The family was sitting to a nice little breakfast of frumenty, topped with cherry preserves, toast with butter, tea, and delicately roasted little sausages of wheat starch and ground beans, heavily seasoned. The delicately painted bone china contrasted the food’s brilliant color in the cold morning light. Not that they were cold, of course, the family kept their home cozy. A simple, comforting breakfast, nothing too elaborate given the food and shelter crisis in the city. ’Ja was about to ask Gentian to pass the tea when she felt a strong tug at her senses. ’Tok was right there with her, staring out across the city.
“Over in the east.” He muttered.
“Yes. I bet there will be a swarm of senior Xia sweeping through there in minutes.”
“No bet.” He shook his head. “Mind you, it seems to be happening all the time, recently. Loads of momentous decisions being made, apparently.”
“Sign of the times.” ’Ja sighed. “Ah well, we have our own troubles. Ready for another morning down in the pits?”
“Well, I suppose I can call this first breakfast.” Xiatoktok grinned. Gentian tried not to shiver. She knew that she married temporal vampires. She had never imagined that vampires might need to practice. She didn’t know if it was better or worse that they didn’t try to hide it from her.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Gentian asked.
“No, thank you dear. I imagine you are busy enough as it is.” ’Ja smiled at the younger woman.
“Mmm. Do try to keep out of mischief.” ’Tok said. The two women rolled their eyes in amusement when he looked down at his tea.
“Yes Master.” He twitched. But he didn’t correct her.
The prisoners were kept in basements across the city. This particular prisoner was kept in the Bank, simply for convenience. The Bank was centrally located, and they were all very busy. ’Ja had suddenly become one of the most important women in the city. Her greenhouses had round the clock protection from both the Clan and the militia. ’Tok was wearing so many hats, they were starting to brush off against the ceiling. He was delegating, of course, but there was only so much a body could take. Sometimes, you just need some you time. So the happy husband and wife went to get some.
“Hello young man.” ‘’Ja said cheerfully, to the blinded and hamstrung bandit writhing on the floor. “I just wanted to tell you that I was lying before. There is nothing you can tell us that will save your life. No secrets to reveal, no promises you can make. You are going to die down here. Everything you endured up until now was for nothing.”
The bandit tried to scream, but his vocal cords had already been cut. The couple were quite clear with their guards about the condition they expected to find their victims in.
“Now, we tried torture-” ’Ja was counting on her fingers.
“Which I told you wouldn’t work in that short a time period.”
“Hush. We had to try. Now, torture, some poisons… I think we are on to lobotomizing.”
“It feels like we are working too hard mechanically. I guarantee the elders don’t have to prep their food this way.”
The prisoner’s thrashing intensified, as did the breathy attempts to scream.
“True, but… baby steps.” ’Ja quirked her lips at the irony of the couple, combined age over 140, being in any way babies. She then put her boot on the bandit’s naked crotch and stood sharply.
“I’ll grab the picks. Good thing we already cleared out the eye sockets, eh?” ’Tok said.
“Every little bit helps.” ’Ja agreed cheerfully, scraping the blood and mushed flesh off against the rough stone floor.
It took a bit of fishing around in the brian with the picks, but eventually the body shuddered and went limp. Not dead, but seemingly catatonic.
“Does make me think we should try severing the spine. See what happens if we lock them in their own skulls for a while.” ’Tok murmured.
“Definitely. But let's save that for later.” ’Ja agreed. “We have a lot to test before then.”
“Sadist.”
“You know it!” She grinned happily. “Well. Sometimes. The two of you, I swear, you do strange things to me. Between your moral depravity and Gentian’s commanding presence, I go all weak.”
’Tok looked at the leaking, ruined husk of a bandit in front of them. “Yes. Weak. Mhmm. Alright, let's see if we can’t make something useful out of this one.”
’Ja muttered under her breath.
“We have light cores, dear, we don’t need tallow candles.” ’Tok sighed.
They focused their senses down into the bandit. He didn’t exactly thrum with the energy of time. He was perhaps a little weightier than some, but not much more so. Perhaps he was some sort of minor officer? Or perhaps he ran a shop before he was forced west? Well. Whatever he had been, his time was no longer his own.
