The Disappearance of Ember Crow

by Ambelin Kwaymullina

  He peered down into my face, and shook his head. “You’re not coming out of it, are you?” Reaching into his pocket, he held up a small bottle, filed with amber liquid. “How much more of this do I need to give you to wake you up properly?”

  He has the neutraliser! I would have snatched from his fingers, if only I could have moved. “All of it,” I lied.

  Jules grinned at me. It was an odd, crooked smile; one half of his mouth seemed to lift higher than the other. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you? Because I know that if I give you too much, you’ll recover all the way. And that wouldn’t be good for me, as I understand you could make me forget my own name.” He eyed the liquid. “I’m giving you a quarter of it.”

  Jules leaned over, tipping the vial to my mouth, and I gulped down everything I could. But it was only a small taste, not enough to purge my system of rhondarite. I gazed longingly at the vial as he took it away and rose to his feet, crossing to the compartment door. “I’ll come back later and see how you’re doing.”

  “You have to give me more,” I pleaded. “I promise, I’m not lying to you.”

  “Yes you are, Red.” He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at me. “In fact, you lied to me twice. Three times, if I count the right dose of the stuff in the bottle.”

  “I didn’t …”

  “Seventeen years old?” He snorted. “More like three hundred and seventeen. And your ‘father’ was named Alexander Hoffman.”

  Shock forced my eyes wide open. He winked, enjoying my astonishment. “Oh yes, darling. I know what you are.”

  He left, locking the door behind him. I fought to stay awake.

  But I couldn’t prevent myself from slipping back into unconsciousness.

  THE CONVERSATION

  There was blackness for an indeterminable length of time. Then awareness broke over my mind like the light of the dawn. With it came amazement, and dismay. How does he know? He can’t possibly know! Except he did, and it was stupid to lie here wasting time on shocked disbelief. Instead I directed my attention to a more useful question. How much did he know?

  That I was built, not born, for a start. Constructed by the man I thought of as my father, Alexander Hoffman. I wondered if Jules imagined me to be impervious to pain or incapable of emotion. I wasn’t. I wasn’t even completely synthetic – much of me was made up of the bio-fibres my father had invented, organic strands that carried feeling and sensation through my body. When Dad had begun to make his children – his aingls – he’d thought the human species might not survive the Reckoning, and he’d wanted to preserve the essence of humanity, not just the memory of it. So while he’d built the eight of us to outlast the ages, he’d ensured that we could experience our existence in much the same way as ordinary human beings. Dad had always said we were human in all the ways that mattered.

  Certainly human enough to be hurt.

  But I didn’t believe Jules intended to do that, unless it was to stop me escaping, and I had no plans to try that at present. He had to be working for one of my brothers or sisters. There could be no other explanation for the face he’d worn at the rally, the sophistication of the weapon he’d used, and the knowledge he had about me. For reasons that weren’t clear yet, a member of my family had gone to a great deal of trouble to lure me out, and I wasn’t going anywhere until I discovered what was going on.

  I sat up. The movement made my head spin, forcing me to shut my eyes as I waited for it to pass. The neutraliser had done its work and purged some of the rhondarite, but I was still woozy. I loathe rhondarite. On Illegals, it worked by interfering with the neural connections that were necessary for abilities to activate. On me, it worked because I was one big mass of connections. Not only did rhondarite prevent me from altering memories, it made it hard to process sensory information, turning me into a mentally and physically un-coordinated shadow of my usual self.

  The dizziness faded, and I opened my eyes again, taking a quick inventory of my surroundings. It was a standard twin compartment: two beds, tiny bathroom squashed into the corner, narrow window, and all of it bland and white. I reached over to pull up the blind on the window and discovered that it was night outside. I could make out the outlines of a few features – hills, trees – but nothing identifiable enough to tell me where I was. The Rail ran around the entire world, linking the seven cities together. Jules could be taking me anywhere. Although it did seem a little risky on his part, to be holding me on a train where I could attract the attention of the other passengers … ah.

  The rhondarite was still slowing me down. I had to be in one of the government carriages, reserved for the use of employees of the cities, and I’d bet there was no one around except for Jules and I. It would have been easy enough for him to gain access to the carriage by masquerading as someone else. Either that, or he’d had access organised for him by whoever he was working for.

  I leaned back and breathed deep, letting my gaze grow unfocussed as I began to process everything I’d seen and heard since the rally. I needed all the information I could gather.

  I’d been sitting there for a while when Jules came back in.

  “Finally woken up, huh?” He handed me a flask, and threw himself onto the bed opposite mine. “I can get you something to eat as well, if you want.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I told him. And you’re showing off. He was demonstrating that he understood I consumed food and water, converting it into energy like any organic human being. Except I wouldn’t be able to absorb food for some time, not until my system had gotten rid of more of the rhondarite. But I had no reason to share that information with him.

  I took a cautious sip from the flask, and then – once I was certain it was only water – a few big gulps. Jules was watching me, arms folded and shoulders resting against the wall.

  “You work for Terence,” I said.

  I’d hoped to surprise him, and I did; he jumped slightly. He recovered fast, his features settling into what appeared to be a habitual expression of detached amusement. “What makes you think that?”

