by wildbow
He’d tried to take a stand as leader and he’d been cut down by committee.
If Jessie and I stayed with this group, that would have to be something we balanced.
“Come on then,” Davis said. “We’ll fetch the Professor.”
“Pass a message ahead for someone to rush to the kitchen?” I asked. “Get the kettles going, ovens burning. We’ll need a proper breakfast… and some pastries.”
“Yeah,” Davis said. “I’ll pass it on.”
His group turned around and rejoined the mob, our small army of Beattle rebels.
“He’s disappointed,” Jessie said. “He almost resembles you, Sy, when you were newer to this, less mature.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“He had a plan, and it kills him that he doesn’t get to execute it. He’s relegated to being a messenger boy. I remember you being disappointed on several occasions you didn’t get the spotlight you wanted.”
“Ah,” I said. “Yeah.”
“Something to watch out for.”
“To be sure,” I said. “Remind me.”
We started walking to the tail end of the group. They looked pretty damn suspicious, collectively.
“You’re acting as if there’s an easy answer to this,” Lillian said, after he was out of earshot. “But it isn’t. There isn’t. We can’t split Berger down the middle. If you keep him, we’re powerless to stop the Infante. If we keep him, you’re powerless to help Jessie.”
“We’ll figure something out,” I said.
“If you’re sure,” Lillian said.
I’m not sure, I thought.
Jessie’s countdown was ticking down, and it wasn’t the only thing I was worried about.
Mary was giving me a curious look, now.
“You have something in mind, don’t you?” Mary asked.
“Yes. But not a scheme,” I said. “And not an easy answer.”
“Hm,” she said.
She was still so quiet. Not that she had ever been a chatterbox. She had perhaps learned that lesson the night I’d met her, when she had interrogated me. Stitched lips betrayed no weaknesses.
It was something of a relief to pass through the outskirts of Sedge and into the central area where our buildings were clustered. Bystanders and old hunters and curmudgeons watched through windows as we trailed behind the small Beattle army.
Berger was already waiting at the main table. Students were crowded within, and voices bounced off of the walls.
The shackle had been cut off, I noted, but someone with a bayonet stood behind him, keeping him secure. There were a few hundred students in the vicinity watching him, which didn’t help matters either.
Rudy had been brought over to the kitchen, and he was situated where he could see and talk to Possum while still having a view of the rest of the room. One of his arms was missing at the elbow. The other was missing half of its muscles, looking as scrawny as the arm of a child half Rudy’s age. His legs weren’t much better, and if I had to guess, neither was his body. Two students kept on checking on him.
“Possum,” I called out.
“Tea?” she asked me. She looked nervous.
“Please. And a pastry, and some breakfast. I’m famished.”
She looked increasingly nervous at that.
Why so nervous? Had Davis told her to do something?
Jessie elbowed me. I looked down at her, and then I looked up, before the thoughts clicked.
It was so easy to forget the little things in the midst of chaos and a broken routine.
“And hold the poison,” I told Possum.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, more to herself than to me.
I found my seat beside Jessie, across from Mary and Lillian. Helen sat at my side, and the smaller Helen phantom sat just a little further down. Duncan and Ashton were sitting by Mary at the other end of the table.
I was reminded of Lambsbridge orphanage. The clamor in the morning, the crowd, being shoulder to shoulder.
“And here we are,” Berger said. He sounded like he’d taken some drugs for pain. His face was still entirely made up of bloody bandages. “Finally ready to negotiate?”
“In a way,” I said. “We needed to hash some things out, and I think my people won’t be entirely easy with how this has played out until we get something more concrete. Measurable.”
“Here it comes,” Mary said.
“You get Berger. You do what you need to do,” I said.
Lillian set her lips.
“In exchange, I’d like to make a deal with you.”
“A deal.”
“Two Lambs,” I said. “Two of you, gone. Blame it on the plague. They help Jessie and I out.”
Previous Next
Gut Feeling—17.5
“Oh no,” Jessie said, moving her glasses up before putting her face in her hands.
“Two Lambs,” I said, repeating myself for good measure. I made sure to look each and every one of the Lambs in the eye. It took me a second to recall that some of the ones I was looking at weren’t alive or in the city.
“Now I’m wishing I hadn’t intentionally missed, earlier,” Mary said.
“No, Sylvester,” Lillian said.
“Yes, Lil,” I said. “Things need to be done, we’re making a massive sacrifice to enable you to try to wrangle Berger and the Duke, and frankly, I’m wanting to prioritize the little time I have left, so I don’t want to take any big steps backward. If I’m giving this up, I want something equitable.”
“You’re our captives,” Mary said.
“Will someone tell me what I’m missing?” Berger asked. He looked and sounded as though he was down to one last nerve, and we were doing a good job of provoking it. His face was still heavily bandaged, his words still mangled.
“A number of crises demand attention,” Duncan said. “A very real crisis at home, and Sy’s… ongoing existence as the architect of crises.”
“I would argue, but I can’t quite disagree,” I said.
“What’s the crisis at home?” Berger asked.
