LastMeal[continued from A Sisterhood of Shadows] Even late into the evening, the campus kitchens remained uncomfortably warm compared to the spring chill outside. Most of the staff had left some hours ago, trying to grab some sleep before the dreadfully early morning preparations. Only a lone, belabor figure drifted though the large room, hanging up the last of the pots and skillets. Her gentle hum fills the room with its melodic tones. Becca turned an exhausted gaze on her friend, managing a welcoming smile. “Allow me to hazard a guess. The Pit needs feeding?” Ginger grumbled, “I do have a name you know.” Gillian set Ginger down on a table. "The Pit is ravished," she replied, returning the smile. "Won't let me sleep until I do something about it." “Well, it is all about me you know,” Ginger meowed. She padded over to Becca, and slumped into the woman’s arms with practiced dejection. “Feeeed me.” She faced Becca and frowned. "What are you doing up so late? You look utterly knackered." “Earthquake or something,” Becca said, carrying Ginger over to the pantry. “Didn’t you feel it? Had a royal mess on my hands, I did. Nearly every pot and pan came crashing down.” She fought back a yawned, glancing through the selection. “Well, you beleaguered creature, what shall we feed you? How about some Hysterian pâté, hrm?’ Ginger sighed, “Well, if I must.” Gillian could hear footsteps in the hallway. They paused, started, paused again, as if the person couldn’t choose a direction. Or maybe they were lost. A moment later, she saw Malachi walk by the open door, looking very purposeful. Malachi frowned, his broad forehead creasing in consternation. Was there more than one set of kitchens on campus? Or had Gillian gone somewhere else? He paused, looking back the way he'd come, reflected that fighting the forces of the Abyss were in some ways easier than navigating his way through almost any part of Amber. Simpler, anyway, and only marginally more likely to get him stabbed. Making a decision, he plowed onward, unfortunately moving away from his quarry as she stood in the nearby kitchen with her cat. He thought, in his slow and methodical way, about how and weather death had changed him. It certainly seemed to bring him into more contact with women. A semester ago he would have been apoplectic at the prospect of meeting a princess. Now he was in love with one and bore another around who shared his mind and body. And he found it curious how neither fact bothered him. He wondered if what really died in the alley that day was his sense of propriety. Or maybe, having been slain by one, he could no longer see them in the same light. Or maybe death makes a man out of you, he thought with a sudden snort of laughter. Still, here he was in need of one particular woman's help, of Gillian's vaunted smarts, and he couldn't find a sign of her. Having reached an exit, he turned back towards the interior. <<This place has ruined me,>> he reflected ruefully. <<I once tracked a rogue cat across hard rock for a day and a half and now I can't find one librarian in a kitchen.>> After he'd passed the doorway, Gillian motioned to Becca that she'd be back in a moment and walked over. "Malachi?" she called out in a loud whisper as she hung out over the threshold, hanging on to the frame. "Are you all right?" Malachi's face showed a mixture of relief and consternation. Hadn't he looked in that doorway? "Miss Gillian," he said. "Sorry to track you down like this. Hello, Ginger. Miss, I need some advice, and I'm told you know a lot about... about how things work. Do you have any time today to talk to me?" Ginger swirled her tail and purred, “Hello Delicious.” When he turned his attention to Gillian, however, she grumped audibly. “Trust me, I know a lot more than she does. I doubt she’d even recognize one if it was in her hand. Probably shelve it or something.” Becca swatted her lightly, “Hush!” Malachi frowned, certain he'd missed something in the exchange. "Of course," Gillian replied, curiosity on her face. She smiled and drew him into the kitchen. "Malachi, this is Becca, by far the most important person in the university kitchens. Becca, this is my friend Malachi. He's a student here at school." "Morning, Ma'am," said Malachi to Becca. "It's always good to know a good cook. Do you mind if I take Miss Gillian away from you for a few minutes? I just need a word." Becca curtsied, desperately trying not to look as disheveled as she was. “Greetings and salutations, Ser. And thank you, ser.” Ginger sighed, “Well, I think it’s time it was all about me again. Food?” She padded across the table, only to pause and glanced back. “Try not to make too much huffin’ and puffin’ out there. It’ll put me off my pâté.” Beginning to catch on, Malachi still had the grace to blush and look away from Gillian and down at his shoes before heading out in the hallway. He was less embarrassed at the cat's implication than at the fact that he hadn't understood the previous times. Gillian pointed a finger in warning at Ginger for her to be good, mouthed "thank you" to Becca, and followed Malachi out into the dark hallway. "I don't really know that much. I'm trying to figure this all out too, just like everyone else," she cautioned Malachi as she turned to face him. Her brown eyes were bright in the light from the doorway. "But if there's any way I can help, I will." "It's not really about the, uh, Hour. It's about reality and life and death." He rubbed the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture that went back to his childhood. "Though now that I hear myself say it out loud, that doesn't sound any easier, does it?" "Look, is there somewhere private we can talk?" When the have found a sequestered spot, Malachi sits, but soon stands and