  You have access to a weapon advanced enough to paralyse me. You know I’m synthetic. And someone must have shown you an image of my father. But none of those reasons were the one that truly mattered. “I haven’t seen my father in a long time. To pretend to be him, to draw me out, and to shoot me, wearing that face – it was a cruel thing to do. The sort of thing Terence would think of. Because he can be cruel.”

  Jules shrugged. “He’s always been very good to me.” But there was a faintly bitter, ironic edge to those words. Thought so. My brother Terence wasn’t nice, he didn’t ask the people who worked for him to do nice things, and he wasn’t nice to them. Terence used Illegals because they could do things no one else could, but he hated people with abilities.

  “So, is your dad a machine too?” Jules asked. “Because Alexander Hoffman can’t possibly still be alive.”

  He didn’t want to talk about Terence, at least not yet. So let’s talk about something else.

  “How about we trade question for question?” I suggested. “You answer honestly, and I’ll answer honestly.”

  “And how will we know we’re each being honest?”

  I offered him a wide, sweet smile. “I guess we’ll just have trust each other. Darling.”

  He laughed softly. “Okay. I’ll play. Is your dad a machine?”

  We’re not machines. Only we were, to Jules. Automatons without feeling, and he had some justification for thinking so. I considered how much to share about Dad. There seemed no harm in giving him a few extra scraps of knowledge, not when he already knew so much. “My father was originally completely organic–”

  “You mean human.”

  No, I mean organic. Because I am as human as you. But I let it go. “He found a way to become – something else. To live a long time.” And that was all I planned to tell him about my father. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Mangrove City.”

  So that’s
where Terence is living these days. I hadn’t seen him in over eight years, not since before I went to the Firstwood and he’d had that last, spectacular argument with Dad. My father wanted the Citizenship Accords abolished; Terence didn’t, and they’d fought, a lot.

  “Why are you pretending to be an Illegal?” Jules demanded. “What’s the point of it, when you could go anywhere? Do anything.”

  “Be one of the privileged, you mean?” I shook my head. “I couldn’t. At least, not and live with myself. This world, the way Illegals are treated – it’s wrong, and I am going to help to change it.”

  “Very high minded,” he mocked. “Going to tell me you’re kind to puppies and small children next?”

  “I’m telling the truth,” I snapped.

  “So you say.”

  “If you don’t believe me, why don’t we stop this?” I challenged him. “Then the two of us can sit here in absolute silence. Or you could leave.”

  He looked away, a tacit admission of defeat. Jules didn’t want to stop talking, because he was trying to understand me as much as I was trying to understand him. More, perhaps, because I was fairly certain he wanted something from me. I couldn’t think of any other reason for him to have given me the neutraliser.

  “My turn, Jules. How did you know what I am? And,” I added quickly, “don’t try to tell me Terence told you, because I know that he never would have.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Jules agreed. “Not me.”

  It was interesting, that emphasis on the last word, as if there was another person Terence might have told. I filed it away, to be pursued later, as he continued, “I found out by hearing things. Seeing things, here and there.”

  In other words, he’d put it together, slowly and in pieces. He must have been with Terence for a long time to have learned so much. He’s smarter than he likes to pretend. And more ruthless than he appeared. He had to be, to have survived Terence for any length of time.

  “Terence talks about you,” Jules said. “Not about what you are, but about his rebellious baby sister.” He uncrossed his arms and drew up one knee, leaning forwards to rest his arm across it. “He says you hate him. Do you?”

  I opened my mouth, and closed it again. I was doing my best to tell him the truth; to win his trust. But the answer to that question wasn’t as simple as a “yes” or “no”. In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure I knew how I felt.

  I began to talk. “I loved him a long time ago, when he was different. He’s filled with hate now, and fear, and paranoia.”

  “I already know what he’s–”

  “Will you listen? You asked. I’m trying to explain.” Jules was silent, and I continued, “My brothers and sisters and I were supposed to embody the best of humanity. Except I think that the most human thing about Terence is his ability to justify hurting people. There’s something about that which is so … tragic.” I paused, searching for words. “When I think of him, all I feel is pity. Which is a horrible thing to feel for your big brother.”

  I stopped. There was nothing else to say, and even if there had been, I didn’t want to speak about this any more. It made me sad, and that was something I tried to avoid, because I could be sad in a way that was deep and bleak and endless. Jules was staring across the compartment at me with a faint frown. Not sure what to make of me, are you? I wondered what he’d say if I told him that, most days, I wasn’t sure what to make of myself.

  “What do you do?” I asked quietly. “For Terence, I mean.”

  “Acquire things. Information, mostly.”

  “You’re his spy.”

  “Spy. Thief. Tester of loyalties – you’d be amazed what people will confess when they’re speaking to someone they believe is a friend.”

  He’d probably intended to sound sarcastic. He sounded savage.

  “You’ve met the worst of us,” I said. “I’m sorry for that. We’re not all like him, you know.”

  “Yeah. I get that you’ve been trying to show me that. Ember-the-Rebel, friend to Illegals everywhere. Maybe. Or maybe you just enjoy playing at being a renegade. Especially when you know you can walk away if things ever get too serious.”

