Ripple Effect - 2. Chapter One - In the Winter Moon

I

Three years of laying low meant free time spent on luxuries that would normally be avoided, like Locrann learning how to drive, both aether block and motor vehicle. Sitting alone in the backseat being ferried through Outworld was both strange and comforting to Trick; it was quiet, free of input, allowing him to concentrate only on the task ahead.

As well as to be troubled that it was a thing that needed planning, not joyously slipped back into. If all went well, then one day, maybe...

Small blips of frustration emanated from Locrann as he tried to pull the car closer to the building, finding paths between camps and nudging people out of the way. Locrann didn't project much, he was raised for this position and trained from a young age; still amazing to him, that Jacender thought enough of him to start a family tradition.

By miracle a spot appeared close enough to the entrance, Locrann came around the vehicle to open his door. Trick had to pull himself out, standing with one gloved hand on the door and the other on the trunk as a wave of mental input from the parking lot crowd crashed into him, stealing his breath and shorting out his own thoughts.

He didn't know if he could've been constructed to handle such a massive load, but he'd been intended for private use and his eventual escape had not been accounted for. It'd been improving, thanks to Strife teaching him what he did for his aether sensitivity, with practice ten people was easy and occasional trips to New Green River or Kandha'l-har were possible; Outworld though was trying, too small and too populated, too many squatter towns sitting in the open with more people than he'd ever seen in one place.

“All right?” Locrann did his part, blocking him from view and discouraging approach.

“Yes.” relaxing his focus, letting it all flow through him; most had been wondering what they could take from the car, but Locrann being conspicuously armed changed their minds. In the future, he'd make his associations known, and that would put an end to that.

Inside was more bearable, walls provided a buffer, fewer people in the halls who all instinctively shied away from him. Locrann led the way to the second floor. The room was easy to find, and the woman living in the doorway dismissed with some coin for food and a promise her neighbor would not be harmed.

This close, and Trick could see Tallen inside; his mind calm, reading and paying no attention to the noise around him. Curiosity perked when Locrann knocked on the door, more than a little wary with no visitors expected. Trick found himself coiling in anticipation.

He need not have worried, the door opened to a spark of bemusement, an undercurrent of happiness, and best of all, recognition, “Trick, right?”

Trick kept his expression bright and friendly, “Yes, hello again.”

“Hi. There's nothing wrong, right?”

“Oh, no,” he'd come up with an explanation beforehand, “With Strife as busy as he is, we felt it best if I were to handle our transactions with you. If you do not mind.”

“No. No, not at all.” a flash of something close to relief; Tallen had taken time to get used to Strife and his loose cannon act once, doubtless he would need it again.

“I would like a chance to, as they say, touch base. Have you time for me now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm not doing anything. I'd – well, love to.” That same curiosity he'd seen in the brothel was back again, a beam reaching out toward him; Tallen wanted to know him, didn't know why but it was there and he'd decided to go with it. It was relieving and disappointing all at the same time.

Trick turned to Locrann, mind running through the short list of languages he spoke (a greater number than his grandfather but still limited), “Your services will not be required, you may leave.”

Locrann registered surprise, answered in kind, “I was told not to leave your side.”

“He has done this before, I am in good hands.”

Skepticism, and confusion from Tallen who watched and waited. Trick continued, “I shall call for you when I am done. If Canaan disapproves, you may send him to me.”

Those were always the magic words, Locrann bowed his head and departed; perhaps to the Rampaging Bull for a drink, or a quiet corner to shut his eyes in, he hadn't decided yet. Trick was left with the calming pond of Tallen's mind.

“What was that about?”

“Oh. I merely asked for privacy, if you do not mind.”

“No, not that part. Where you said I've done this before. What did that mean?”

He blinked in some surprise, “I had not realized you understood.”

“Some of it. My, uh, mentor, I guess – Nix, that's his favorite rant and curse language. I guess I picked up a little of it.”

“How convenient,” and perhaps it really was, Trick was not a good judge with his unconventional learning style. He made a note of it.

“Yeah, I'd say. It taught me thirty-seven different words for useless idiot. I'm sure I'll get a lot of mileage out of that.”

A smile formed, “It is a very colorful tongue.”

“They must be a very angry people.”

