it looked like a searchlight next to the reddish brown hair on its head.
I blinked, still trying to make sense of the puzzle I was seeing.
I found myself looking at a face I’d never laid eyes on before, but that somehow held a glimmer of familiarity to me, despite that fact.
Then I saw the eyes.
A sharp amber in color, they blinked at me, owl-like.
Looking at the ghost-like, spindly arms, seeing the faint smile at the edges of the full mouth under bruised-looking, hollow eyes, I found I knew exactly who I was looking at.
“Holy cow,” I breathed. “It’s Feigran!”
10
THE FOUR
BALIDOR’S GUN ROSE higher, now aiming at the squarish, angular face that shone under the flickering yisso torch.
“Feigran?” His jaw clenched, just before he looked at me. “Did you say Feigran, Alyson? Are you absolutely sure?”
I took a step towards him––or it––whatever he was.
For a long moment, I could only stare, taking in the narrow form wrapped in what looked like red monk’s robes and scuffed, white sneakers. Human clothes, likely stolen from one trash bin or another, they had burn holes and ash marks all over them.
The amber eyes darted from face to face in our little company, and I saw flashes of inconsistencies there, as if, whoever he was, he watched several movies on the inner screens of his eyes all at once. Or maybe, he watched them one after another in rapid succession.
“It can’t be,” Jon said. “That’s really Feigran, Allie?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Why is everyone asking me?”
“Because you said it was!” Jon said.
I hooked my thumb under the collar I wore, jutting out my neck.
“Why not ask a seer who can actually see right now, Jon?”
“Why did you say that, then?” Cass said.
I gestured towards the odd-looking face of our stranger. “I don’t know. Look at him! Look at his face! He’s Feigran, right?”
“She is correct.” Balidor’s voice held a thread of incredulity. He didn’t take his eyes off the stranger’s darting gaze. “It is Terian.” He looked over the length of him. “…in some form or another. The markers are in his light.” He glanced at me. “All of them, in fact, Esteemed Bridge.”
His eyes remained puzzled as they flickered down to my collar.
“Happy birthday to you…” the owl-faced seer muttered, sing-song. “Happy birthday to you… happy birthday dear Allie…”
We all stared at him.
His voice trailed off as the creature blinked at us.
Balidor looked at me.
“Respectfully, Bridge, Jon is right. You said he was Feigran. We all heard you. And yet I see nothing in his physical form to indicate his identity. How, in the names of the gods, did you know who he was?”
I opened my mouth, about to form some sort of answer.
Before I could speak, however, the owl-eyed creature––for I still couldn’t quite see him as a man, not yet––sniffed loudly, rubbing his face with nervous vigor as he spoke for me.
“I have the answer,” he said.
Jon jumped, at my left side.
“She is my sister,” the seer proclaimed. “She will always know me, as they will always know one another.” He gave me a level look. “Always.”
I stared at him, bewildered. Then I looked at Balidor.
“I don’t think being reunited with his fellow Terians has improved the sanity ratio much,” I said.
“What do you get when you combine forty-five psychos in the mind of a single psycho and a cantaloupe…” Jon joked.
He’d always been a nervous funny guy.
“What the hell is he talking about, Al?” Cass said.
I gave her a bewildered look, shrugging with both hands. “I have no idea.”
“She is correct,” the owl-eyed seer said. He sniffed again, louder, nodding seriously. “It is I. I am he. We are family.”
Again, I
looked at Balidor, raising an eyebrow.
“Should I shoot him, Esteemed Bridge?” Balidor asked.
I almost smiled. His voice was so polite.
I found myself studying the face and body of the nervous, owl-like man. He looked like he’d been living in his own filth, eating garbage for weeks, possibly longer. I wondered how in the hell he’d found us. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, him being here.
Then again, I didn’t know where “here” was.
As if he knew his fate was being decided, Feigran/Terian folded his arms. It looked to be too careful of a gesture, though, as if he’d practiced it in front of mirrors.
