Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) Page 17

  There is a gasp, from Lilith. Berg's hands have clenched into fists, and he is furious, unable to contain it, when he demands, "You were with that ban-wolf for the past month?"

  I stop, looking at him, and my anger breaks free of my careful control. "Do you really think you have the right to ask me anything?"

  He flinches, and Kaida makes a noise, soft and shocked. I take a deep breath, and close my eyes, struggling to regain control. Force myself to answer. "Yes. I was with ban-wolves for the past month. For the first two weeks, I was in a fever--the bear mauled me and it took them time to draw out the infection and poison."

  "What were they like?" Mistress asks, and despite the steadiness of her voice, I can almost feel the excitement trembling in it.

  I shrug, a smile playing on my lips. "Unexpected."

  Tears threaten, as I think about Arjun, the love in his eyes. Of Merc with his lazy honesty. Sweet Gali and Jade, and Rook, with his incessant questions and ruthless practicality.

  Those thoughts aren’t helping, not right now. I shove them aside, and add, "But kind. They nursed me back to health. Saved my life."

  Berg shoves his chair back so violently it clatters over. Alba is watching him, her eyes hot and possessive. A month ago, that look would have infuriated me. Tonight, I can’t work up the energy to care at all.

  "What did they want?" he demands.

  I tilt my head, peering at him from under my hair. "What makes you think they want anything? For all you know, I could have been kept in a den without any contact with them for a month." I smile, a sharp edged smile. "Unless, of course, you know something you haven't shared with us."

  Berg is staring at me, such a bewildered look on his face it tugs at me, unexpectedly. I am angry, true, but do I want to hurt him? I bite my lip, and look back at my plate, inexplicably guilty.

  Silence follows my outburst—no one knows how to deal with Berg and I arguing. I have always taken pains to hide that from the children.

  “Perhaps, Sabah,” Mistress says, slowly, “you could join me for lunch tomorrow. And we will discuss your time away from the Manor.”

  I look at her, and she smiles at me. A month ago, the smile would make me nervous, almost scared—or desperate to please her.

  Now, it annoys me. But this will provide the opportunity I need to help the pack.

  So I force a meek smile, drop my eyes, and nod.

  When dinner is over, I leave Dayila in the kitchen, cleaning with Kaida, Guin, and Cedric. Alba and Lilith are in the hallway, waiting—I have a moment to wonder where Spiro has gone, and then Alba steps into my path. She is tense, and angry. “You just had to come back. He grieved you, and now you come back,” she almost spits.

  Lilith puts a hand on the other girl’s arm, and I sigh, crossing my arms. Alba has always been the most difficult of the girls, the most ambitious and jealous.

  “You want Berg?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

  Her eyes narrow, but she’s gutsy enough to nod. I feel a surge of pride for her. “If you think you can take him, by all means, try.”

  Her mouth falls open, stunned, as I sweep past them.

  I know he won’t be in the library—it is too obvious a choice. The children will be there, and neither of us want them listening to this. I climb upstairs to the high garret that has always been my retreat.

  He’s sitting in the window, arms wrapped around his legs. The pose tugs at me—it is heartbreakingly vulnerable, and reminds me, forcefully, of the history that stretches between us. I have seen him like this, so often in the past, when something is bothering him.

  I look past him, into the misty darkness. The pine tree is a black shadow against the City lights. I wonder where Arjun is. Has Merc given him a distraction? Are they warm? Panic clutches me, as I remember the tigercat that had dogged my footsteps that last night at the Manor--can two ban-wolves take on a tigercat?

  "I don't understand any of this,” he says, and my eyes jerk back to Berg. His voice is bewildered, confused. Broken. It grounds me, makes me focus on the present--Arjun and Merc will remain safe, and I can help them best by doing my job.

  And, too, this is my life. If I am to stay here, I should repair what relationships I can.

  "Berg," I say, my voice a sigh. He looks at me, sky-dark eyes confused. "They aren't as awful as we think."

