ASAIO

I tighten my cloak and hood to better protect myself from the rain, tightenin the embrace of the man whose skin it's made from.

He was the leathery sort, grayin from the plague, nearly monochrome by the time he finally lost his mind. Ellie-Darlin used to call him Mono-Man cause she couldn't ever remember his name. Even if she did, she wouldn't be able to pronounce it correctly. Her Tanasoran accent's far too thick and hearin ain't good enough. I called him Mono-Man cause the name Hstasian's too weird to say and my tongue just don't roll like that.

He was Seht's uncle. Not blood uncle, but his uncle. So when Seht joined the gang, he became our uncle too. For a good five cycles, he oversaw us kids, made sure we didn't get up into too much trouble, but he was a dyin man. He'd been the oldest man I'd ever known--thirty somethin, Seht always says, even though I think he was older.

It's real rare for the plague to grant you the 'gift' of communicatin with animals, cause there ain't almost any left, but Mono-Man was one of those few who could. They were bugs. I don't know what bugs they were, but they were real big with beady yellow eyes and heads larger than my torso and bitin organs like razor blades protrudin from those same heads. I never knew where they came from, just that he could summon em with the flick of a hand.

I remember, before the plague got to his mind, he would call upon the bugs that loomed over tourist coaches and he would have them do dances. If we were ever in a quick or somethin, he'd summon em over and scare the livin Soul outta whoever'd gotten us into a pinch (or whoever we'd pinched, more likely). He'd been able to sense acids and smoke-things in the air from hundreds of legs away. Helped us with traps. Helped us keep from bein in factories with poisonous air and probably added five or so cycles to our lives.

Since his gift was so rare, he could have been anyone. His Soul was probably Purer than any of us ever realized, but he never got it checked. Instead, he decided to stay with Seht, keep him safe.

I loved him for that, even if he couldn't ever love me the same sort of way cause of his affliction with lovin more than two kids at a time, and those two would always be Ellie-Darlin and his darlin nephew.

Slowly, his skin became leather and then patches on his arms developed the same scales that's encapsulated those bug bodies. His nose grew big too. He didn't think about blood or anythin like we always feared he would. Instead, he began to yell bout needin sugar all the time. He tried to gnaw on Ellie-Darlin's hair once, sayin she was always so sweet, the prettiest sugar, which was weird cause she was eleven at the time--this was two cycles ago. Then the plague really hit. Began to gnaw at his mind, so he didn't just look and occasionally act funny.

It started with the way he talked. one side of his mouth became paralyzed and the other one just couldn't do all that heavy liftin. Then it changed to what he talked about. Began talkin bout visions, of seein glyphs in his mind. He was lashin out at Ellie-Darlin before the rest of us, screamin at her incoherently, throwin glass and stuff. Only person he'd ever hurt was Seht and that's cause he's the only person in the world who'd ever seen Seht as the golden, perfect child. I'd love him a little for that too, that he loved Seht in a way I never could, even if it led to cruelty. Always cruelty. Then his mouth began to bleed from one side. Pores opened up on one side of the cheek and it was a real nasty spill to clean up, but it gave us a lot to donate to the Slaughter Houses, so we were livin sort of rich then, gettin paid for each bucket-loud.

Mono-Man called us sinful creatures and tried to bite at our arms and our legs while we slept. He could never sit still and threw out his back chasin Vernon and Uyala and me down the stairs of our hobble late at night.

One night, when he was a little more coherent, he told us not to send him to the Slaughter Houses. He said to 'make somethin of him.' Well, not told 'us.' He'd told Seht, but I like to think he wanted to say it to all of us, even if he only loved Seht and Ellie. So Seht he'd said, "Give my life something meaning. Give my life eyes and give them eyes I can see through, you wicked child. Make a cloak from my skin, make a crown of my hair, make a necklace of my fingernails, make a feast of my insides, but don't send me to those Slaughter Houses, no. Those sinners. Don't send me to one of those." So we didn't.

