Nighter

by Magdalena Kozak

  “And that, what you called him, Hidden One?” the A-T asked with interest, “The one you mentioned a moment ago...”

  “Lord Latens.” Nidor bowed his head respectfully. “Master of all the Lords. He’s asleep. He’s only woken when there’s a great need. You don’t need to know more.”

  The A-T nodded, becoming serious. There was a short silence.

  “All right, so now on the subject of etiquette,” the captain broke the silence. “So you don’t get startled. Technically, everyone kneels before the lords as soon as they appear.”

  “You must be nuts,” Crumbly growled through clenched teeth. “Not happening.”

  “It doesn’t pertain to you,” the nighter waved his hand. “Or you,” he told the recruit. “Humans don’t kneel before the lords, it’s not a custom. If one of them wants a human to kneel before them, it’ll be enough if he orders it. With normal, human weakness, resistance is futile. So lords don’t do it to humans, they don’t think it’s worth it. It’s like as if you wanted ants to bow to you. So they won’t expect any of you to kneel before them.”

  “Their luck,” The cop muttered, still ticked off a bit. “Salute, sure, but kneel? Some idea. You do what you want, but I don’t plan on that. And I’ll feel sorry for you when I watch you drop to your knees before just anyone, you know?”

  “Warriors don’t kneel either,” Vesper interrupted, patting Crumbly on the back. “We’re telling you about it so you don’t get suddenly startled. You will be in some hall, and all of a sudden the crowd drops to its knees because a lord walked in. You could feel stupid if you didn’t know what was going on.”

  “Well, if that’s the case...” Crumbly was finally placated. “If they want, they can kneel, go ahead. I’m not standing in their way to happiness.”

  A cart clinked metallically next to them. The flight attendant rolled it out, beginning their feeding tour.

  “Would you like a meal?” they smiled politely.

  “No, thank you,” the nighters responded together, while the cop and the recruit nodded enthusiastically.

  “Oy, don’t be a prat, you can give me yours if you don’t want it,” Crumbly said to Vesper pleadingly. “Because the food at Emów is really horrible...”

  Nidor glanced at the candidate right away, and he nodded eagerly. He wanted a double meal, too.

  “In that case, I’ll have one too,” the captain sighed, sitting back in his chair.

  “And me, too,” Vesper added, lowering his tray.

  He glanced fleetingly at the flight attendant as she handed him the plastic container. Quite nice, blond, a little pale with blue eyes... but human, definitely human. He looked away from the girl, showing her no interest. He accepted the dinner set and glanced at it. Disgusting. And to think that once, not long ago, he ate things like that... he raised his eyes at Crumbly, who was digging into his portion very eagerly. He shook his head, taking his hip flask out. He took a good swig of fresh, neutral blood.

  The Boeing 737 continued its flight.

  ***

  The Victorian estate the English nighters brought them to seemed completely deserted. A single guard at the booth by the gate waved them on lazily, allowing them to drive in.

  Only when the metal gate closed behind them with a clang did Vesper and Nidor tremble, impressed. They didn’t expect such an amount of force even in their wildest dreams. So they started looking around, searching for it. Nothing... everything was camouflaged with true, English care. They could only speculate: there, in the roof’s shade, a sniper probably hung around patiently. Inside this nondescript tool shed a whole intervention unit could be hiding, ready for immediate action. Each rock decorating the garden could be spiked with electronics: photocells, motion sensors, who knows what else...

  “First time in the UK?” one of the nighters grinned, and nodded with understanding.

  “Yes,” Crumbly admitted instantly. “Yes, sir!”

  He wanted to add something else, but he struggled with the language for a moment, and then waved his hand, giving up. He clearly didn’t know enough English words.

  “It’s really empty here,” he said in Polish, turning to Vesper. “I thought they would get ready for this Capitol better than for the European Commission summit we hosted recently. God, I was running around so much then... and here’s nothing,” he finished with astonishment. “Maybe we’re at the wrong place?”

