Chapter 26: Loose Ends

Chapter 26: Loose Ends

Does history repeat itself, as is often claimed? It would be so, were history an agent unto itself that could indulge in repetition. History as an entity does not exist in the present, however. History is the summation of past events through present eyes.

None should be surprised, therefore, to hear claims of patterns and cycles from historians - it is the ore for which such men mine, sifting away piles of dusty pages and dross until they are left with something that may be forged into relevant instruction for the present.

Yet other metals pass through their sieve to languish, simply because it was not what that particular man wished to reclaim. The Gharic pen ever selects the gold and silver from their own past to the exclusion of all else, so that their pages may gleam bright with remembrance.

They are welcome to their gilded fantasy, and good riddance. The history they discard is written chiefly in iron and lead, and we have ample use for both.

- Saleh Taskin, On Reclamation, 687

Well? Clair prompted him. See anything that might prove useful?

Michael did not respond, staring at Lucs haggard face. The man was thinner than he remembered, with a patchy growth of beard and dark circles under his eyes. A coarse rope was tied around his neck, from which a small wooden token was suspended; the rope had rubbed the skin under it raw.

The final disposition of the islands residents had not lingered in Michaels thoughts after his departure, as he had figured that the Institute would preserve things as close as they could to their prior state. Sparks absence was evidently more disruptive to the Institute than he had assumed.

Then again, Luc and the fellow Esroun in the control group were an oddity. Spark and Claude had been Esroun, and the bonds that they had cultivated within that group of young men were specific to them. To a presumably-Ardan replacement from the Institute, what use were a bunch of orphans from the continent? They had no souls, and no other useful purpose now that the objects of their loyalty were dead. All that remained was an expendable, unsouled body - and those were already in great supply.

A sick feeling took hold in Michaels stomach. It was logical, now that he thought about it - he simply had not had cause to consider it prior. From Lucs perspective he must seem a monster, the stranger who had swept in from across the sea to upend his life, kill his mentor and patron and eventually cause his expulsion from what had been a paradisiacal refuge. Now he had returned to the torments of his childhood, laboring under uncaring masters until inevitably the work maimed or killed him.

There had been no other option, but the inevitability of the consequence made it no more palatable. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from Luc and focused on Clairs increasingly-impatient face. Theres a lot of traffic past the barricade, he said. Soldiers and laborers go through on a regular basis.

Were already supposed to be laborers, Gerard said. That seems like the obvious choice.

Charles looked askance at him. Dangerous, he pointed out. Look at the state of the people here. These are dead men, even if theyre taking their time about it. None of them will survive this war, and many of them wont last the week. Worked to the bone, driven out in front of a charge as fodder - so yes, getting in as labor would be easy. Not safe, though, and getting back out again will be a challenge.

Im not even sure itll be that easy, Michael said, focusing his gaze back on Lucs crew. We dont look the part. Wed need to leave our equipment and clothing with Emil, come dressed in rags and - theres some manner of token theyre all wearing, maybe a sort of work pass. Well need to steal some in order to get by. Aside from that, we need at least one person who looks the part of a soldier; theyre prisoners, they always have at least one guard.

Stealing from the prisoners shouldnt be difficult, Sobriquet said, drifting in from the side. And we are fortunate enough to have an Ardan among us who should look quite convincing in uniform. There was a pause, and Michael felt the focus of its attention settle on him. But isnt there something else? I felt the shift of secrets within you as you looked, and none of them have yet passed your lips.

A cold shot of adrenaline set Michaels heart beating faster. His guilt over Lucs state had distracted him from the reality of the other mans presence; here was a man who was privy to many of the secrets Sobriquet was pursuing. Luc had been present when Spark learned the nature of Michaels soul. He knew that Michael bore Stanza within him. It wasnt impossible that he had surmised more - and if Sobriquet asked, Michael felt that Luc would be only too happy to trade that information.

The groups attention was on him now as Sobriquets question hung unanswered in their midst; he had to say something, and lying to the smug apparition was not a viable option when the topic of conversation was so close to his secrets.

I saw a man among the prisoners that I had met before, Michael admitted. Relevant to me, but not to our purpose here.

Clair raised an eyebrow. An inside man? she said. That seems relevant to me. Were looking for ways inside, remember.