I'd gotten the cloak and hood of his skin. Ellie-Darlin got his crown of hair, which she wears more as a neck-laurel than a crown. Flynn got the necklace of his nails. Uyala got a doll carved of his bones. Seht got an amulet of his eyes. And, of course, we'd had a feast of his insides.

I've worn that cloak nearly every day after he died. Lets me feel semi-close, closer than I did while the man was alive.

The rain is pourin hard, a thunderous storm. I've gotten three bruises on one arm already, sittin on watch in the open like this.

The corrugated rooftop is slanted so much I have to tie myself with a long dead-vine to keep from slidin off. My back is against the open window of a slanted, sorrowin buildin that's more hunched than Mono-Man had been. The cloak keeps me warm but it mainly keeps me hidden. Mono-Man's skin had become so gray it appeared almost black, and it helps me blend into the shadows.

All around me, there's the forest of similar buildins. Mecraentos was built like a messy paintin, specially down here in the slummish parts. I don't think they're all that slummish, but that's what the tourists all say when they come passin by on their fancy coaches and in their fancy breeches with their fancy hats. I like to think Mecraentos is just tight-knit.

Buildins clumped together, borne of infected trees that grew together with branches and trunks interlinked. Weaved rooves and wooden beams were built to give em some semblance of structure. Carved are doors and windows, covered with thick blankets and tattered sheets to keep the rain out. A lot of the buildins have covers over the tops of the rooves, weaved from even thicker leaves. I help out with those sometimes, for people in our gang and for normal people just livin in our district.

The streets ain't really streets but alleyways that naturally formed as a result of the buildins bein too close to each other. The moons are shinin brightly overhead, illuminatin the street so much that all the glowshroom lanterns are turned off.

The street below me is not empty but bustlin with walkin peoples and a few coaches. Not the sort we're lookin for, though.

I'm about forty-legs from the ground, I think. Could kill me if I fell, but I won't, cause the leaves got me.

Twenty legs below me, sittin on a balcony that's barely hangin onto dear life, is Ellie-Darlin, watchin the door of the Dome. She's sittin in a squat position, ready to pounce when necessary. Her near-white hair's tied up in a tight bun. She keeps her eyes intensely focused on the road, probably in fear that she'll forget why she's there in the first place, or who she's supposed to be lookin our for. I can only see her between the wooden structural boards cause the leaves point me towards her direction.

I ask the leaves to do somethin similar with the others.

Flynn's on the roof of our singular Temple of Valka, shrouded beside the spiral turrets and the braided wood-coverins. He's sittin in the best place cause there's a real roof and so his skin will be spared from the colossal rain. I can only see the edge of his bare foot, but I know he's probably huggin his knees, listenin keenly with one of his snakes wrapped round his head and the other round his arm. Can't go anywhere without the scaly Nep and Pen.

Seht's to my right. He sits unmoving, like a statue. He does that a lot. Stops blinkin. Sometimes stops breathin. It's a bit unnervin, but I've gotten used to it. He's the one to give the signal that we can step in, since his hearin's the best as it's enhanced from the plague. Pick apart the cacophonous street, Flynn had said. The plague is causin Flynn and Ellie-Darlin to become a little deaf, so Seht is the most viable option. Besides, he can also see well in the dark.

The Lime Men are one of many gangs in Mecraentos. They're pretty well-known. They're not the Rubies or anythin, but they ain't exactly willin to let a group of rouse-housin kids slide, like some of the less territorial are. They keep to their own, we keep to our own. Till they messed with our only provider.

See, us kids, we don't got any territory or anythin like that. Nothin to call our own but a gruffy warehouse as our home and Punnet Street. Sort of.

