Chapter 67
“Trial and error are often cited as necessary for learning. Of the two, I can assure you that error is the better teacher. Error cannot exist without trial, however, for error must be invited if it is to teach at all. For those of you who neglected the additional classes being offered by my guest this past month, I can only wish you the best as you paddle around the shallow pool of ignorance you have deemed appropriate to lay your eggs and spawn your disappointing brood in.”
~Unknown
Film and cinema, while entertaining - and oh how I missed them - were often purveyors of mismanaged expectations on the topic of violence. Understandable, of course, when one considers the marketability of snarky quips and camera pans of triple flips compared to the reality. Journalists seldom told stories of epic duels between honorable warriors; no, theirs was the domain of sucker punches and back alley brawls.
Violence was a quick and ugly thing, a trait System-enhanced bodies did little to alleviate. If anything, they exacerbated the issue. Watching Vigil clash with the fueha was one thing, late night documentaries of lions chasing down wildebeest or the deluge of shark-related content made it easier to reconcile the sheer power behind that clash of predators.
Watching Tulos fight Rosita’s goon was something entirely different.
Ocular blood vessels strained as I subconsciously drew deeply from Perseverance in an effort to folllow their movements. The sight inspired the same kind of awe I felt watching an artist turn a smear of charcoal into a breathtaking portrait within the same time it’d take me to badly scramble an egg. Every movement flowed seamlessly into the next, and despite the contrast in each fighter’s style, the mastery on display transcended what I thought possible for the human body.
That same awe almost immediately turned to dread when Tulos took his first injury, and as one cut became close to a dozen it reached a fever pitch.
Fudge! I called out through the Tamer Bond, sharing with him my hope and desperation. If there was ever time for Fudge to use Quantum Manipulation again, it was then, in that moment. I did not know to what end, only that it was the only idea I had.
There was no hesitation. Fudge’s mana stirred, and in its stirring it reached for mine. I gave it to him freely, and in consciously doing so I gained a sense of the Skill. Unlike the density of Vigil’s mana, or the innate percussive rhythm of Lionel’s, the mana from Quantum Manipulation felt like everything and nothing. As moments stretched and time teetered on the edge of meaning, it transitioned from the feeling of moist cotton candy to dry twigs in a shoe to the nurturing hug from an elder mountain and all that and more and none again.
Liminal force filled Fudge before pushing beyond him, and in searching to slip through what could be, it encountered that which was - that which wished to remain. An insurmountable barrier. Barriers, really, but one dwarfed all others in its vastness. A wall of torment claimed dominion, and at its touch our mana came undone.
I physically recoiled, gasping for breath as I processed the metaphysical whiplash, my forehead suddenly slick with icy sweat. Fudge yelped and I watched his tail curl between his legs even as Tulos crumpled to his knees in defeat.
One did not need to be a doctor to determine the danger of his condition. Blood stained his clothes, gradually pooling from every cut. No injury was fatal on its own, but I had to imagine that not even mana could stave off blood loss indefinitely.
It was perhaps fitting that, as things grew increasingly grim, a shadow fell over proceedings. I tilted my head towards the sky, for how seldom it was that a person looked up. A large shape had eclipsed the sun, and whatever it was, it was growing closer. The details were lost on through the glint of sun silhouetting its form, but the distances involved spoke to the sheer scale of the thing.
Along with the darkness came a whistle, one that pierced through the air as it grew from soft and distant to painfully loud over several seconds. I heard no other sounds, which was enough to inspire a neck-snapping shift of attention. Sure enough, Tina and Vigil lay suddenly still save for the rise and fall of ragged breath.
Rosita also watched the sky, wearing an unreadable expression. Her head gradually tilted down as if tracking something with her eyes. When the whistle reached its crescendo a mighty gust of wind flattened the grass and almost sent me reeling, reminding me of the effect a landing helicopter had on the landscape. A fitting comparison, as the next moment Lionel landed on bent knees barely a few steps away from me. With his landing, the whistle cut off, and the winds along with them.