This man - would not help, Michael said, shaking his head. He has fair cause to hate me. If he were aware of my presence here I believe he might summon the guards purely out of spite.

Charles snorted. Who could find it within them to dislike such a wonderful lordling? he asked. What did you do, have him whipped for insolence?

I killed the two most important people in his life, Michael replied, giving Charles a flat look and finding the artifex surprised for once. More than one set of eyes looked toward Sobriquet, an awkward silence settling in as it said nothing to dispute the claim.

So I suppose we should talk to somebody else, Gerard said.

Sobriquets outline shimmered. I still agree that trying to work our way in among the laborers is our most likely route inside the compound, it said. There are a few among the captives here who have that particular flavor of utility, something that says theyll be helpful in our endeavor - ah, perhaps that gentleman there, in the red.

Michael had a sinking feeling. Just to be sure, he turned to look; Sobriquet's outstretched arm was pointing directly at Luc. Thats the man I just said we shouldnt work with, he protested.

How completely surprising, Sobriquet said. An incredible coincidence.

Past the buzzing distortion in its voice Sobriquet actually managed to sound droll; Michael fixed it with a glare. He wont help us.

Ah, incorrect, Sobriquet said, bobbing closer to Michael. He will not help you. There should be no problem if Clair were to speak with him, especially if I keep him blind to your presence here.

The last time I was trying to move unnoticed through a hostile camp, that man was the one who reported my position to the guards, Michael said. This was before he had a good reason to hate me.

Sobriquet hummed. I imagine it was not a hostile camp for him at the time, correct? Here, he is a prisoner. The two scenarios are hardly comparable. It leaned in closer to Michael. He cant deceive me in any material sense. If he is duplicitous then I will let him rot here with the others. If not, however - well, he would not be the first prisoner stuffed with secrets that I have collected recently, would he?

He doesnt know anything that I wasnt already going to tell you, Michael said.

The blur floated forward, appearing to study Lucs sorry group of prisoners as they walked. Doesnt he? Sobriquet said. Oh, he does have the taste of your secrets about him, at least in part, but there is something more. I sense that he, like you, carries a few unique tidbits of profound import. I should like to know what those are.

The apparition swiveled towards Michael. Theres no need to worry, it said. I have no need to press him for your secrets; aside from being impolite it would rather ruin the fun of enticing them from you personally.

And we wouldnt want that, Clair said, rolling her eyes and stepping forward. Amuse yourself later. Lets tail this poor bastard back to whatever hole theyre keeping him in.

Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

And how do you think I got here? Clair said. Nobody will see us.

Luc reached up once more to make tentative contact with Clairs hand, flinching when he encountered her fingers as if he hadnt expected her to be real. His expression firmed, and he rose unsteadily to his feet. Then we should go, he said. Clair motioned toward the tents exit, and the two of them left with Michael following behind.

The guard gave no reaction to their departure, which seemed to brighten Lucs spirits further. He even managed a slight smile as he turned to look at Clair again. You never told me how you knew my name, he said. Youve been watching me, yes, but nobody here knows my name either. Its just you or prisoner when they call me.

Clair returned the smile; Michael recognized it from when she had flirted with the checkpoint guards. What if I told you that I met a friend of yours? she said. If she saw Michaels alarmed expression, she gave no hint of it.

The smile died from Lucs face. Then you would be lying, he said, reaching under a fold of his rags. He withdrew a loose bunch of wooden tokens threaded with rope, clacking together as they moved. Some were bloodstained, others gouged or scratched. These were my friends.

Im sorry, Clair said, a hint of genuine emotion in her voice. You were brought here together?

We lived together, Luc said. Before this. Were kept together. His face darkened, and he shook his head. It doesnt matter.

Clair nodded. The War takes from everyone, she said. Thats why were trying to end it, at least in this corner of the continent. We need your help to do it.

The War? Luc snorted. The War never took anything from me. It was Ardans alone. I lost my life twice over and never even saw the front.

If not for the War theyd all be in Ardalt, doing whatever tickles their fancy, Clair said, shooting a surreptitious glance back at Michael. Not bothering good folks from the continent.

Ah, thats where youre wrong, Luc chuckled. They have a need to meddle. Ardans are forever upending the natural way of things and leaving chaos in their wake. Its a mindset more than a nationality, contagious and vile.