Lillian leaned forward. “The plague is spreading. In the last several days, several cities have been written off. The Infante may be looking to write off the Crown States.”
I was careful to watch Berger. I saw him drum his fingertips on the table.
“It seems you’re not very surprised,” Jessie said.
Dang it. I would have liked to see how Berger played it without the prompt.
“I’m not so surprised,” Berger admitted.
Lillian spoke, her voice low, “It’s the hope of the Lambs that we can take you off of Sylvester’s hands and that you’d be able to help the Duke find his voice again. With luck, perhaps he could convince the Infante?”
Berger made a sound that might have been a laugh or a snort. Given the state of his face, the line between the two was ambiguous.
I could see how crestfallen Lillian was at that noise. Laugh or snort, it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“The Infante does what the Infante wants,” Berger said. “As far as he’s concerned, the good Duke of Francis is as far below him as the Baron was below the Duke. The noble of higher standing might allow the lesser noble to speak, but chances are good they’ve already made up their mind. To be approached by a noble and receive unasked-for advice? I wouldn’t say it never happens, but it’s rare. Rarer still that the advice in question would be listened to.”
Lillian diminished just a little bit further at that.
“There has to be something we can do,” she said.
“There is,” Berger said. “But it won’t be as direct as you’re imagining. The Duke of Francis knows people, and if his interests align with yours, which I think they do, he’ll do just that. But things are rarely simple. I’ll need assistance to get close enough to him to try fixing him, and you’ll be that assistance. We’ll need to cooperate to get the right words to the right people, and again, you’ll play a part. This is not imposs
ible.”
“Improbable,” Lillian said.
“The Duke of Francis can talk,” Duncan said. “He asked for Wyvern, and we provided it. He seems better every time we see him… not that the Infante knows.”
“Ah,” Berger said.
“Is that a problem?” Duncan asked.
“No. But it was a risk. There was a chance it would have exacerbated the damage to his brain. He chose to make the gamble when he asked you. A gamble on two fronts, as it was something the Infante might have figured out, on top of being something that could have cost him the remainder of his life or faculties.”
“He outlined the danger the Infante posed,” Duncan said. “He wanted to wait until you were back before making a play, we were looking for Sylvester, and we were just in the next town over when word came down of the quarantine here.”
“I expect that everything that the Duke of Francis told you is material he tried to communicate to me, in the limited times we were together and unobserved,” Berger said. “Since that discussion, I’ve come to believe that the Infante may have had a hand in the sudden and abrupt spread of plague here.”
“He was responsible for this?” Jessie asked. “What we saw in the city?”
“I’m not sure. But this disaster was manufactured in a manner that none of the others I’ve seen were.”
“All down the main street,” I said. “As if they were fed it?”
“Are the rebel groups capable? Marginally,” Berger said. “Are they willing or wanting? I don’t believe so. I’d be more certain if I knew what the news was in other cities. For now, I’m only willing to say that it looks like someone powerful, with resources and desire. I do believe you’ve struck on the topic of his aim and desire.”
“I want this to be another one of Sylvester’s bad jokes,” Duncan said.
“No joking,” I said.
Berger spoke, “There’s too much we don’t know. I don’t believe the Duke of Francis wants to grievously harm the Crown States. If anything, he relishes the challenges the rebels pose. For now, I’ll content myself with hurrying to the side of my noble, provided you Lambs can get on the same page about that.”
“Alright. I’ve already outlined what I want. Two Lambs,” I said. “Mary and Ashton.”
“What?” Lillian asked.
Mary looked like she might kill me. Duncan looked aghast.
“What’s the reasoning, Sy?” Jessie asked, sounding exasperated.
“Thank you very much for asking, Jessie—”
“Please don’t thank me,” she said. “The other Lambs aren’t liable to forgive me if you draw too much attention to it.”
“It’s the most painful and organic-looking loss, because it’s unlikely,” I said. “We can explain away the deaths by saying the plague got ’em. The Lambs are going to be under suspicion, whatever happens, but the clear debilitation of losing key talent and abilities will diminish that suspicion.”
“Oh, I see,” Lillian said, sounding very unimpressed. “It’s for our benefit.”
“For the most part,” I said. “You guys pick up the new, younger Lambs to round out your group in the meantime, and the fact that you won’t have key combat and problem solving talent makes it likely you’re taken off the front lines in the immediate future. That gives you more time near the Infante and near the Duke. More leeway.”
“I don’t think it’s nearly so elegant as you’re painting it,” Mary said.
“Oh, it’s crude and brutal,” I said. “Feelings get hurt, it’s raw, it’s an ugly break that forces everyone involved to adapt and cope emotionally. But you’ll have eyes on you. People will see that raw ugliness and they’ll believe the pain and the deaths are real, you follow?”
Helen spoke, “Referring to a young lady’s raw ugliness is not going to win you friends.”
“True,” I said. “But I wasn’t referring to external beauty. I was referring to the inside stuff. The thoughts and feelings.”
“Ah,” Helen said. “I don’t pay much mind to that. These days, I mostly have one big hairy, bloody sugary messy feeling I try to cram inside and ignore unless I’m eating or killing.”
