by wildbow
Mary gave chase, running, as Sylvester hopped up onto furniture.
She buried frustration with focus as every knife she threw at him hit a piece of furniture instead. While Lillian was dragged underneath a coffee table, he kicked at a bowl, and more mechanisms kicked into motion, counterweights dropping as the walls began to fold in together, like great double doors.
Mary slipped past the first set of doors, then only barely scraped through the second, but she knew she was losing ground. She saw the last set of doors closing, and turned, running to step onto the top of a heavy armchair, up to the staircase. She used a knife, embedding it into wood rather than trust the rungs of the railing.
From there, she leaped over the last set of doors.
A final trap awaited. Stretched across the open space above the doors were threads. Not razor wire, but threads, a spiderwebbing or a loose net. Enough to tangle her, not enough to be easily seen in the moment, with only the light shining in through the doors.
Stuck there, she watched as Sylvester disconnected the hooks from Lillian’s clothes, then dragged her out and away from the open back doors.
She cut at the threads, watching as he closed one of the back doors, sliding it over, then the other. She could hear the sound of the lock with all the gravity of a death knell.
She disengaged herself from the threads, and dropped down to the sitting room. She approached Ashton and Helen, who were now at the front door.
“They got Lillian,” Ashton observed.
Mary ignored him. She ran outside, knowing full well what she’d see.
One carriage cutting through the field, taking a diagonal path until it reached the road. From there, it headed toward the city.
The other carriage headed out to locations unknown, the same path through the field to the road, but going in the opposite direction.
“Next time,” Mary observed. “I’m going to shoot him. No nonsense, just pull the trigger, put an end to my misery.”
“That’s no fun,” Helen said.
“Neither is this,” Mary said. “Help me with the horses. Can either of you ride?”
“Nothing that big,” Ashton said. “And not without a saddle.”
“Damn it,” Mary said. She avoided the path as she strode toward the carriage the rabbit had disabled. As she reached the first horse, she cut at the straps and bindings that fastened it to the wagon.
The Rabbit, securely tied with one ankle handcuffed to a wheel spoke, was humming to himself.
“Look,” Ashton said. He pointed.
There was a wagon on the road trundling down the path, a stitched beast pulling it at a good clip.
A working vehicle.
Mary hurried over, concealing her weapon.
“Problem?” the farmer asked, as she approached. “Someone in trouble, was it?”
“Yes sir,” she said. She revealed her knife.
“Terribly sorry,” Helen said, as she climbed up. “But we need this.”
“I’m running an important errand!” the man said, raising his voice. “Something of an emergency.”
“So is this,” Mary said, tense. “Please step down.”
“No,” the man said, stubborn. “No, a child’s life may be at stake. Your emergency might well be the same as mine, but I cannot and will not let you—”
Mary moved the knife, silencing the man.
“Your emergency is the same as ours?” Mary asked.
“I was asked to help. A child in this very orphanage needs medicine, and that medicine is in town.”
“Sylvester,” Helen said.
He’s giving us a wagon?
She looked at the bigger picture.
The wagon, going in the direction of the city—
Did Sylvester hope they would take the easy route? Hop on, head in the direction that was most convenient, into the city, and ignore the other wagon, because it would have meant turning a bulky wagon around on a narrow road?
“Go,” Mary said. “Ashton, Helen, go with the nice man. Apologize to him for the knife. Get the help we need.”
“What are you doing?” Helen asked.
“Going after the other carriage!”
Mothmont taught her useful things, and horseback riding was one of them.
She finished cutting the straps, the farmer’s wagon rolled past her as she worked, disappearing down the other end of the long, straight road.
Once the Crown’s police horse was freed, she mounted it bareback, managed the reins, and rode, as hard as she could, after the second carriage.
Helen’s and Ashton’s was liable to be empty. But convincing the farmer to turn around would have been a waste.
This would have to do, and it had the added benefit of covering both bases.
Knives and items that she’d secured on her person were jolted and jarred by the hard ride in a way that acrobatics and most fighting didn’t manage.
Her focus was razor sharp as she first saw the dust the carriage had kicked up, and soon that dust dirtied the beads of sweat that covered her body.
Lillian was her friend, her heart. Her most important person.
Lillian.
She willed Lillian to be in the carriage, as she caught up to it, then leaped on top of it.
A knife to the carriage driver’s throat worked to make him pull to a stop. He remained cooperative as she climbed down to the side and hauled the door open.
Empty.
Of course it was empty.
She mounted her horse, turned it around, and rode in the opposite direction. She didn’t go after Helen and Ashton. She already knew what had occurred.
She made her way back to the orphanage, the around to the back field.
By the back door was a hatch. She kicked it open, then descended the ramp down to the tunnel below. There were multiple access points.
And one exit, heavy, reinforced, and locked.
To where? She thought, in the same moment that she remembered, Fort city.
The place was probably riddled with the things.
She let her forehead rest against the door.
