Guardian (33 page)

The faint image of a face solidified in the puppet men’s mist. They looked thinner, somehow, than they had. As though the loss of the Keeper really had reduced them. Perhaps they had needed his strength more than I knew. Perhaps they had not absorbed him out of spite, like I had assumed, but because that perfect, shining programming—no matter how tattered it had become—completed them. They had started out as parts of him, after all.

The shapeless, shadowed mist wound a slow way through the earthen ruins of Volski and Zecholas
’s bindings. It was hidden, in places, by smoke from the silex energies Fedor had unleashed. I watched, as it eased its way towards me, led by that single half-a-face.

“
Miss Vladha,” the puppet men hissed. “What have you done?”

“
Let’s finish them!” Fedor lifted his debris panel.

“
Yes!” Zecholas lifted his hands.

“
No!” I shouted, stilling them both. “No, don’t do anything. The Keeper is closing doors as we speak. Movement of particles at this stage will only hinder him. Don’t touch that debris, Fedor. Zech, Vol, don’t so much as nudge a pion.”

I took slow, steady footsteps towards the puppet men.
“What now?” I whispered to Lad, inside me.

We need to take apart their code
. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could hear Lad shaking. I felt his exhaustion, and pain. His head, his hands, though I didn’t quite understand why.
Get me inside them, like the Guardian. I can do it, but only if you get me in there
.

I stilled.
“You’re exhausted, I can tell. Even from here. I can’t make you do that. Just tell me what to do, and I will do the hard work.”

Tan, you don
’t know the first thing about programming. Now shut up and do as I say, I don’t have time for this. The—
his voice crackled and faded before surging back, louder, but distorted and echoing strangely—
Legate has stopped trying to kill Meta and they’re attacking the network instead. I only have one ancient terminal to work with here. I can’t hold them back for long
.

I turned to Kichlan. He watched me, unsure.

“Then go,” I whispered. “Get out of me and go, defend the network. And yourself. If you die again, Lad, because of me, I—I’d never forgive myself.”

But—

“The puppet men are my problem. And I will deal with them my way. The way you taught me. Remember, I have Kichlan. I’m not alone anymore.”

I had no way of knowing if Lad did what I demanded, or was merely keeping quiet. Either way, I tried to put my worry for him out of my mind, and approached the puppet men instead. Kichlan followed, a step or two behind. Devich slunk along on the other side.

“I have to kill you now,” I said. “I think you know that.”

Ghostly laughter settled over me like faint rain.
“How will you do that, Miss Vladha? We have been given life by the Veil itself. We are of both worlds. We are debris and pions. We are everything and nothing. You cannot defeat us.”

I shook my head.
“No, actually, you’re nothing like that. You’re just lines of broken code.” I looked down to Devich, then lifted the corner of my jacket to peer in at the half-formed child cradled at my side. “As so many of us are.”

My poor, abused baby. Poised on the edges of reality, unable to live in either world. The Veil has said it, and my son understood—he would not survive long in his current state, not on this side, or the other.

But he whispered to me in words deeper than thought; maybe there was an alternative.

Between us, we knew just what we had to do. Lad was right, and he had been right from the beginning. I had to stop fighting, because all this hurt and anger helped no one, and got us nowhere. I must ease the pain instead. From the puppet men to Devich, and even my son. Altogether.

I knew how to do that. Lad had taught me, so long ago.

And my son agreed.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Kichlan murmured.

But I shook my head.
“Nothing, right now. Just watch, just stand guard, in case they try something. I need someone else’s help this time.” I turned to Devich instead.

“
Devich,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft, gentle. He looked up, still drooling, shaking, his eyes straining between hope and fear and confusion, such confusion. How much of the man I had loved, and hated, was left in there? “Devich, I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry they have hurt you so much. Come here, Devich. Come here.”

He loped towards me, and stood on awkward legs. He didn
’t even hesitate, didn’t even question or doubt or wonder, just wrapped his monster arms around me. His suit rippled to my touch, softening.

“
Said—you—dead.” He struggled to drool out his words. He looked down at me, mouth forced open. My heart lurched.

“
I am not dead, Devich.”

He nodded, violently. His tongue flapped wildly out of the side of his mouth.

“Just stay still for me.” Carefully, slowly, I pressed the silver and flesh child I had made against Devich’s rippling suit. Silver called to silver, code to code, as they fused. His unstable, bulging eyes—still that familiar, soulful brown—widened with confusion and wonder.

Good idea, Tan
. Lad, so softly I couldn’t be sure I had heard him.

“
You taught me well,” I breathed in response.

Lad had told me I was a virus. That my code—and therefore my son
’s code—could overrun and destroy anything in our way. Devich’s unstable suited body stood no chance against us.

And neither would the mass of poor, lost programs that had tried to destroy us all.

I gave the last parts of my son to his father, and watched them overrun him. It was a gentle reprogramming. All he felt was the love of his son as he was swept away. No more pain, no more guilt, no humiliation.

