Ripple Effect - 4. Ch. 1 Part IV, V, VI

IV

"Wow, there are some huge fish under the ice here. That last one almost pulled me in."

He kept his eyes closed, listening to her words, letting his imagination fill in the rest.

("And this works? Just cut a hole through and open for business?")

("...yes.")

("When – if, if I fall in, you going to rescue me?")

("...yes.")

He could see it so clearly sometimes; feel the ice under his fingertips, the cool breeze on his face, a welcome reprieve from this stale, lifeless prison.

(one day, maybe...or is it too late?)

(-like home, feels like-)

"-shouldn't have bothered."

"-thing I caught! I swear, its as long as my – whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa – oh shit-"

Silence.

He opened his eyes.

The last of daylight had long since faded, the room was dark and gloomy. The phone sat on the table, its light was still red.

Yet, silence.

He sat up, slow and careful, hands curling in the blankets beneath; he stared at the light, willing it to speak.

Silence.

He glanced helpless at London's door, not even sure if he was behind it, not sure it mattered. Could London do anything from here, even if he could leave the room to get him?

What could he do from here, either?

Minutes ticked by, he could count them by the steady pulse felt between his ears, at his wrist, low in his gut. Bare feet hit the floor, he moved closer to the table, almost sneaking up on it, watching the red light that never blinked, never changed.

And the silence continued.

His hands picked up the phone, strange and clunky in his grip; he'd held it only once before. Shook it, hard, like he could strangle a voice out of it.

...she seemed nice. She spoke to him, every day. No one talked to him anymore.

"You shouldn't have bothered."

His thumb found the talk button, pressed, released. Pressed again. That would make a noise, right? Something to say he was here, if you can hear, say something, please.

And if not? If she can't...

...she was nice.

Thumb pressed the talk button again, and held.

She was nice.

...I could speak...I used to know, once. It wasn't long ago, right...

Words, sounds linked together, connected to concepts with definite meaning.

You know the words, you can-

"You shouldn't have bothered."

-you can – can, say...

Are you

"...'ere?"

A croak, raw, disused.

Again.

Are you

"...th-there?"

Again,

Are

"-you...th-there?"

Silence.

A sudden loud rattle in the speakers, sounds of quick movement and heavy breathing, "Ah, shit. Hey, yeah, I'm all right."

He dropped the phone, talking half a step back. The red light stared up at him from the floor.

"Was that you, Shadow?" her voice sounded different than usual, a lilt that he used to know meant something.

(excitement...happy?)

"Oh, no! No, no, no, come back, come on," a groan, "I just got you on the line, don't go yet."

He stayed still, breathing slow, while a pulse thundered behind his eyes.

A sigh, "I just almost lost this thing, skidded halfway across the lake. Risked life and limb running out after it. If I throw myself down a cliff, will I get another peep out of you?"

"You shouldn't have bothered."

(not for me, not worth it, not-)

"You want to hear my harrowing adventure? Hmm?" another sigh, soft but definitely there, "...well, no objections, so I guess I'm going to tell you. I'm going to embellish a lot, too."

...she's nice. Always been...

(I used to, once...I could again, I could-)

He knelt on the floor, still watching the red light, like it was an eye that could see him.

"Though I suppose I should be lucky it didn't drop right into the fishing hole. Though how it got all the way out to the middle of the ice I don't-"

"You shouldn't have bothered."

"Not everyone would discard you so easily."

(...I can't, I...I don't like being alone, here, I can't...)

A hand reached out, finger extended, toward the button below the red light.

Its easy. Three words, you know them.

I am

"...h-h-here."

A pause and a surprised sound, "Oh, hi there, Shadow. Again."

...she's happy?

"Nice to finally hear your voice. And to know for certain I'm not talking to myself!"

It was happy. It'd been a long time since he'd seen it, heard it, felt it. Believed it was real.

(...since I made someone happy...)

The corners of his lips ticked up, not a smile, but a shadow of one, a potential for one.