“Landing from such an immense height never gets easier on the knees,” he said sternly as he took in the situation. No one replied. I couldn’t reply. My mind was still trying to wrap around the newest of many sudden developments. “Grand Inquisitor, before we exchange proper greetings, you will forgive an immediate matter.”
Lionel let loose a whistle, low and lingering. The swordsman, Lenzo, grunted in sudden surprise as he slammed into the ground, a literal depression forming around him as some unseen force pressed into the earth around - and presumably underneath - him.
“Alas, circumstances dictate I show restraint.” Despite Lionel speaking, the whistle continued, occasionally spiking to jagged notes of sudden discord.
“For that, you have my appreciation,” Rosita said, seemingly unbothered by the increasingly pained struggles of her subordinate. “Unnecessary though his actions were, Guardsman Lenzo was acting to defend me.” She had the audacity to smirk.
Lionel quirked an eyebrow that somehow managed to maintain its perfect manicuring despite his rapid descent through the air, looking briefly between the wounded Tulos and the interloper.
“Is that so,” he replied, flattening the question into a skeptical statement. Something minor twitched in Rosita’s face, a butterfly wing in a gale somewhere distant, but it was so passing that I couldn’t read it no matter how hard I tried to.
Rosita did not respond to Lionel, and resorted herself to merely watching him walk over to the pair of men who had only seconds before been dueling to the death. The low, keen whistle still resonated in the air around us as he approached the Guardsman.
“In a few moments you will be released,” he said to the swordsman with barely concealed distaste, “and when you are, you will return to the carriage. You will remain there.”
Although the sheer wind pressure prevented Lenzo from nodding, his acquiescence was apparent in his eyes. He could see the gap in skill between himself and his not-quite-opponent, and unlike Tulos - who had just been in that position minutes before - he had no motivation to try and overcome it.
“Lieutenant, I must now protest,” interjected Rosita. “I would feel much safer were my Guardsman to stay by my side. These people…” she paused to look around at us, two children, two subdued adults, two helpless adults and a pair of dogs, “are unpredictable, and as recently demonstrated, prone to violence.”
Lionel stopped trying to even hide his distaste.
“Grand Inquisitor, an appreciation for performance is not beyond me. In this instance, the casual juggling of your myriad authority inspires naught but disdain from me. The Guardsman will go back to the carriage, I will tend to this man’s wounds, and then we will discuss this like reasonable adults,” he said. The note of finality was clear.
The whistle stopped. Some of the grass sprang back into place, glad to be released from the unceasing pressure of the fist of air that had slammed into it. After taking the time to catch his breath, the Guardsman rose to one knee, then the other, then stood. He looked between his mistress and the powerful newcomer with increasing confusion, wearing an expression like a child asked to choose between eating boiled green beans or steamed brussels sprouts.
There was no room for sympathy in my heart, not then. When Rosita failed to further argue Lionel on the matter, the Guardsman, now walking with a limp, retreated.
“You are stepping dangerously close to aggression, Lieutenant,” Rosita warned. “You might mock my authority but should know better than to so overtly challenge it.”
Lionel did not answer straight away, instead pulling forth a small leather pouch from some unseen pocket. Nestled within was a neatly wrapped bundle of green paste that somehow neither dripped nor dared escape the confines of its casing. With practiced efficiency, he smeared small amounts over each of Tulos’ wounds. Tulos nodded his thanks but otherwise remained quiet, either because he was on the edge of consciousness or because he saw the wisdom in silence I could not say.
“That is an expensive good deed,” Rosita jabbed. As we waited, I noticed that the shadow remained overhead. It only shifted when Lionel whistled again, and it was growing closer.
“Bold to concern yourself with barbed words,” Lionel said, absent any of his usual mirth. “When I said ‘we,’ I was also including the gentleman with whom I called in a favor for the speedy delivery and - unless my eyes are deceiving me - you recently unleashed your Skill upon his former pupil.”
A flash of genuine worry broke Rosita’s otherwise impenetrable facade and her eyes shot skyward again.
“He is going to land?!” she hissed.
“It was a considerable favor,” was all Lionel said.
