TR: 16

Chapter Sixteen: Time will Tell

The massive hand laid down on the earth, gnarled fingers splaying out like millennia-old tree roots. The gnome hopped down to the earth and Brian followed, his legs shaky and his nerves nearly shot from the half-hour long battle against towering heights on the shoulder of a veritable giant. It had taken everything in his power not to vomit all over Grombler;  Brian couldn’t think of many less decorous ways to thank someone for their hospitality. 

“We have arrived. In good time, I might add.” Grombler boomed, hunkered over as he spoke to them.

Even in his current position, Grombler was still taller than most arenas Brian had seen. An impressive creature, indeed, though he still had no idea what the hell he was.

“Great warden, we thank ye for your kind service.” Tobay bowed.

Brian nodded and gave his own version of a half-bow. Grombler didn’t seem to pay heed to the formalities and grabbed his stomach as he laughed, the other head there chuckling along with him as well.

“Oh, ho ho ho! You feyfolken always flatter. Consider our debts settled then. Although…”

Grombler surveyed the area with a hand held to his brow.

“…I’m not too sure how you managed to hide a city in these parts. I can see nothing but trees and fields, for quite some distance. Is this…a magickal city, perhaps?”

The gnome smiled. “Ah, nothing quite so grand, I’m afraid. But crafty–that is another manner!”

Tobay looked around them for several seconds then something caught his eye. “Aha! There.”

He hustled excitedly over to a large red toadstool growing not far off near a patch of briar. He pointed at the mushroom.

“Here. Just one of many ways hidden among these woods.”

Brian frowned. He saw Grombler scratch his head in thought, the large creature seeming equally perplexed.

“A mushroom? What significance does this particular little spore hold?” Grombler asked.

Tobay raised a finger as he explained. “Well, the importance of mushrooms in our culture is a long story for another time but, this particular mushroom…”

Tobay reached down and grabbed the ‘shroom around the fruiting body and pulled. The ground around its base shifted and a square section of dirt and grass lifted up, revealing a trapdoor leading into the earth.

“….is no mushroom at all. It’s a handle.”

Grombler’s eyes widened on both his heads. “Amazing! You gnomes are truly fascinating creatures, inside and out.” He chuckled.

Tobay gave Brian a concerned look as the memories of Grombler’s insides came to the surface. “Ah, yes…” He rubbed his head. “Those were…interesting times, to say the least.”

Grombler grinned, a huge crevice splitting across his face. “Then this marks my departure, I’m afraid. There are many trees and little ones that need tending.”

Brian cleared his throat. “Um, about that…If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly do you do? I mean, I’m still not sure exactly what you are…”

Tobay jumped, grabbing Brian by the arm and moving him hastily behind him as he stepped between the two. “Ah, hahaha… What my impulsive friend here means to say is thank you again, for all of your help. We know you must be busy, so we will not delay you further.”

“Hey, that’s not what I asked…”

Tobay stomped on Brian’s foot and Brian yelped. Grombler exchanged looks between them, a confused series of wrinkles spreading out across his leathery forehead.

“Well then, that settles it. I will be off then. Farewell little ones. May our paths cross again in the future, I hope it is on this side of my anatomy.” He chuckled, his guttural laughs shaking the earth around them like preemptive tremors.

He stood back up slowly, almost laboriously, the full scale of his height taking considerable time to reach. Grombler’s appendages creaked like arthritic trees shifting in the wind as he stood upright, shifting his shoulders back and adjusting his neck as he stretched out the kinks that had formed there.

Brian looked over at the opening in the ground.

“So this is where you live? Another hole in the ground?”

“Very funny. This one is intentional, I assure you. It’s not much of a front door but gnomes aren’t exactly forthcoming in that regard. It’s how we have stayed alive so long: we stay hidden.”

“What are you hiding from?” Brian asked.

Tobay sighed. “A great many things, unfortunately. But that will have to wait for another time. We need to hurry before…”

“Whoa!” Brian interjected.

“What? What is it?” Tobay asked frantically, his head pivoting around three-sixty.

“Grombler, he’s…gone.”

Tobay realized the very same thing, seeing a great empty space with two massive footprints where Grombler had been standing only moments before.

“Amazing…” Tobay whispered.

“Uh, if you mean creepy by amazing, sure. How does something that big just disappear?”

Tobay shook his head solemnly. “There are a great many things in this world that I do not understand, Brian. All I know is that Grombler is merely the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the mysteries that Rynn has to offer.”

“Well, if you mean a really, really big tip of the iceberg, sure. I still say it’s bizarre.”

Tobay nodded. “That’s as good a definition as any, I suppose. The Deepwoods are anything but normal. Especially, over the last decade or so.”

He shook his head, breaking the spell of Grombler’s sudden disappearance. “Let’s go.”

