by wildbow
It was the interpretation I would’ve made.
“I have a long history with the Academies and Crown. If I would’ve been culpable in anything, I had a lot more opportunities before, Lamb.”
“It’s precisely because you don’t have opportunities that you’re at risk now, Professor Berger,” Jessie said. “You had a noble to look after and now he’s gone.”
Was I supposed to tell Jessie to blind him, and risk that she’d think I told her to ignore this, and contradict me to throw herself headlong into the problem, or tell her to go, to trust me when I was at my least trustworthy and least capable?
No. Blink. Eyes closed for one second. Eyes open. Eyes closed for another second.
No watch. Blind.
I looked over to my peripheral vision, at Berger.
“He’s gone, and maybe you’re hedging your bets.” Jessie said. She gestured. Yes.
I blinked, quickly, no. Then I repeated. Blink, eyes closed—
“I’m very much hedging my bets,” Berger said. “You can be sure I’ll have words with others about this. I would be very careful about how you move forward, now. You might already have gravely misstepped.”
—eyes closed again. Then reafirrmed Jessie, then Berger.
Please understand me.
I looked down, stuck out my tongue, so I was looking at it. A silly face to be making, and nobody smiled. I was trying to indicate me, when I couldn’t even move to provide a part of myself to look at.
My last message had been a no. Now I blinked, followed by closing my eyes for a second. That—
My world lurched. As I opened my eyes, I saw that I no longer faced Jessie. They used the rebels as shields, and retreated down the street, dragging me with. My heel dragging on the ground, friction had dragged one of my boots off. I couldn’t even feel the wet or the cold.
“Grab his ankle, Charles,” Berger said.
Charles’ rebel reached down, fumbled for my numb leg, and seized it. I was carried by one ankle and a hold around my upper body, and we moved collectively away from the congregation of strange rebels, Shirley, Jessie, Otis, Archie, Beattle thugs and our Beattle rebels.
“Who were the Blocks, father?” Florence’s voice was muffled by the mask she wore, much as Jessie’s had been.
“If you ever find out, Florence, you’ll either be wearing a black coat and serving at one of the highest stations the Academy has, or your world will be nothing but gas, plague, famine, and fire.”
“I gathered the latter from how the Lamb in the quarantine suit talked.”
“That would have to have been Jamie Lambsbridge, who was reported dead. But yes. He figured out something he shouldn’t have.”
“And it has to do with these people? Mr. and Mrs. Block? Who have information this vital but who aren’t protected?”
“If you want to know more, then earn a black coat, and then earn your station. Don’t abuse leverage for childish curiosity like you did when you pulled the string in the little castle or strangled the animal in Haverhill.”
“Sylvester noticed,” she said.
“What?” Berger asked.
“He noticed. He knows why I pulled the string. He knows why I suffocated the animal in Haverhill and cut the girl’s hair in the Cape of Flowers—”
“That was you?” Berger asked, his voice raising. “She was the daughter of—”
“Father.”
I could hear the huff of Berger breathing hard through his nostrils, anger barely held back.
“What did Sylvester notice?” he asked. “Rest assured, if it’s not a good answer, I’ll use a piece of wire to whip your rear end and the backs of your thighs into ribbons, have a doctor piece you together again, and whip it into ribbons once more.”
There was a pause, and I could imagine Florence hesitating, actually taken aback.
“Father,” she said, in a very measured way. “I was pulling strings. All my life, I’ve been raised to be proper, to know which fork to use, how to dress, how to do up my face. I’ve been given an education. I’ve been given class and status.”
“Cutting off all of the hair of the daughter of a headmaster of a prominent school could be said to be an abuse of those gifts you’ve been given by station and birth.”
“All my life, I’ve been given so much, but what I want and need is to know what happens in times of crisis. I engineered the crisis so I could see how the great minds and talented politicians handled the matter. I know I frittered away goodwill and made myself the obvious cause for those crises, but—but I do believe I’m just young enough that I’ll be forgiven it, by dint of my being as young as I am.”
Florence had insinuated to me that she hadn’t entirely known what she was doing.
Either she’d lied to my face and she’d done it well enough for me to not read it as an outright falsehood, or she’d figured out this particular argument and excuse for her behavior in retrospect, and she was now pitching it to her father as a kind of currency.
Both were rather amazing.
“I suppose this is a backhanded compliment? I was the only person there when you pulled the string and made the rebel seize up. Great minds and talented politicians. Or were your eyes on Sylvester?”
“Both of you, father.”
“Hm,” Berger said.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m eager, father. I want to learn more, even if it means you striking me in the face or holding me face down in the trough. And I want to know more about Mr. and Mrs. Block.”
“Eager is good,” Professor Berger said. “What I wouldn’t give for this kind of determination from Charles.”
There was silence from the children. Berger steered Eric and me around so we faced the children. We were a ways down the street, Jessie and the Beattle rebels no longer in sight, and we were in the shadow of a larger building. I could see the Little Castle a ways down the road, the stone edifice towering over the surrounding buildings. Wet snow fell all around us.