(no flash of white teeth against golden skin, pine needle eyes sparkling with laughter unvoiced...only when he's very happy)

But it was nice to know he still remembered how.

---

Of course the rules of the game would change after a night like that. Part of Tallen expected Four wouldn't be there that night or ever again; part of him wanted it that way, in the morning when his anger and embarrassment were still running high. By day's end, when he arrived at the Winter Moon and found Four there, waiting for him at the bar, the only thing he felt was relief.

"So you came after all."

Four's smile was restrained, but warm; he had two mugs of ale in front of him, pushing one forward, "I owe you a drink. It is from the secret vault below the shelf under the counter. Much better than the swill you thought the good stuff."

"There's a secret vault?" Tallen took a sip; fuck, he was right.

"As well as a private backroom," he gestured behind the bar, "Care to join me?"

"The owner got a pair of personal foot massagers back there going to service you, too?"

"Sadly, no. Though if you wish to play with your own feet, I will not stop you," a pause and, more seriously, "I think it is time you and I had a talk, yes?"

He frowned, "Just you? Where's Smiley?" he hadn't seen the guard dog, it was rare he was more than an arm's length away, and after yesterday...

"Fuming in the corner," and there he was, leaning in the shadows by the entrance, "He is displeased with the arrangement, but he will not override me."

Now pointed out, he wasn't sure how he missed those black eyes burning into him. Tallen had to admit, he was relieved to leave the guardian behind. He was not so lost in rage the other day that he missed with happened: that man hadn't pulled his knife out for show, he was going to use it, death had been a heartbeat away, so close and real it still rattled him to think of it.

Behind the bar was a small room with two long couches, a low table between them and little additional space to move. It wasn't hard to imagine what the room was used for, but Tallen sat down anyway. Four took the opposite seat, crossing his legs. A weighted pause, and Four pulled his glasses off, folding them and placing them on the table.

Tallen kept quiet, though he was sure some shock registered on his face. It wasn't ugly, but there was something unnerving about eyes that looked so wrong. He understood what the gesture meant, so he made himself look, get accustomed to it.

"So, you got a name, then?"

"Trick."

"That a real name?"

"It was given to me. I have grown fond of it."

Tallen had little right to judge, all things considered. "Guess its better than the random thing I was calling you in my head."

It was intended as a joke, but Trick cocked his head questioningly, "Was it random, though?" Tallen wasn't given a chance to answer, "I have always found lying to be tiresome, and thus I have a proposal. Honesty, from this point forward. I know, Tallen, that you are London's assassin. The Fire Knight, if you will."

He hadn't expected that much honesty, the rules really had changed. "And you're with the Black Wolf."

A bold nod, "Aye."

Well, at least now he could ask, "How long?"

"From the first. I did know of you, of course."

It hadn't occurred to Tallen to think the Wolf and his people might have a file on him, with images and detailed accounts of his movements. Only fair, he supposed, but it was still unsettling. "And you came here anyway?"

"I had business to attend, you were no part of it. Though that is all I shall say on that."

Fair enough. "And when was your business done?"

"The first day. The rest, I must admit, was all you," spoken with a grin, "May I ask you a question?"

"Depends," he expected it to be a version of why, what do you want from me.

"Where did you come from?"

"Wait, what?"

"We had assumed London's people to be followers loyal to whatever his cause. Yet I think you'd sooner burn than to help him out of a hole. So then, Tallen, how did you come to be in his employ?"

"Well, its not because he's paying me well," he considered, but figured the answer was harmless; it was nice even, talking to someone who didn't think the man a hero. "London bought me from an orphanage, when I was a kid. I had certain – features, he could use. And its not like anyone would miss me."

"Ah. So you had the fire talent early then?"

"Yeah. Early," Tallen picked his words carefully, "I guess it can happen, when things are just right."

"Or just wrong."

He changed the subject, "And what about you? You don't seem like the type to be hanging around the Wolf."