He ran over to the door and stood to its side, waiting for Brian. Brian gave the clearing one last long look and shrugged.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; dinosaurs in basements aren’t exactly standard procedure either. Man, what a day.”

He sighed and made his way over to the trapdoor, leaning over as he looked down at the winding staircase descending into the earth.

“Am I gonna even fit down there?”

Tobay nodded. “You’re going to have to if you want to see your friend. They don’t make these things for humans, you know.”

Brian grunted. He climbed down and managed to squeeze his broad shoulders through the opening, hunkering over as he disappeared down the stairs. Tobay’s eyes scanned the area once more, hoping to find something that wasn’t there. He didn’t know what he had hoped to see; perhaps an explanation, but none was to be found.

“Bizarre, indeed.”

With that, he stepped into the stairway and pulled the door back over them, leaving behind nought but a seamless field of grass with a single mushroom in the wake of two massive, mysterious footprints.

***

The bodies struck the wall and flopped to the floor like a handful of wet rags. The flows had been more difficult to weave in the halls of Klath’en Diar where the air hung thin, stale and old as the bones of the walls themselves. It was as if no one had ever opened a window in the place. Though the man in the orcish armour felt somewhat claustrophobic with every consecutive breath he drew, the spell had done its job and the six figures on the floor lay lifeless. Interestingly enough, they all the wore the same garments: some kind of shapeless robe with no distinguishing features to it. He turned the body of a young man over with the toe of his boot and looked past the lifeless eyes of the elf to an insignia emblazoned on the chest of the cloak. Curious, he squatted down and examined the image, not familiar with its design. He reached over and pulled an adjacent corpse onto its back, revealing an identical emblem on the breast of the young woman. He pulled out the device he had procured from his campfire friends and took a snapshot with its imaging function, though he still did not quite understand how an object could take a “picture” outside of itself, nor did he understand how he had figured out how to operate it. It was if, the longer he kept the thing, the more knowledge it imparted onto him. The whole affair seemed rather creepy to him. He didn’t like being a puppet and, if he was being played by one of the Thirteen, he would find out why. Just as he would find out who these strange intruders were and what their purpose served.

He stared at the image captured on the device.

“Some kind of cult, maybe? Bah, despicable. Zealots. I’ve had my share of them. More the reason to wipe them all out and cleanse these halls of their filth!”

He put the device back in a pouch and ignited a ball of furious red fire in each of his hands, stalking down the halls with renewed contempt. The halls came to a cross ahead of him and he watched as a gaggle of cloaked figures passed in front of him, disappearing down the hall. Their complete disregard toward his presence confirmed both their weakness and blatant ignorance in his mind, and this further enraged him. He charged down the hall, drawing in more and more energy from his surroundings as he fed it to the spells collecting in his palms. As he rounded the corner, he took aim at the backs of the large group, proceeding down the way and still unawares.

Suddenly, a voice from somewhere not too far off resonated into his mind.

….these are hard times, yes. But soon….and with the fragment we shall…No, I haven’t heard…that is what they are saying, yes. Only then we can obtain the power necessary…Virtue, and being…Forever is a long time…

The man lowered his arms and let the spells dissipate into nothing. He honed in on the direction of the voice and proceeded slowly down the hall toward its source. He rounded a corner and came to a dead end with a small bench before a shrine. A conical window revealed a segment of the fortress adjacent to it, across an open span perhaps four blades long. He knew the speakers were on the other side of that wall. He placed his hand against the stone wall to his side and let the flows pour through them. He created a channel through the stone, increasing the density until the vibrations of sound were audible. The voices came at him as if he were in the very same room. It was two men, one quite elderly, given the laboured pauses between words and the struggling of enunciation of certain sounds.

“I would reprimand you, scholar, were your tenacity for our cause not greater than your optimism.” said the elder.

“Optimism is a function of events yet-to-be -determined, my lord; of this topic, I am certain. The stones are clear: a messenger is on its way and it bears the breath of breaths.”

There was a wheeze and a cough, a clearing of a throat. “These…these are the words that were given? In that exact phrasing?”

“Verbatim, my lord.”

“This dictum…this is from Legacy canon, are you aware of this fact, scholar?”

“I am, my lord. It is my sole purpose in this life to know these things.”

“Then you will also know that the clergy will want proof beyond the chattering of your little toys, scholar. They do not take charged statements regarding prophecy of his return lightly, just as would behoove of you to do. That is, of course, if you value the position that your head has upon your shoulders.”

There was an audible silence between the two and the man in the orcish armour could pick up the increased drumming of the scholar’s heart. The scholar swallowed.

“A most significant value on my part, my lord. A position I very much wish to keep for the term of my nature. I shall redouble my efforts with the scours and bring you something more…tangible for our next encounter.”