  “And maybe you stay with Terence because you like the danger,” I shot back. “The adrenaline rush of outsmarting him and getting away with it. Exactly how often do you deliberately fail at something he’s asked you to do?”

  “Why on earth would I do something so deeply stupid?”

  “To prove that he doesn’t own you, of course. And to show the world that you’re better than you might seem.”

  “You think I’m some kind of lost soul underneath my hardened exterior?” He shook his head, and grinned. “Are you going to save me, sweetheart?”

  I stared at him until the gleam of cynical humour in his eyes softened into something less certain, and more real. Then I answered, “Yes. Isn’t that why you woke me up?”

  He looked away, jaw clenched. There was a long silence. Come on, Jules. Ask me for what you really want. Ask me how to get away from Terence.

  He didn’t. He stood up abruptly and went to the door. “You should probably get some sleep. Or whatever it is you do.”

  Jules left without a backward glance, and I heaved a disappointed sigh. I hadn’t persuaded him to trust me yet. I would though. I wanted Jules for the Tribe – with his ability and his knowledge of my family, he’d be an invaluable asset to Ash. And I wanted the Tribe for Jules, because he needed a family, and a home. You’ve been damaged by my brother, Jules, and that makes you mine to fix. Mine to save.

  I closed my eyes, and waited for his return.

  THE OFFER

  I slipped into my version of sleep, a regenerative cycle that allowed my systems to recover further from the effects of the weapon and the rhondarite. When I woke the sun was rising outside, casting enough light into the world for me to make out rolling green hills and the beginnings of dense forest. We were somewhere near Fern City. I knew this landscape, because Fern City had been my home once, back when it was little more than a collection of huts. We had about a week and a half to go before we reached Mangrove City.

  Jules came back in. He handed me a protein bar, which I didn’t unwrap; I still couldn’t eat, and besides, government ration protein bars were notoriously unpalatable. He sat on the other bed, saying nothing and looking unsure of himself for the first time since I’d met him.

  Finally he said, “Terence warned me you could make me forget.”

  “I wouldn’t–”

  He shook his head quickly. “That’s not what I mean, darling. Terence can’t make anyone forget, because if he could do something like that he absolutely would. But he doesn’t. Which means you can do things that he can’t.”

  Which means I might be able to help you. “How long have you been trying to get away from my brother?”

  “Pretty much since the day I met him,” he answered, with a twisted smile. “Six years ago, now. I was thirteen – he got me out of detention, organised me a tattoo. And I knew, right from the start, I knew that he was no good. But I thought, some crazy guy wants to let me out of this prison? I’ll take that bet.” He was silent, then added, in a voice so soft I almost didn’t hear it, “I always thought I’d be able to run one day.”

  “You saw someone else try, didn’t you? And they died. It began with sweating and trembling, then fever and pain.”

  “You know all about it, huh?”

  I nodded. The toxin had been invented by my sister Delta. She’d told me about it at one of our rare meetings, and she’d been so excited, as if she’d found Terence the perfect birthday present. I hadn’t been successful at talking her out of giving it to him. And she was still making toys for Terence. Only Delta could have designed the weapon that had incapacitated me.

  Jules shuffled back on the bed, to rest against the wall. “I always figured all I had to do was get far enough away, and never stop running. But the woman, the one who died – I could’ve sworn Terence had no idea where she went. He still
got the poison to her somehow.”

  I sighed, and explained the awful genius of my sister’s invention. “He didn’t poison her after she left. He’d already done it, years ago.”

  He jolted out of his slouch, staring at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Terence never allows anyone to leave him for an extended period, does he? No longer than – what, a month? Two?”

  “Usually five weeks.”

  “That’s because he has to give everyone the antidote. It’s undetectable – it could be in anything you eat or drink. He doses you with the toxin on the very first day you start working for him. Once it’s in your system, you have to get the antidote at regular intervals, or …”

  He looked alarmed. “I’ve already been gone over five weeks!”

  My stomach clenched in fear. I scrambled off the bed, reaching across to take hold of his wrist so I could check his pulse. It was a little fast – not unexpected given what I’d just told him – but strong. And he wasn’t sweating, or shaking. I leaned in and grasped his chin, tipping his face to the light. There was no unusual paleness of the skin, and no discolouration of the eyes.

  “You’re okay. He must have given you a longer-lasting dose of the antidote whenever you saw him last. I imagine he didn’t know how long it would take you find me.”

  Jules grinned. “He did think you’d be elusive.”

  I was close enough to feel his breath on my skin, and I was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of the beat of his pulse beneath one hand, the stubble on his face beneath the other, and the warmth of his body near mine. I let go, and scooted back to my bed. “I can cleanse your system of the poison.”

  “How?”

  “By using – that is …” I was finding it strangely difficult to focus. I forced my thoughts into order. “This is going to be hard for you to understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “I can control these machines called nanomites. They’re small, so small you can’t even see them. Not … not like me, not self-aware. They’ll do what they’re programmed to do, and then they’ll” – become inert – “dissolve.”