Michael received another arch look from Clair. It sounds like you have some rather specific grievances with them, she said.

They stole my life, Luc hissed. Both specific and general, yes? He clenched his fists, dried mud crusting from his gloves as they were squeezed between his fingers. Acted as a friend, to keep me unawares, but all the while had nothing but contempt for me.

Michael felt the anguish in Lucs voice on a visceral level. He had never meant to cause the man any pain, but the fact remained that he had done so. It was as Clair had said - Lucs life was not a priority for any of those making the choices that mattered, so he had been discarded.

Luc flung a hand outward angrily. And me! I did not see it, despite so many clues. I was blind, so blind that it took a bumbling idiot to upend my life before I was able to glimpse it - and by then it was too late.

Clair shot another amused glance back at Michael, who had frozen in place. Tell me about this bumbling idiot, she said. Your description reminds me of someone I know.

Ah, another Ardan - a real one this time, straight from Calmharbor. Michael. Luc rolled his eyes, oblivious to Clairs sudden, delighted smile. Raised on a pile of money. Half the time so unaware he was nearly walking into walls, the other half spouting platitudes. And special, yes? Because of course he was.

Luc made a disgusted noise. Managed to set a raving madman on me, and when I ran for help the man who raised me took me back to the idiot and told him he was the most precious person in the world.

Clair lost her struggle against the laughter she had been holding back, nearly doubling over in mirth; Luc paused bemusedly in his rant to look.

Sobriquet, Michael said. Let him see me.

There was the faintest of shimmers in the air, and a faint chuckle near his ear. I fail to see why I should, Sobriquet murmured. Im rather enjoying his story, and I dont think Ive seen Clair laugh like this in years.

A slightly-manic grin had taken root on Lucs face as well as he watched Clair laugh. Its ridiculous, yes? he chuckled. And then he shot the mad spector, strapped me to a table-

Sobriquet! Michael said insistently. Let him see me!

-started ranting about killing everyone on the island and making the perfect human, Luc spat. Then the other man who had raised me came in-

Michael stepped forward and shoved Luc, sending him stumbling back a few paces and interrupting his tirade. Shock and confusion replaced the anger on his face - which returned after a moment when his eyes locked directly onto Michael.

I suppose the game is up, Sobriquet sighed.

You. Luc stalked forward, fists clenched. Of course its you, you meddling- His fist lashed out and took Michael across the jaw, dazzling his vision and pitching him sideways into the dirt. Luc hauled him up bodily by the collar, drawing his fist back for another blow - then collapsing nervelessly to the ground as a sparkling hand materialized to tap him on the forehead.

As entertaining as this has been, Sobriquet said, sounding somewhat strained, I must ask you to be quiet and still for a short while. You are becoming increasingly taxing to conceal. There was a pause. That means you as well, Clair.

Clair straightened up from where she had knelt half-paralyzed by laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. Sorry, she said. Its just - precious- She clapped a hand over her mouth once more.

Sobriquet gave a buzzing sigh. Take a moment if you must, it said. But move our new friend out of the path, at least. Theres little I can do if he gets run over by a cart.

Clair nodded, pressing her lips together, and Michael rose to his feet with a scowl. You let him punch me, he said.

Just once, Sobriquet replied. It seemed healthy. Besides, its quite a step up from him swearing an oath of vengeance and haunting your footsteps until the day he could bathe in your blood - or whatever other nonsense you had convinced yourself he would do.

It seemed reasonable at the time, Michael muttered, bending down to slip his arms under Lucs shoulders and pull. He felt another wayward pang of sympathy; the other man was horrifically light. Clair collected herself enough to pick up his dragging legs, though she evidently did not trust herself to speak yet.

Sobriquet hummed. Nobody could deny that your life is significant, it said. Least of all after hearing that story, I should say. Nevertheless, you should allow for the likelihood, the possibility, the merest sliver of chance that you are not as important to others as you imagine yourself to be.

Yes, fine, Michael scowled. I will allow that I was in error, although I doubt that will stop you from harping on about it forever.

Thats mere embarrassment speaking, Sobriquet said. I have no doubt as the sting fades, you will find the memory of this day to be quite precious indeed.

Clair dropped Lucs legs and collapsed to the ground once more. Michael sighed, set his feet, and kept pulling.