by wildbow
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“You’re being a dick.”
“I’m—” he started, then he stopped. “Hold on.”
I bit my tongue. We moved in near-silence for a minute, pushing through frosted vegetation in the dark, the occasional leaf or twig crunching underfoot. We were close enough to see the lights. The entire Academy was alight.
It wasn’t that late, all things told, but it was winter, we were a little ways up North, and the days were short. People would be at dinner.
“Jamie and Mary didn’t get along, when I paired them up earlier, remember?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Helen and Lillian, they’re not much of a match either, you know? Lillian’s a little scared to work on Helen, even, after Ibott blew up at her a few times. But they don’t play off each other well, either.”
“They handled the Sub Rosa thing pretty well.”
“Pretty well,” Gordon admitted. “But what I’m getting at, is you and I… I like you, Sy, I admire you, but we’re pretty diametrically opposed in how we approach things.”
I nodded. He could pick up something and be good at it from the outset. I could focus on something and get very, very good at it, given time. He was maturing fastest, he was most physically fit. I was lagging behind to an alarming degree, and I couldn’t even fare that well against Jamie in a mock fight, anymore. Jamie, of all people.
“That’s not a bad thing,” I said. “Being different.”
“No. No it isn’t. We thrive in diversity. I think that’s one of the Academy mottoes. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t issues.”
“Fair,” I said.
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Sy,” he said. “About Fray. Because you seem to think you have a sense of her, and I’m not feeling it. You’re making little mistakes, and that tells me you’re not as right as you think you are.”
I bristled at that.
“You can’t be a hundred percent right with her,” I said. I thought for a second, trying to find the words with which to explain. “She’s… she has no aggression, she doesn’t let aggression touch her. If you hit her head on, she doesn’t fly back. She just diffuses the impact, makes it wasted effort. She shows something on the surface, but there’s a depth there she’s hiding.”
“You’ve got a look on your face,” Gordon said. “Like you’re concentrating really hard.”
“I’m…” I said, but he wasn’t wrong. I had all the thoughts and puzzle pieces in my head, the mystery that was Fray and what Fray was doing. Wendy’s commentary was a big factor in making the connections. Even behind the scenes, there hadn’t been an iron fist within the velvet glove.
I was feeling like I was on the cusp of something, just about ready to have the explanation fall off my tongue.
“She’s transparent,” I said. “I keep coming back to water imagery.”
“Water.”
I nodded.
I thought of the sea monster within the river, that I had watched with Fray. It had been sluggish, sick.
She had showed me, right from the outset.
The lab in the basement of Dame Cicely’s. The water had been running beneath the school, fueling its projects. She had access.
Water was the source of all life.
“She did something to the water supply,” I realized, aloud. I pushed harder through the branches, now.
“What? Hell, Sy, this school has the daughters of some of the Crown’s elite in attendance!”
“Something subtle, whatever it is, they’ve all already been dosed, damn it!” I said, almost running now, not caring about the branches that scraped me. “And people are going to find out, because she’s going to inform them, and it’s going to be catastrophic! We need to find the people in charge and we need to start running damage control right away!”
We reached the edge of the forest. Wendy and Helen were safe in a hiding spot that Fray wasn’t likely to find. Our eyes fell on a group of girls who were standing around the school, one of them was someone we’d seen at the fire.
“Tell the other girls. They have to find the faculty, tell them to meet us out here, it’s an emergency,” I told them. I passed the girl my badge. “Show them this, they should understand.”
“You want to let the woman go?”
It was a good question. We were playing directly into Fray’s hands, creating gaps in the perimeter. Fray had known we would have to.
I couldn’t give the answer. Doing it would prove Gordon right. I looked to him to make the call, to decide.
Had I communicated well enough about Fray for him to understand this?
“If you have to,” he said. “Prioritize warning people.”
Previous Next
Stitch in Time—4.11
The faculty of Dame Cicely’s Academy had a cushy setup. The furniture looked like masterwork, the chairs were all padded and upholstered in Academy-created leathers, and the walls were alternately large windows with draping curtains in fine fabric and large ostentatious pictures with ostentatious frames. Blue and silver were common themes to the room, and even the covers for the fireplace at the back and the lamps on the walls were stained glass.
There were ten members of the faculty in attendance, and several stitched servants, not unlike Wendy in quality and class. Two young women were standing by, and one was the one who I’d given my badge to, with orders to collect the faculty.
All of us were present, with the exception of Helen, who was with Wendy still. Mary stood on my right, Jamie on my left. Lillian and Gordon had the lead, here. Gordon was doing okay, but the rest of us were breathing hard; Mary was hurt, and the rest of us were tired from running around, trying to coordinate.
Fray was gone, and Mary hadn’t been up to a prolonged chase.
“Is this a joke?” the headmaster asked. He was an older man, and he’d altered his hair so it grew in white, which was the fashion in places. When seemingly perpetual youth became too ordinary among the elderly of the elite, a calculated sort of aging had taken over. Unfortunately, the white of his hair had come in more like skunk stripes than salt and peppering. His suit jacket fit too closely at the waist and his slacks were too narrow. What drew the eye, however, was the androgynous face with the calculating stare, forever looking down on the people around him.