“You would think so, but no. They are boisterous, but fun.”

“Kind of like Nix. Maybe that's what we should all be speaking then.” So bright, Tallen's mind uncurled like a cat for attention. He'd not known much kindness, not in this life either, and that was a thing they'd always had in common.

“To answer your question, I believe you more than well equipped to watch over me, and gave my guard a needed break. That is all.”

“I don't know, if you get in enough trouble to need a full time guard, I don't think I can help with that.”

He was smiling again, “I believe there very little risk, but if you may, think of it as an adventure.”

“Oh, that isn't worrying at all.” but Tallen wasn't worried, not even a little. “Do you want to come in? Or-” There was a reluctance, Tallen was not proud of his home here, and he saw a better chance to show off if they went elsewhere.

“Whatever you would prefer. Show me something new, if you will.”

Bright sparks going off, Tallen's mind shuffled through possibilities. “Do I have to stick to Outworld? Or – well...”

Trick saw the knot of hesitation, suspected what was behind it, “You may ask what you will, fear no reproach.”

“Do you pass? Or – I mean, are you human?”

“Yes. And no.” It was complicated to his mind. Tallen had once known what he was, of course, but Trick was not eager to broach the subject now. He remembered what Tallen had said to him then when he first heard, a stray observation that had meant nothing beyond the standard, but which he would not be able to ignore if he heard it again. Later, perhaps, when he had more time to get used to this, but it was too soon.

“In Veil, people assume me blind. They are so concerned with acting right to me they notice little else.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“It has been worse.” It was more funny than anything else, when Strife was there encouraging him to screw with them, “I will go where you wish.”

“Okay,” Tallen had a clear plan in mind now; Trick didn't look too closely, wanting to be surprised. “Just give me one second,” he disappeared inside long enough to retrieve a coat – a long one, though he thought of it only in terms of style not armor.

An outstretched arm gently guided him aside, allowing Tallen plenty of room to come out and lock the place up; Trick tried not to read too much into it. “You don't mind going for a ride, right?”

“I have been driven, before.”

“You have, huh?” relaxed, his mind was a calm surface; Tallen put two steps more distance between them before glancing back, “Ready to go?”

“...yes.”

“No. You walk first. An arm's length, neither far nor close.”

“...this is weird. This really isn't weird to you?”

“My awareness of you changes little with position. So no.”

“Whereas I feel like either you're my slave or I'm your pet, I don't know which.”

“Whatever you would like. You are in charge.”

“That's not funny.”

“Good boy.”

“Stop. Please.”

“Speaking of , when you do-”

“Hold up,” an impression of a doorway, Tallen standing in it with an arm across the frame; beyond, the parking lot and the wall of mental input.

Not just words though: a thought, forceful and clear as a bell, telling him to halt just ahead of the verbal command.

Just as I taught him.

Focus narrowed on him, careful, probing, “You all right?”

...he means the crowd. Trick's shields wavered in place, he took a deep breath. This will be more complicated than I foresaw. It was not an unwelcome thing.

“Yes, thank you. Shall we be off?”

II

“Hello? Are you there?”

His eyes opened; the room was dark again, must be night already.

...yes.

The phone's red light glowed bright in the dark from its place on the table; an eye that watched him, a mouth that spoke to him daily.

“Time to check in, Shadow.”

Sounds that connect to words with definite meaning, it felt so long since he'd needed to pay attention to it. Shadow, he thought that was what she was calling him; he could make no sense of its repetition otherwise. Reciprocity is only polite even if it goes unseen, and so he thought of her as Red.

A laugh, “Man, I do hope you've been writing this down. Wouldn't want to get me in trouble, right?”

He did; he memorized her words and wrote them down every morning before London came with food. It was never anything urgent as London had told him, status never changed. As it did not today.

And yet his job was not done.

“Ahhh. Long day out here, Shadow.”

She kept talking; she always kept talking.

“Its cold out here, too.”

He didn't mind it really. It was something to focus on, to remember sounds and words and meaning. He tried to guess things about her from her voice, what she said; he'd never know the truth of it but it was still good exercise, to think, to imagine. She sounded young, and friendly.

“There's so much snow. Over two feet, if you can picture it.”

(pristine white, as far as the eye could see)

(...like home...)