Devich stepped away from me, and his eyes were not his own. Well, not only his own. I
’d seen parts of them before, in the soft light and malleable shadows of the Veil.

“
I’m sorry,” I whispered, as I held his patchwork gaze. “You still don’t have a name.” He gave me the smallest twist of a smile before turning, and walking calmly into the puppet men’s mist.

I looked down at myself. But for a few small stains of blood on my sleeve, an odd discolouration to the skin at my wrist, and fresh scars of silver etching a faintly body-shaped pattern, my son might not have ever existed. I felt his absence keenly, like the gaps between the threads of suit inside me were suddenly too wide. Despite the program drilled into me, and the pions flashing bright inside my skin, I felt empty.

Then Natasha gasped, and Sofia cried out, and Valya crackled her laughter, and I looked up to see Devich, mist coiling around him like pits of half-real snakes. He opened his arms, and my heart lurched. The silver from his hands, his face, his back, his legs, his entire suited, distorted body, bled out into the mist. It channelled into deep and invisible vessels, it followed the lines of shadowy bones, just like I had done for the Keeper. Only this time, there were so many more bodies.

The puppet men struggled. They tried to disperse and flee, but Devich
’s program—my son’s program—was faster, and so much stronger. He spread himself out until he filled all the mist, became a heavy, silver cloud. And when he drew his suit back in, he gathered the puppet men with it.

While I watched, Kichlan approached me. He stood behind me, wrapped his arms around me, rested his cheek against the side of my head. He breathed against my back, and he was warm. Always so warm.
“What is happening to Devich?” he finally asked.

I stood on my toes, twisted slightly, and kissed his lips.

“He is not Devich anymore,” I said.

I felt a brush against my head like a lick of warm breeze, and the Keeper appeared. He was staring at Devich and the puppet men, horrified and hopeful, all at once. His mouth slightly open, his dark eyes so wide, so much silver reflected in their smooth surfaces.

“He is absorbing them,” the Keeper whispered.

I nodded. I could see it in code, too. Devich
’s suit was taking the puppet men apart, breaking their fragmented symbols down even further, and drawing them into himself. There—and this was my son’s doing, I supposed, he who had spent so much time in the company of programmers, on the other side of the Veil—he used these fragments to fill the gaps within him. Devich, on his own, was not complete. Neither was my child, and neither were the puppet men. But together, they made a kind of whole. Part Devich, part the puppet men, and part my poor, never-born son.

It felt right, that the puppet men should heal the wounds they
’d made.

Devich
’s body—full with my child and now the broken bones of the puppet men—returned to the silex wall, and the last, open door. From there, they could follow the threads that connected Lad and the Keeper to the dark world, and return to code. Just symbols, and light. Or would they stop, somewhere along the way? Would the Veil offer them the kind of sanctuary it had offered the Other and me? Would it have any choice?

My son lifted his father
’s silver hand in a silent goodbye. My heart beat too strongly. Part of me wanted to rush forward, to stop them. What if they returned to nothing? That wasn’t what I wanted for my child! I’d fought so hard to keep him alive.

But a smile spread across his lips, and the tension within me eased. He had chosen this path, he knew the risks, understood the harrowing alternatives. It was time for me to step back, and let him decide his fate. Slowly, I lifted a hand in response.

Devich, my son and the puppet men stepped through the door, and shut it behind them. It seemed to echo for a very, very long time, before soothing into quiet, and calm.

The Keeper drew a shuddering breath.
“I am re-establishing connections,” he said. He closed his pale eyelids. “Primary hubs coming online, secondary Shards flushing.” They flew open again. “Communication from the programmers has been received—emergency protocol. I am returning signal.” A large smile spread over his face. “And they receive me. Oh, Tanyana. They are—they are so happy to talk to me!” He laughed, high and child-like. Then he paused and tipped his head, listening. “They really don’t like you, though.”

“
Yes, I know.” I leaned against Kichlan. “Can you do this now, on your own, again? Can you monitor the Veil?”

The Keeper nodded.
“It has been so long since I spoke to them—properly, I mean. They normally just send Halves. They must have been so worried about me. They—they really do trust me, don’t they? They really do care.”

My heart lurched, but I tried not to let it show. Care was hardly the word I would have used. But if that was what the Keeper needed to believe, I was happy to let him.
“They were worried about you, Keeper. Worried sick.”

He beamed. With his skin so solid and bright, he really did glow.
“Well, I must get back to work.” He rubbed his hands together. “They will send me more Halves, I just know they will.” He looked around. “And you have found me such a wonderful place to keep them.”

The Keeper faded. This time, I saw how it happened. He did not disappear into thin air the way I had always thought. Rather, he dispersed, sending countless lines of command out into the world, travelling the Veil.

The Veil.

I sighed. We had doomed it, just as it had predicted, to remain trapped. Would it try to do this again? Would it feed the bodies cast adrift in its waters until they were powerful enough to rattle its cage? Would it make another bid for freedom? I shuddered at the thought of how long it had taken the puppet men to grow into the kind of power needed to do so. It would be another long wait, for the Veil.