  Shock fills his eyes and I know I have said the wrong thing. He jerks to his feet, and tugs his shirt off with a grace I have forgotten. I wince at the sight of his scars--long, curving slashes that flow in knotty lines from his neck down to the base of his back. I can remember, vividly, the night he got them. I went searching for him when he did not return from a hunt. I found him facedown in the snow, unconscious, bleeding out No one expected Berg to survive. It had even affected the Mistress—drawn her from her quarters to the sick room where Gwen worked like mad to patch him back together and force him to live.

  And though he survived, he was different after the attack. I stare at the scars now, and can so easily picture the claws that inflicted such vicious damage. But I've seen those same claws used gently, with cautious care. Felt them soft and loving.

  "What did they do to you, out there?" he asks, his voice low.

  I stare at him. "They saved my life, Berg. What do you think they did?"

  He laughs, a harsh noise that shocks me. I have never heard such a bitter noise from Berg--it sounds so similar to the anger that sometimes fills Arjun, it is eerie and I suppress a shiver. "Ban-wolves are the dregs of society, Sabah. They're the refuse--and that does not speak well of their manners."

  His judgment makes me angry, and I arch my eyebrows. "And you would know this because you've spent so much time talking with them? Or is it because you've been there, when one is changed?"

  The words fall between us like glass, shattering at our feet as we both freeze, both unwilling to move, both unwilling to draw first blood on that accusation.

  I have the wild thought that this is not the reunion either of us expected.

  "I'm not sure I know what you mean," he says finally, his words careful and measured.

  I smile at him, mockingly. "You know, I thought you went to her bed out of pity. Or maybe even out of loyalty. But it's simpler than that, isn't it?"

  His eyes are on mine, guarded and wary. I step closer, crowding him in his window seat. "You love her. She gives you want you've always wanted—knowledge, and power. She's made you a tool the Commission cannot discard. And you love her for it." I pause then add, “You will always love her for that. More than you’ve ever loved me.”

  "I don't know what you’re talking about," he says, hoarsely. But this is Berg. And I am me—and there is no way he can lie, not outright, to me. Now that I have shed my deliberate blindness, the truth is glaring, obvious.

  I step away, and he catches my hand, stopping me. I feel a growl building in my throat, and choke it before I can let it loose—I have spent too much time among the ban-wolves.

  "Are you—will you leave again?" His voice is hesitant, and each word is like a slap.

  Tears burn in my eyes, and I want desperately to run into the night, into Arjun's arms. Instead, I shake my head, and my voice is unflinching, as I say, "No. I'm back to stay, Berg."

  The sigh that follows me out the door is a mystery. I am not sure if he is relieved or disappointed in my answer.

  Chapter 21

  I get to the study early. Mistress is not there, although someone—Gwen, most likely—has laid out a lunch of bread and chicken, sliced cucumbers, and a thick beef broth. I sniff at it, and steal a cherry from the small dish of fruit. Idly, I wonder who went to the City for fresh fruit. And I wonder where the Mistress is.

  How will I handle this? She did not come out of her quarters last night after dinner and I was happy to let her slip away, to put this off until now—the children had kept me busy.

  I wander through the study, reading the titles of the books on the old cherry wood shelves. Anything that will keep my mind here, focu
sed. It is too easy to let my mind wander. To wonder where Arjun is, and if he is well.

  I push the thought down and read the titles. The books are an array of baffling names and titles, and most sound immensely boring. But they are also chilling. They make a certain sense.

  Anatomy of the Body.

  The Wild Wolf.

  Genetics Theories Explained

  Modern Medicine—this is a thin floppy edition, and there are several, numbered, following the first.

  I glance at her desk—it is neat, clean, the papers stacked in a tidy pile. If I leaf through them, will I be able to understand any of it? Will it all be nonsense?

  More important, will Rook and the pack be able to muddle through it?

  A soft noise jars me from my thoughts, and I let the Journal of Modern Medicine fall closed as I look at her. She's staring at me, an amused smile on her lips, and subtly, the air has changed. Charged. Filled with a tension that disturbs me.