(...I miss-)

“I prefer it a little warmer than this. When the snows just cleared, warming, everything coming to life again.”

(tell me...keep talking, please...I miss-)

Sometime he thought about saying hello, the voice so clearly wanted him to, and it was nice to be wanted again in a way. Converse, interact, connect; he could do it once, why not again?

“You shouldn't have bothered.”

He didn't. Wouldn't, ever. There wasn't a point.

Luck was good tonight. Not in Push, the cards had waged war on them all and it was only through skilled bluffing and the other players' fear of him that Tallen didn't lose more than he had. It was in the break when Rapp went to find a different deck, Cath half asleep on his arm, that his fortunes changed.

Tallen noticed the desert man first, the tattoos catching his eye, black and white snake skin; familiar, but he didn't know how, it wasn't one of the Winter Moon's regulars and what other people did he know? He watched the man approach the bar, pull out a stool and, weirdly, wipe it clean with his hand. Where? Where have I...? Then his companion came into view.

...oh holy shit.

“He is easily recognizable, tattooed and half blind as you see.” Dark blue lines and long black gloves, Tallen wouldn't soon forget that, he'd made a point to memorize it, never thinking to see it in the flesh.

Unknown Subject Number Four.

And what the fuck was he doing here, in New Green River, of all places?

The man paused mid step, head turning just slightly back, a sliver of profile coming into view: the metal rim of a pair of glasses, the tip of a slim nose. Just a moment, then he continued forward, seating himself on the stool the desert man held out, crossing his booted feet at the ankle and folding his arms on the counter, all prim and proper like.

He's part of the Wolf's inner circle. According to London, who may or may not be lying, but it was all the information Tallen had.

Its a chance...

Its a risk, more so than in his distant daydreams that needed no close consideration because it was never going to happen. In the light of day (or the dim of a smoky bar) it was insane, it was tantamount to suicide.

How do you fight a monster? With fire. And then what are you left with?

(an animal, just an-)

...probably kill you, you know? That's what they do when they don't have a use for you.

...and what does that matter? After everything, don't you owe it to-

No. No. Banish that thought, the memory. If it lurked beneath the surface of everything he did it would be seen eventually; he'd be damned if someone else had that to hold over his head.

Its about hate. Hate and vengeance. It wasn't even a lie.

Tallen grabbed one of the half full mugs on the table, draining it in a few quick swallows, both needed courage and a good excuse. At the bar, the desert man leaned forward close to Four's head, a moment or two before straightening, nodding and walking away. Tallen followed him to the other end of the bar, watched him hailing the owner; a seat wiper and a drink fetcher, how convenient. Maybe he'll offer his hand up for a coaster, too.

He eased Cath off of him, laying her down on his vacated seat; if he was going to do this best do it now, before he lost all nerve.

Closer, and Tallen hesitated again, realizing he had no idea how to go about this. Threats and intimidation didn't seem like it would serve well here, asking directly was out, so what was left? Charm and bullshit? Years of hostility and fear had not left him much in the way of social skills, the closest thing he had to a friend was Cath, and whores didn't care if you weren't charming, or they faked it well.

He's a whore, too, though? Right? So maybe it won't matter.

Tallen leaned his elbows on the bar, going for nonchalant. The other was two feet away, he tried to sneak a look over the top of his glasses. London's surveillance shots hadn't shown just how young he was, younger even than Tallen maybe; his strange and pretty face stared straight ahead, an expressionless mask.

Except for a small flicker of movement in the narrow space where his dark glasses had slipped an inch down his nose; a flutter, like a pulse, slow and rhythmic. Tallen's eyes stayed fixed there, curious, trying to puzzle it out.

A hand rose, pushing those glasses back up, cutting off the view. “I am not blind.” A soft voice with a hard edge, thick accent made the words hard to discern, “I do see you there.” his head turned, “What do you want?”

More like a foot away now, Tallen hadn't realized he'd moved. But even this close Four wasn't looking at him but next to him, nowhere near his face. Frowning, Tallen lifted an arm and wiggled his fingers, stretching them closer to-

“Stop that,” a swift movement and Tallen found his hand pinned to the bar with a discarded metal straw; the boy's head didn't turn.