Punnet Street's an extremely slim walk of a neighborhood. Probably about twenty-five famillies livin there. Not everyone likes us, that's why they ain't exactly ours. They'd never respect a 'gang' of kids and teens, but they're kinder to us than most and there's one man that managed to be approved by the Crown to set up shop. A good one, too. He's a seeder, growin crop in his own backyard. Hard to find those with a green thumb now, since the soil's all mucked up and plague-ridden like it is. But he's got it. His name is Michie.

He has to share most of his crop with the Industry, of course, but those extra pieces he grows go to the people on Punnet and, if he's feelin real kind and the Suns are wonderful enough to bless him with a doubly-extra crop, then he gives some to us kids. So he's a provider. And it's lovely. We eat well those days of the spreadin season.

Or we would've, till the Lime Men kidnapped him three days ago. We didn't find out till two days ago, when Miss Madge came cryin to Vernon and askin if he could go scoutin, since she was too scared to do it herself. Madge is Michie's sister. I thought she was his wife at first, but marriage ain't really common since the War.

The woman's a lover--loves her brother to death, clearly, if she's willin to put his life in the hands of a few kids. She said she and others on the Street would've gone to get Michie themselves, except they're all too frail and plague-ridden to stand a chance against the Lime Men.

See, what makes the Lime Men so special ain't that they're particularly politically movin or anythin like that, like the Rubies. No, it's cause they've got Sniffer on in their ranks. He's a real old guy. Not as old as Mono Man, but nearly. People say he's gonna be the oldest livin man since he came from a family of 'herbalists.' I'd never heard of an herablist in my life till he appeared in our city. All I can figure is that herbalists are magic workers, blessed by the Suns, probably, and I don't get why they ain't noticed by any Temple-goers.

Other gangs have reported seein Lime Men drink magic elixirs from Sniffer when they're havin bad plague symptoms. Then those men are walkin round fine and dandy the day right after. It's insane.

None of the lickers give a damn bout a missin man or a kidnappin, so askin us to acquire him was the next best thing, I guess.

I hug my cloak tighter to my chest. "Anythin?"

Seht's mouth hardly moves when he speaks. "Still quiet. I don't like that. Feels like they're doing something to keep me from hearing."

Seht plays with the necklace made of Mono Man's eyes. He's nervous.

"How long's it been?" I ask.

Seht don't respond.

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I wait a few more seconds before gesturin with a hand. I have the leaves that surround me find Flynn again and urge them to tickle the sides of his exposed feet. I don't hear the light gasp that happens, but I'm assumin there is one cause Seht turns very suddenly towards me with a glare.

"Asaio," he says.

"Hm?"

"Don't do that. Don't go on distracting Flynn when he's on edge. I can hear him whispering sweet-nothings to his snakes."

"Sorry, sir."

"And don't you go on calling me that."

"Yes, sir."

He stares at me for a second before smilin lightly. I send a thin branch to tickle the edge of that grin. He swats the branch with an unnecessary amount of force.

"That tree didn't do nothin to you," I say, reachin over to hug him.

He pushes me aside. "Your cloak's all wet."

"It's like a double hug," I say. "From me and Mono Man."

He sighs irritably. "Don't say that, Asaio."

Out of us all, Seht looks the oldest. With his hair cut in a short bob and bangs that make his face look low and droopy, and eyes that are dark and cloudy. He's actually the youngest of us, but his baggy clothes hide his bony frame. He's around twelve. Nearly half done with life, I like to joke, but he doesn't take to that too kindly cause, where he's from, people are supposed to live around thirty cycles before they're taken by the plague, not twenty. In Mecraentos City, we call those miracle cases. He says I ain't allowed to joke like that cause I haven't got the plague, and I guess that's true, so I should probably stop.

I shift my focus back to the street.

Three more coaches pass. Not a single one's the one we want.

Right as my brain is startin to tap out and think of other things, like the blood branch stew I'm hopin Genavieve and Mustletop've been cookin up in our absence, Seht whispers, "It's this one. I can hear Michie's whining from all the way up top. There's maybe... forty legs down the road? Go cover the brush-side now."