“See that you do. That will be all then.”

Despite the elder’s wavering inflections, the man could tell there was resentment in his voice. Whether it was resentment from his years and the corporeal defects it had brought with them–of which the man could sense several–or the haughty arrogance that the elder’s station had impressed upon him, the man could not tell. The thought of such a frail, pitiful old wretch holding himself in such high regard over his watches made the man disgusted. Leaders were supposed to inspire and be inspired, not waste away on a throne and spit at every cockroach that wandered past them. This man, this lord, whoever he was, had earned a place at the top of the man’s target roster. The elder’s level of entitlement notwithstanding, the old man had the highest energy signature that the man in the orcish armour could sense in the vicinity; the added challenge only further fueled his motivation to put the coot out of his misery. Yet, despite the elder’s pending demise, he appeared to be orchestrating some grand event; the return of him. Whoever he was. The man had his own ideas. No, better to uncover as much information as he could before jumping to fatalities. That was the work of a bee, not a boar.

As serendipity would have it, an errant novice passed by the alcove, the disturbed air in the wake of his passing enough to tip the man off in his attuned state. He released his hand from the wall and stepped out into the hall, staring at the back of the black-cloaked figure.

“It seems ignorance is a prerequisite to join your little cult.” he said to the novice.

The novice spun on his heels, revealing a leather-bound book in one hand. His expression was one of mild surprise while maintaining a veneer of vapid boredom. He raised his hand at the other, light slowly gathering from a nearby torch and feeding toward his palm. The man in the orcish armour did not afford him any moment further.

“Cinderra Forma!” He yelled at the novice.

The novice’s eyes widened before he burst into a billion particles of black dust, his cloak billowing out and up as it flew into the air, a diffuse cloud of smote all that remained in the place of the novice. The book fell to the floor with a thud, a pile of black ash collecting on and around it. The man guided the cloak ever-so-slightly with his mind and he raised his hands skyward, letting the vestment fall gracefully over his outstretched arms, settling perfectly in place on his shoulders. He stepped over to the pile and knelt down by the book, brushing away the novice dust that had collected there. The same insignia found on the others was embossed into the front of the book with gold filigree. The book itself looked to be older than he was, though he hadn’t yet quite figured out just how old that was.

He opened the book and was immediately struck by the strange glyphs and runes that made up the language of its pages. As he thumbed through them, the strangest thing began to occur in his mind. Slowly but constantly his eyes began to recognize patterns in the writings. At first, it was just the curve of a loop here or the point of a serif there, but it quickly evolved into recognizing entire forms–words then sentences. And then he was reading through the book as if he was fluent. He shook his head and lowered the book.

“By the gods. Either this book is enchanted or I am.” 

He took a breath and began scanning through the text again. He came to a section on holy sacraments, something called Ensupralatus. Though the name rang a distant bell, the Interloper couldn’t quite name the tune. The script went into excruciating detail about each rite, down to the placement of holy artifacts, specific gestures, and even the proper attire for the supplicants. He dithered on a diagram of a massive stone brazier, alive and blazing with charcoal-black fire.

Mejund’s Beacon, the plate read. Once lit, the Beacon serves as a conduit to guide those darklost back to the light.

“Darklost? What kind of game are these fools playing at?”

The Interloper dithered on the diagram of esoteric object, outlining its shape with his finger, as if to elicit some mystical response from the page. He stopped and tapped the page, pausing in thought.

“Interesting.”

He flipped through the pages and then, after powering through several paragraphs, pointed at a particular passage of interest.

“Aha, here. ‘And so said Methastaleth that the reigns…no, that’s not right…the lines of the seven Prophecies shall be guarded and revealed, only by and to the Keepers of Old; mark-ed by the kiss of Gar’athe, as was given to him by his master’s master’s master…'”

Pointedly, below the end of the passage was a large plate, taking up nearly two-thirds of the page, displaying the very same emblem of the cult.

“So these interlocking curves, they represent the branches of history that formed this group. Fitting that they model their insignia on a kiss; their philosophies are, no doubt, ones of bubbles and butterflies.”

He considered the book a moment longer then closed it, placing it into the voluminous pocket of his newly-appropriated robe.

“Still, this may contain necessaries. Better to hold on to it for later.”

He looked around, reaching out with his senses as he triangulated the positions of the nearest parties to his location.

“Just what are these Keepers ‘keeping’?”

He pulled the cowl over his head, obscuring his features in its depths.

“Best I go and find out.”

***

“You weren’t kidding when you said they don’t make these tunnels for humans.” Brian griped from behind Tobay.