As the silhouette grew steadily closer, so too did its shape grow more distinct. The long neck. The impressive wingspan. I searched for a serpentine tail when the creature roared to announce its imminent descent, except the roar sounded strange. It was deep and earthshaking, but less of a roar and more of-
A quack. The outline of the massive creature sharpened enough for me to make out the telltale sign of feathers where I had expected scales.
Is that thing a fucking duck?
CHAPTER 68
“When presented with new evidence, wisdom dictates one should reevaluate their conclusions. Unfortunately, people like their conclusions, they grow attached, and so they fight to protect them in spite of wisdom. This trend is especially common in interpersonal relationships. That is to say, making a poor first impression today was not particularly wise. Please take a seat.”
~Unknown
A fucking duck it was. It was difficult to appreciate the sheer scale of the thing from afar, for while I’d been able to discern that the duck was big, my estimates on the matter did not prepare me for the reality. The fields surrounding our house bordered on inadequate as the feathered behemoth began its final descent, trumpeting another rumbling quack to herald its arrival. I wasn’t sure if duck feathers counted as plumage, as I’d only ever heard the word used in reference to the decorative displays worn by more audacious avians, but the pearlescent feathers covering that duck – most easily larger than I was – were definitely worthy of the term; they practically sparkled as their owner dove towards the ground.
I’d likened Lionel’s landing to that of a helicopter but the comparison was more fitting in the case of the duck. Despite my former, admittedly largely sedentary, lifestyle I was not unfamiliar with ducks. Rather, I thought that had been the case. When I imagined a landing duck my mind conjured images of one gliding into a body of water, not unlike how a plane touched down on a runway. Ripples would follow in the duck’s wake and the resistance of the water would bring them to a gradual stop whereupon they could forage for bread and cigarette butts and whatever else the local population happened to litter that day.
We did not have a pond. Even if we did, I doubted it would be large enough to accommodate our newest visitor, who I suspected would need a lake or especially wide river. Without other recourse, the duck ended its descent by buffeting its colossal wings to arrest its momentum until it was practically hovering. It was only then that it gradually lowered to the ground, and I swear I felt the earth rumble from the impact.
Even though the duck had dominated most of my attention, I was still faintly aware of Bella’s family staring mouth-agape at the continuing cascade of unexpected arrivals. I’d not paid them much mind while the earlier conflict escalated – my priorities laid elsewhere – but it was good to see they were, relatively speaking, okay.
Rosita casually approached Vigil and extracted the large needle from his shoulder - notably, the wound it left did not seem to bleed - while Lionel continued tending to Tulos, the latter having retrieved a roll of bandages from somewhere to quickly apply pressure to his friend’s myriad wounds. With the removal of the needle, the last of the tension left Vigil’s form and he relaxed into whatever unconscious state his mind had escaped to when subjected to Rosita’s Skill.
I noticed that stuff happening, but it was all overshadowed, quite literally, by the duck. It was the size of a hill, and I did not mean that as a metaphor. Whale skeletons in museums and documentaries about dinosaurs had not adequately prepared me to be in the presence of a creature so imposing, one that existed in defiance of what science and logic told me should be possible. Despite living in a world governed by a magical System, the daily minutia of it all often made it easy to forget that the truly wondrous was possible. Evidently, that also included giant fucking ducks.
The dogs in the kennel must be freaking out.
Honestly, I was unsure why they hadn’t already made an appearance. The wall around the kennel was largely for show, and giant semi-aquatic avian aside, Tina’s screams almost certainly reached them.
As the duck settled into its landing, it turned its head towards us. Such was its size, that I could clearly see the scrutiny in its gaze. I’d always considered duck eyes to be somewhat beady. I did not consider that duck’s eyes beady. There was a quality about them, something beyond description that spoke of an intelligence I couldn’t quite understand. Something tugged at the edge of my perception, as if the gentle caress of an autumn breeze were encouraging me to seize tomorrow.
With effortless grace, the duck craned its neck over the gathered party. I almost expected the thing to speak.
It honestly wouldn’t surprise me at this point. Instead, a man, previously hidden somewhere on the duck’s back, came into view. With hands clasped gently behind his back, he strolled along the feathered bridge provided for him.