paces, unable to contain his nerves. "Can I trust you with something private, Miss Gillian? You know, that you won't talk to the others about it?" Gillian sat quietly and looked at him askance. "Um...sure. I promise this is between you and me." He smiled, genuinely relieved. "That's alright then," he said. "I want to know where someone is, and I don't think I can figure it out on my own. There's a woman I'm...I'm fond of her and I don't think she's here in Amber. Or anywhere normal, but I don't really know what normal is anymore. I want to find her and I want to understand why she can't leave but I can." He paused, aware that he wasn't making much sense. "Let me see if I can sort this out," he said. "It's the princess Mirelle," he continued. "She's with Dworkin, the one called Bob or Ted. And she's, well you know she's dead. Like..." he gestured between himself and Gillian. Gillian's mouth worked itself into a thin line. She hadn't quite come to terms with that. "But she can't leave. She can't walk about like we can. I want to know why. I want to know how she's different and why and whether there's anything I can do about it." "I swore an oath to serve Dworkin when he called. But I didn't say anything about leaving her with him." "Can you help me?" "I can try. And I will," Gillian replied. "I must caution you, though. When this is all over, either we haven't succeeded and everything is destroyed and it doesn't matter anyway, or we have succeeded and everything is saved, but we're...um... still dead, and I suspect since our usefulness will be over, Bob will end us." Malach obviously hadn't thought of that, and he sits very still, thinking. "Like cleaning up the laboratory after an experiment," he says at last. "Or putting away his tools. I see. Or rather I don't, exactly. I wouldn't do that. But it doesn't seem any more cruel than the half-life he has given Mirelle, and she was his own blood. Well, then, before all this is over, before we let it end, we need to supply him with a reason not to do that." Gillian's expression turned speculative. "I don't know much to help you with," he says, returning to his first concern. "She exists in a place that isn't quite Amber. But I was able to find her, or maybe she found me, when I entered the castle during the Dark Hour. I think it must have something to do with the Pattern, but you'd know more about that than I would. For what it's worth I have the King's approval for what I am doing, but he warned me not to let his sister Princess Fiona learn about it, or about us. Be careful, please." "I want to thank you for your help. I don't really have any right to ask you, to expose you to even more danger. But we have sunlight and Amber and friends. We can see other people and drink and eat and love. She's all alone. She needs somebody who's on her side. She's almost given up on being human. I can't let that happen. I'll do anything not to let that happen." Gillian drew her knees up and hugged them, silent for a moment while she thought about all Malachi had said. "I don't know which I want to ask you about first—how you got an audience with the King, or what the castle was like during the Dark Hour," she finally replied. "I think I'll settle on the latter. What was it like inside?" "If Amber during the Dark Hour is a nightmare you can understand," replied Malachi, "then inside the castle it was as though I were in a madman's nightmare. The space seemed infinite and the creatures were without reason. Like a vast enemy camp where watchfires can be seen but the individual soldiers seemed to fade in and out of reality like phantoms. In the heart of reality, the Dark Hour was pure chaos." "Oh, and I met His Majesty when both of us visited the princess's grave at the same time." "I bet that was an interesting meeting," Gillian speculated, her eyes wide. "What was his reaction to the Dark Hour? What all did he say?" "His Majesty was skeptical at first. I suppose he thought I had come there to meet him and press some agenda. But once I convinced him that I was there for the princess, things went more smoothly. I told him about the Dark Hour. Amazingly, he believed me. Or wasn't willing to take the chance I might be lying. He gave me permission to continue seeking out his sister, and connected me with Prince Rook, King Eric's son. As I mentioned earlier, His Highness is one of us. He is the one who explained our...condition. I tried to get him to help me organize our little group, but he refused." Malachi looked slightly embarrassed. "The king invited me to return to the castle as I cared to. He was very gracious." "Really?" She sounded surprised. Malachi snapped his fingers, his face brightening. "Wait, there was something else. Maybe you know this, but I had never heard it. King Random mentioned a 'Night of the Long Knives'. A night long ago when something happened no one could explain. There were murders, disappearances, arson, robber, destruction of buildings throughout creation, all the way from Amber to Chaos. The king said no one knew who was responsible. Many believed it was the result of a creation-wide shadow storm emerging from the Scar. Random doesn't believe that, but allowed the belief to flourish in order to keep the Dark Hour quiet. He thinks they're related. I know that probably has nothing to do with Mirelle, but I thought you'd be interested." Gillian nodded. "I've heard of it but know little more than what you've just said. So the King thinks that night and the Dark Hour are related? Hunh. I suppose there are similarities, like something catastrophic happening but no one remembering, like it all happened in just an instant... Maybe it's a clue... "Speaking of royals, Prince Caine knows too. Or at least suspects something weird is going on