  The Jaguar drove around the first building, through the gate, and stopped in the empty courtyard. They got out, staring around in wonder. The perfectly manicured lawn looked like a fluffy, green carpet, surrounded by red, English pelargonium flowerbeds. The short buildings’ brick walls leaned over them with interest. The only sign in the area said Do not walk on the grass.

  The hosts let their guests to a huge brass gate. They entered the building in a single file, closed the door behind them... and only then, were they hit with an unbearable commotion.

  The halls were filled with tumbling crowds. Rows of people walking in different directions, words spoken in all of the European languages echoed against the walls. Most of the gathered were nighters: a full moon, flashing from their uniform shoulders, was attached to many different flags. Here and there few random units of praetorians showed up, proudly sporting a silver dagger instead of a flag on their badges.

  Vesper tried to scan all the present ones quickly. No humans as far as he could tell. But he could make a mistake in this crowd.

  “Follow me please,” one of the English nighters said and began to push forward. They followed him obediently. Once they got through the crowd, they climbed the steep stairs to the second floor. Here, it was empty, only some doors placed at regular intervals along the unbelievably long hallway opened now and then. A nighter would emerge and rush toward the stairs.

  They finally stopped at a door. The host opened it for them, waving them in invitingly.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said with a polite smile. “You will be summoned at the appropriate time.”

  “All of us?” Nidor asked in surprise.

  “Yes,” the other confirmed, looking at him seriously.

  Crumbly glanced at the host uncertainly. He probably didn’t understand much, since they were speaking in English.

  “We’re supposed to make ourselves at home,” Vesper whispered into his ear. “They’ll call us when the time comes.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, faking a neutral tone. “All of us.”

  They entered their quarters. They stopped right by the door, overwhelmed with the luxury surrounding them. They put the luggage on the floor and looked around in awe. The apartment was worthy of a king.

  “How cool!” the A-T shouted out his standard saying. “It’s really something!”

  They agreed with him with humor. Cool, really. Really cool!

  “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if I can be of any further help,” the local nighter said. “Have a nice night!” he left and closed the door behind himself.

  “That means he wanted what? Is everything okay?” Crumbly tried to reassure himself.

  “That we should let him know if we needed anything,” Nidor explained. “And he wished us a good night. He’s very polite.”

  “They are crazy about good manners here,” the recruit showed off his knowledge of British culture. “Even if they kill you, they’ll do it super politely.”

  Crumbly stopped smiling immediately. Vesper and Nidor tried to cheer him up however they could, telling him that they thought the Capitol had all the reason to consider him a Friend... but they couldn’t guarantee it completely.

  “All right, gents,” Nidor ordered, looking around the sitting room. “I have a feeling those are double bedrooms. So I propose this: humans to the right, nighters to the left!”

  “Yes, sir!” they chorused, grabbing the luggage obediently.

  The nighters sat dressed on beds opposite each other. They hung their heads, rested their elbows on their knees.

  “What do you t
hink will happen to us?” Vesper whispered, staring at Nidor solemnly. “And with them?” He nodded toward other bedroom’s closed door. “Hmm?”

  The other watched him in silence for a while.

  “It’s not good, you know that,” he said finally. “It’s not good at all.”

  “I think so too,” Vesper said. “I can’t quite believe what Lord Ultor said... not that he lied,” he corrected himself quickly. “But it seems like he didn’t tell us everything.”

  “He will never tell you everything,” Nidor sighed. “He only says as much as he wants to. Nothing more. And nothing less. But we can speculate this and that. Lord’s Capitol has probably bigger issues than taking a look at two Polish nighters. I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

  “Especially since we’re not in very good standing lately,” Vesper added. “Alacer does whatever he can to get you down. And me too, at that.”

  The captain nodded slowly.

  “Alacer hates it when someone notices his mistakes,” he whispered quietly. “He’d like to be a perfect captain... and he’s got a shot at it, he does. But he has a lot to learn. But he’d like it to be now... and that nobody doubted that he is perfect now.”

  “And you’re in his way,” his friend deduced. “And me too, since I’m keeping your side.”