White though his hair may have been, it possessed the same pearlescent quality as the duck’s feathers. I watched him dumbly - we all did. Even Rosita maintained a quiet patience. Once above us, the man simply took a step off the neck and fell to the ground.
No, to say he fell would be inaccurate. He floated, as if gravity’s grasp were merely tenuous. A gentle sway accompanied his fall, yet not a single, combed hair fell out of place. The satchel he wore remained similarly undisturbed. There was a softness to his features, touched by age rather than ravaged by it. The plumpness of his cheeks and slight crook to his nose probably disqualified him from silver fox status, but I’d honestly never actually read the criteria.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The gentle smile he wore didn’t fade, even as he surveyed the situation.
“Goodness, I take it there is some dispute here?” He was soft spoken, but not lacking in confidence. There was no indication the scene of recent violence bothered him, not that I could see, at least.
“An illegal dispute of Crown Conscription,” Rosita said, her voice touched by casual politeness, as if discussing the weather. There had been no formal exchange of greetings which made me all the more curious as to the man’s identity.
“Unfortunately uncommon,” he said with a gentle shake of his head. “Even so, this seems excessive.” Behind him, the duck had retracted its neck and busied itself preening the feathers on its back with nips and shakes.
“With all due respect, that is not for you to judge.” She accompanied the rebuttal with her characteristic, dead-eyed smile.
“In that, you are correct Ms. Silponyana.” If it bothered him, he didn’t show it.
“One might ponder the peculiarity that you would abstain from insisting we address you by your illustrious title,” Lionel added, addressing Rosita. To her credit, Rosita did not bite at the obvious bait, instead opting for silence.
“Let us not be reduced to squabbling children,” the older man gently reprimanded Lionel before once again turning to Rosita. “I do have a bias here, given that little Tina was a student of mine. I would appreciate it if you were more gentle in your dealings with her in the future.”
Rosita’s mouth formed a tight line, but she nodded.
“I will do this as a favor to you, Master Aylesbury.”
“Then it is appreciated. Now, as to why I am here - I have a delivery for you,” the man, Aylesbury, said. Hearing the name aloud tickled my memory, but I couldn’t remember why.
“... I see.” It was a heavy statement, so devoid of inflection as to send a shiver down my spine.
“First, however, I must collect my payment. A condition of my taking this job personally was the opportunity to reunite with one of my more spirited pupils. Should she remain incapacitated or should the man she wed die of blood loss I suspect I will be unable to collect. You will pardon the brief delay while I rectify the situation.” He did not wait for an answer and instead made his way over to Lionel and Tulos.
“Thank you sir, I-” Tulos tried to be polite between a wince but was cut off by Aylesbury.
“I am aware,” was all he said. “Best not to make her worry. Now, sit still.” Seeing him next to Tulos, I became suddenly cognizant of how short Aylesbury was. Granted, Tulos could dwarf most people, but the effect was particularly pronounced in the case of Aylesbury. I held my hand out for Fudge, who had taken the opportunity to wander back over during the conversation. He kept looking warily back at the duck.
Aylesbury flipped open his satchel and was quick to retrieve a small, wooden box.
“You are lucky I carry at least one of these on my person for emergencies,” he chided before opening the container. Even though it was daytime, the orange glow emanating from the contents was noticeable. Without much fanfare, Aylesbury reached in and retrieved a feather that seemed to shift in the light it produced, as if it were a living flame.
Lionel let out an impressed whistle.
“You do not see one of those every day,” he said, momentarily slipping out of his usually verbose persona.
“I would surely hope not, either,” Aylesbury was quick to reply. “Now then, Tina’s husband, count to three.”
“One-” With a blur of movement, Aylesbury plunged the feather into one of Tulos’ wounds, prompting a scream that bordered on a roar from him. “What did you-” He cut off again as his words transitioned into a grunt of pain. The glow from the feather was emanating from the shallow cut it was shoved into, and I watched wide-eyed as that glow quickly spread through Tulos’ body, illuminating his veins with a flash. Smoke began to drift away from the wounds and they closed over the span of moments. All throughout, Tulos writhed as the living fire coursed through his insides.