“Yes, well, complaining about it the whole way isn’t going to widen them any, so…”

Brian grunted in response. Tobay had procured a small glowing stone from a nook in the wall which helped them light their way through the cramped crawlspace. The tunnel was forged straight into the earth and little effort had been made to reinforce it. Brian guessed either there wasn’t much seismic activity in the area or the gnomes were overly-confident in the strength of their designs. Either way, it felt as if he was wandering through a tube of packed dirt. As if in response to his thoughts, Tobay chimed in.

“These tunnels were originally designed as evacuation tunnels in the event of flooding, back when the first architects built the city. In case you were wondering, our main streets and avenues are somewhat more elegant than this.”

“Ah. So tell me, what did you mean back there about Kade?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said he was in trouble. That he could be killed for trespassing or something.”

There was a long silence as they made their way through the winding tunnels.

“Yes, it is an unfortunate corollary of gnome law. Any outsiders without proper permits will receive severe punishment from the authorities. In the case of your friend, being human doesn’t help his case any. My guess is, if he is discovered, they will send him to the dregs.”

“What are the dregs?”

“Nothing good, that much you can be sure of. But let’s deal with that when we get there. For now, we need to find out where your friend is and, more importantly, who this killer is.”

“I can’t see anything being more important than saving a friend’s life. If Kade’s in trouble then we need to get him out right away. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do whatever it takes. I owe him at least that much.”

“That’s the problem Brian; there’s not really anything you can do. A man, er…boy of your size won’t go unnoticed in Zale, no matter how hard we try. Even the largest of us are barely over half your height. If there is no disguising you then you can’t go out in public proper. Getting caught won’t get you any closer to helping your friend. Trust me.”

Brian stopped, glaring at Tobay. “Then why the hell am I following you down here if there’s nothing I can do?”

Tobay paused, looking over his shoulder as he shone the warm, orange light from the stone at him. “I didn’t say that, Brian. I just said you can’t go out in public. I will need your help in identifying his pursuant, for one. Without knowing who Kade was chasing, it will be a lost cause.”

“How is that? Can’t you just put out the word that you’re looking for a human boy? Can’t be many of those kicking around a gnome city.”

“Assuming he was caught, sure.”

“Fair enough.”

Tobay continued. “But, even then, I myself won’t be able to gallivant around and conduct the business required to gain access to a detainee. I too will be remaining out of the public eye.”

“Why is that?”

“The Clockwork Killer, that’s why.”

“Right. This killer who is more important than saving a boy’s life. How did I forget.”

“You jest but the irony is that your friend’s life may also depend on finding this killer. His life and many, many more.”

“Fine, say I’m convinced. How does any of this play into saving Kade?”

“If I can find out who the killer is–and I’m close, I just know it–then I can present evidence to the court, to my father, and my life will no longer be in danger.”

“Why is he after you to begin with?

“Because I got onto him, that’s why.”

“How do you know, for sure?”

“Does Grombler’s gut ring a bell? It’s why I was in there to begin with, remember? I was pursuing a lead and then…I was pursued. All the way into that pit. I barely got out, in more ways than one.”

“And you’re sure it was this…clockwork killer? How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve been working on this case for over a year, Brian. I’ve gone through many channels and I’ve narrowed the suspect pool considerably. It has to be someone in the King’s court. No one else could have the resources that this person has. He had bloody Blugls kill my perimeter watch that night, before he set them on me. I would have been kibble for that lot had I not stumbled into Grombler. Bloody Blugls! Can you believe it?”

Brian gave the gnome a questioning look. “Uh, I can only imagine they’re pretty scary, from that description.”

“Well that’s an understatement. Try crossing a large dog with a warthog and come up with something cuddly. And expensive to train. That’s the clincher.”

“So this killer, he has to have access to these Blugl things and the money to keep them in line.”

“Exactly. More than that, he’d have to have a place to keep them where no one would notice. Blugls aren’t part of the Zale Animography. They’d be put down on sight. But his assault tells me he keeps them somewhere close by–accessible–but hidden. To the latter, this is no small feat considering gnomes are excellent at uncovering virtually anything hidden. It’s what we do. This also points to considerable assets to be able to do such a thing.”

“A lair, you mean?”

“It could very well be.”

They continued on in silence for a time as Brian sopped up all of the information.

“So why clockwork killer?” Brian finally asked.

Tobay stopped and held up his stone, illuminating a large circular door inset into a stone face which barred the way. “It’s best if I show you.”

He pushed on the wall and it budged open, soft light washed over them and Tobay pocketed the strange glowing stone. They stepped down into a room, not much different than a cellar, with a stone floor and a ceiling high enough for Brian to stand straight, which he was thankful for. The room was dimly lit by candles atop tables and desks and a handful of torches blazing in black-iron sconces inset into the stone supports holding up the ceiling. All around them loose leafs of paper littered the floor, in addition to the piles and piles of it scattered across the long table in the room’s center. A large cork board had been positioned against the far wall with various portraits, news clippings and other assorted collected scraps, pins with strings wrapped around them zigzagging between various points, like a drunken spider web. Brian walked up to the crazy board and glossed over the pictures hanging there.