Previous Next
Black Sheep—13.11
The windows were all open, sheer curtains billowing and glowing with the afternoon sunlight. It was still unbearably hot, but that made the wind that blew in one set of windows and out the other a very pleasant thing. Stronger than a breeze, and very refreshing.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment. The greater set of games had been played and won, and things were just about as perfect as they could get. If I could have captured and held on to the moment to preserve it, I would have.
I opened my eyes and looked at Lillian. Her ankles and wrists were bound, but the bindings were loose, leaving room to move while still looping behind a post that ran up to the peaked center of the room. She could have her arms at her sides or behind her, but she wouldn’t be able to reach forward. Right now, she knelt, slumped forward, but she would be able to stand if she wanted to.
The skin of her arms was still faintly mottled from where the external-muscle sleeves had pressed down on it. She had had a haircut recently, but the hair was kept out of her face with a white hairband. I didn’t miss the pearl earrings studding her earlobes. Her uniform shirt was a light fabric, short sleeved, with a collar, with buttons running down the front. Her skirt was pleated, leaving only her knees and upper calves bare. Her shoes were girl’s shoes, but meant for running on streets and fields, with buckles.
For just the moment, she looked very at peace, unconscious. There were bandages at her knees.
Looking at her was very pleasant. I perched on my stool, feet on the upper rungs, trying to imagine how the conversation would go.
I heard footsteps, and a part of me immediately snapped to thinking about Mary, about the other Lambs and if I was followed. I didn’t know enough about what some of the new recruits were capable of. Abby, the twins, if Emmett had any capabilities, or if Helen had been augmented any further. My hand r
eached for the gun I’d put on a tea trolley.
Jamie, not an enemy.
“Still asleep?” he asked. He was carrying two glasses of water. His hair was tied back, which was just about the only real accommodation he’d made to the heat. His shirt was still buttoned all the way up, and he wore brown slacks. No shoes, though.
Not that I was much better. I did have the sanity to undo some of the buttons on my shirt and roll up the sleeves. I’d changed slacks to a tidier black pair and I’d put on sandals.
“Yeah,” I said. Then, with some fondness, I said, “She was running around so hard, and she picked a fight with me, even. She must be exhausted.”
“I know you want to be left alone, but I was thinking back to you bustling around and I didn’t remember the tap being turned on. You wanted water.”
“I did. I would have gone to get it, but I didn’t want her to wake up alone,” I said. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“No trouble.”
“I appreciate all of this. The help, the information, putting the pieces together.”
He extended the glasses my way. I took them, and they were deliciously cold. I set one on the trolley, before drinking from the other.
Jamie lingered. Odd behavior for someone who knew I wanted to be left alone with Lil. I looked at him and arched an eyebrow.
“I don’t quite know,” he said.
Then he turned and left.
The wind picked up. I stared at the door that Jamie had passed through, trying to figure out what he’d been about to say, and I eventually gave up and smiled. I’d get answers later.
I’d finished my glass of water before Lillian stirred awake. She started with sounds, which didn’t surprise me. I smiled again, thinking about the countless times she had woken up beside me.
Lillian raised her head, blinked, and then stared at me. It took her a moment to wrap her head around the situation. She moved her arms and tugged against her bonds.
“Ahhh,” she said, under her breath. “Son of a bitch.”
“I’d say this is payback for trying to stick me with the syringes you hid in these sleeves, but that would be a lie. I had this in mind from the beginning.”
Lillian bowed her head, and let out a low sound that mingled a groan with a growl.
I picked up the glass, stepped down off the stool, and approached her. I leaned down, and spoke in her ear, “The retribution for that little stunt will have to come later.”
She tested the bonds a few times, with more intensity on each try, before she gave up.
“Come on,” I said. “Stand up. I’ve got some water for you. You’ll want to stay hydrated.”
I let her make her own way to her feet. She stood straighter, and met my eyes. A level and very unimpressed glare, to match my smile.
I started to move the glass toward her lips, but she spoke. “You have to keep me hydrated so I don’t pass out in the midst of our torture session, hm?”
“Torture session?” I asked.
“Mm hmm,” she said. “You’ll stand there or sit there and torment me with words, while I’m helpless to fight back. Torture.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a hammer and some nails lying around up here,” I said, indicating the rest of the room. It wasn’t quite an attic, but it was being used for storage, and there were tools and boxes here and there, among various personal knick-knacks, which were mostly empty picture frames and stopped clocks. “If you’d like, we can nix the conversation part, and I could nail your toes to the floor.”
“Would you?” Lillian asked. “That would be preferable, please and thank you.”
She was trying to keep her expression stern, but there was a faint glimmer of amusement there.
“The new Lambs are cute,” I said.
“They’re not Lambs, you know,” Lillian said.
“Oh, I know. But I think the odds are good that those odd goods will wind up together in some capacity.”
“I hope so,” Lillian said. “They were all leading such lonely existences.”
“Existence is lonely,” I said. I put the glass to her lips, and tipped it to allow her to drink. Hydration was good. She was beaded with miniscule little droplets of sweat. When the sheer curtains billowed in and the light slipped through, she seemed to glitter. I fixated on the glittering along the length of her throat as I said, “That’s what makes it so wonderful and bittersweet when we’re able to find each other and cling to each other in the midst of it all.”