“I am Feigran,” he added, as if we might have missed it the first time. “I am very pleased to meet all of you. Very, very pleased. Tremendously so. And tremendous place you have here. It is quite warm. Quite hospitable.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I would like some cake.”
Jon let out an involuntary laugh.
Feigran turned sharply. He stared at Jon and blanched.
I wondered if he could possibly recognize him.
Jon’s eyes held something like disgust.
“This really is him?” he said. “This is the original Terian?” He let out a low snort, but I heard the conflict in his voice. “The guy who tortured us for, like, four months came from this?”
“I think so,” I said. “Yes.” I looked at Balidor, hesitating. I looked at Cass, then back at Balidor. “Do you have another one of those collars?”
“You’re going to keep him?” Jon said. The disgust in his voice grew more audible. “Why, Allie? What possible use—”
“Revik wants him,” I said, looking back at the owl-faced seer. “I’d like to know why. Wouldn’t you?”
“If Syrimne wants him,” Balidor said, emphasizing the name ever-so-slightly. “That is all the more reason to shoot him, is it not, Esteemed Bridge?”
“Maybe,” I said.
When I glanced over next, Balidor’s eyes were focused on mine, wary now. He looked at the spindly-armed seer for a long moment, then back to me.
“No, Allie,” he said.
“You haven’t even heard my idea yet,” I protested.
“I have heard it,” Balidor said. “I am telling you, no.”
“I thought I gave the orders around here,” I said, letting a warning reach my voice.
“It won’t even work,” Balidor said, exasperated. “Vash couldn’t do it. What makes you think this…” He gestured at Feigran, his lip curling. “…Thing could accomplish it for you? His mind is likely so broken it will be years before we get anything at all of sense out of him. It is the worst kind of wishful thinking––”
“Hey,” Jon said, angry. “How about letting us all in on the crappy plan?”
I gave Balidor a warning look, but he ignored me, looking directly at Jon.
“She thinks this crazy dirt-blood can help her.”
“Help her?” Jon stared at me like I was nuts. “Help you how, Allie? With what?”
“What do you think?” Balidor said.
For the first time, I heard real anger in his voice, enough that I turned my head, looking at him. His light gray eyes remained fixed on Jon’s, though.
“She thinks this sack of shit can help her get her husband back,” he said in heavily-accented English. “That he can make him like he was before, when he wasn’t Syrimne.”
There was a silence after the Adhipan leader spoke.
In it, every eye in the room stared at me.
Then, as if the strain of silence grew too much, Feigran let out a high-pitched laugh, somewhere between a giggle and a shriek.
I SAT DOWN at the scratched metal table, staring at the creature across from me.
I knew Balidor sat in the other room, watching through the one-way organic they’d outfitted for that purpose. He still wouldn’t let me take off the collar, even though he and the other Adhipan infiltrators had built up the construct, adding a few more layers to ensure it couldn’t be seen by the Rebels.
Balidor seemed to feel that wouldn’t be enough to keep Revik out where I was concerned, given that we were still mates.
Hell, he was probably right. I wasn’t thrilled with that fact right now, though.
I stared across the table at Feigran, who also wore a collar.
Since I’d insisted on being involved in the interrogation, Balidor thought I might be able to act as their front person, meaning the one to get Feigran’s mind on the right topics, to speed up the process of reading him.
That was fine with me.
I knew what Balidor’s preoccupations would be. They would center around my and Vash’s safety, whether or not any other Terian bodies lived anywhere still, Terian’s relationship with Revik, whether we could use Feigran’s light to discern any usable intel on the Rebels or whatever remained of Galaith’s Rooks… etc.
My concerns had a lot of overlap with his, but they also differed.
I wanted to know why Revik wanted him.
More specifically, I wanted to know which parts of Revik wanted him, and for what––like, say, if it was to prevent anyone from splitting his aleimi ever again.
Feigran blinked at me, his amber eyes still holding that odd profusion.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked him.
He gestured yes in seer.
I nodded. “Okay. Who am I, Feigran?”
“Bridge,” he said. He sounded almost like he was reciting. “The White One. The Bringer of Change. The Bridge comes for Death. Death is her responsibility.”
