by Jo Anderton
A small group of men stared at us as we walked. They recognised the suits on our necks, and wrists, and bowed. Thanks, I realised, could make up for a lot of things when you got them.
And we were getting a lot at the moment.
"It won't last," Kichlan said. "They'll forget, eventually, and go back to ignoring us."
"All the more reason to enjoy it while it lasts." I nodded to the men, and was graced with a hesitant smile.
Lad ran ahead, gaping at the grand veche buildings, sitting on every bench, picking pale spring flowers. I was glad the city remained so empty. There were few eyes to be drawn to him, few attentions to grab.
"What do we do now?" Kichlan asked as we both watched Lad play.
He had asked this question more times in the past sixweek and one than I could count. I still didn't have an answer.
"Our duty. What else would we do?" I asked.
"You know what I mean."
I did. I had no doubt the puppet men would set up another test. I was their weapon, wasn't I? The veche's precious investment. And the Keeper's warnings would not leave me, his talk of doors and worlds and the kind of destruction I could only sum up with fear for everything. Whatever the puppet men and the veche tried next, we had to resist it. Because I would not be used. And because the Keeper's fear and pain was real, too real.
But I couldn't do any of that right now. I said, "Our duty. I mean it. Do what we do, what you have always done. Save the city from its waste. Give the people a reason to thank us." My voice dropped. "Keep Lad away from them." Them had weight on it. From now on them could only mean the veche's men, the puppet men. Or whatever Other-cursed creatures they were.
"They will come again."
"Then we will be ready, and we will survive."
I was not a weapon, and I would not let the veche turn me into one. The Keeper had put his faith in me. Kichlan believed in me now, and Lad always had. This time, we knew the puppet men would be coming for us. This time, we would be ready.
I would not fall again.
We crossed beneath the bluestone arch and into gardens. I smiled as I watched the haggard expression fall from Kichlan's face.
"Tanyana," he whispered.
My gallery rose out from behind the foliage in icecream scoops and cream. It was closed, of course, but seemed to have come through the whole event unscathed. There was little in the way of infrastructure here, I supposed. Most of the old city, after all, had not been built with pions.
"Oh, it's beautiful," Kichlan said, his fingers reaching, apparently without thought, to tangle in mine.
"It looks nice enough to eat," Lad said.
I laughed. "We'll have to return when it's open. You should see what they put inside."
Streaks of deep blue gave the gallery an early-morningsky hue. It was beautiful, and delectable, and permanent. And a memory. A pleasant one, yes, but gone.
And I didn't much mind.
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