Well, fuck. I’d been swearing a lot that day, but it felt warranted all things considered.
“Before anyone feels inclined to ask,” Lionel said, “inquiring as to the value of such an item will only induce dread. Suffice to say, thank you for your generosity.” The last part was addressed to Aylesbury who just waved it off.
“I value my time even higher,” was all he said by way of explanation before walking over to Tina. As he walked, he retrieved what looked to be a metal flask from the satchel. He held it to his ear, gave it a shake, popped it open and gave it a sniff. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded before easily easing Tina into an upright position so as to pour some into her mouth.
“What are you giving her,” I asked. Aylesebury seemed to like Tina well enough that I felt safe in doing so.
“We call it ‘The Drink,’” Aylesbury said. “It is for longer flights and journeys. I had to check if I grabbed the spare flask and not my personal one.” I could only guess as to why.
A pale-faced Tulos struggled to pull himself into an upright position on shaky limbs, keeping his eyes locked on Tina while the mystery contents of the flask were poured into her mouth. When he tried to stand, Lionel placed a firm hand on his shoulder and it was enough to hold him in place.
Tina’s eyes shot open. Panic seized her. She thrashed, but Aylesbury’s grip was iron.
“Hush now. It is okay. All is well.” Tina’s wild eyes abruptly returned to focus as she took in the sight of her former teacher. They darted over to Tulos, to Lionel, to Vigil, and finally to me. I couldn’t decipher the rapid morphing of emotions that crossed her face at that moment, but she wordlessly reached out to me and tried to climb to her feet.
I ran to her before she could, not wanting her to strain herself. Aylesbury did not interrupt when she placed her hands on my cheeks and looked me over.
“Are you okay, my Will?” The worry in her voice was like a lance to the heart. Despite everything, her first thoughts were of me.
“I am okay, mom,” I whispered, knowing she would hear. It was as if the question of my wellbeing was the only thing keeping whatever psychological whiplash she’d experienced at bay. She pulled me in close and I felt her body start to shake with barely contained sobs.
Hatred is an ugly emotion. It twists and convulses with thorned tendrils that burrow into some unseen part of yourself where they burn with rot and fester, slowly denying warmth from everything else. I’d always strived to keep the emotion at bay. Rosita had challenged my conviction that day. Every callous act, every dismissive word, had torn at my resolve. Seeing my mother reduced to tears filled me with a fire that burned away the last of my reservation as I allowed a seed of hatred to take root.
My head was resting on Tina’s shoulder, and I turned to glare at Rosita while I swelled with anger destined to remain impotent that day. It writhed in my stomach like some living, eldritch thing. My body was practically trembling with emotion that desperately needed to be vented, even through something as simple as a small act of defiance.
Rosita was already looking in our direction - at me specifically. She saw the pain she’d so casually inflicted. She saw the tableau of a tormented mother and her child. I saw her head tilt ever so slightly as she took in my expression, as if savoring the taste. The bitch smiled. It reached her eyes.
CHAPTER 69
“Strange how we seldom start at the beginning when referencing texts on a subject. Rather, we sort through them to select only what we need. At least, that is common practice, and I cannot help but wonder what is lost in doing so. I often think of Skills the same way.”
~Unknown
Aylesbury pulled away from Tina and I, turning his attention towards Rosita whose expression snapped back to calm neutrality. Given the history he seemingly shared with my mother, the casual detachment Aylesbury displayed in response to the situation felt decidedly off and I couldn’t articulate exactly why. Once again, he reached into his satchel, this time withdrawing a neatly folded letter.
“Thank you for your patience. Please accept this delivery.” In a movement that spoke of practiced ceremony, he folded one arm behind his back and dipped into a half-bow, of sorts, with the hand brandishing the letter extended in front of him.
Rosita did not reply, instead opting to simply take the letter and study the glossy, wax seal that protected its contents. The sight of it was enough to inspire a frown harsh enough to break through her facade. Before opening it, she rounded on Lionel and Tulos, though her eyes briefly flicked back towards Tina as well.