Lillian, watching me looking at her, made a noise. I moved the glass away so she wouldn’t sputter and choke.
She settled for clearing her throat, taking a moment to respond.
“You’re different, Sylvester,” she said.
“Only natural,” I said. “I’ve been operating independently for a while now.”
“Semi-independent,” Lillian said, quiet.
“True. But I don’t think of my relationship with Jamie as a dependency. It might be, but I’d prefer to think of it as a partnership.”
“He’s okay? I assume he’s the one who did these bandages,” Lillian said, lifting one leg that had a bandage at the knee.
“That was me,” I said.
“Oh. You’ve picked up some skills, then.”
“Jamie is as good as can be expected,” I said. “He caught the plague, whatever they were calling it. Ravage?”
Lillian nodded. “That’s one of the names.”
“I had to cut it out. Caterpillar is… pretty done as a project, I’m afraid. There’s only Jamie. Which is still pretty darn amazing, in the grand scheme of things. He helped me get you up here and tied up. He’ll be around, if you need him, want him, or if you want to talk when we’re done here, which I imagine you will.”
“When we’re done what, Sylvester?”
“Ah,” I said. “That requires explanation, and it launches us into a whole dialogue and series of options. I was hoping to enjoy more small talk first.”
“What’s going on, Sylvester? What am I doing here?”
“Do you want more water?” I asked, “Not deflecting. Just asking before I put it down.”
She shook her head. I walked over to the trolley and put it down, picked up the stool, and moved it closer to Lillian. I perched on it again.
“Standing gets tiring, especially when you’ve been running around for several days straight. You’re free to sit, if you want. Or I suppose you’d have to kneel, really.”
“You’re such a gentleman, Sylvester,” she said. She remained standing.
“Do you want me to be a gentleman, Lil? Because I can switch gears and do that. I can find you something to sit on.”
“I don’t want to sit, and don’t call me Lil.”
“Don’t call me Sylvester,” I retorted.
She set her jaw. Stubborn.
“Right. The reason you’re here is that I wanted to talk. That’s the short answer. The long answer is that you’re staying here for two days, two nights. Just long enough that the others will be close to panicking, the Academy will ask questions, and they’ll ask you to come back. There will be a minor inquisition, not as bad as the last one, I don’t think, and the Lambs will be stalled. All in all, it gives Jamie and me a chance to get lost while you all bounce back. I’ve given them a project for the meantime—”
“Two days, Sylvester?”
“And two nights. And then I give you back,” I said. “About the project, the orphange is only three-quarters done, so I figured—”
“I only have enough of a leash to last me a day,” Lillian said. “One pill.”
“Ah,” I said. I paused, considering. “That might be a problem. Figures, the Academy would do something like that.”
“Very sorry to disappoint,” Lillian said, with a measure of satisfaction.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I said. I was not looking forward to cutting my time with Lillian short in order to go rob the Lambs, especially not if they were anticipating me. Cutt
ing it short to give her back to them early was worse, because it would mean letting the Academy win.
“I’m so very angry at you, Sylvester.”
“That’s allowed, Lil.”
“You’ve put us in such a bad situation, too. Hayle told us that—”
“Ah!” I said, “Ah, ah, ah!”
She stopped.
“None of that. In fact, I’ll need to hammer out the ground rules, Lil.”
“Ground rules,” she said, in disbelief.
“Here’s the deal, Lil. None of that. No talking about what Hayle said, how he’s twisting your arms, possible punishments… if it comes to that, I’m going to gag you. There will be no discussion between you and me. I’ll keep you for however long I end up keeping you, then I’ll let you go, and that will be that.”
“Tempting,” Lillian said, dryly.
“Which brings me to the first key point of our discussion. I’m going to ask you this, and I’m going to ask you again later. I’m giving you the choice, Lil. I can stay, and we can keep talking, or, hell, I can stay and you can be gagged if you so choose. Or…”
Lillian didn’t take the bait. She just stared at me.
“Or,” I continued. “I leave, and I send Jamie in. You can talk with him about whatever. He can give you the update on how I’m doing, how he’s doing, you can tell him about the Lambs, old and new, and he’ll fill me in after. You can even count it as a win, Lil, Because I’ll be stewing in frustration about not getting to see you. You follow?”
“Gee whiz, Sylvester,” Lillian said, her words at odds with the lack of playfulness in her voice, “I can stay stuck here while you talk circles around me, or I can get rid of you. I wonder.”
“For the record, Jamie will probably draw a line in the sand about you talking about Hayle and what he’s doing.”
I let the question hang. I wasn’t wholly positive I knew what answer she would give. A lot depended on how raw her feelings were, beneath the facade she was showing me.
I waited, thinking, while Lillian mulled over her decision.
After a minute, I ran out of patience.
“For all that you were talking just a bit ago, you don’t seem to be very quick about answering.”