  I think of Arjun, of his golden eyes, and the trust that had filled them. The confidence Rook had in me. I take a deep breath and smile at the woman who raised me. "Should we eat first?" I ask, motioning at the tray.

  She nods, gliding past me in a rustle of velvet skirts and perfume. I hand her a plate, and watch from under my lashes as she takes neat bites. Finally, she says, "Berg is a bit disturbed by the changes in you, Sabah."

  I tilt my head. "Why would he tell you that, rather than me?" I ask.

  She laughs, an unamused noise. Obviously, the time for pretensions has passed. "Let’s be honest, darling. Berg has trusted me for a long time—far longer than you were with the ban-wolves."

  "Then I'm not sure why my changes are important to him," I say honestly.

  "Why did you come back?" she asks.

  This is it: the question I have struggled with and still don’t have a real answer for. "This is my home," I say, swallowing the bitterness and longing that wash over me.

  “What about the ban-wolves who rescued you?” she asks, her eyes sharp and probing.

  I shrug and take a bite of chicken. She watches me, silently. “You were given a choice¸ Sabah. And I need an answer.”

  The chicken is suddenly dry and choking. I cough, swallowing. I knew she would, but it still surprises me that it has come so fast.

  “You can’t stay in limbo forever.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with you and these new… changes.”

  I stare at her. “What do you want to do?”

  She makes an inelegant noise, one that surprises a smile from me. “You made it very clear that what I wanted for you is obviously not to your liking, my dear.”

  The Tribes. Raising children for her use.

  I don’t want either. But one might give me leverage and help the wolves. The idea that began forming over the past week is pressing at me, and I take a sip of my water, collecting my thoughts. With the pack removed from me, is living here that bad? Would it be better to live wild with the Tribe? And if I can use my capitulation to benefit them....

  I look at her, and say, "Why is he still here?"

  Surprise and alarm fill her eyes, there and gone so quickly I almost miss it. "The Commission is being particular—they want him Insured before he enters University. And he’s been very insistent. He wants you to go with him,” she says.

  The words should have more of a punch. But I’m almost expecting them. Berg has always been part of my life—I belong with him, in ways that I can’t begin to puzzle through. It’s not so surprising that he would demand my Citizenship as well.

  What is surprising is how much the idea repels me.

  I laugh, nodding. “The City doesn’t want a Gutterling castout. But they won’t turn away a scientist that you trained.”

  There is a sharp breath, and I look up at her.

  "How did you know?" she asks, faintly.

  I'm surprised that she does not deny it or dissemble. "The ban-wolves. They have quite a store of secrets."

  "They hate me,” she says, her gaze distant.

  "Well, you haven't given them much reason to feel affection for you," I say.

  She sighs at that, and I study her, trying to read what she is feeling. Her eyes are remote, and it makes me pause—hesitate. The distress in her eyes surprises me.

  "Mistress?" I prod.

  She sighs. "In his defense, Sabah, Berg wanted to tell you. He's wanted to tell you about the training for years."

  "Why didn't you?" I ask, feeling betrayed again.

  She shrugs. "Some things are difficult to explain—you know about the Mutations Protest, you know the public feeling toward the scientists."

  It's an excuse, and it makes me angry. "You aren't just a scientist," I snap, "you’re the Mistress—and if given the choice, I would have accepted you."

  Maybe she hears the past tense in my voice, because her eyes come up, icy and hard. "And now?"

  I stare at her. It's now, the moment the pack is counting on, but is what I will offer enough of an enticement?

  "I have a proposition," I say, carefully. Mistress' eyebrows arch, but she remains silent.

  "I am back. I'm not going to the pack. This is my life, whatever I might have thought in the past." A smile creeps along her lips, and I add, quickly, "But that does not mean I have to accept Citizenship. I don’t have to raise your children—I can marry into the tribes, or walk into the darkness and vanish Outside. And it will leave Berg without Insurance."