at that time," she continued, her voice fainter than before. "I'm...I'm supposed to be reporting on it to him. "I'm not sure how I feel about all these royals knowing, though if Prince Rook is indeed awake during the Dark Hour, then I shouldn't be surprised the King knows. I...I just find it a little strange that they don't all know, that the King hasn't told them. I don't know. I guess I just don't trust them all, somehow, even though I'm dating one. Though he's an exception to a lot of rules. But I'm babbling." Her eyes refocused on Malachi. "Do you trust them? You know...the royals?" Malachi was taken aback by the question and opened his mouth to give a quick answer. Then, shutting it again, he thought. Malachi is a careful thinker, and the silence dragged on. At last, he said "I trust the king to do what is right for Amber. But not necessarily what is right for us. But the way I see it, we could do worse than die for King and Country. If the king needs me, he doesn't have to lie to me. I'm his man, period. I trust Prince Rook personally. It's hard to explain, but he's not the type to intrigue. He might kill me if he had good reason, but he wouldn't betray me. I don't know any other living royals." "Miss Gillian, I don't believe it is safe to assume that the royals don't know. There's an old saying in Karm: Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead. Now it seems that's not even certain. I believe it would be safer to assume they all know. But I don't think they know about us. Not beyond King Random and Prince Rook. The king himself told me that if Princess Fiona knew of my existence she would already be experimenting on me in some dungeon. I don't think he was only trying to scare me. He meant it. So I think the knowledge of our existence is very limited for now. But all secrets get out, sooner or later." Gillian lowered her gaze and chewed on her bottom lip. The big man looked away for a long while, slowly and unconsciously wringing his hands and clenching his jaw. When he looked back, there was pain in his eyes. "There is a young woman, a student. We had become very friendly. I sent her away. I don't have any family here, anyone I love. But if I did, I'd stay away from them, Miss. You said it yourself. We may not come out of this so well. We should spend some time thinking about those who still can." After another silence during which he watched dust most dance in the sunlight and wondered why he never had before, he asked "Do you trust them?" "Seabhac excluded...no," she replied flatly. "Not with my best interests, anyway. We're pawns to them, nothing more. And if that princess you mentioned earlier—I'm leery of naming her, for possibly calling attention to us that way—tries to experiment on me, I'l...I'll...I don't know what I'll do, but it'll be dire." The sudden fire in Gillian's eyes left no doubt that she utterly meant what she'd said. Malachi smiled reassuringly. "You have friends, Miss Gillian. We would all go to dire lengths if that were to happen." "Which is why I am concerned about this girl you know who is a prisoner. I think we should rescue her. Soon." The fire died and Gillian shrank into herself, once again just another young girl. "I think that's what Raina was investigating," she replied. "We can ask her tomorrow when we see her. "Malachi...do you remember...dying? Or entering into any sort of contract with Bob?" Malachi seemed to think about that for a long time. Eventually, he nodded solemnly. "Yes, I do. The girl twin of the Man in White killed me with a card, with one of those trumps. It went straight into my heart. Then I felt like I was dreaming, and their chief, the Man of Worms, arrived. He spat into my mouth, and was talking as though he was going to claim me for his side. Then I was suddenly with Bob. He made me an offer in exchange for saving me. I accepted. I wrote my name in a big golden book and he said I had signed a contract with him. To serve him when the time came." Gillian shook her head. "I don't understand. First—correct me if I'm wrong—but it sounds like you're saying you experienced the Dark Hour before you died, which confuses me, because I thought we all experienced the Dark Hour after we'd died and entered into some sort of contract with Bob. "Second....and perhaps most distressing to me...I don't remember dying. I don't remember entering into a contract. And I remember everything." Malachi sat and thought about that. "Wh..." he began, then was silent for a time. "You're right. I was in the Dark Hour before I was killed. But that doesn't change anything for me; I still died and Bob still brought me back. He never said you were dead. Prince Rook said that. Maybe we ought to find him and ask some more questions." Gillian nodded. "Maybe we should. I really wonder what else he knows. He he a friendly sort?" Malachi smiled. "That's not the first word that leaps to mind," he said. "He's been living among the weir, as I have, and has become a power among them, a sort of judge and alpha wolf. He's half a weir himself, I think. Literally. Anyway, he's honest. He may tell us both to go to hell, but I don't think he'll lie to us. I'll try to find him today after class. How can I reach you?" "The library," she replied without hesitation. "If I'm not in class that's where I should be." Malachi smiled at the image of the girl amidst the dusty book stacks, then remembered that that was why he came to her. "I'll find you once I've found him," he said. "Looking forward to talking to him." I think, she added silently to herself. One never knows with royals. Gillian stood and tipped her head. "Be safe, Malachi." She walked back the way they'd come to rejoin Ginger and Becca in the kitchens. [Gillian continued in Worlds at Her Fingertips] |
