Three (37 page)

I
t was still early morning when they set out, headed back towards Morningside. Three couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take Asher to find Fedor, and to react. And what that reaction would be. Today would decide everything. Three had accepted that. Embraced it. It was the end, however it turned out.

“What do you think, Wren? Ran or Jez?” Three glanced over his shoulder at the boy following a step behind. His eyes were downcast, but he seemed to be standing taller than Three remembered.

“Jez,” Wren said after a moment’s hesitation. “But you’ll have to be careful. She’s got… magic. Or something.”

“What kind?”

The boy shrugged. “She talks to people. They do stuff.”

“Why not Ran?”

Wren didn’t answer.

“Is he stronger?”

“He’s nicer.”

Three wanted to press the issue, but decided it didn’t really matter. He’d have to deal with them all at some point anyway. The order didn’t seem to make much difference. Except Asher. He’d be last.

“I think maybe – maybe we won’t have to fight Ran,” Wren added. “At the end.”

“Are they together now?”

“No.”

It was a new approach. At first, Three didn’t think it’d be possible. Then, when he’d realized Wren’s gift, he hadn’t wanted to risk it because he’d feared it would give them away. But now the risk… well, this close to the end it didn’t seem to matter one way or the other. Whatever came, he would deal with it.

It had taken some convincing. At first, Wren was afraid to try, was afraid he couldn’t do it, but Three had coaxed him into it. Sure enough, he
could
do it.
Was
doing it. For the first time since this had all begun, Wren was tracking
them
. Masking his own signal, tracerunning theirs. Leading them to the very people that had been hounding them for so long.

Wren wouldn’t go near Asher, not even across the digital, but the others he seemed more confident about. They were still in the city, but they weren’t holed up in the Governor’s compound. They were roaming the streets. Searching.

“Got your knife?” Three asked.

Wren nodded. “But I don’t want to use it.”

“You might have to.”

Wren swallowed. “If I have to.”

They pressed on towards Morningside as the outskirts of the city began stirring into life. Three scanned the surroundings, searching for signs of danger, soaking in the feel and flow of the people that were just beginning to appear. The outcasts, or those deemed not worthy to live within the walls. The closer he and Wren got to Morningside, the more active it became, as the men and women outside prepared for another day of bartering inside. Wren took quick steps to catch up and grabbed Three’s hand with casual familiarity.

“What do they sell?” Wren asked suddenly.

It was a good question. There didn’t seem to be much that the people outside of Morningside could provide to those inside. Hand-crafted trinkets, perhaps. Something just endearing enough to attract the charity of a wealthy city-dweller. But Three’s quick eye saw little in the way of goods among those preparing to enter the city. It clicked for him, then. Most of the outcasts that made a living in Morningside probably did so by selling themselves, in one way or another. Indentured servitude. Freedom for security.

“Don’t know, Wren. Maybe they’re all musicians.”

“That sounds fun,” Wren said. Then with barely a pause added, “How do we get inside?”

“Quickly,” Three answered. “And with big smiles.”

Wren looked up, not understanding. Three just looked down and winked. Wren held his hand a little tighter.

Within a few more minutes, a gate was looming ahead of them. Not the same gate they’d entered before, though not far from it either. A steady trickle of people had already started making its way into the city.

“Hold on a sec,” Three said, stopping. Wren turned to face Three, and in the next moment Three had him under the arms and was picking him up. Three lifted the boy up over his head and set him on his shoulders.

“Won’t they be looking for us?”

“Yeah,” Three said. “But we often see what we expect, and miss what we don’t.”

As they approached the gate, Three moved up alongside a woman who was carrying two large cases, one stacked atop the other. She was a few years older than he was, with wrinkles just starting at the corners of her eyes. Brown hair pulled back in a loose knot, with wisps floating on either side of her face. Not particularly attractive.

“Ma’am, we’re headed the same direction,” he said, smiling. “Can I carry those for you?”

The woman smiled faintly but shook her head. “Oh no, I can manage. I do it every day.”

But Three was already taking the top case. The woman tried to protest, but she needed both hands to hold the other, so there wasn’t much she could do. Three fell into step with her, close enough so their shoulders brushed as they walked, and just kept smiling.