  "There is Alba," she counters, her voice tight.

  I laugh. "If you believed that, you would have sent them to the City while I was lost Outside." I tilt my head. "You love him, don't you?"

  She doesn't meet my eyes—something in her lap is suddenly immensely interesting. "Of course, I care for him. You two were my first children. And he accepts me—and my knowledge—without judgment."

  I can understand that. Even though the thought of them together still makes me sick with anger, I understand the relationship. Berg has always been in love with knowledge, stories; a kind of dreamy existence that I never understood.

  Mistress nurtured that love—and shared it.

  "I've always known you would be the one he ended up with. I'm content with that—you make him happy in a way I can’t,” she says, looking up.

  "But Alba—" I say, my voice hardening. We share a look, and in this, if nothing else, we are united. Alba is not right for Berg.

  "I'll go to the City and I'll stay with him," I say carefully. She is watching me, knowing something is coming. "But I want to know what you are working on. What do you need the starrbriars for?"

  The surprise on her face is so acute it is comical. "What?"

  "I know," I say, "that they have healing properties. I want to know what you’re doing."

  Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "You mean the ban-wolves want to know."

  I don't respond and she sighs. “I suppose you deserve this—I have kept it to myself much longer than I thought I’d be able to,” she says. "Sabah, you need to understand something. I was born to a geneticist—one of the ones who survived the purge."

  I blink. That's not possible. "The purge was right after the Cataclysm," I say.

  She nods, watching me.

  "But that was hundreds of years ago," I protest.

  "I know," she says simply. "My father was working on a bio-serum. It was synthesized from plant properties, one of the hybrids they created in the labs Before. They strengthened its DNA, and played with the serum. He wasn't involved in the genetic mutations—all he ever experimented on were lab rats."

  "What was the serum for?"

  She looks surprised I have not figured it out. "Longevity. The eternal quest for the fountain of youth."

  Staring at her, I have to wonder if her father had found that fountain. As always, she looks timeless: beautifully mature, but still young. Not for the first time, I think that she looks exactly the same now as she did when she found Berg and I Outside the Shield.

  "Father didn't have a
choice, though, not after the Cataclysm. The Commission controlled everything and had no qualms about exposing him. The public still wanted all geneticists dead. The price of his protection was to help create the ban-wolves."

  Even knowing that this was coming, knowing that she is culpable, it still hurts me. To hear her, in her own words, admit that she has helped create such a creature. I shake my head, looking away. "So the starrbriars are for the change."

  She laughs. "No."

  My gaze jerks back to her, and she smiles, pushing a strand of hair back impatiently. "Sabah, I'm searching for a reversal."

  Hope flares inside me, so hot and heady I can't see. "Why?"

  "Because I never wanted to change them in the first place. And—" she hesitates, "I've lost things, too. I wasn’t Exiled for nothing, you know.”

  Her tone is dry but the words remind me that it’s true. Mistress did something to anger the Commission. I snag a cherry from the chilled bowl of fruit, and sit back, waiting.

  “A few years before you and Berg landed on my doorstep, the Commission came to me. They had a Keeper from Walden they wanted Changed. But they wouldn’t tell me what he had done.”

  “That matters?” I interrupt her, surprised.

  “Of course,” she says tartly. “I won’t Change someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

  I think of Arjun, of the defense of his sister that sentenced them both. Of Merc’s protest of his mother’s Purge. “What did you do?”

  “I refused to Change him. They called in another geneticist—one from Cagio. And I was Exiled.”

  "Is that when you started looking for a cure?" I ask.

  She shrugs. "That evolved over time. I was angry, of course. I didn't just lose my Citizenship--I lost my Insurance. And--although it's rare--I loved him. We were happy, more than just a biological arrangement." She looks wistful. A smile turns her lips. "And I watched the ban-wolves. They were so compelling—lonely and graceful and defiant. The idea of defying the Commission--it was appealing. And I knew about the starrbriars. I knew they might be able to help the ban-wolves."