  Nidor looked at him with an unusually serious expression. It was obvious he was struggling with some heavy words.

  “Spit it out already,” Vesper asked him. “Don’t act like a good uncle, just spit it out. Come on!”

  “Alacer’s a very good player,” the other let out finally. “A word here, a word there... of course, all having the unit’s well-being in mind. But you know...” he changed his voice slightly, mimicking Alacer, “...isn’t it strange that this young nighter is always in the center of the action? And right after, our guys—or our allies—drop dead. Maybe he did drink that blood that time? And now wants to get closer to the renegades than he should?

  Vesper swallowed rapidly, and coughed, choking on his saliva. So that’s how it was.

  “Nidor’s protecting him, that’s obvious,” the captain continued. “After all, he screwed up in the very beginning of the kid’s education, so if anything happens, it will be his fault. Everyone will know he’s the one who put the rotten egg in the basket. So he prefers to mask the problem, and pretend that nothing’s happened...”

  “How long have you known about it?” Vesper asked point blank. “About what he says... Hmm?”

  The other one turned his face away, and stared at the dark glass.

  “Well, for some time,” he admitted. “But I’d hoped it would pass. And our guys aren’t stupid, most of them laugh in Alacer’s face at those words. So why should I demotivate you? Take satisfaction away from your job? I didn’t say anything.”

  “And you distanced yourself, just in case” Vesper said. “You think I didn’t notice? I sure did.”

  “I thought that if you weren’t so close to me, then maybe Alacer would at least lay off you,” Nidor sighed. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry.”

  Vesper was silent. He stared at the fluffy rug under his feet. He felt the taste of bitterness in his mouth, and his eyes burned. He’d tried so hard after all, he’d tried so hard...

  “What does this damn Capitol want with us?” Nidor sighed heavily.

  Vesper pulled himself together. He got up, and patted his friend’s shoulder.

  “Well, whatever it wants...” he said quietly. “What are you afraid of? Dying?”

  Nidor raised his face and shook his head decisively.

  “I’ve been a nighter for ten years,” he said. “I died once already. I woke up. Since then, I’ve avoided death hundreds of times. No, I have no problem with it. You know what I’m afraid of?” He looked up at his friend. “Dishonor.”

  The other stared at him, astonished.

  “I’ve devoted my whole second life to the Cause,” Nidor kept talking with an increased effort. “Nobody could say a bad word about me. Nobody questioned my loyalty. Nobody questioned my honor. And now... I could end up dishonored?” He shook his head. “It would be really hard.”

  Vesper plopped back on his bed. Night’s Honor... The idea, once completely alien to him, kept growing in meaning. When he was human, the most important thing he could have lost was his life. He knew he didn’t have much time, and wasn’t certain of the time and day... but now he was offered the chance of eternity, and he realized with each day how his priorities had changed. He wouldn’t want to spend these hundreds of years with himself, if he didn’t like himself. If he regretted himself and consider himself lowly... So he understood his friend, understood him perfectly.

  “Right,” he said simply. “Right.”

  “No nighter has ever betrayed,” Nidor said so quietly, it was nearly inaudible. “Never. And what Alacer is suggesting is treason.” He sighed deeply. “Damn it, I wouldn’t even want a sliver of that suspicion on me. I wouldn’t want the lord to think of me like this even for a split second...”

  “Ultor doesn’t think that, for sure!” Vesper protested with sudden indignation. “He definitely doesn’t believe Alacer, come on!” He fell silent for a moment. “Besides, if he did, we’d both be dead already,” he added with a slight bitterness.

  “Lord Ultor’s ways are unclear,” Nidor said slowly. “You’ll never find out what his real plan is.”

  Vesper hid his face in his hands. Nidor stared at the window. The controls didn’t light up with the alarm-red anymore. The blinds would go up any moment. Dusk was coming.

  They didn’t speak anymore. They sat together, swathed with darkness and silence.

  Somewhere nearby, maybe just a few yards away from them, the lords were now gathering to rule the Night.

