The Budding Metalinguist

XXXIV

Lillian started her daily practice session using her bathroom mirror. It was almost absurdly simple to open and close rifts to the Alin Gap in whatever area she wished- although, as per Kern's recommendation, she stuck to the arena. She was still skeptical of his descriptions of Sphinxes, but she definitely did not want to encounter one.

She made sure to keep the bathroom door closed and the fan on should her roommates unexpectedly return. But, given that they were both out for an early thaumaturgy lecture, she doubted that she would have anything to worry about.

What she did have was plenty to wonder about.

Everything she had learned about mirrors, the Alin Gap, and the Idea of Opening prompted a number of questions relating to the DIAO's findings. She strongly suspected that both the dead vagrant from 1978 and Ashley had used the Idea of Opening to escape to the Alin Gap. Which brought up two interesting questions: where was Ashley now? And how had the vagrant been faking death?

The first, Lillian mused, was probably answered simply. Ashley was hiding somewhere, probably somewhere that Kern knew about. She thought it likely that she was still in the Alin Gap, although she wasn't sure. The second was more complicated. There was always the possibility that he had been using a metalinguistic illusion, but it seemed doubtful. Maybe, she hypothesized, there was some way to delay the implementation of a metalinguistic Idea; could he have transfigured himself somehow into a dead body and then back? She wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but she would also be nervous to ask him.

A ripple skimmed across the surface of the bathroom mirror, and the plane once more became hard and impermeable.

❧☙

It's a new pair of guards this time, because the old ones are dead.

Even so, they don't display any hesitation in their duties. They serve the Delegation faithfully and without question, their empty expressionless calm faces desperately at odds to the violence they represent. They both wear new uniforms: sweeping capes of a deep royal-purple with a rounded, baggy hood set atop their head like a crown. They proudly display their dark hair, ruddy cheeks, and stiff frowns.

They drag a young boy between them. His arms and legs are chained to prevent his struggling, and his head lolls forward in exhaustion. The guards grip him by his upper arms with surprising strength, letting his legs drag on the floor. He grits his teeth, jogged by every bump. Around his wrist is wrapped the traditional bracelet of spider silk: the only known material capable of blocking metalanguage.

The guards sweep into the pentagonal cell, unfazed by its unique atmosphere. Drops of water slowly fall from the ceiling, landing in ever-growing filthy pools. Although the guards have removed the dead bodies of his parents from the front half of the cell, the atmosphere of their presence still lingers. And in the opposite corners of the cell, two people crouch their hands twisted behind them while manacled to the wall. Twins. A boy and a girl, seeming to be about seventeen. His face is downturned, his expression not visible. Hers, however, is impossible not to notice. Her lips are spread wide in a feral, protean grin, displaying every emotion from grief to hatred to deep disdain. Her long, dark hair hangs in straggly clumps around her face. The twins have wild amber eyes and matching scars slashing across opposite cheeks. Scars gifted by the rings of one of the dead guards.

The new guards slam the boy against the wall and manacle him into the corner. He doesn't bother to resist, his gray, shapeless prisoner's robe soaked with water, sweat, and filth. He simply watches with eyes steadily growing emptier and emptier.

As soon as the boy is secured to the wall, the guards depart with a sneer, slamming the door behind them. It takes a minute for the boy's eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"What happened?" asks the boy twin in a smooth, nerve-wracked voice.

The chained boy gives a twisted smile. "I said no. They're going to execute me tomorrow morning."

The girl's face falls apart. Her defiant, hateful expression crumples into a perfect picture of grief and hopelessness. But the chained boy knows better than to trust her face. He can tell her real feelings from her eyes. She would never stop fighting.

He looks purposefully into her eyes and silently imparts to her an order. She can never stop fighting this.

She can never give up.

❧☙

"The good news is that we have an official time to interview Lindsey. The bad news is that it's a Saturday." Derek looked rather annoyed by this fact, but he also seemed like he expected everyone else to comply. Looking around the room, he did a survey of everyone's faces.

Vanessa and Diane simply looked glad for an interview. Janelle looked as annoyed as Derek felt, but he figured she would probably come in. Erica and Evan were at the university right now; Derek was fairly sure that Evan would agree to come in (even if Erica outright refused). And Galena...

Well, Galena looked as she usually did lately- distant, distracted, and vaguely in agreement. Once she saw Derek looking, she gave a thumbs-up to indicate that she would be glad to come in.

Derek couldn't help but be concerned about Galena lately. She had been acting very strange. Evan had mentioned that she'd asked for fingerprints tests on a cat collar and on her office keyboard; Derek was still confused about why she had asked for information on a completely unrelated family like the Howells. Of course, there wasn't exactly anything he could do about it- even so, he couldn't help but wonder.

He couldn't really blame Galena, he reminded himself. Her mother had been missing for almost a month, and she had probably lost most of her support. Ashley, after all, was her only family. Derek couldn't imagine if his parents or his wife suddenly were found to have ties with a mysterious person like Beanie. He knew it would have a similar effect on him.

And yet... Galena's behavior wasn't characteristic of stress. It was characteristic of something else. Derek couldn't put his finger on exactly what, but she clearly thought that whatever she was pursuing was important, and that she couldn't talk to anyone about it. Two things that Derek found unusual.

When he realized the conference room was staring at him, Derek cleared his throat and resumed. "I was thinking that someone should call Lillian to let her know. She might want to come."

Galena audibly scoffed.

Derek's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I'm sorry?"

"It's clear that Lillian is hiding something that she should be telling us," Galena explained in disgust. "If she refuses to work with us, we shouldn't be working with her."

"Don't be absurd," Janelle cut in. "Lillian isn't hiding anything. I talked to her only about a week and a half ago. She seemed perfectly normal."

I'm sure you think you did, Galena thought to herself. One of the downsides of being the only person who remembered Rolf meant that she listened to people constantly unintentionally lying. She was almost completely sure that the only world Lillian had ever talked to Janelle in was the one in which Rolf didn't exist. The world that whoever had captured him was trying to simulate. "I'm completely sure Lillian knows something," Galena reiterated. "I don't think we should be working with her."

Diane threw up her hands. "I'm going to call her." She pulled back her chair and headed for the office, her signature heels clicking on the tile floor.

Galena's only outward display of surprise was a slight widening of her eyes, but she was shocked nonetheless. Diane, who had always agreed with her before, was now directly opposed to her. For once, she was the only person who thought that Lillian was hiding anything.

Oh, well, she told herself. Just another consequence of remembering.