"Is that a question?"

Again, he considered how to phrase things delicately, "I just mean you don't seem like...well, like your friend out there."

"You mean a killer?" Trick's face calm, "Unfortunately, you would be wrong about that."

"I didn't say you never killed anyone. There's a difference, you know." An important one.

"I know that. Do you know it, mad man?"

He had a feeling talking with someone who understood was going to get old quick. "Well, everybody likes to think they're in the first camp. Can you even be sure you'd notice if you weren't anymore?"

"I think, so long as you continue to ask, you may yet be well enough."

"That's a little too simple, isn't it?"

"Simple to say the words, yes. Sincerity is less easy."

"We're not talking about me right now, we're talking about you," grey pupils pulsed out and pulled in, a steady hypnotic rhythm; if those eyes could be read, Tallen didn't know how just yet, "I didn't think it was because the Wolf's that great in bed, but if I was wrong..."

"What?" the tone sat somewhere between offended and amused, "Whatever do you get this notion of me?"

A shrug, "Well, at first it made sense. The nice clothes, the personal escort, the – well, everything, if you're not fighting for him. There's got to be some reason, right?"

"And your first guess is I am Canaan's pampered whore? He is married, you know?"

"When has that ever stopped anyone? Besides, I didn't say I still thought it."

"No? And what changed your mind?"

"...just a feeling," the doubts had been piling up for days, but yesterday finished it for good. Not a whore, definitely not. "Doesn't mean you're not sleeping with him."

Trick smiled, "Canaan's sexual interest is a hard thing to capture, harder to keep. I would not have what it took, even were we inclined to try, which neither of us are. His husband is a better match, by far."

Tallen's mind flashed back on the image of the blond elf with the yellow eyes; good match, sure.

"London told you this? That I was Canaan's whore?"

"Not in so many words. Though I don't know how else you'd interpret those words."

Trick laughed, in almost genuine amusement, leaning back on the couch, head tilted up, laughing. Tallen again wondered how old he was; eighteen, younger maybe?

"Well now," a gloved hand snatched his full mug off the table, talking a long drink, "How interesting."

"How so?" Tallen still didn't think it an unreasonable assumption to make, if you didn't know any-

"Because he is lying to you.," Trick said, "I know not what he knows, so I know not the degree. But if he told you not to worry about me, it is a lie."

"Should I even ask why?"

"We met. Briefly. He did not come to me because he thought me Canaan's whore. And if he believed me a convenient weak point, he learned otherwise."

Tallen found his gaze drawn to the network of burns on the man's arms and face; too extensive to be a simple charm or enhancement, in bright color instead of ore toned, and doesn't that mean something? He suspected the answer to most of the recent questions was right there in shimmering blue, though it did beg several more questions itself.

Trick smiled, small and secret, "You are very perceptive. Perhaps one day I shall reward that with a response. Though not today."

"That something I should look forward to then?"

"Information is always a reward, I know that more than most. It is why we are talking, yes?"

Trick was enjoying himself, that was clear, and for once it was not at his own expense. If he wanted to be honest, Tallen was enjoying himself, as well; that ease he'd always felt was less threatening now.

"While we're on the subject, maybe you can clear something up for me?"

"Perhaps."

Tallen leaned forward, elbows on his knees, "See, I've had all these theories for a while, about the truth to bullshit ratio in London's stories."

Trick leaned forward in turn, "Go on."

"You know his heroic origin story? That he rose from the ashes here, lost his family, fought the Wolf, decided to become a hunter and the world's fucking champion?"

"I am familiar with it."

"See, it always just sounded a little too good to me. And conveniently, there's no one left to contradict any of it."

"Convenient, that."

"But convenient for me, here you are," a smile, "So tell me, underling of the Wolf, what's the story from your side?"

Face mock serious, Trick's head tilted to the side, "You already know the answer to that."