  ***

  They spent the whole next day in the apartment, waiting for the summons. At last, in the evening when everyone’s nerves were shredded, a unit of praetorians came to collect them. They were taken up the stairs to the top floor.

  They stopped before a tall, mahogany door. A man standing by it stared at them carefully. His face seemed very familiar.

  Vesper squinted his eyes, searching his memory for where he’d seen this human before. It was a human, he noticed with surprise.

  “The feeler,” Nidor told him mentally, swiftly. “Remember, we took him in during your first mission...”

  “And now he’s in the Lords’ Guard,” Vesper understood. “Nicely thought.”

  The man nodded, allowing them in. The door opened, letting them inside a small hall. That small hall didn’t seem special at all. Tightly closed windows with dark, thick curtains hanging in front of them didn’t let even the smallest bit of night in. The lords sat around a round table covered with black velvet. They watched the newcomers carefully. Vesper thought how internal trembling was taking over him. Maybe it would be better to kneel, he mused fleetingly in his soul.

  “Good evening!” Crumbly said politely in Polish.

  The lords nodded without a word. The A-T worried, and bit his lips for a moment.

  “Good evening!” he repeated triumphantly in English.

  “All the lords speak in all European languages,” Ultor said calmly.

  Crumbly nodded, and backed away slightly. Oh, so you don’t want to talk? No means no, his confused expression said.

  The lords kept watching them in silence.

  “So those are the two nighters you spoke about, yes?” Viticula smiled, pushing her blond hair back. “Right... I understand now.” She nodded, and the smile disappeared from her face.

  “Exactly,” Ultor confirmed.

  Vesper felt as if his chest had shrunk in one spasm of fear. He was afraid of these lords. He didn’t remember anyone invoking such an indescribable, but paralyzing fear in him before. They stared at him and Nidor as if they wanted to pierce them inside out, turn them into nothing, take all their organs out and slice them.

  “Well, Ultor,” Lord Mercator said at last, a dark-haired man with a sur
prisingly young face and particularly cunning sight. “As far as I’m concerned, I share your opinion.”

  “I don’t know...” Candor, a blushing blonde man with the body built of a Russian peasant said hesitantly. “But since you insist so, then fine.”

  “I don’t care either way,” Arista shrugged, adjusting a lock of her raven-black hair. “I don’t know anything about it. But I vote ‘aye’.”

  “Me too, of course,” Viticula said. “Just for you, Ultor.” She smiled sweetly. “Oh, that uniform charm.”

  Vesper swallowed, and his lips trembled. Powers of the Night sat before him and decided his fate. And he had no clue what they were really talking about! And maybe he could have said something, convince them somehow, changed their decision of...of what? And what was this all about?

  “All right, so we’re clear on this subject,” Ultor said. “Nighters, you can leave. Humans stay.”

  Vesper and Nidor bowed immediately and backed out of the room. They stood in the corridor, watching the huge door close, hiding them from the lords’ gazes, as well as from the recruit and Crumbly. Their hearts still pounded in an uncertain, quick rhythm.

  “So the vote’s over,” Nidor stated in a trembling voice. “What do you think, did they just kill or save us?”

  “No clue,” Vesper said. “But you know, it didn’t look like an order-giving ceremony.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a silent hiss.

  “Oh, that was definitely not it,” his friend agreed.

  The door opened again. The recruit, pale as chalk, walked out of it.

  “And?” they lunged for him instantly.

  “I have no clue,” he choked out. “They stared on, didn’t say anything. Ultor told me to leave. They’ll kill me, what d’you think?” his lips trembled.

  They shrugged uncertainly. He understood the gesture and nodded. He raised his hand to his forehead and rubbed it nervously. Praetorians gave them a pointed stare: you’re blocking the way, gents. They backed away to the opposite wall and stared at the door tensely. The time passed, and the cop still didn’t appear. Vesper kept clenching his fists nervously now and then. Would Crumbly just come out already or not? Or maybe the lords had killed him right away and just tossed the corpse out. And not necessarily through the door, maybe out of the window, or maybe they had a cleverly disguised, huge trash can in the floor... he laughed hysterically to himself.