“Whew, one of these is heavy enough,” he said. “You must be the strongest woman in Morningside.”

“It’s really OK,” she said, though already he could tell she didn’t mean it. “I can manage.”

“You already said that,” Three said with a wink. “Day in, day out, you manage it. You deserve a break.”

“Well, thank you.”

“It’s my sincere pleasure, ma’am.”

They were maybe fifty feet from the gate. Three counted four guards. One more than the other gate had last evening. The guards were scanning the people as they passed, but so far they hadn’t stopped anyone.

“I usually come in through the south side,” Three said. “Do they always post four on this gate?”

“Just one most days, sometimes two,” the woman said. “I don’t see Jonas, though. He’s always here.”

“Day off maybe.”

Thirty feet. Three slowed his pace just enough to let another pair of travelers catch up. The woman instinctively matched his stride without even seeming to notice.

“No, yesterday was his day off. Something must be going on inside.”

“Parade for the Governor, I bet.”

The woman snorted. “And me in my work clothes.”

“You look lovely, ma’am. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I do mind, because it’s not true,” she said with a slight frown. But then a smirk appeared. “But keep talking anyway.”

“If those are your work clothes, I’d hate to see you in your finery. I might be tempted to flirt.”

“I don’t remember what that’s like.”

“Neither do I, ma’am.”

They shared a laugh then, though only the woman’s was genuine. Fifteen feet. One guard was scanning the horizon in an unfocused way, two of the guards were looking at the pair of travelers that Three had let pass. But the other was staring right at him.

“How you doin’ up there, buddy?” Three asked Wren.

“OK.”

“You smilin’?”

Wren didn’t answer, which meant the answer was no. Ten feet. The guard’s eyes narrowed. His hand went down to his belt. So Three did the only thing he could.

He lurched forward suddenly, fumbled the case, and went sprawling on his hands and knees right at the guard’s feet. The woman gasped, and Wren let out a little yelp. But somehow the boy managed to land on his feet just a step or two beyond the guard. Though a trained eye might’ve picked up on the way Three had kept Wren from falling, or how gently the case went to the ground without tipping over or spilling its contents, to the surrounding crowd it looked entirely as if he’d just tripped over his own feet.

Three burst into laughter then. A raucous, foolish guffaw that guaranteed all eyes were on him as he rocked back on his knees and hung his head in mock shame.

“Honey, are you alright?” the woman asked.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Three looked up at the guard, locked eyes with him. Smiled. “Just an idiot.”

The guard searched his face for a moment. Then quickly reached down and took his arm. Firm.

And helped him to his feet.

“Sure you’re OK, sir?”

Three kept smiling, and clapped the guard on the shoulder. “Broke my pride, but I think that’s it.” He picked the case back up and dusted it off.

“Well, try to be more careful,” the guard said. “Lucky your son’s so quick on his feet.”

“Yes, sir, I am. Lucky to have him. You have a great day,” Three answered with a nod.

And with that, Three and Wren breezed inside the city. They walked with the woman to the tea-house where she worked, Three alternating between apologizing and flirting the whole way there. By the time they parted ways, she’d made not so subtle invitations for him to meet her at sundown, and suggested that some kind of repayment was in order for his kindness. Three assured her it was not, and made as clean a getaway as he could.

Once they were back out on the street, he took Wren by the hand.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he said. “I wasn’t gonna let you get hurt.”

“I know,” Wren said.

“You OK?”

Wren nodded.

“Ready?”

Wren nodded.

“Alright. Where is she now?”

“This way.” Wren tugged Three’s hand, and gently guided him through Morningside’s elegant streets and walkways.

There was a heavy sleepiness to the city, as if the citizens were waiting for the outsiders to take care of the morning. The further they moved away from the gates, the fewer people they saw. Wren led Three through an unfamiliar quarter, heavily shadowed by the wall at sunrise. He stopped suddenly, and drew Three to one side, slipping into an alley between two darkly-windowed buildings.

“She’s there,” the boy said, pointing to a squat, one-story building further down the path. It was quiet here, almost untouched by the distant murmuring of the rest of the waking city.

“Is she alone?”