“The water supply was tainted,” Gordon said. “And it was done from within Dame Cicely’s walls. We just sent someone to go run tests on it. The person who committed the act is going to inform the public and shift the blame. You have a disaster on your hands, this is your advance warning.”
“You’re children,” the headmaster said, at the same time a bald faculty member in a heavy coat asked, “You’re sure?”
The headmaster shot the bald man a stern look.
“Yes, we are,” Gordon said. “And yes, we’re sure.”
I appreciated that he hadn’t felt the need to double check with me. I wondered if he’d been as confident as he had because he really trusted me, or if he thought he couldn’t show doubt to our audience in this situation.
“You saw the badge,” I said, stepping around Lillian to make myself more visible. Being in the middle of the second row made me easy to overlook.
“I saw a badge, but I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean,” the headmaster said. He held up the badge. “Radham Academy. Your problems are becoming our problems?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Gordon said. “Your entire student body may have been drugged. We don’t know what with.”
“Suggesting it could be a hoax.”
“It could be a death sentence,” I said. “For all of your students, and for Dame Cicely’s as an institution. If you misstep here, then there’s no recovering from it. Your career is over. There are too many powerful people with daughters and nieces here.”
“If I claim an emergency at the word of children and find out it’s a hoax, I lose all reputation.”
“You were alerted about G
enevieve Fray,” Gordon said. “The notice should have gone out to every police station and Academy.”
“Yes,” the headmaster said.
“Are you saying you weren’t aware that Genevieve Fray was tutoring your daughter? Using her as an accomplice in her plan?”
“I wasn’t aware,” the headmaster lied, staring at us.
That shook my confidence more than anything. The brazenness of the way he said it, almost sarcastically, mocking us. Declaring to us that he, on the most basic level, didn’t care at all whether we took him at his word. His gaze was cool and controlled as he met my eyes. He had no shame, no guilt, and no doubts.
He knows full well what Fray was doing.
“This is a waste of time,” I said, to Gordon. “We’re better off focusing elsewhere.”
“Where?” he asked, murmuring.
“Finding Fray? Getting ahead of things on the ground level. If we can figure out how she’s going to communicate to the citizens of Kensford, or if we assume she’s going to reach out to the other cities she’s been to—”
“Phone?” Gordon asked. “A city as big as Radham has maybe twenty, a city this size can’t have more than five.”
“It’s a good starting point,” I said.
“What about birds?” Lillian asked. “No matter how fast we travel, we can’t—”
“Children,” the headmaster said.
We fell silent, looking at the dandy of a man. I eyed the badge he still held.
“You invited us here, you brought up a threat with no proof or details of what the threat specifically entails, it’s strange.”
“With all due respect,” Gordon said. “The entire situation—”
“I’m due more respect than that,” the headmaster said, cutting Gordon off. He strode forward, until he was close enough to Gordon that Gordon had to strain to look up. “My students call me sir.”
“Sir—” Gordon said. He was cut off before he got any further.
“I was talking, as a matter of fact,” the headmaster said. “About the oddity of all of this.”
He’s stalling. He knows Fray, he knows the plan.
Why? What’s he doing?
“When I teach my students, I try to instill them with a certain mindset. Wherever they go, whoever they deal with, they can benefit from what Dame Cicely’s Academy can teach them. That, much as in the rule of the species, we are in constant competition—”
War? Was he trying to defeat an opponent, or defend himself?
“—and we wage this competition on all levels. For partners, for status, for reputation, for wealth—”
Commerce? Was there a hidden profit in this?
“—and for more abstract things.”
Ideology? Was he trying to prove something?
“Radham may be an Academy, it may serve the same Crown we do, but when the Crown’s book-keepers sit down and figure out who is contributing the most, well, let’s just say that Radham might well see something to gain in coming here to sabotage us on a small level. Nothing too dramatic, because that could be considered treasonous, but an embarrassment? Oh, imagine that.”
Politics.
It was politics. I’d gotten through to Lady Claire by raising the topic, and Lady Claire was this man’s niece. He was angling for something, with the idea of raising Kensford up and bringing others down.
The irony of his words. He knew, and he was here, sabotaging us, by making us wait, keeping us from working against the problem. He was the one aligning for political gain in the grand scheme of things.
He’d worked with Fray to do it.
I had a very clear mental image of this man, Fray, Warren, and Lady Claire all sitting at the table, having a conversation, about what the future held.
Was Lady Claire the pawn in it all?
“We should go,” Mary said.
“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough, I’ll try to explain at a level more appropriate to your age,” the headmaster said, without a trace of irony. “I’m suggesting that you’re spreading lies to hurt this school. It would be a very bad idea if we simply let you leave. We’d be giving you free reign to continue spreading those lies.”
“What if we’re right?” Gordon asked. “What happens then?”
The man smiled, and he lied again, “I don’t think you’re right.”