I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, makin a loud, audible click. To everyone else, it probably just sounds like the rain hittin a weird piece of metal or somethin. But to Ellie-Darlin and Flynn, it's a signal.

I undo the rope that's keepin me held and, carefully, stand up. Since the rooftop's so slanted, I start to slip, but Seht reaches out a hand to keep me up. I dig my feet as deeply into the wood as I can and pull on the ends of droopin branches to bring me up the rooftop, so I'm standin on the thin middle edge where it divides into two slopin points. I scurry over the top till I'm bout twenty legs away from the others.

Here, the road shifts outward to be less of an alley between two buildins and more of an open, traditional road, like the ones rumored to be in the Fortress. It's even slightly cobbled. But you know it ain't the road of nobles cause it's overwrought with grayin vegetarian growth. Trimmers who're both poor and Genai--most people are Genai in this district--don't do a great job of keepin it tidy.

I raise my hand and listen for the whispers of the branches. When I was first told this wasn't normal, I started to listen more carefully. I thought the winds that people describe were the whispers. I ask the branches if they can oh-so-sweetly cover up the last bit of the road. I'd have done it earlier, but we all agreed we didn't want to inconvenience the normal coaches.

The branches whisper back, a lullin song that tingles the back of my brain. They start to move, weavin themselves into a barrier on the street. A thick fence of tightly interwoven vegetation.

"Thank you," I whisper aloud, before turnin around and clickin my tongue so Seht knows I'm done.

I stay here, waitin for Flynn to direct the coach my direction.

We'd spent most of the evenin watchin Lime Men territory to get a better sense of where they might've taken Michie. All coaches look the same so they were a bit hard to look out for but we soon realized that the Lime Men carve their initials into every carriage they steal--LM into every rounded surface. While Flynn and Seht were on watch, they'd seen Michie be thrown into one of them coaches and into one of the cellar-houses the Lime Men got. See, those are their famous torture houses.

Flynn and Seht had spent the rest of the hours watchin to see if Michie was dead or not, if the Lime Men would come out with him battered and bruised a few hours later or dead. He came out black and red, but breathin. Seht'd said that he'd overheard the Lime Men demandin that Michie give an unreasonable share of his crop to them, a number that would overlap what he owes weekly to the Industries. Michie said he'd give them everythin, includin what he had left in his apartment.

Flynn and Seht came to the rest of us, and we'd come up with this plan, knowin they'd have to take this road in order to make it back to Punnet Street.

I hear the clatter of the wooden wheels before I hear the frightened shouts of the driver.

The Lime Men's coach is not the cheap sort. With fragile wooden wheels and a body of tarp. It's steam powered, a puff of white cloud comin out from a metal pipe at the top of it. Steam powered engines are a new sorta thing and none of us kids understand how they work, but Flynn and Ellie-Darlin are hopin to enroll in one of them fancy schools to learn to build em.

Right now, slithered between those wheels, are Flynn's twin snakes, Nep and Pen. We only know they're called snakes cause they told Flynn so. They have grayish-green scales and bodies bout twenty legs long.

Nep and Pen force the wheels to turn towards the road block I'd created, forcin the coach into a path of collision. Then they slither up the top and climb into the engine, pluggin the thing up and forcin the carriage to a stutterin stop. The driver who, accordin to Vernon's not-exactly-comprehensive-mental-file of the Lime Men, should be called Laxxy, a mousy sort of man with a real annoyin high-pitched voice. His screams are even worse.

He sits exposed on the front of the coach. He's covered entirely in a long black cloak and hood, though, so I can't get a look at him.

The carriage barrels into the barrier I'd built, crashin head-first. I smile and click, but my friends are already boundin towards me.

Ellie-Darlin leaps from rooftop to rooftop with a grace the rest of us simply do not possess--it's got nothin to do with the plague. She leaps ten feet into the air, nearly flyin. That is her gift from the plague. On the ground, runnin with a speed much faster than my own, is Seht. He yells, "He's in there! Ellie, stop the driver and grab Michie!"