But it was still so satisfying to hear. "I knew it. I fucking knew it." He drained his mug in celebration, grateful to have the real good stuff for this, "I bet he really did cut his own arm off, too, that lying bastard."

"Oh, no," regretful, "Canaan did that. Not as he says, though."

"Well, how much not?"

Trick paused, thinking it over; there must be more to the story, something he wasn't willing to share yet, and that was almost answer enough. Finally, he settled with, "That man is not from Green River."

"I thought so," Only now it was certain. He wasn't blinded by hate, he wasn't reading too much into things, or any of the other million excuses people could use to brush him away – he was fucking right, and he always had been. "I just don't understand, why no one else sees it. It seems so obvious to me, he's a piece of shit, just look at him. But no one questions it. They just flock to him anyway."

"They are not privy to the back stage, as you are, as I am." a sigh, "I doubt they do not question, but that they need, as you say, a champion. And he has stepped forth where no other did. They may be willing to allow for much, so long as he helps them recovery from their tragedy."

It was a splash of cold water, that phrasing. "A tragedy?"

Trick's face was solemn, "It was unfortunate, yes."

Tallen thought back to what the city looked like when he'd first arrived, still half in ruins, blood still visible in the street. He thought about the two kids, a brother sister pair maybe, that had come to Elleth from Green River; he didn't remember their names or faces, just the haunted look in their eyes, the stories they told about what they saw in the aftermath.

He thought about people asleep in their beds who were never going to wake up again, would never know what happened. Maybe he didn't have room to judge; wasn't that a frightening thought.

"Why do you stay?"

"Pardon?"

"Why do you do it?" he sounded almost angry; he didn't know why, he hadn't intended to speak, "If you're not a killer, why do you stay with someone who is? How can you stand it?"

He wasn't expecting an answer, it was a surprise when he got one.

"Because Canaan saved my life. That is a – simplification, and only part, but easy to state alone, rather than to say you do not know him as I do, and that is also true. I owe him everything."

There was a weight to those words, a sense of long history behind them, a depth of feeling he did not understand. It was clear, Trick's loyalty to the Wolf was absolute, unshakable, in spite of anything else. He wondered what the Wolf had done to earn such a thing; he couldn't imagine ever feeling that himself, not for anyone

"I'm not...going anywhere."

-else...

"And what of you then?" Trick asked now, "Why do you remain by the side of a man you loath, doing work you hate? Surely you are of an age now to no longer need a warden?"

A fair question, but not one he could answer, not yet. "I have my reasons."

Trick nodded, understanding, "Of course. And perhaps I shall hear those reasons one day, when you are ready to trust me with them."

"When, huh?"

"You are still figuring it out, I know. You need time to assess, as I took my own. I will make myself available to you, in turn."

"You mean, you'll keep coming to the bar to drink? Or on my coin now?"

"I do not think you will get as much from that as I did. But that is why I secured this room."

Part of Tallen, a huge part, almost shouted in relief, seeing a long awaited light at the end of the tunnel just when you thought you'd be lost forever. Another part, battered, wiser, had to ask, "And why would you? Why do you even care?"

Trick considered his response, "I suppose I do not know enough to care, as you say. It was a curiosity, at first, a way to pass the time." he smiled, "You though, are more than I first assumed. And it is, more, than mere curiosity now."

Tallen had to agree, this turned out more – interesting, than he'd thought it would be. He stretched his arms out, loose and relaxed, the alcohol left a pleasant buzz in his head he could enjoy without compunction; he was looking forward to this, for once.

"You play Push?"

"If you will allow, let me teach you an alternate play. It is much the same, but two cards stay turned down until after the bet is made."

He frowned, "So, you won't know if you can make that move until after?"

"Yes, you are supposed to guess."

"Why would you play that way?"

"Because I cheat."

"Have you ever thought about not cheating?"

"I wish I could. But you make it so easy."