“Man, you weren’t kidding when you said you took this stuff seriously.”

He plucked a particularly nasty photo that appeared to be an autopsy record, depicting a gnome’s torso torn up as if by an animal. Brian winced and looked over his shoulder as he waggled the photo in thought.

“How many people has this guy killed?”

Tobay sat down on a small wooden chair, perfectly crafted for a gnome’s stature, and rubbed his face in his hands. “No one can be sure, really. Initial estimates were in the tens to twenties, but I’ve found connections to other cities which feature the same MO, methodologies and telltales. If the killer has a history outside of Zale, well then those numbers would be much higher. Fifty. One hundred. Two hundred. There is no telling how far back this goes. I’ve only scratched the surface in my one year on this task force.”

Brian pinned the picture back on the board. “Crusp. This guy means business then. A gnome serial killer. Does he only kill gnomes?”

Tobay nodded. “It would seem so. Though, it’s not quite so simple as that. I’ve ascertained that the MO has something to do with gnome history, though I haven’t been able to directly place it’s connection to a specific event.”

Brian sat down on another chair, the chair creaking under a weight it was not designed to support. “What have you come up with, so far?”

Tobay reached across the table and slid a stack of small leather-bound books towards Brian. “About four thousand similar or related cases in the past century. A handful stick out but nothing quite speaks plainly about this.”

Brian looked at the stack of books with chagrin. “That’s not much to go on, I’ll admit.”

Toaby sighed and slumped back in the chair. “No, it is far from constituting the ‘unquestionable evidence’ that my father has requested, but it is a start.”

“Why did your dad put you up to this? Aren’t you a prince? Don’t you have to, uh…govern your people, or something?”

Tobay chuckled. “I take it you’ve never been involved in politics, Brian. I wish my life were so glorious. No, our titles are hardly more than that. In reality, I help my father where I can, with menial administrative tasks that he is too busy to take on, or perhaps mother has some kind of diplomatic delegation she can pass down, but I am by no means a ruler of my people. In reality, I am actually a detective. I have a degree in criminology; higher education is a prerequisite to remain in the court. I always had an interest in the law, so I just followed my nose. Parents were more or less supportive, though I know father always wished I had pursued business. It’s in his blood, always has been. I guess I’m a bit of black sheep, in that respect.”

Brian scratched his head. “Gnome universities. Gnome detectives. Who would have ever thought…”

Tobay gave Brian a wry look. “Oh don’t be so parochial; do you think gnomes don’t think the same way about the cren? Ask any gnome how tall an average human is. You may just find comedic value in the answers you receive.”

“Something tells me that they’d just run away screaming if I tried to ask.”

“Yes, this is probably true. But I digress. You had asked about the moniker for this killer.”

Tobay got up and shifted through a stack of papers on the corner of a nearby desk. “Ah, here it is.”

He slid a copy of a newspaper in front of Brian, dated back several years prior. Among a slew of strange ruins and gibberish that Brian didn’t recognize, several Standard words were interspersed on the page, A Recent String of Murders Now Linked to Zale’s New Clockwork Killer, among them. Tobay pointed to the line.

“This was the first time it appeared in print. My team had been working with Russula Press on some other cases around the time this had come out. I wasn’t assigned to the clockwork case yet but I remember being there during one of the pre-release newsroom banters that happen all the time. The editors were arguing about what to name the killer. They wanted something catchy that would sell, of course, but we had a long history and many precedents of knowledge telling us this was a bad idea. Good names exonerate killers. Better to give them a byline that pisses them off. We knew at that point that one of the prime features of his MO was killing his victims at a certain time, hour and minute kinda-thing, so private Yuzhmvlovyzmal, one of my boys back then, suggested the name Clockwork killer, saying it made him sound like a “tinker watch-fixer”. That got a good laugh, so it stuck. Unfortunately, they were right about one thing: it did piss the killer off. Things got worse shortly after that. The killings happened more frequently and in more brutal ways. It was his way of telling us we’d been both right and wrong at the same time. He even went so far once to leave us a message, blatantly expressing the severity of our mistake.”

Tobay pulled a picture out from a file and slid it over to Brian. The photo was in black and white but the image was gruesome enough that it had the same effect on Brian. A gnome hanged from a post, his entrails dangling out of his midsection and coiled up around his throat, forming the noose which suspended him. In the pool of blood spattered on the stone beneath him were the words, very clearly formed, TIME WILL TELL. Brian grimaced and pushed the picture back.

“This is why I’m not into those crime-thriller holos.”

“Yes, well this is–was a real person. All of these were. Victims, not actors, I’m afraid.”