And no, it was not fair. But nothing ever is.

“
So he’s healthy again, isn’t he?” Kichlan whispered into my hair. “The Keeper. Strong, and whole.”

I glanced up at him, and nodded.
“I think so.” He was smiling, a deep look that sent a warm, tingling thrill through my body. Anticipation, and a heady sense of freedom, that left no room for guilt. Not any more.

“
Tanyana?” Natasha, hooked up to medical hubs and struggling against their weight, hobbled forward. She still held onto Sofia, who sagged weakly in her arms. I could not look at that maimed and bandage-wrapped face, so I held Natasha’s gaze instead. “Tanyana.” She stopped and glared at Kichlan. “He said you were dead!”

I laughed at the accusation in her face.
“I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

Her expression softened, and she hobbled faster. I unwound myself from Kichlan
’s embrace and went to her instead. Natasha, who had never seemed to care for anyone, or anything, held me in her tired and shaking arms, as Kichlan took Sofia’s weight and eased her to the broken stones. “I’m glad,” Natasha whispered to me. “You might be an Other-stubborn bitch sometimes, but I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“
Thank you,” I said with a chuckle, and leaned back from her. “How are your injuries—?”

I paused, blinking, resisting an urge to rub at my eyes. The pions in Natasha
’s body were bright and strongly bound, a Mob’s binding, reinforcing her muscles and bones, giving her speed, endurance, and might. That wasn’t so strange, really. It was the silex hubs connected to her—and what they were doing—that shocked me. They were winding code into her bindings to redirect the pions already at work in all her muscles, blood vessels, and bones. They were healing her, slowly, but surely. A subtle reprogramming, using pions, powered by her own body and the faint flashing of the unsteady simulated Flare inside the hubs.

I smiled faintly to myself. Trust programmers to program things, no matter what world they were on. Trust them to bend the rules, to marry code and pion-binding.

The program at work inside Natasha was directing her pions to heal her, and I could read it all. I was not a trained healer, but I did not need to be. The program knew what it was doing, it just wasn’t very good at convincing her pions to follow its instructions. Pions, after all, preferred the human touch.

“
What’s the matter?” Natasha asked me. “What can you see now?”

I flashed her a grin.
“Everything,” I said. “Now, just stay still. As still as you can.”

I lifted my hands, cupped my palms, and gathered the pions to me. They thrilled to my touch, they rallied and leapt through my fingers in great fountains of light. I cast them through Natasha, translating the impersonal symbols into whispered requests. I cajoled and praised, I urged and encouraged.

“What—?” Natasha began to speak, then gasped, and tipped back her head. “Oh,” she breathed. And healed. Her arm snapped back into place audibly, but she did not even feel the pain. Her leg did the same thing. Even down to the cuts on her face, the swelling around her eye and the bruising, Natasha healed. Until she could stand strong, again. Ready to take up any revolution that came her way.

“
My lady?” Volski said, shocked. “When did
you
become a healer?”

How could I explain that all I had really done was read instructions? So I smiled, and shrugged instead.

“I think these can come off now, don’t you?” Natasha tugged at the silex crystals still attached to her now-healed body. “Lev?” she glanced around her. “Where is he?”

I thanked the pions and released them. They wandered back into the world, touching me faintly as they left—warm, stroking. Pleased. Kneeling, I touched the heavy silex hub on her leg, wondering how to remove it without hurting her.

Code floated through the crystal. As I touched it, the symbols on my suit band blazed into brightness, imitating the silex program. With a small frown, I extended a sharpened finger into the crystal. Code spoke to code in a flurry of not-voices that rang sharply in my head and all of the hubs withdrew from Natasha’s body, at once.

She gasped. More from the sudden shock of it, I thought, than any pain. Her Mob pions stitched over the small holes the tubes and wires had left in her skin.

I stood, lifting the largest of the hubs. My suit continued to blaze, symbols rising and dipping too quickly for me to follow, apparently mirroring the same thing happening within the silex. It was more than a little disconcerting—a kind of a conversation happening through me, around me. One that I could catch the edges of but not entirely follow.

“
Tanyana?” Sofia, lying on the ancient cobblestones, whispered so softly I nearly didn’t hear her. I swallowed, hard. Kichlan knelt beside her, guilt all over his face, hope in the way he glanced between me and the hub in my hands. “I can see you,” Sofia said. Her eyes were bloody behind their bandages, but I forced myself not to look away. “You are bright, and full of words.”

“
What about Sofia?” Kichlan said. “Can you heal her too, the way you did Natasha?”

I crouched beside him, balancing the hub carefully.
“Her injuries were a lot worse than Natasha’s. A lot. And she doesn’t have Mob pion-bindings in her the way Natasha does.” Did the silex hubs contain instructions for regrowing whole arms and replacing eyes? Even if it did, could I read something so complicated? What if I made a mistake? “I just—I’m just not sure.”