“But trust is hard earned and easily lost. Perhaps I’m overly wary after having so recently dealt with Sylvester, left second guessing things I wouldn’t, like the fact that you’re wearing the quarantine suit provided by one of his people, but I only half believe you.”
Dressed in the quarantine suit, Florence still visibly rocked back at that.
“With that in mind, half of the punishment I stated. The one whipping, followed by immediate treatment.”
Charles looked over at Florence. Florence, meanwhile, only bowed her head a little and curtsied. “Yes, father.”
I caught Charles’ eye. In the moment, I widened my eyes a bit, then gave him a wink.
“Uncle,” Charles said, as if he had to push himself to say it. He was pre-emptively flinching, and he’d only said one word.
“Charles. What is it?”
“Sylvester knew she was going to pull the string before she even do it. He told me, and then it happened.”
“Hardly a miracle, Charles. I suspected she might do something in that vein. Granted, I had the benefit of the strangulation of the beast in the stables in Haverhill in my recent memory, but it wasn’t the leap you’re making it out to be.”
“I believe Florence when she says what she’s saying,” Charles said.
“I believe that you want to save your cousin from her whipping,” Professor Berger said. He sighed. “The two of you have so much potential. But you’re too soft and Florence is too vicious. Come. Let’s get to safety first. You’ll each get your punishments tonight.”
“I’m being punished?” Charles asked, alarmed.
“You’ll split the punishment between you,” Berger said. “Come.”
“Uncle!” Charles said, and there was emotion in his voice.
“No complaining now. You can guess how that will end up.”
“Sylvester said—he said, just when he was getting up to go to you, that the game I played with the city boys and town boys, he’s played it all his life. That it was the same game
he and you were playing.”
“Most games originated as a way to learn skills, Charles.”
“He said—I didn’t want to say this, but he said that if you ever hauled your own head out of your ass, you might see that Florence was learning to play the game too.”
I hadn’t actually said that. But a very stern Charles had set his jaw and told the baldfaced lie.
Berger moved, passing around to Eric’s side, one hand still reaching back to manipulate strings. The movement did move some strings, making the rebel boss lurch a bit and tighten his hold.
From his new position, Berger reached out and took hold of my face. He turned it around and up so I was looking up at him.
“The games we play, hm?” he asked.
I smiled a little.
“Considering that I was busy preparing the bug you’re now wearing, I think I made the better move,” he said. He smiled and let go of my face, leaving my head to loll, though he remained in my field of vision.
My smile remained fixed in place. I didn’t quite feel like smiling, though.
I kind of agreed with him.
“Ready to move on?” Berger asked his children.
“Father. While we’re stopped, can you help me switch hands? Holding one hand over my head is growing troublesome,” Florence said.
“Leave him. We can make do with the two.”
“I can let go of the strings?”
“Do.”
Florence moved her arm, and the man she was controlling dropped limp to the ground. She removed the bug and cradled it in her arms.
“How are you managing, Charles?”
“Sore, but if it’s not far, I’ll carry on like this.”
“Good, Charles, good,” Berger said. He paused. “Florence.”
“Father?”
“All further games? You won’t play them with me.”
“Yes, father.”
“And I expect more… art. Subtlety. You should come across well whether you’re caught or not. The brutish way you did what you did, you looked poorly whether you were found out or if you got off scot-free.”
Florence paused, then curtsied again, still cradling the bug as if it were a doll. “I will, father.”
“Then we’ll forget the whipping so long as you remember this lesson.”
“Yes, father. Charles won’t be whipped either?”
“No, no he won’t. But if we don’t hurry, tonight will be bloody all the same. We’re exposed, and we’ll be exposed for a while yet. The infection will happen, and when it does, the plague will need to be cut out. Let’s go to the people best able to treat us.”
“Yes sir,” Florence and Charles said, in near-unison.
Turning, moving back around to his position behind Eric, Professor Berger shot me a final look. I suspected it was to communicate something, as if he was making it known that he had this situation in hand, and that the manipulation of the children in his care had been effectively turned to his own ends, rather than mine.
I also suspected that he was too busy working with the strings and getting Eric turned around to see that, just off to our side, then behind his back as he, Eric and I led the way, Florence and Charles had reached out for each other’s hands.
They were very different children, but they had achieved a victory here. Now they celebrated it, clasping hands, squeezing. Maybe they even walked hand in hand for the moment.
My foot was collected. Again, I was suspended, held by both Charles’ rebel and the rebel boss, limp as a rag doll.
In this manner, we walked.
“Florence, you wanted to know about Mr. and Mrs. Block,” Berger said.
“Yes, father.”
“I can only speak in generalities. No particulars.”
“I understand.”
“If Mr. and Mrs. Block were found, it was their bodies. Maybe written record, but even there, we are careful. If they or anyone like them were in a position to be found, they would be killed pre-emptively. I’ve had my turn, once, ensuring this was done. With luck, you will too.”