I stared at him.
Tarsi had spoken those exact words to me once, what seemed like a million years ago now. I fought to get past my emotional reaction to hearing them now.
Feigran seemed oblivious to the change in me.
He went on, still sounding like a schoolboy reciting his lessons.
“And the words say, Death listens as the Bridge spins down. Illumines a path to the sky. And those left behind…” His eyes grew confused. “And those left behind…” He frowned. “Fated. We are fated. Fated to watch those fires burn, yet again.”
His head tilted. He aimed those owlish eyes at me.
“Is that us, Bridge? Are we those fated?” He smiled, clicking to himself softly. “How ironic. How very, very ironic.”
I frowned back at him. “You going to recite scripture to me now? Is that it, Terry? Teach me about the Myth?”
“There are four of us,” he said.
“You mean The Four?” I said. “Is that what you’re talking about?”
He smiled. For an instant I saw the Terian I knew there. His eyes grew predatory, holding a glint of humor as he let them trail over my body.
“Four of us,” he repeated, cocking an eyebrow at me. “Yes.” His voice changed, growing almost falsetto. “‘Let me guess,’” he mimicked, his voice sounding suddenly an awful lot like mine. “‘We all ride horses, right?’”
I blinked, staring at him.
Those words were familiar too, but I couldn’t quite place them.
“Horses?” I said. “Like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
Revik had talked about that, too, back when we were together. He’s the one who told me the seer myth called them “The Four.” According to him, The Four differed from the human myth of the Four Horsemen, however, in pretty significant ways.
Feigran mimicked my voice again. “‘I do read, you know.’”
I leaned back in the chair, combing fingers through my hair.
This interview was starting to feel less and less productive.
I clicked the VR link in my ear. “This doing anything for you?” I asked Balidor. “Or are you itching to shoot him again?”
“Just keep him talking for now, Allie. If we need you to redirect, I’ll let you know.” He hesitated, as if about to say more, then didn’t.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing.” I heard him click softly under his breath. “I’ll tell you during the d
ebriefing.”
Shrugging, I clicked the audio off, facing Terian.
“Look,” I said, laying my hands on the table between us.
He stared at my fingers, as if afraid of them. I glanced at his own hands and arms, making sure his wrists still wore the organic cuffs Tenzi put on him. He could move them over the top of the table, even gesture, but he couldn’t reach me.
“Feigran,” I said, changing tacks. “Do you really remember me? Do you remember Revik?”
“Syrimne wants me.”
“Yes, he does,” I said, nodding. “Do you know why, Terry?”
“Brother,” he said. “One of the Four.”
I frowned. “One of the Four. What does that mean?”
“One of the Four,” he repeated. “Like me.”
“Like you? You’re one of the Four?” I frowned, thinking back on the names Revik gave each of them. “Who told you that? Was it the boy? Nenzi?”
He smiled at me, shaking his head and clicking softly.
I thought about pressing it, when he spoke up again.
“What about Elise, Revi’?” he said.
He sounded like Terian that time, not Feigran, but still a shadow of his old self. He didn’t seem to be talking to me at all, but to someone else––someone not in the room.
“What about her, Revi’? She seemed to think you were a good husband, once. When you weren’t off gassing your own kind, that is…”
I swallowed, fighting to keep my reaction out of my light.
Elise had been Revik’s first wife, during World War II, when he’d been working for the Seven in Germany. Seeing the distance in Feigran’s eyes, it occurred to me that he might think he was talking to Revik now, maybe even remembering a conversation they’d had.
“What do you want to know about her?” I said. “Is Elise important, Terry?”
He leaned closer, looking around as if to make sure we weren’t overheard.
“Why haven’t you fucked her yet, Revi’?” he said, soft. “She’s a virgin, you know. Are you afraid she won’t want your cock in her, after what you’ve done?”
I flinched, leaning back.
Frowning towards the one-way window, I touched my headpiece again, switching to sub-vocals that time, so Feigran wouldn’t hear me.
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