Their reasoning was simple- remove a person’s ability to orient in time, and it will be easier to separate that time from them. Hence the blinding, drugging, torturing, and now, lobotomization. It was certainly not the right way to do it, but they felt that if they could manage it under these conditions, they could build up.
They reached for what little time they felt around him and tried to use their own time to yank it away. It didn’t work any better this time than the previous attempts. They reset, and tried again. Still nothing. ’Tok frowned and tried to remember exactly what the Patriarch had said. The Patriarch drew the time to him, rather than try to grab it. It flowed to the patriarch in twisted skeins, because the time itself was no longer whole- it was shattered. Fibrous.
“We skipped a step.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Oh? What?” ’Ja asked.
“We needed to shatter his time before we tried to eat it.” ’Tok stroked his little mustache. “Let me try something.”
He carefully fixed the bandit’s time in his mind. Then, rather than yanking away, he smashed the bandit’s time with his own. It sent a jolt through his brain, but it wasn’t too bad. And he thought he could see the time around the bandit start to fray. So he did it again. And again. And again. When ’Ja figured out what he was up to, she jumped in on it. Pretty soon, the time was shredded. Maybe not as finely as when the Patriarch managed it, but it was definitely more manageable than it had been before.
“Alright, now, the Patriarch managed to twist up the fibers into threads and pull them into him.” ’Tok muttered. ’Ja dipped her time in like a hook, trying to twist up some fibers before pulling out. It didn’t really work. ’Tok frowned, and tried to imagine a whirlpool in his chest, a sucking maelstrom that pulled and twisted at the same time. The notion tickled a half-memory of something, but he couldn’t focus on it. It took all his attention to try and swirl his time hard enough to pull.
It felt even more uncomfortable than trying to smash the bandit’s time with his time, but it did, slowly, work. He could see the strands slowly point towards him, twist together, and leisurely flutter towards him. ‘’Tok frowned. Fluttered… then fell back to the bandit. He walked closer and closer, until he was practically on top of the comatose meat on the floor. The whirlpool appeared to become vastly stronger the closer he was to the time being pulled. A long strand of time fibers twisted together as they were pulled up into the vortex. Up into him.
It was incredible. He finally felt full after being hungry for so long that he forgot he was hungry. Something inside of him was going mad with joy, slurping up the time of this bandit’s life. He could feel his eyes going wide, his pulse thundering as he fed.
He couldn’t keep the spiral going long. It was only a single long strand of time. Lots left for ’Ja.
“Did you catch that?” He asked in a fevered voice. She replied by standing over the bandit and spiraling his life away too.
“Gods!” She shuddered. Then turned to ’Tok with fiery eyes. “Wanna start another rumor?”
Three rounds of feeding later, long past the point where their robes were salvageable, they lay on the floor quietly snuggling together. They acted casually in front of Gentian, but they knew the Patriarch was dead serious. He absolutely would eat them if they hadn’t managed to figure it out. While they hadn’t cut it too close, it was still far too close for comfort. The fact that they could now do it was… a release.
“Think it’s going to be like that every time?” ’Ja asked.
“Nah. First time euphoria. Though I bet it never stops feeling good.”
“True. And true.” She paused and asked with false casualness. “What are we going to do with the rest of the prisoners?”
“Well. We only know one way that works. I think it would be very foolish not to test others. And besides, we will need to get ’Mia and ’Te up to speed as well.” ’Tok sounded very reasonable. “This one is still breathing. Let’s get him stitched up, keep him as a souvenir.”
“Sounds good. At least until summer comes around. I heard a wonderful suggestion for outdoor dining the other day…”
“President, you have a meeting in fifteen minutes with the new Underwriting Department, and a meeting with the head of the Stone Bend Caravan Company in thirty- should I plan for a late start on the meeting with the caravaneers?”
“Don’t you dare. If Xiaponwi has more questions after fifteen minutes, they can submit them in writing by the end of the day. We can not run even one more minute behind.” Xiatoktok’s hand was blurring over his papers. His eyes seemed to flicker over them too quickly, but he was writing notes on their contents with perfect penmanship as he went. This memo should be copied to Accounts Payable and the debt paid. This recommendation is denied pending a recalculation of costs in light of recent events. So and so is promoted. So and so needs to be counseled and mentored. There was a suggestion about adopting a carp as the totem animal of the bank. Carps, of course, are famous for their longevity. He didn’t recognize the name on the executive summary of the memo.