Brian watched Tobay as he thumbed through a portfolio, a dire expression on his face.

“So who are our prime suspects then? You mentioned someone in the court?”

Tobay nodded. “I’ve been watching a couple of the King’s advisers closely, as well as a few of the ministers. I even have a finger on the pulse of the General–the head of our city’s security detail. Given the nature of many of these cases, only someone with that kind of clearance could have perpetrated these acts where and when they did. That, coupled with the clear flow of cash, and fingers begin to only point one way.”

Brian blew out air. “Man, that’s heavy: the military’s supposed to protect from that kind of thing, aren’t they?”

Tobay flopped the portfolio down on the table. “You’d be surprised. Martial Law can take it’s own form of horrible. But that’s not how we gnomes live, so the General is far from my top pick. In truth, none of them quite fit the bill perfectly.”

Tobay got up and paced over to the crazy board, examining the profile pictures of each suspect pinned in various locations.

“It is utterly, miserably, perpetually frustrating.”

Brian nodded. “I get it. People are dying and you feel responsible.”

Tobay looked over his shoulder at the youth. “You say that as if you speak from experience.”

Brian crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I know a thing or two about death, sure. But this isn’t about me. Tell me how I can help.”

Tobay gave one last long look at the board and sighed.

“At this point, there’s not much you can do, I’m afraid. Stay here and see if you can find anything I might have missed. There’s a lot to go through but you’re a smart kid.”

Brian frowned as he watched Tobay pull out a nondescript cloak from a small gnome-sized cupboard.

“So I get desk duty while you play the field. Is that it?” Brian scoffed.

“Don’t get so worked up. This may be cramped but it’s nothing compared to a gnome prison cell. Or the Dregs. I’ll be back in short order.”

Tobay exited the room via the only door and Brian heard a latch click closed as he locked it behind him. Brian leaned over and examined the pile of papers scattered on the table before him. It was certainly a lot to go through. That was an understatement to the extreme.

“Right, the Dregs. Kade and mosters and all that.”

Brian sighed.

“Well…if there’s an answer somewhere in here, I better find it quickly.”

***

The pram doors shut silently behind Kuu as she finally arrived at the terminex designated as 4394, the very same one matching the pod chit held tightly between her two hands. The pram took off, the soft purring of the ignition plates as they gathered charge and released it to the magnetic rails, sending the shuttle quickly on its way. Kuu didn’t watch it go; no one had been on board in the end, which made sense since she had ridden its entire route four times over, every time she neared her destination terminal, her crippling anxiety winning over and she remained aboard. No, she didn’t need to watch the shuttle go because if she turned back to it, she knew she would just leave. And then she would never return to terminex 4394. And then she would never be able to help him.

Yet, there she stood on the vast, empty platform of the terminex, barren of all life and sound, save the canned voices of the pram AIs of distant terminals and the fleeting holo-mercials that popped in and out of existence here and there like quantum foam. Ahead, she could make out the booth with the automated chit reader and, beyond, the portal door leading to the first of many conveyor walks that would inevitably take her to the Industrial sector. She eyed the small, blinking red light on the booth, as if it too were eyeing her. In her mind, the sleek curves of its white amalgam structure began to take on a living form: an arm, and then two legs, and then the turnstile-like connector became a mouth, and it was taunting her:

Come and just try it! Come pass through me. I will consume you. CONSUME YOU, little ‘brid.

Kuu looked down as she noticed her hands were visibly shaking. She slowly opened them are stared down at the burnished metal coin in her hand, the anisotropic surface coating  partially revealing the embedded circuity within, at any little shift or turn of it. She felt her heart valves straining as her sensors told her she was experiencing an elevated cardiac response to her surroundings. She took one small step forward, her little shoe tapping almost soundlessly against the perfectly-clean tiles which the multitude of janitorial mechs kept constantly clean day-in and day-out. Another step and she felt the joints in her little knee beginning to seize. It was as if she had begun to walk through a physical barrier between her and the access booth, invisible but highly emotional. A third step.

Come and just try it, little ‘brid. Do you even KNOW what awaits you? It will CONSUME you!

A fourth step, both legs locking up.

Yes, come closer now. That’s it. Soon we will be one, and then you will be NONE.

Fifth step. A tear rolls down Kuu’s cheek.

Filthy filthy filthy ‘brid! Why don’t you watch where you are you going! Do you even KNOW where you are going?

Kuu stopped. She could go no further. Her entire body began wracking with convulsions and she feared her internal circuitry would hardboot itself at any moment. She looked down at her podchit one last time, a tear speckling off her face and plopping straight in its center, and she quickly pocketed it in her dress. She turned, sobbing, and ran back to the pod terminal.

