|
For No Miser’s Sake
By Kuliundheft
Part IV More people had gathered in Father’s chamber as the news of the attack spread; Vincent could hear the buzz of their conversation from the corridor, could feel their apprehension and anger as he stepped through the doorway. He stood at the top of the steps, but didn’t descend, and it only took a moment or two for everyone to notice him and quiet down. “Well?” Winslow said when no one else volunteered to speak. “The danger has passed,” Vincent said, and even Brian sighed in relief. “Father is finishing the last of the stitches now. There should be no lasting damage.” “Can I see him now?” Jamie asked from where she’d been talking to Joshua. “He’s still asleep. But you should be able to sit with him.” She nodded and darted past him. “Father and Mary will be finished with Mouse soon.” He looked at Winslow and Pascal. “They’re calling the Council to meet as soon as they’re finished.” “I’ll get my father,” Pascal said, but he lingered. “Joshua, Dominic,” Vincent said, “Father will want to hear what you saw.” Both young men nodded where they stood together, their staffs still in hand. Vincent looked back into the room, but no one met his gaze. The silence drew on. The newcomers kept their eyes and their heads down. Winslow and Pascal shared a look. Had Jonathan’s discord spread, then? With the crisis past, would they blame him for Mouse’s injuries, for not doing more to protect his charges? Pascal drew close to him then and spoke quietly, “Vincent, perhaps you should go and wash up.” Vincent stared at him blankly. “You look like hell. And you still have Mouse’s blood on you,” Pascal explained in the same hushed tones. “It’s a little unsettling.” Vincent looked down at himself and found the gruesome palm print on his shoulder, turned brown and dull with the hours. He remembered the moment it was pressed to the fabric of his shirt with a gasp of pain and wide, suffering eyes. He looked away from it. Pascal laid a hand on his clean shoulder. “You got him to Father in time. He’s going to be all right. Focus on that.” Vincent touched Pascal’s shoulder briefly before nodding and ducking out to wash and change. He chided himself for overreacting to the silent stares he’d met; the palpability of the strangers’ fear in his father’s chamber was getting to him, clearly. This was his home, these were his family; he tried to let that thought outweigh the gross incongruity of the attack. He tried to take refuge in the love and acceptance everyone here had always given him, that he might hide away where the cold facts that separated him from every other living soul wouldn’t find him. By the time he returned, Father’s chamber was half full with people who had heard the news; Vincent heard anger and fear in the murmuring that escaped out into the corridor. He walked in and took stock of the situation. Tunnel folk lined the walls, forming a loose ring around the strangers. The youngest girl was still curled in her father’s lap, her back to the hostility around her, her face in her father’s shoulder. The elder girl sat in another chair pulled close so she could lean against her father, who had wrapped one tight arm around each girl. He stared up at Vincent as though he were some waking nightmare. Vincent looked away from them. He spied Winslow and Pascal talking with William and a few others and keeping a wary eye on their captives. After a few moments, the others began to notice him, and the murmuring dropped off. He stepped up to the top of the stairs. “Is Mouse really going to be okay?” Olivia called from the back. “Yes. Father was able to stop the bleeding. Mouse should heal well.” “What happened?” Vivian demanded. “Jamie says the strangers did this.” An angry cry passed through the gathered tunnel dwellers. The strangers drew still closer together, shrinking in on themselves as one unit. “One stranger did this,” Vincent told her, told everyone. “The children had nothing to do with it.” Vivian and a few of the others had the good grace to look a little chagrined. Vincent looked around the room again, at all the eyes trained on him. There was still volatility in the gathered crowd, kindling waiting for a match. “This is a difficult matter,” he said. It wasn’t his place to dictate how things should proceed, but he could put his voice to the obvious problem and hope for a promising result. “The Council will need peace to discuss it.” “That man stabbed Mouse. And you. How difficult can it be?” William demanded to a chorus of agreements. “More than that,” Winslow said. “Vincent’s right. The Council has a lot to talk about, and we’re all already upset enough. This will be a closed session. If you weren’t there when it happened, clear out.” There were general protests, but it didn’t take Winslow long to get everyone moving, and Vincent relaxed slightly. He descended the steps then, looking again at the strangers as the man kissed the top of his eldest daughter’s head and whispered to her, even while his eyes roamed the dispersing crowd warily. Vincent caught Olivia by the elbow as she moved past him. “Olivia, the children don’t need to stay for this.” He nodded to the two blonde girls. “Can you make them comfortable while the Council makes their decision?” She looked at them, less than enthusiastically, but she nodded. They approached the strangers; the man’s gaze homed in on Vincent’s face and didn’t shift. Vincent met it as he stayed at Olivia’s side. “Hi. My name’s Olivia. What are your names?” Both girls looked up at their father, but he didn’t show any sign of noticing. “I’m Melody,” said the eldest. “This is Andrea. What’s going on? What’s going to happen?” “That’s what the Council is going to decide. But