Tallen thought he could read laughter in those pulsing eyes above that teasing smile; as bizarre as it was, it was also kind of charming. He sighed, put upon, "All right, fine, cheater. We'll play it your way. Loser buys drinks. And I mean that special secret vault shit, I'm not drinking any of that other crap again."

---

V

He found Canaan sitting on the whorehouse rooftop, watching what passed for a sunset in Outworld, the gradual darkening of the perpetual grey sky. It was his favorite place in the house, in the whole sector they unofficially owned; the storm clouds stayed calm and steady. Trick came out the open attic window, joining him on the edge.

"You've been gone a while. Enjoy yourself?"

"Yes, quite." An unnecessary reply, Canaan could see his change in mood; the storm clouds rumbled in approval.

"Well, report then."

Trick let his bare feet dangle in the open air; a small bit of freedom feeling the breeze on his skin, different from how it brushed against his burned arms. He took one final moment to finish organizing his thoughts.

"He is the same man. Inside and out. Perhaps more so, now. I used to, then, at times, see glimpses of the good man he should have been, if not for London and...all else. Tallen, this Tallen, he grew up better. Not well, but it never is so simple for those like us. Better still, and he is closer to that man now than he was before," he smiled, not for the first time today, by far, "It is good to see."

Ripples of understanding; Trick had never shared what he knew of Tallen's past, but Canaan had figured much of it out on his own.

He continued, "He does not know me. And he does." This part, he knew, would be hard to explain, but important to get right, "He plays the escort correctly, every move, with no prompting. He signals with thought. He puts himself in front and handles people for me, without having to be asked. He even ordered food for me then-him would have known I liked," a sigh, "I ask, and he tells me about a boy, very...shy, who needed such protection. And, he supposes, he saw the same in me. His mind rushes to fill in the blanks, with whatever it can grasp."

Canaan listened, heard the details but the bigger picture understandably eluded him.

"Tallen has access to his long term memory. His mind has adapted itself. With you and I, it was a forced process. Even re-sculpted it took time, lifetimes, for the change to set and function as it ought. If you remember."

"Very vaguely."

"Tallen has had no such assistance. He managed it on his own."

"Is that possible?"

"I may not have thought so, yet here we are. With enough time, as they say." With that, he had Canaan's full attention, "This is not new. It can't be. To have done this, he must – I think he has been walking around like this for a very long time."

"How long?"

"Impossible to say. Not our age, perhaps, but-"

"But you don't have to be half as old to be ancient," sparks of disbelief, the storm cloud roiled in unrest, "How is that possible? How does this go unnoticed?"

"By drawing no attention to himself, I would imagine. Most live their whole lives beyond notice."

"Which accounts for almost everyone, but Lynk should've seen the pattern. Unless he's being shielded somehow. And why the fuck would anyone do this, what purpose does it serve?"

Trick couldn't say, except to think it would be an ingenuous way to slip a hidden tool into play, as Strife thought. But he wasn't ready to believe that yet, didn't want to believe it. He took a deep breath, "There is more."

"Great. What now?"

"He told me some of his life in Veil. Before coming here, he was in a – he called it a group home. Thought of it as...as a prison, for kids?"

"I know what you mean."

"There was a boy he knew there, that he was in love with. Still is, it appears. He did not share much detail, I sense it was a more conflicted relationship than he let on. His feeling is very strong, nonetheless."

Canaan laughed, lightning ripples of amusement, "Some things never change, do they?"

"Indeed," deep breath, "He said the boy's name was Landon Frost."

Only a moment, and Canaan's mind lit up in alarm, "Frost?"

"It may be nothing. Frost is not an uncommon Veil clan name. It may be bleed through, and the boy's name was not Frost at all. Or, perhaps-"

"There's two of them," Canaan's voice was firm, his mind certain, like this was the missing puzzle piece that completed the frame.

"If I were to request a description, would you remember what he looked like?"

A brief hesitation, "No. Only met him the once, he wasn't that memorable. And plenty else that day was." A shift through his memories revealed the truth of that, images were vague and fuzzy, retaining no fine detail; stronger was the impression the boy had left.