“That’s another thing,” I said.
I didn’t get to finish, as Lillian had something to say.
“You’re talking about taking the most loyal members of the group and making them defect,” Lillian said. “Are you trying to manipulate us with this deal, Sy? Because trying to slide something past us or using shady negotiation tactics to try to get your way would be a supremely shitty thing to do to friends.”
“I’m a manipulator by nature, but no, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m making a genuine offer in terms of what should be most tactically sound. They won’t expect the two most Crown-loyal, capable Lambs to drop dead or defect.”
“You want me to abandon my best friend?” Mary asked.
“They know you’re her best friend, that you’re close. The person who manages the dormitory reports to higher-ups when you sleep over at the dorm. Ms. Earles reports to the higher ups whenever Lillian stays over with you at the Orphanage. They know what’s going on, they know the relationships between you all. We need something that makes them think that the situation really did go crossways.”
Any marginal goodwill I’d earned with Lambs was quickly fading. Lillian looked upset, Mary was angry, Duncan seemed offended.
“If anything,” I said, measuring my words, “I recognize that there’s a clique. You and Mary get along famously and that’s a liability.”
Jessie, face in hands, shook her head.
“Liability how?” Lillian asked, sounding just about as dangerous as Mary looked now.
“You get along and you do your things. Duncan and Ashton get along well, and their attention is sucked up by the new Lambs. Your attention is sucked up by schoolwork and the major project. And for half the time I’ve been around Helen today, and I get the feeling there’s something desperately wrong.”
All eyes turned to Helen. Some turned back to me.
“We know,” Lillian said.
“Do you?” I asked. I looked at Helen. “Do they?”
“I’m desperately in need of breakfast sweets,” Helen said, looking forlornly over in the direction of the kitchen.
“We’ve discussed things over the past several months,” Duncan said. “In some ways, our hands are tied.”
“I refuse to believe that,” I said.
“Which part?” he asked. “That we discussed it, or that our hands are tied?”
I frowned, glancing again at Helen, then back at Jessie. The Helen that lived in my head was so insistent, asking for very different things.
“Call it intuition,” I said. “Call it a quirk of my brain, but I’m really concerned that Helen has fallen by the wayside. The strong bonds between the rest of you have left her mostly out in the cold.”
“I’m fine in the cold,” Helen said. “I like the warmth too, but in the cold, I can hug someone and break them and feel their body heat, and it is delicious.”
“Helen is managing as best as she’s able,” Duncan said. “I don’t think our involvement will change anything.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t want to argue.
“Why not take Helen?” Lillian asked.
“Do you want me to? Are you suggesting it?” I asked.
“No, and yes. I’m wondering at your thought process. Again, taking two of our most capable.”
“I do like being considered a proper Lamb,” Duncan explained. “But I’m stung that I’m not considered one of the more capable, loyal Lambs. I’ll cede capability, but you keep calling my loyalty into question as though you were bringing a battering ram to the gate. You can’t keep saying it and make it true.”
“I’m talking about the condensed, unique package of loyalty with inhuman capability,” I said.
“Mm,” Duncan said.
“I don’t think this is going to work, Sylvester,” Lillian said.
“T
hen you may find that the Beattle rebels aren’t keen to let all of you leave,” I said.
“We knew what we were getting into when we came in here,” Mary said. “I’m reasonably confident I could beat your small army and carve a way out. Taking you hostage might even make us friends among your ranks, going by your habit of worming your way into the confidence of half the people you meet and making bitter enemies of the other half.”
“I’m wounded. I’ve actually been a good leader, I think. You were complimenting my troop movements earlier.”
“It’s a risk,” Mary said. “But I think I’d rather try fighting my way out of this dining hall than join you and fight my way out of a dozen more dining halls or similar places while you arrange your plan. I’m not interested. I am Lillian’s, and Lillian is mine.”
“Alright,” I said, a little bewildered by that. “Not sure on the possessiveness, but… alright.”
Mary’s phantom, as I’d put it together, was only able to give me a shrug. I’d need to think on things and try on ideas before letting it all coalesce and put that into context.
“I’m friends with Abby, Nora, Lara, and Emmett,” Ashton said. “I’m important because I keep that team and this team connected.”
“I believe that’s one of my official responsibilities,” Duncan said.
“You’re not very good at it,” Ashton said. “You do a very good job of taking care of them and being their doctor, but I’m better at being a friend and making sure they’re heard. I think they would be very sad and disappointed if I weren’t there anymore, especially if I faked my death and they thought I had died in a horrible way.”
“The other Lambs would tell them what had happened,” I said.
“Even so,” Ashton said. “I think they would be very sad and disappointed if I weren’t there anymore.”
“It’s because of your role and responsibilities that this works, Ashton,” I said. “They know you’d be missed, that you wouldn’t want to leave without a goodbye. This creates a dynamic, where they go looking for the goodbye, they watch for messengers and messages, and they listen for whispers. They’ll wait and watch and listen for your message to the others, and when it doesn’t come, your death will be that much more believable.”