it’s going to take some time. You and your sister should come get some supper.” The man noticed the conversation for the first time and looked up at Olivia, even as his grip on his daughter tightened. “You’re gonna take my kids away?” “Olivia won’t take them far,” Vincent said. “But the day has been hard enough on them.” “I don’t want to go anywhere without Dad,” Melody said. She glared up at Vincent. “He didn’t mean to hurt the boy.” “Does that mean he meant to hurt Vincent?” Olivia countered. The girl scowled, but she dropped her eyes. “It’s all right, Mel,” said the man. He returned his gaze to Vincent, even as he spoke to his daughter. “Take Andy and get something to eat while I handle this.” “But Dad—” He looked down at her then, with something like a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me, kiddo. Now no more arguments. You two will just be bored with all of this, anyway.” Father and daughter held each others’ gazes for a moment before Melody nodded. She shuffled out of the chair and took her sister’s hand. They made it two steps with heads held high before Melody turned back and threw her arms around her father. He held her fast and dropped kisses into her hair. After a moment, he pulled back. “Now you two be good.” He put a hand on each head. “I’ll come find you when we’re done here.” “What’s going to happen?” Melody whispered. “I don’t know. But don’t worry about it. It’s not your job to worry, remember? Your job is to watch out for each other and make your old man proud.” Melody nodded, her eyes bright. He kissed them each on the forehead and sent them off with Olivia. “They’ll be safe,” Vincent said; whatever else he felt about this man or the trouble he had brought to them, a father’s worry for his children was a hard thing to ignore. The man nodded, watching them disappear into the corridor. Then he met Vincent’s gaze again, his expression hardening. “Their old man, though, that’s another story altogether, eh?” “We’ll see,” Vincent answered. He turned to speak with Winslow, but stopped when the stranger said, “What are you?” Vincent turned his head to meet his gaze, but he decided not to answer. Instead, he crossed the room to stand close to Winslow. “All right. What happened?” Winslow asked quietly. Vincent took him through the events as he remembered them, getting to his own helplessness on the training room floor before Winslow spoke. “That’s when Mouse stepped in front of this man?” Vincent nodded. “What is wrong with that boy?” Winslow asked. “He’s got a big damn stick in his hands, and he still gets himself nearly killed in a matter of seconds. What kind of sentry is he going to make?” “I imagine things didn’t happen the way he wanted them to.” Winslow snorted. “Boy’s just lucky you run as fast as you do, I’ll tell you that.” Vincent nodded toward the man. “Who is he?” “Brian Kessler. There’s some kind of trouble his wife got into. She worked accounting for one of the big warehouses down on the docks. I guess the numbers didn’t add up, and she discovered one of them was smuggling something, probably drugs. They killed her. Brian went to the police with his suspicions about her death, and that’s when him and the girls became a target. Jacqueline felt that there wasn’t time for the usual procedures. I’ve half a mind to throttle the woman next time I see her.” “But you believe the danger Above is real?” Winslow looked him up and down the way he did when he thought Vincent’s quest for truth and justice had drifted into madness, but he nodded. “No reason to think it’s not. Jackie’s the worst kinda’ fool, bringing those three down on us, but she knows trouble when she sees it.” A few minutes later, Father and Mary entered the chamber, both looking gray and tired, but resolute. Jamie trailed behind them a moment or two later. Winslow shifted Brian to a chair in the middle of the room, to give the Council space to sit in their accustomed places. By the time Pascal helped Edward shuffle in, everyone was settled and ready to get this all over with. Pascal lowered his father into an armchair, and the sight of the old pipemaster’s trembling legs stirred melancholy in Vincent; Edward had always been a steadfast figure in his life, in the lives of everyone Below, full of vitality and quick, cutting wit. But he had been well into his forties when Pascal was born, and now his strength was failing him. His mind and his tongue were still sharp, but there could be no denying what was coming. Vincent saw it in Pascal’s face as he checked that his father didn’t need anything more, the way his fingers lingered on his father’s arm. “I’m fine, lad, quit your clucking,” Edward admonished, but his hand covered his son’s for a moment, silently tender, silently grateful. Pascal nodded and made for the stairs, but Edward called him back. “You ought to stay for this, might learn something you need later.” Pascal glanced around, but no one offered any objection; he had been his father’s proxy in Council more and more over the last year, and so far he was favored against William to take Edward’s position in the vote the tunnel folk had scheduled for the next common meeting. Still, he shook his head. “I can’t leave the pipes.” He ducked out of the chamber then, and everyone settled down to the grim business before them. Father cleared his throat and regarded Brian over his glasses with poorly disguised ire. “Mister Kessler. Do you understand why we’re gathered here? Again?” Brian nodded. “Very well. Let’s begin. We’ll hear everyone’s version of what happened. Joshua, we’ll start with you.” Joshua told the Council about the sudden attack, the way it happened so quickly he wasn’t even sure exactly what had happened