I stopped paying attention to the man, and started paying attention to the faculty around the room. Seven women and three men, and their collective attention was fixed on the headmaster, not on the strangers in the room who were supposedly spreading propaganda.
He had them in the palm of his hand. If he told them to lie, they would lie. If he told them this conversation never happened, then it would be our say-so against his, and he had clout.
A curious feeling, realizing just how busy Genevieve Fray had been. Had she known him from the outset? Had that been how she’d got her foot in the door, found the person she would tutor, with room and board? Fray had a powerful ally in the headmaster, and I had little doubt she’d established others at different points along the line.
“We’re going,” Gordon said. He turned around, and started toward the door.
“You’re not going anywhere,” the headmaster said. He snapped his fingers, and stitched manservants headed in our direction. The headmaster added a quick order. “Keep the door closed.”
“Yeah, we’re not going anywhere,” I said, not budging.
I saw Gordon hesitate, and in that moment, the stitched closed the distance and pushed the doors closed, before standing in the way. Gordon backed away and shot me a dirty look.
“He still has my badge,” I said, simply, pointing at the headmaster.
“One of these days, I’m going to leave you behind,” Gordon said. “Let you face the consequences your own damn self.”
“You know they can make another?” Jamie asked.
“They could, but that one is mine. It belongs to me, not him,” I said.
“Of course it does,” Jamie said.
“We could have walked out,” Gordon muttered, as he turned to face the headmaster once again.
“No we couldn’t,” I murmured under my breath. “They would have given chase, and you and I are the only ones who can run fast enough to get away.”
Gordon made an annoyed sound, but he didn’t actively disagree.
He was probably thinking we could have put up a fight, and that it would have been worth the risk, given what was at stake.
“We have a space downstairs where we can hold them,” the headmaster said, “at least until a guardian or a representative from Radham comes to claim them. If we—”
“Can we drop the charade?” I asked, cutting him off.
It was rude, and it was intentionally rude. We were dealing with a man who had power and was used to power, he commanded the respect of everyone in Kensford and the surrounding area, probably, and he considered himself invulnerable. Cutting a man like him off would get attention, and if I was lucky, I might be able to provoke a reaction.
He didn’t flinch. The man raised his eyebrows. “Charade?”
“Guess not,” I said. “Then you keep pretending, and I’m going to stand here and talk and look like a crazy person. You’re going to let us go, you’re not going to kick up a fuss, and you’re going to let us run damage control.”
Gordon, Mary, Jamie, and Lillian half-turned, to watch me as I talked. The headmaster had his allies, and he had more, but I had the Lambs.
“Is this where the threats to my life start?” he asked.
“I’m threatening your livelihood. If you want to make this a contest between Radham and Dame Cicely’s Academy, then we’re content playing hardball. Let me see if I’ve got this right. Fray tells you that she’s got a plan. She’s already laid the groundwork in other cities. You facilitate her activities, you connect her to Claire, under the guise of Fray manipulating your niece, clearing your niece of blame, and Fray puts her plan into motion here.”
He had a g
ood poker face. It was somewhat infuriating. I wanted to hurt him, if only to break the facade. My frustration at having to let Fray go might have been coloring my perceptions.
“She told Lady Claire that she was going to help the Academy… and the only way that makes sense is if it’s the Academy’s plan. The Academy’s formula or strategy or whatever else, and it’s not a thing that the common people are going to be happy with. When the people rise up, Radham suffers, but your locals, they have money, or they have parents with money. The problem gets fixed. You come up looking like roses, and many of the other Academies struggle. Your competitors struggle.”
He shifted position slightly, a faint rise of his chin, to look down on me more.
There were tells that were blatant, the folding of arms when a person felt attacked, and there were tells that stood out because a person who knew the art of body language and deception was trying so very hard to avoid giving a tell that they moved in the opposite direction. This was the latter.
“Your mistake is thinking we’re going to blame Fray for this,” I said. This time, I lied, and I was a far more committed liar than him. “We’ve already put out word to various institutions to say that we don’t want anyone to raise an alert over Fray. We’re keeping things on the down-low, because she almost certainly has some spies and moles in the Academy, tipping her off. She’s a non-entity, and it’s easier to pretend she doesn’t exist than it is to spread word of her. If this happens, Radham puts the blame squarely at your feet.”
“You’d let a fugitive get away with this hypothetical mass-poisoning, simply to make my life a little more inconvenient?” the headmaster asked.
“Damn straight,” I said. Mary nodded, beside me.
Gordon nodded. “She’s already slipped away, and this frankly fits her pattern. I’d lay odds she wants you to take the hit.”
“I don’t believe you,” the man said.
Typical. Person in power, so used to having his way, he can’t conceive of a world where things don’t go the way he wants them to.
I shook my head, “I don’t believe that a person can be in your position and not appreciate the human capacity for spite. If we tell Radham that you did this at their expense, they’ll come after you. You might be small with some real clout, but Radham is big. They’ll destroy your reputation, and then they’ll come after your subordinates, and then they’ll come after your school, your legacy.”