***

The door slid open silently on its hydraulic track, letting in a small rectangular shaft of light into her living pod. Kuu stepped in to the thirty square-blade room and a soft white light turned on automatically as the door slid shut behind her. A fuzzy shape lifted its head from her bed and stood up, shaking the sleep off. Kuu sat down on her bed and her meowmod purred affectionately as it stepped onto her lap. Kuu smiled wanly as she stroked its simulated fur, taking quick note of its charge level on the back of its collar.

“How was you day, Doughnut?”

Doughnut continued to purr, closing its eyes in elation as she continued to stroke its fur. She sighed and stood up, Doughnut plopping onto the floor gracefully, just as his programming would have it. Kuu walked the two paces to the other side of her apartment to the small shelving unit built into the wall. She drew a circle on the smooth amalgam surface of the counter and a small hole opened, revealing a metal goose-neck kettle which rose to the surface on an automated platform. She placed the kettle under the faucet at the sink and selected a function on the touchscreen on the counter to the left of the basin. A quick stream of water poured into the kettle and it filled perfectly in seconds. She placed it down beside the sink and, almost immediately, the smart-surface began glowing hot under it as an induction ring heated the metal. Bright red holographic messages flashed beside the induction surface, warning of the hazards that burning can pose. In ten seconds, the water had achieved a comfortable rolling boil. Kuu drew a circle with a small line projecting out of it and another hole opened, sending a saucer and teacup slowly rising up to surface level. As the tea had already been prepared in the bottom of the cup, Kuu poured the water into it and placed the kettle back in place on its pedestal where it promptly removed itself from sight, back into the unit. Doughnut hopped up onto the counter top and began meowing earnestly.

“No, of course I haven’t forgotten about you, silly.”

Kuu drew a rectangle on the surface and, in the same fashion as the kettle and cup, a metallic can labelled Krud appeared. Kuu drew a quick circle with her finger, looping it around the same circumference several times. The can began to rotate on the surface of the counter, a faint grinding sound of a machine working, followed by a gentle pop, and Kuu lifted the top of the can to reveal a compact, fleshy-coloured mass of biomaterial. Doughnut immediately recognized his dinner and meowed his affirmation, following Kuu to his personalized dish–in the shape of a doughnut, no less–where she plopped the food into his tray. As Doughnut set into his Krud dinner, Kuu made her way the several steps to the one geodesic window of her quarters. Despite the horribly cramped conditions that the majority of residents in the Scab had to live in, Kuu had been lucky enough to obtain a unit in the Blok Kubiform, a massive honeycomb structure of millions of living pods, standing so high it was visible from sub-orbit. More, the Kubiform offered views from all of its pods that offworlders would pay metins for, were they to try and purchase a similar perch over Tansis. From her position, Kuu could see a large swathe of the city laid out before her and, as fate would have it, Old Wes stood near-center in it all, as if to remind her both of her failure that day and the possibilities that lie in wait.

Kuu sipped her tea and stared out at the distant structure, sticking defiantly into the air. After its last operation, whoever had run it it had left it pointing straight at Rynn following its cool-down phase. Kuu found some strange coincidence in that, as if Old Wes were reminding her of her mission and what was at stake if she were to quit prematurely. She placed her cup down on the saucer and took a deep breath, gathering as much resolve as an eight year old girl could.

“Tomorrow, I will try again.”

Kuu did not know if she was speaking to herself or to the massive electromagnetic machine nearly a kaldar from her location, but she did not care in that moment.

Old Wes was always listening.

***

“How much further do we have to go? I’m getting cramped in here.” Kade complained.

“Not too much longer now! There is a ventilation junction just up ahead. From there, we can take that right down to Cortinarius Park. That’s not too far off from my neighborhood. You’ll be able to lie low there while I run in and grab my belongings. No one will see you ’cause barely anyone uses that old place.”

Kade groaned. He already regretted letting the gnome talk him into retrieving some of the gnome’s personal belongings before their egress. But he had been steadfastly, annoyingly, high-pitchedly insistent that they do so, so Kade balked. If not to get him to shut up.

“Whatever, just make it quick. I want to get the fa’el out of this dirt hole.”

“Speaking of dirt hole, where did you get that mouth?” the gnome said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Kade glared at the gnome’s behind as he led them through the hard-packed earth tunnel. They had been wandering for almost an hour and Kade was about ready to just turn around and leave the gnome and try and find his own way out. He was beginning to reconsider his proposal to bring the gnome with him. Maybe it was better for both of them if the gnome just stayed behind, after all. Yet, as the gnome had said they would, the earth turned to metal and they began crawling along a ventilation duct. As Kade’s knees shuffled along the sheet metal, the familiar sound of denting brought back vivid memories of his time at the gym. He pushed away the terrible thoughts that came along with that place and focused on what he would do once he was out of the gnome city.

First he would eat. That much he was sure of.