first, second, and third. It was strange, because Vincent’s memory of each moment was so exact, so clear, the sequence perfectly linear in his mind, from the first intruding footstep to the moment he relinquished control of Mouse’s fate to Father. Dominic went next, his narration only slightly more coherent. When he was finished, he looked at Vincent. “I should have done something. I know I should have. It was just so quick—” “I’m glad you stayed at a safe distance,” Vincent answered firmly. He looked in no way satisfied, but he took the hint and didn’t argue further. Jamie spoke next, her narration spirited and accusing, but Winslow’s dark looks kept her in check. Vincent watched Father’s face, the way his mouth turned further downward with each new telling, the way the habitual kindness in his eyes gave way to smoldering anger. When he was called upon, Vincent kept his report factual and concise, but the facts did nothing to ease the tension mounting against the stranger in their midst. The attack had been unprovoked. Lives had been put in danger by this man. Blood had been spilled. One boy had very nearly paid too dearly. Finally, Brian himself was called on to give testimony, and his shoulders bowed under the weight of their collective scrutiny. He stood and glanced around, but he didn’t meet any of the cold eyes trained on him. “We got lost,” he said. “A-after Jackie left, Andy ran away from us. I think she was scared. I think she wanted to go back to the city. Um, Above. And Mel and me went to go find her. And we did, but she looked so scared. Like she’d seen something. Crying and everything. And she said, um,” he paused. He looked at Vincent for a moment before looking again at the Council, at his hands, at a stack of books to his right. He swallowed and pushed the words out. “She said monsters lived in these caves. And I told her that was ridiculous, that we would be safe here, but she was so frightened. She said she’d seen one, and it was going to eat another girl, and I had to save her.” Vincent had suspected, feared. There was no other explanation for the attack, made without warning but with a clear target. The man before them showed no signs of being a threat otherwise; his love for his daughters and his fear of this new place, these new people, were both honest. No, the strange fierceness of Vincent’s face had to be the root cause of all of this, the reason Mouse— “Is she stupid, or something?” Joshua demanded, his voice brash and obscene against Vincent’s disquiet. Jamie and Dominic failed to hide their snorting laughs, but all three quieted under disapproving looks from their elders. “Please ignore our own numpties, Mister Kessler,” Edward growled. “Go on.” “S-so I went to look. Andy was so insistent, and I thought I’d find a dog or something, and I could explain that everything was all right. Only, I didn’t.” He looked at the Council now, beseeching. “I couldn’t tell it was just training. The girl got pushed down, and I reacted.” He looked at Jamie. “You look a little like my Mel. What else could I have done?” He looked at the Council, raising his chin against them and narrowing his eyes. “And you all could have warned a man with two daughters, you know? What the hell else do you have walking around down here? Bigfoot? Frankenstein’s monster?” Vincent ignored the way that most of the eyes in the room shifted in his direction, like they were afraid of his reaction. He dropped his gaze away from theirs, grateful at least that the burning in his face did not show through on his skin. Bigfoot, savage creature with the size and gait of a man but the howl and hair of a beast. Frankenstein’s monster, mismatched and so repellent, so unspeakably wrong, that men craved nothing except his obliteration from their world. The truth of what outsiders, topsiders, saw in him at first glance. Edward broke the silence, his tone frigid and cutting. “Admittedly, we assumed the lot of you could make it to supper without putting any of us in hospital. It was, indeed, a gross oversight on our part.” Brian’s brief ferocity wilted under the ice in these words. He sank back into his chair and put his face in one hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” he said. “Vincent is somebody,” Jamie answered, and none of the Council begrudged her the outburst. “He’s family.” Brian looked up at her. “I thought you were in danger. I was trying to help you.” “Then how did Mouse get stabbed?” she demanded. “The boy.” Brian scrubbed his face with one hand, as though he could wipe the horror of the memory away. “He was just there. I was moving, and then he was there, and I couldn’t stop. I tried to stop. I didn’t want to hurt him. I—I felt the knife go in, and—oh, God.” He looked away, tried to hide his face away, and Vincent understood the break in his voice so deeply that he nearly reached out to him. No one spoke. After untold ticks of the old wall clock, Brian found some measure of composure and addressed the Council. “I’m sorry, all right? I can’t do anything else, except be sorry. Just let us go. Please. We’ll forget this place even exists. We’ll forget today ever happened. We couldn’t find our way down here again if we tried. Just let us go.” The four Councilors exchanged looks and murmurs. Father addressed the witnesses at large. “What’s happened to this knife?” “I think it’s still in the training room,” Jamie said. “The topsider dropped it when Vincent grabbed him.” Father nodded. “Joshua, Dominic, I’d like you to go down and fetch the knife. Jamie, someone should sit with Mouse until Mary and I are finished here.” All three knew when they were being gotten rid of, but they had their tasks, and they took to them without complaint. |