The door to the carriage gets thrown open with a deafenin creak. Steppin out are two brutish lookin men, with gruffy necks and untrimmed hair, who's plague is makin their skin peel off and their eye sockets so deep they look more like skeleton than man. They're probably twice the size of each of us. I'm not sure what their names air, but I know they are in perfect physical condition, despite their plague-ridden appearance, thanks to Sniffer's elixers.

Nep and Pen slither around the first man's neck, chokin him. Two tusks are growin out the side of the man's mouth. He grabs the end of Nep and smashes her against that tusk, piercin her side. She hisses and her sister hisses in return.

The second man is bein taken care of by Seht, who pounces on him.

Seht's good in a quick one. He came from Sal Gasve, a city even tougher than ours, but I know immedietly that, despite his upbringin, enhanced strength, eyesight, and speed, he can't beat this gruff man. It's hard to remember how strong men grow to be when they ain't malnourished and dyin.

With his extra speed and strength, Seht should have been able to dodge the man's punches. This man's muscle is unnatural, almost breakin through his skin in blood blisters, so aromatic my mouth waters from up here. But this man's got to have extra strength too. He grips Seht by the arm and throws the shoulder backwards in a near circular turn. I wince as Seht gasps. Doesn't scream, just gasps. Seht kicks at the man's knee, but he don't relent, so Seht grips the collar of the man's think frock and heaves it forward, tryin to counterbalance the weight.

Workin quickly, I have the barrier I'd created of the branches and brush creep around the scene, enclosin the fighters in a tight circle around the coach, so no one is able to make a run for it. When that's done, I reach out for a particularly thick branch and send it flyin at the head of the man who's got Seht in a hold.

Ellie-Darlin leaps at the driver, Laxxy, who's just startin to come to his senses. He dodges her, rollin onto the ground, the cloak tightenin round his body, landin near the man who's bein strangled by Nep and Pen. Ellie tries launchin at him again, but Laxxy kicks her in the knees and tries to climb over the brush blockade. With a wave of the hand and whispers deafeninme, I shake him off and give the man who's givin Seht a heard time another whack in the head. Seht is on the ground, bloody. A contest of brute-strength he can't win.

I hear footsteps above me. I know it's Flynn, runnin across the rooftops, ready to leap down and extract Michie from the carriage. I imagine the old man to be curled up in a fetal ball.

Nep is thrown across the road and lays there, unmovin.

I have the brush collect her and pull her away from the fightin, while her sister bites into the man with more vigor.

Flynn climbs down the edge of the buildin we stand on, and seems fine, so I refocus my attention on Seht, who's been shoved to the ground for a third time. I send three waves of branches into the man's side, jabbin him over and over. Then I have those branches twist round his legs, so he collapses onto the ground. With him incapacitated, Seht leaps onto the man's neck, diggin his sharp, carnivorous teeth deep. The man squirms and writhes, but I don't let the branches go.

But havin to divert my attention like this is makin me lose connection with the branches that are keepin the fightin enclosed into one small space.

"Ellie, behind you!" Seht yells.

Except Seht didn't yell that cause he's rippin apart the neck of the big one, tearin holes into his flesh.

I start to yell out a warnin to Ellie-Darlin, but she's already leapt into the air, back to the driver.

An arrow is shot into her back.

I whip around towards the direction the arrow came right as I catch Flynn get caught in a scurry. He'd managed to pull Michie out of the car, but the driver's stabbed him with a knife. His cloak flies into the air and I see the bottom of a quiver. Whoever this driver is, it's not Laxxy. Laxxy was supposed to be dumb as a boulder. Only good for keepin routes in his head. Unless our information's wrong, and that's very likely with Vernon not-so-comprehensive files.