The two were silent.
“Nobles represent our best work, our best people. Yet you know that some of them, despite our best efforts, despite breeding going back to before the Crown Empire was an Empire, and was only one island country in the middle of a place we called Europe… some nobles disappoint. I know the both of you have met the Baron Richmond. He would be an example of such a disappointment.”
“Yes father,” was one response.
“Yes uncle,” was another, softer response.
“The Blocks… you could say they’re responsible for the nobles being as noble as they are. Much like how Florence talked about dressing one way, putting on makeup, learning manners, Mr. and Mrs. Block were among those responsible for one stage in the noble’s development. They are in a unique position to know just how many disappointing individuals there are that the public never sees, do you understand? The faces and natures of nobles who never properly become nobles in the public eye.”
The two children remained quiet, clearly taken aback with the gravity of what was being said.
“Pride, reputation, and status are things that build on each other, and we have built very tall towers in the last century. At the top, the towers are supported by people like my wife. Her family, and families like hers. At the bottom, the towers are supported by a firm foundation, given food and stone and all the resources they need by a people who look up and respect the height and fortitude of those constructions. But when an empire grows to a certain measure of strength, it cannot be torn down by guns, weapons, or warbeasts. Only by division from within, a severe crisis of faith.”
I felt Eric’s hand tighten on my throat, only by a little. The regular breath my body was providing became insufficient.
“This would be such a crisis, Father?”
I hadn’t been taking very deep breaths before, so the strangulation was going further than it might otherwise. I couldn’t even defend myself.
“Who can say? But I think the Crown Empire would rather risk a thousand wars over one test of that faith and pride. Because they can win a thousand wars, but one such test? We don’t know.”
My vision was going dark.
“As you grow older, and as you progress in the Academies… and you will progress to places of status in some of the best Academies, because you will have no other choice now that you know what I’ve told you… some of the details I’ve shared will take on new light. You’ll keep silent throughout, even to each other. If you must speak of it, you’ll speak of it only to me. I will be keeping a closer eye on you as you grow up, and at the slightest hint that you’ve abused this knowledge I’ve just given you, it won’t be a whipping. It’ll be your throats.”
With that, the hand tightened.
“I understand, father,” Florence said.
“Yes, uncle,” Charles said.
He’d told them for a reason, I knew.
This wasn’t too much confidence, given to the children. He’d recognized what was at play. I’d worked my way into their confidence, I’d taken one side on the divide they felt between them and their father figure. I’d posed it as a game.
He’d made this real, and he’d disarmed me in the process.
I’d had a plan, and he was countering it. He might have countered it outright.
The hand relaxed its grip on my throat. It shifted, though I wasn’t sure how, but it must’ve been holding a different part of me, like my collarbone or shoulder.
But my breaths were too regular. I couldn’t gasp for more, and so the regular mouthfuls were insufficient. Blood pounded in my head, hard, throbbing in my eye sockets and ears.
Even though I was no longer being strangled, the aftermath of it wasn’t much better. Rather than try to conserve the oxygen that remained, my brain and body seemed to give up. Everything went all light and fluttery.
I need to be awake and aware in case Jessie helps, I thought.
If Jessie
helps.
I could see the street out of one corner of my eye. I could see the red slash of plague across snow, not all that far away. With each pulse of blood in my eyes and ears, the plague seemed to lunge outward by ten strides, then by twenty. I closed my eyes and the darkness of it hurt, the fluttery nature of things threatened to sweep me off into sleep. I opened my eyes again.
Even with Wyvern giving me some control over the reins, I was fighting an uphill battle.
I saw Mary, standing in the shadows with a lacy red dress and a black jacket, and I felt a pang of empathy. She watched without any emotion as I was carried off.
I knew why I was thinking of Mary. She’d been a victim of the puppeteer, before we’d called him Mr. Percy. Now I was the one with his strings cut.
Was this the way it went? I’d brought her into the fold, and it had been my first true free act as a member of the Lambs.
Stories often ended as a reflection of how they began. To start as a baby that shit itself, to become a child, a man, an old man, and then an invalid who shit himself.
Freeing a puppet at the start, becoming one at the end.
I almost wanted to faint, I realized, rather than to be left alone with my thoughts. There wasn’t much I could do to help it along. The darkness that had crept in receded, as did the bright spots. I was left only with a tuning-fork hum in one ear and a pounding headache.
“Don’t shoot!” Berger called out. “Professor approaching.”
“Professor Berger?” was the answer. I could hear the surprise.
“The one and the same,” Berger said. “I brought a fugitive and the leader of the rebel faction, wouldn’t you believe? Hopefully it’ll do something to make up for the trouble I’ve caused the Crown.”
Things hadn’t been supposed to get this far. We couldn’t let Berger know we knew, and then give him the chance to talk to others. Jessie was supposed to intervene along the way. To blind Berger.
“This way,” the soldier said. I wished it was a voice I recognized, but it wasn’t.