A really, really big hamburger. And a full-sized milkshake.

His mom never let him get a large one, said all the sugar would rot his guts.

After recovering from a food coma like no other, I’ll track down coach.

He needed to get back on the Wrifts, if they would take him. Of course they would, though: he had been their star forward the past three years. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Once I’m back on the team, I’ll put in another good season and make up for my tarnished reputation.

Hopefully, they’d let him on for trials again. And then there was those damned mechs.

Tobor’s been getting lippy the last couple of months. With a couple little tweaks…

The gnome stopped suddenly, and Kade nearly ran straight into his rear end.

“What is it? Why are we stopping? Are we there?” Kade asked.

The gnome glanced over his shoulder at Kade.

“Sorry, just thought I heard a rat. All clear now.”

The gnome turned back and a secretive grin spread across his face. He continued on, Kade following.

…Yes, his behaviour nodule is way off the charts. I must have smelled too much battery acid the day I programmed that one.

Kade had hoped SFR-5 would have helped keep Tobor in check but the stupid mech just ended up flushing himself down the toilet a month after Kade had built him. It was so, so hard to find good help…

“Help!” Kade heard himself scream, as he was suddenly falling through open space, along with several metal panels.

Kade landed hard on a floor; luckily, the fall was not far, given the height of gnome ceilings. He rolled off his back and sat up, finding himself in a posh-looking bedroom with a lavish throw-rug at the foot of a massive four-poster bed, bedazzled by all sorts of veils and draperies. A fat gnome in a velour cape sat at a vanity desk, staring at Kade in horror, Kade’s own stunned reflection gawking back at him in the massive vanity mirror. Kade recognized the gnome as the very same one who had given the speech when Kade first entered the city.

He was in the king’s personal chambers.

“Oh sh…”

“Guards!” The king bellowed, his face flushed red from the exertion.

Before Kade could scramble to his feet, four stout and burly gnomes in armour rushed into the chamber and ground to a halt, stunned by the sight of a human in their presence. They collected themselves almost immediately and set their pikes on Kade, surrounding him from all sides. Kade held up his hands.

“Hang on, hang on! This isn’t what it looks like…”

“And what, exactly does this look like to you, young man?” The king boomed, hastily buttoning up his shirt as he approached the circle.

“Because from where I’m standing, this looks very much like break-and-entering. One may even say, a failed assassination attempt. Would you agree?”

Kade mouthed the words assassination attempt, his eyes widening with every syllable.

“N…no! Absolutely not that! I wouldn’t ever… We were just leaving and he convinced me…”

Kade pointed up to the duct above them but, where a gaping hole was from the missing panels that had fallen, his gnome accomplice was nowhere to be seen. Gnome betrayer, apparently. Kade realized in that moment how badly he had just been duped.

The king looked up to the vent above them. One of the guards motioned to the duct.

“Sire, had the intruder been not three blades further along, I fear his mark would have struck true.”

The king considered his man’s words for a moment and then nodded, solemnly.

“You speak truth, Duvezhmloraryddavethaqolln. This being the matter at stake, I fear my countenance has shifted.”

The king reached over to his crown, hanging on one of the many wooden protrusions jutting out of his vanity. He placed it on his head and rounded on Kade with a look that told Kade it may be one of the last he would ever see.

“The situation being what it is, I hereby revoke any reservations prior considered towards leniency on the matter of your charges. Heretofore, you will forego any jurisprudence deemed fit for an individual of fair merit and will be left to Nature’s fate at the great pier at Myzhthavel’s Overlook, as laid out in the conventions of Regicidal Exemptions, section eight point three, chapter nine.”

Kade frowned.

“Huh?”

One of the guards leaned in and whispered in Kade’s ear. “It means you won’t get a trial. You’re going right to the Dregs, ’cause you tried to kill a king.”

Kade gave the guard a confused look. He recalled what the gnome had told him about the Dregs in their cell.

“I didn’t try… Dregs? You mean…Dregs as in…fish food?” A tremor crept into Kade’s voice.

The guard nodded, a look of half-pity on his face.

“Take him away. Double his watch this time. We will tie him at first light.” the king commanded.

The guards grabbed Kade, one at each arm and leg and hauled him out of the room. Kade kicked and screamed but it did him no good against the strength of four full-grown gnomes.

“You can’t do this! I’m just a kid! How could I even kill a king? I don’t want to be fish fooooood!”

The doors slammed behind him and the king stood silently in his chamber with head hung as he listened to the youth’s wails fade into the distance. After several minutes, he sat back down at his vanity desk and stared hard at himself in the mirror. He saw a tired, haggard old man. The disappearance of his son had taken its toll on him. It was entirely possible the Clockwork Killer had ended his life. And now, here he sat idly by, about to take the life of another son himself.

It was days like those where he truly hated being king.