Pen is thrown across the ground in a similar manner as her sister. Seht comes runnin to Flynn's rescue. He punches the driver in the face, knockin his hood back.

That man is not mousy-Laxxy. This man's got red hair, fallin uncut to the shoulders, thin and plastered wet to his skull.

The carriage had been intercepted before we'd even got to it, I realize.

The man who'd bested Nep and Pen comes staggerin, but one of his eyes have been torn out by the snakes. I click in warning.

The red-head reacts instantly, raisin the bow hidden from his cloak and shoots the second man. He misses.

I send a wave of branches round the second man and wrap them against his skull, squeezin, while Seht uses the wet ground to slide between his legs, takin one calf in his hand and draggin the flesh. The red-head shoots again, hits the man's treasure. The man steps on Seht's face and pulls out a dagger, diggin it into Seht's shoulder even though he can't see. I have the branches squeeze the man tighter round the neck. He goes limp. He dies.

I'm startin to see stars.

Bein able to talk to the branches takes a lot out of me, eventually, as though each action that I command is sapped from my own stamina. That's part of the reason why I'm never fightin with my friends. The main reason is that no one has ever heard of someone who's been able to whisper to leaves, somethin inanimate. I am always the surprise factor. I am to be hidden.

I collapse onto my knees, tryin to orient myself.

Seht gets up and barrels at our fake driver.

"Wait!" Michie yells, still crouched at the door of the carriage, as Seht punches the red-head again in the face.

Flynn and Ellie-Darlin grab Michie while I create a small openin in the wall of branches for them.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Michie says. "Don't hurt him!"

Seht's lookin real dangerous. Blood and flesh drippin from the edges of his mouth, the rain hardly washin away his bloody footsteps, his hair sticky and black.

Michie's small and extremely plague-ridden. His skin is covered in feathers, his legs have lost so much fat they're nearly sticks. When Seht turns to face the older man, it is like a predator turnin to his prey.

It's clear neither the red-head or Seht know who Michie is referrin to by 'him.'

"Asher," Michie says, his words slurred because the skin of his mouth is slowly mergin together. "Dun shoot this boy, or none of his friends. They's are just tryna save me too."

"What?" Asher says.

His voice sounds as young as ours, and I can immediately detect a foreign accent.

WIth this moment of rest, I realize my hold on all the branches. Black spots pepper my vision. I know if I black out now, I'm gonna go slidin down the rooftop. It could kill me if I land incorrectly, and I got to stay hidden.

I click loudly. Three clicks. Help.

Seht taps Ellie's shoulder and nods in my direction. She leaps into the air, an arrow stickin out of her back, climbin up the rooftop. I let myself collapse into her arms. I pull the cloak around my head to cover my face. The hooded part is masked.

She leaps to the ground with me clung onto her like a desperate orphan. The landin ain't that smooth and we take a tumble. I groan as my head rocks and my vision suddenly blacks out for a second. Normally, we wouldn't let anybody see me, in case someone connects the movin branches to the weird kid and report me to the lickers, but Michie knows this boy, and we could always kill him if he says somethin.

"Asher." Michie waves a hand at Seht and Flynn, who is tenderly whisperin to his snakes. "These are the Garnets."

I expect Asher to say somethin along the lines of, "The Garnets?"

He doesn't. He levels us, eyein us warily. He shifts his gaze to Seht, then to Ellie-Darlin and I.

"They're hurt," he says, in that weird foreign accent. The words aren't sharp and prickly, like Ellie's Tanasoran accent. They're smooth, rounded, almost slurred.

Michie claps a hand on Seht's shoulder. He don't even wince. "Thank yous so, so much."

"Your sister will remind you of our price when we make it back to Punnet," Seht says. The glee quickly disappears from Michie's face.

Ellie-Darlin taps me on the chest. My head was startin to droop, my eyes startin to flutter shut. "Are you able to walk?" she asks.

"With your help."

"Can you stay awake?"

"I'm sure hopin so."