(Thought he'd be weak. Too frail, useless and in my way. But when the time came, he held his own, kept his head, did what he was told. Got to respect that. Not hard to see what motivated it either...Tallen was a blind idiot.)

"No need to, anyway. Its the same guy, too. Of course it is."

"This makes sense to you then?" Trick asked.

"For there to be a pair, yeah. Whatever this is, looks too risky not to hedge your bets. Besides, whatever that mess in An'khte-har was, he was involved in it. Those men were after him, too."

He frowned, "You think they are connected?"

"Someone wanted those two, alive or dead, stranger if it wasn't related." But rather than linger over it, Canaan's mind quickly moved on, "Doesn't matter now. Do we know where he is?"

"No. Tallen lost contact years ago. He wishes to find the boy again, but Veil had proven hard to navigate."

"You can't locate him?"

"I never met him, I would not know what to look for. Even assuming there is something unusual to spy, and that does not appear likely."

"Well then, we're just going to have to build a small information network in Veil. So that we can be helpful when the time comes."

"You want to bring Frost into the group?" Trick shook his head, "I do not think Tallen will allow that. He is, if anything, more protective this cycle. There is bleed through there, beyond a doubt."

"I'll settle for knowing where he can be found." Canaan's mind worked quick, sketching out a rudimentary plan, a list of things to look into, to discuss with Strife when he returned from his errand. "You notice anything else? Does he have any awareness at all?"

"No, no conscious awareness," disappointment clear in his tone, "I do not believe that barrier can be pulled down without assistance. Paper thin it may be, but he is stuck with it."

Canaan's thoughts turned to his recent pre-awakening, too long for his liking as it was. Trick himself had long since forgotten that feeling, knowing you are more than what you are, unable to reconcile your supposed reality.

"I saw the glyph Strife mentioned. Tallen allowed me a long study of it."

"And?"

"The pendant is a thing he made. Made it up, he believes. It appears a legitimate glyph, but I do not think it will help us."

"Why not?"

Trick pulled off a glove, the air pricking at his exposed burns. He touched a finger to the shingle roof between them, the tightly woven bits of energy thrummed beneath, reacting. Separate, soften.

"Are you mangling my roof?"

"Not mangling, I will fix it," he drew the symbol he'd carefully memorized before handing back the pendant with a compliment to its craftsmanship: elegant twisting lines, bracketed by four small circles. "Do you see my point?"

Canaan looked, "Should I?"

"You should recognize the pattern if naught else." gesturing, "The four circles. They mean earth."

And he understood. The oldest and most insular divine court, earth gods were focused on maintaining their individual territories, spoke only with each other and cared for nothing else. Even powerful primordials like Lynk would have to fight for an audience, human sphere deities like Drogan were held in contempt, and humans themselves? May as well not exist. They certainly didn't imprint people.

"Seems a bit much to be a coincidence."

"It may not be, earth glyphs are location specific. This may be somewhere he lived, once. A memorable place. Perhaps even the origin point."

Canaan kept staring, storm front churning, quick sparks of lightning thought, "Track it down."

That came as some surprise, "Why?"

\ "Its the only clue we got. Might as well follow it, see where it goes," a pause, "He's your friend, don't you want to know what you can?"

More than anything. Trick placed his naked palm over the glyph, "There are thousands of those in the records. It could take forever."

A laugh, "We have forever. And apparently, so does Tallen."

Trick pulled his hand up; the glyph was wiped away, the shingle once again flawless, if too smooth, standing out sharply from the rest.

A clean slate.

---

VI

In another darkened room, another aether phone's light changed from blue to red.

Imitation metal fingers drummed the desk top, taunt with anticipation.

"My lord. I've made contact."

The drumming stopped; lips pulled back in a grin, a breath of relief released into the empty room.

"I guess this means moving to the next part."

Finally, after all this time.

"I'll keep you posted."

Progress.