Tallen laughed, to his surprise. He couldn't remember the last time someone had treated him so casually, it was almost easy to forget who he was dealing with and why that likely was. “Okay, okay,” he tried to shift his hand so the straw wasn't digging into the metal pieces in his glove, “My apologies.”

Four removed the straw, setting it back on the counter; he returned his gaze as it had been, front facing and blank.

Tallen scrambled for something to say, but there was only one thing he could think of. “Let me buy you a drink?”

“Why?”

“To apologize. They got good ale here, if you know what to ask for.”

A soft sound that might've been a snort, “You think me a whore.”

That made Tallen pause, he hadn't thought he was being that obvious, “Its just a drink.”

“The drink will not end where you wish it. Save your coin for your lady friend, she will be more accommodating.”

“For some needs. Not others,” the words were out before he could think twice. What the fuck? He didn't talk like that, not to men, not even in jest. Try not to get killed too early, okay.

Four's head tilted in his direction again, seeming to study him, albeit indirectly. A thin eyebrow rose, “You are not good at this.”

“No,” Tallen wasn't sure what he meant and treaded carefully; didn't appear to be getting the wrong idea – nor the right one. “This, uh, wasn't how it went in my head.”

“Would you care to try again? I fear your time is running out.”

“What does that-” No sooner asked than answered, as the counter came rushing up to meet his face, a large hand pinned the back of his head, one arm wrenched behind his back.

Oh right, the seat wiper/drink fetcher/human coaster, and now guard dog; the Wolf really had given this kid everything he could need.

“You really had to call muscle on this? I thought we were just talking,” some genuine irritation seeped into his tone but there was little he could do about it; he was trapped and the panic was building.

Four was calm, “He is there for your protection, I assure you.”

“I can protect myself. Could show you if you need me to.” He called the fire into his pinned hand, pushing through the conduit in the glove, letting the flame build, shoot high for a count of ten. The grip on his arm adjusted, but impressively held on.

“Don't let him burn the place down,” that would be the bartender, a voice Tallen knew well.

Four watched the spectacle with the same calm expression, “Jacender.”

Hands squeezed him harder, pushing his head against the bar, a deep growling voice barking something in his ear before he was abruptly released.

“I don't speak hairball, sorry.”

“He said, you need more than pretty sparks to scare him. Firebug.”

Tallen pushed up from the counter with as much dignity as he could muster; breathe in, breathe out, and turned to face his assailant. Tallen had height on most people and that was more true here; the desert man was short though he carried it well, built like a boulder with a personality to match. He remained in Tallen's space, glaring straight at him with dark eyes; pink, shiny burn scars covered more than half his face.

“Well,” words spilled out of his mouth, “Just because you danced with a camp fire once doesn't mean you can handle me.” Stupid, stupid, stupid thing to say, this wasn't one of the Winter Moon's typical brand of shiftless loser. He couldn't remember the desert man's entry in London's show, but he knew well the kind of people the Wolf employed; you could see it in his eyes, he was everything Tallen pretended to be and wasn't. He was scared, but that's why he couldn't stop.

It did make Four laugh, a delicate tinkling he covered with a hand, “Not quite, no.”

Tallen tried to step around him, but the man cut him off; a second try and he did it again, this time with a tight smile. An immovable wall, the man pointed a thick finger at the back of the bar – pointing at the very seat Tallen had vacated, which was disturbing.

And with that, his chance was crushed.

“So, that's a no on the drink then?” he just wanted to make a point of talking around the guard dog, because fuck him. Before he showed up things had been – well, not great, but on going.

“My time tonight is occupied, I am afraid.”

It had always been a slim chance, nothing he'd been counting on, he tried not to let it get him down. But it was also the only idea he'd had that seemed a little possible, and it ended so quick. Life just wouldn't stop stepping on him...he just couldn't stop failing.

“But you practice your lines,” Four added, “Come back another day, try again.”

“Yeah, sure,” he tried to reign in the bitterness, no need to give them that, even if he'd never see them again.

You'll think of something else. You will, you have to. There was nothing, it was hopeless.

Tallen didn't stick around, he wasn't in the mood to be distracted anymore. Let him go home to his cell and sit in the dark, wonder when Sandar would come looking for him next.

From the bar, a pair of eyes watched him push his way to the door.