Wren shook his head. No point in going in, then. Three scanned the area. It was too open here. But further down the alley…

Three crouched down on a knee, and put his hands on Wren’s shoulders.

“I need you to do something brave,” he said.

Wren stared back with his deep sea-green eyes, intent but watery. Afraid, but trying desperately not to show it. The boy nodded.

“I need you to let her see you.”

Wren stood utterly still. Eyes wide, jaw clenched. His breathing quickened.

“Stand here at the end of the alley. As soon as she sees you, just turn and walk down there.” Three pointed back down the alley between the two buildings, to where they backed up against the city’s great wall. “I’ll be right there, waiting. I’m not gonna let her hurt you, OK? Don’t run. Just walk. Even if she calls your name, don’t run or turn around. Just keep walking. Think you can do that?”

A long pause. Then Wren shook his head slowly.

“I don’t
think
I can,” he said. “I can.”

Three squeezed Wren’s shoulders. Ruffled his hair. “I’ll be right there.”

Wren nodded. Three took to his feet and walked down the length of the alley. Forty feet, maybe. It opened into a small sort of courtyard between the buildings and the wall, though the space seemed mostly unused. Three was relieved to find there were no windows back here. He turned and looked back to Wren, who was watching him. Three nodded and gave the boy a thumbs-up. Wren waved and disappeared around the corner.

The next few minutes were the worst Three had suffered since the night he’d lost Cass. He hadn’t meant for Wren to leave his sight, and he cursed himself for not telling the boy that explicitly. But there was nothing to be done about it now. He couldn’t risk getting caught out in the open, not when Wren might turn the corner at any second with Jez close behind. The seconds crawled by, and Three fought to still himself, fought to silence the voices screaming in his head at how foolish a plan he’d made, how he’d endangered Wren, how Jez had probably already caught him. What was taking so long? Three slid low to the ground and risked a peek around the corner. Where was Wren? How much closer to the building had he gone? There was a distant sound, a high pitch, muffled. Was that Wren, calling out? Three stood back up. This wasn’t going to work. Wasn’t working. He cursed himself for not thinking it through, for putting Wren in harm’s way. He had to get him back. Three was just stepping into the alley when Wren rounded the corner at the opposite end, walking carefully towards him.

The boy’s face was bloodless, ghostly white, and even from this distance, Three could see he was shaking. But he held strong, kept his pace steady. Three motioned for him to keep coming, and then slipped back into the shadows of the courtyard.

He could hear the boy’s shuffling footsteps echoing down the alleyway. Closer. Almost there. And then.

“Wren?” A woman’s voice. Warm. Tender. Not at all what Three had expected. “Wren, sweetheart, is that you?”

But Wren did just what Three had told him. His pace didn’t falter. A few seconds later he came into the courtyard and headed straight for Three. Three pressed a finger to his lips and waved Wren into the far corner, furthest from the entrance. Wren nodded and moved there quickly, curling himself into a tight ball, hands over his ears and terror in his eyes.

Three crept silently to the edge of the nearest building, moved into position, poised to strike. He could hear her approaching cautiously, footsteps falling fainter the nearer she got. Then, silence. Three strained to hear her.

“Wren?” she said again.

She had stopped about two-thirds of the way down the alley. But it was alright. Either she’d come all the way to investigate, or she’d wave it off and turn back the other way. If she didn’t come to him, Three could cover the distance and take her down before she made it back to the street.

“Is there someone back there with you, sweetheart?” It shouldn’t have mattered, but Three couldn’t help but notice the perfect quality of Jez’s voice. Rounded and full, pleasantly deep. Resonant. “Why don’t you come out where I can see you?”

Without even realizing it, Three started edging towards the alley. He caught himself.

“It’s alright,” Jez said. “I want you to come out.”

Her voice seemed to come straight from inside his own head, a honeyed droning that filled Three with a sense of complete calm. And he remembered how beautiful she was. Vividly he saw her in his mind, her perfect features, her perfect form accentuated by her fitted bodysuit. Three felt himself sliding dreamlike, even as one part of his mind raced to analyze what was happening. Some kind of vocal implants, most likely. Wren had warned him. But the most common ones worked through connection, like a virus for the mind. Three had never experienced anything like this before.