“Withering though your glare may be, and sharp as I am sure your mind is, you had best peruse the contents of that missive,” Lionel said. Beside him, I saw Tulos’ shoulders dip as some residual tension left his body.
“Suppose I decide to focus on my current duties and read it later?” Rosita’s voice was flat.
“It will not change the validity of the contents, and I am now free to act on them.” Lionel punctuated the point by slightly wetting his lips, drawing attention to them. In anyone else, the action might be seen as coy or flirtatious. Coming from Lionel, it was more akin to a threat.
“I am going to tend to Cortez,” Aylesbury interrupted. “Please do not delay the conclusion to your business. I wish to speak to my former pupil.” His eyes passed over Fudge. “Her offspring, too.” With that, he made his way back towards the duck, rather, back towards Cortez.
Out of sensible options, Rosita snapped the seal, sending crackling flakes of wax scattering to the ground before she unfolded the paper and started reading.
“Mama, what is happening?” I heard Bella’s question cut through the relative quiet that settled as Rosita’s eyes darted over the page.
“What is happening, child, is that you will no longer have company on our journey to Sentrodah.” It was Rosita who replied. If she felt exasperated by the contents of the letter, she did not let it show.
There it was, confirmation that Lionel had pulled through for me. What should have been a moment of relief was instead violently strangled by the implications of Rosita’s answer. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way, either.
“What does she mean?” It was Lianda who asked, directing the question towards Tulos. Tina was still struggling to regain her composure, but I felt her grow still under the accusation in Lianda’s voice.
“She-”
“If not for the request of Master Aylesbury, I would admonish you, perhaps gently, for attempting to speak on my behalf,” Rosita interrupted. Tulos was still weak from whatever restorative magics had burned through his body and could not muster a rebuttal. “What I mean is that the boy’s parents made arrangements for him; odd that they did not include you in them.” She let the insidious sentiment hang for a moment. “Now, release the girl into my custody or I will remove her by force. Your reluctance speaks poorly to your priorities. For a child to receive The Crown’s guidance is a privilege.”
As Rosita started making her way towards the increasingly distraught family, I turned to look at Lionel whose mouth was set in a thin line. Upon noticing my gaze he slowly shook his head.
There’s nothing he can do for her - nothing legal, at least. An obvious alternative crossed my mind. How could it not? I had the opportunity to make some grand statement about trading places with Bella, so that she might join The Slayers in my stead.
I kept my mouth shut.
Even if such an audacious request were within the realms of possibility - and given the politics involved I was skeptical - I couldn’t bring myself to risk the sacrifice. Lionel’s involvement alone made The Slayers a better option for me.
Besides, I told myself. Lionel made it clear that being recruited by The Slayers was more of a lateral move when compared to conscription by The Crown.
It was one of the several justifications I fed myself to distract from the scene playing out before me. Tina held me close as Bella was pulled from her mother, and I told myself that Rosita probably wasn’t representative of The Crown as a whole. Bella’s confusion quickly turned to alarm, and when she called for her mama and papa both were forced to cling to each other as they watched their daughter unceremoniously loaded onto the carriage. Bella was young, I told myself. She would adapt.
My goals, my ambitions, could not - should not - be sabotaged for the sake of some kid. Every one of Bella’s increasingly frantic cries tore at my resolve, but I refused to let it crumble. Bella was not threatened, nor told to stop, as if her new chaperones were content to let her simply tire herself out. The only thing they denied her was her parents. Rosita did not spare us any grand, parting words, save to offer a brief, farewell to Aylesbury and Lionel.
“Slayer Lieutenant, I must congratulate your maneuvering. It is not often I am denied.”
“That is, perhaps, not the revelation you might envision it to be,” Lional replied while simultaneously giving the Grand Inquisitor a formal salute. “Safe travels to you.”
“To you as well. I look forward to learning why you had leave to attend this matter personally, given recent events.”
“One might inquire the same regarding you.” Lionel then held her gaze long enough for them to silently communicate something. Throughout the exchange, Bella did not cease her cries and her parents wore brave faces as they fed her lies about seeing eachother soon. Those desperate attempts at comfort were likely having the opposite effect, given Bella’s Skill, but tragedy often superseded rational decision making. I knew that all too well.