“Find out who wrote this fish nonsense, order them to buy a bucket of fish at the market at their own expense, and run ten laps around the bank holding the fish bucket over their heads. If the fish are in less than perfect health at the end of it, demote them to teller for wasting my time.” He handed the memo with the order to the duty secretary, who scurried off. Another secretary came rushing in, swishing his hips as he presented yet more letters.
“President, these letters are all expressions of interest in investing in Green Mountain Oil and Seed, the second bundle are expressions of interest and a meeting request, and the third bundle are expressions of interest, a meeting request and hinted threats if they aren't given shares.” The secretary took a deep breath. “The fourth bundle is invitations to be an honorary board member of proposed joint stock companies not on the approved list, the fifth bundle are invitations to give talks on a variety of subjects, mostly related to joint stock companies, the sixth bundle is the same as the fifth, but they want you to bring some combination of your current wife and concubine.” Was there a subtle emphasis on “current?” Xiatoktok didn’t care. He was too damn busy to care.
“Bundle seven is invitations to meet potential new concubines,” Ah, there it was. Yep. Boy was he going to be disappointed. Oh well. Life is hard. “Bundle eight is invitations from various neighborhoods offering you and your family conversion, bundle nine is death threats and, finally, bundle ten is correspondence from various branch offices.”
Xiatoktok gave the almost meter tall stack the stink eye. “And you reviewed all of these and screened out the routine correspondence already, did you?”
“The whole pool worked on it, President. This is roughly a twentieth of all the mail we’ve gotten since close of business yesterday. Of course, all the routine bank correspondence is being reviewed and prepared for you separately, as are internal clan communications, and a third secretary is collating all the communiques regarding your work on various relief committees.
“Of course.” Xiatoktok allowed himself a small sigh. He seemed to move even faster to his secretary. Xiatoktok had a full belly, lots of food in the larder, and no reason not to put the energy to work. It was tiring but satisfying. The kind of morning that reminded him of why he pushed so hard for the top.
His secretary, on the other hand, was filled with erotic terror. He stood at attention before the President's desk, awaiting dismissal from the beautiful monster in front of him. He heard a new rumor today.
In a desperate bid to keep her husband’s affections, Xiatokja drew the President down into the basement, where they kept one of the prisoners from the Night of Burning Tears. The door was sealed behind them for hours. When it opened again, they were covered in blood and semen, the prisoner hanging on to life by a thread. And not permitted to die. They both walked out with broad smiles.
Concubine Xia Gentian was in a fury, and stormed out of their mansion waving her spear. She had summoned her closest confidants to plan a counterattack. It looked like Xiatokja was going to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Could he be as strong as Concubine Gentian? Could he tame such a terrible beast? He knew he could not. But he had to try!
“Responses are noted at the bottom of the letters, get them in the mail. These letters go to security, and these to the furnace. Send in my valet, I must dress for my meeting.” Eyes deep and still bore into the secretary. Eyes that saw everything. Everything.
“At- at once, President!” The secretary fled.
After a short but productive meeting with the Underwriting Department, and a considerably longer and even more productive meeting with the Caravan Company head, Xiatoktok finally got to the meeting he wanted to have.
The clerk managed to make their white robes look gray by dint of their incredibly boring personality. They were such an utter non-entity, one might easily forget they were sitting in the chair in front of you. They would be delighted to hear you say that- they had worked very hard at it, for decades.
“I’m afraid that an official, final report has not yet been compiled. Indeed, we are still at the stage of verifying the information that we do have, trying to identify the information we do not yet possess. A comprehensive review is still some time away.”
Their voice was a sort of monotone drone, with just a hint of nasal whine that shifted the listener from boredom to an active desire to not listen. It was a work of art. For once, Xiatoktok’s aesthetic appreciation failed him.
“I don’t give a damn. To the extent that the Clan has a single “Intelligence Director,” it’s you. So tell me. How did the Collective slip their raiders into Cold Garden? And how do we make sure it doesn't happen again?”