Once the carriage was receding into the distance, taking the sound of Bella along with it, I felt bile gather in the back of my throat.
I am despicable, I told myself, knowing that if given the opportunity I’d still make the same decision. Lionel helped Tulos to his feet, hunching under his friend’s armpit to help guide him over to Tina and I.
“You knew Will was not going to be taken.” Lianda spoke up, stepping towards us on shaking legs. “You knew, but you had us here anyway under some notion of a joint front, as if our circumstances were the same.” She practically spat the accusation. Behind her, Figuello watched through a stony expression, the tears he’d held back for his daughter now on the edge of bursting forth. There was no light in his eyes, the boisterous energy I’d come to associate with the man had left with Bella.
“We did not know, but we hoped,” Tulos said, punctuating his point with a wince, as if still plagued by some ghostly ache of the pain he’d been experiencing.
“You say that as if it makes any difference,” Lianda snapped back. “You hid your hope in our despair, and for that I will never forgive you.” She spared a glance towards Tina, just long enough to waver on the edge of compassion before giving into her impotent frustrations. “Either of you.”
There was nothing that could be said to reconcile things, not then, not while feelings were raw as they were.
“We understand,” was all that Tulos said. Lianda looked like she had more to say, but the words died in her mouth, for there were no words that could convey her feelings. Bella’s parents left. I wondered if they would ever return.
There is something that touches upon the absurd about watching the fracturing of a years-old friendship in the looming shadow of a giant duck, punctuated by the occasional sounds produced by such a massive body. I tried not to dwell on it.
“I am always humbled by the differences in values shared by the many communities in our country,” Aylesbury said, having wandered back to the group when Bella’s parents departed. He wielded a large feather in one hand, easily larger than me, presumably having collected it from their preening companion. “In Sentrodah, Crown conscription is celebrated. Now then, Tina, I take it you can spare the time for a conversation.”
I saw a flash of annoyance cross my mother’s features but she quickly schooled them.
“Of course I can make time for you, Master,” she said. “There will be plenty of time for nightmares once you have left.” She spoke cordially, all things considered. I could only imagine how’d I’d be faring if I’d had to endure whatever agony Rosita unleashed upon her and Vigil, the latter of whom was still asleep.
“Splendid. In that case, come with me to Cortez. He misses you, and it was difficult to convince him not to eat the Grand Inquisitor when he saw your state.”
Why did you bother stopping him? I thought, but didn’t dare voice my spite.
“I would like that,” Tina said. After Aylesbury helped pull her to her feet she quickly ran to Tulos to give him an embrace that reminded me of a koala lunging at a tree before checking on Vigil and making sure he was comfortable. Only then did she follow him.
“Now, about that special project of ours, how is she-” Their voices abruptly cut off, and Lionel chuckled. Upon seeing the question in my expression, he just shrugged.
“Aylesbury is a courier who sometimes handles important documents. He can keep information private, when he wants to, and I am somewhat infamous for eavesdropping.”
“Right… Thank you, Lionel, for saving my dad.”
Lionel scratched the back of his head and chuckled.
“Believe me, your father would have been fine. My presence merely smoothed the way. Though perhaps more importantly, you had best get in the habit of calling me Lieutenant. For all intents and purposes, you are now a Slayer recruit.”
It was hard to feel happy about the news.
“How long?” Tulos asked, and he didn’t need to elaborate for Lionel and I to infer the specifics of his questions.
“Not long enough, I am afraid,” Lionel said while giving Tulos a smack on the shoulder. “Officially, Will and I will be departing immediately. Master Aylesbury, unfortunately, is unable to provide transportation, so we will have to make our way on foot, which is a dreadfully unreliable way to travel.”
Tulos narrowed his eyes.
“One day,” Lionel said. “I can spare you one day to spend as a family and say your goodbyes. I realize it is not a lot, but-”
“It is more than we could have hoped for,” Tulos said, looking off in the direction Bella’s parents went. We all did. “Thank you, Lionel.”
One day… I tried not to think about what would come after.