The Far Shores (The Central Series) (39 page)

Alex knew what was
supposed to happen. They all did. Physical contact with the Ether was
impossible. Material objects that came into contact with the Ether were often
destroyed. Bare seconds of exposure could be fatal. He wanted to scream, to run
after her, but somehow he did neither. Instead, he watched Eerie leap into the
Ether as a child might run into the ocean.

Her sneaker came down on
the Ether.

And stopped.

Eerie walked carefully
across the expanse of Ether that separated her from the hat with her arms
extended to the sides, as if she were keeping her balance on an icy surface.
Alex held his breath without realizing. Eerie picked up the hat before it could
come to rest on the surface of the Ether, then turned back toward him, waving
the hat enthusiastically.

“I got it! Alex, it’s
okay!”

Seeing them all stare,
Eerie glanced down around in her confusion.

“What?” Eerie looked
blankly back across the face of the Ether, which reflected only her and the
sky. “Did something happen?”

“I gather that your efforts were no
more satisfactory than my own.”

“Too true, Lóa,” Brennan
Thule agreed, pouring wine into a second glass on the crowded table. The
remains of a substantial meal were scattered across the table linen, four
courses with cheeses and fruit, picked at and then set aside. “The Black Sun
merits the reputation it has earned. What news from their representatives in
Central?”

“Josef Martynova refused
to speak to me,” Lóa said, shedding her coat and sitting across the table with
a sigh. “He has no interest in seeing his daughter returned to power, beside
whatever stillborn paternal instinct he might possess – not when that return
would come at his own expense.”

Brennan Thule ran his
finger along the rim of his wine glass and rested his chin glumly on his arm
while Lóa drained her glass in one go, then reached for the bottle.

“As we expected,”
Brennan said. “But he was the second option. What of the first?”

“Renton Hall?” Lóa made
a sour face while she filled her glass. “Exactly as abominable as we heard. He
appeared to be preoccupied with offering us insults, rather than coming to any
kind of accord. There was a brief moment, after I showed him the photos, when
he appeared perturbed, but it was too quick for me to be certain. He did not
seem as enamored of the Martynova girl as we have been led to believe. Either our
intelligence is incorrect, or...”

“Or Anastasia Martynova
is every bit as formidable as we were warned,” Brennan concluded wryly, cutting
smoothly into Lóa’s rapid-fire dialog. “I have reached much the same
conclusion. It is most galling to obviously have the upper hand and still have
our opponent act as if they have all the cards.”

“Then interrogation of
the girl has proven fruitless?”

“Utterly,” Brennan
admitted, taking a generous sip from his glass. “If she would as much as
scream, just once, that would be gratifying. I would feel satisfied by a simple
confirmation of her suffering. And she does suffer, I know it – she can be
harmed, she can feel pain, but it is as if she refuses to acknowledge it. Her
pride is truly staggering. Even under the influence of the most powerful drugs
at our disposal, she retains the presence of mind to mock, scold, and even make
suggestions.”

Lóa Thule helped herself
to a handful of green grapes from one of the hardly touched plates and chewed
thoughtfully.

“You have put her to
torment, then?”

“To the extent that I
dare, yes.” Brennan nodded wearily. “Keeping in mind that we are dealing with a
lady of one of the great cartels, child though she may be. Much of the ordeal
we have subjected her to has been psychological or telepathic, augmented with
hallucinogens and sensitizing toxins. I have employed the milder techniques of
which the Americans and Israelis have become so fond – sleep deprivation,
manipulation of body position, suffocation, sensory overload, and electrical
stimulation. Needless to say, none of this has had the desired effect.”

“Perhaps it is time then
to consider harsher measures? If she is as strong as you say, then she will not
break so easily...”

“Perhaps,” Brennan Thule
agreed warily, swirling the wine in his glass, holding it up to the light as if
to examine the color. “We must tread carefully. Whatever we do to her, when our
uncle discovers it, there will be consequences. We were only children, but I
remember his temper being fierce, once aroused. A killing he may forgive, an
interrogation he may tolerate, but any outrage we commit against one of the
great families will be held against us...”

Lóa Thule nodded slowly,
but did not appear convinced.

“The greater the power
at our disposal, the less the forgiveness required.”

“I agree with your
interpretation,” Brennan Thule said, setting his cup aside and poking halfheartedly
at a thick-crusted white cheese he clearly had no intention of eating. “But our
uncle will most likely not. All of our intelligence says otherwise. He has
tolerated – one might even allege he has
nurtured
– Anastasia Martynova,
and her progressive usurpation of the Black Sun. He may favor her rule above
that of her father. We sought to eliminate her because she represented a
wildcard, but I fear that we may have taken an action that will come back to
haunt us. That risk only grows the longer she remains in our possession.”

“Then you sent me to
make a deal...”

“Yes,” Brennan Thule
nodded. “I would have taken any deal sufficient for us to save face. Border
concessions, trade routes, cartel allegiances...anything. I have begun to
question the wisdom of attempting her elimination in the first place.”

“Do not blame yourself,
Brennan,” Lóa said, patting his hand affectionately. “Your reasoning was sound.
All of the previous attempts on her life revolved around protocols. It seemed likely
that you had hit on the crux of her abilities. There is no shame in
underestimating one whose measure remains unknown. Tell me, though – why do you
bother to interrogate her at all, if you are apprehensive of the consequences?
You cannot hope to break her with such mild methods, and if you are unwilling
to be more forceful...”

“Because she expects it.
I certainly would, were I in her position. The evident weakness of our position
would be immediately obvious to her, otherwise. We have a tiger by the tail, Lóa.”

Lóa put the remainder of
the grapes down, her appetite lost.

“Surely, you must have
some sort of plan...”

Brennan Thule’s smile
was rueful.

“An even greater gamble
than what we have already attempted, but we are in far too deep to consider
walking away. The consequences we fear would be assured by our retreat.”

Lóa Thule perked up,
studying him optimistically.

“Do not keep me in
suspense, cousin.”

“Anastasia Martynova is
no longer here,” Brennan Thule said, cutting a thin slice from the wheel of
cheese and the examining it closely, as if searching it for flaws. “I have
ordered her sedated and transported to Reykjavik. She is currently being moved
by multistage apport, to disguise the final destination.”

Lóa Thule dropped her
wine glass, which tumbled from the table to shatter on the stone floor.

“Cousin?” Her face went
pale. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“It is a terrible risk,”
he acknowledged, placing the cheese in his mouth, and then swallowing it
without bothering to chew, a look of profound distaste on his face. “Of that I
am well aware. I fully understand and share your apprehension. But there is no
other place where my intention can be realized.”

Lóa Thule’s eyes widened
and she put one hand to her chest.

“You cannot mean?”

“Exactly,” Brennan Thule
agreed glumly. “I have ordered her confined in the cartel sanctum. She will be
tried by ordeal. The well has been appropriately adulterated.”

“Cousin!”

“If she does not
survive, then our original goal is realized, more or less. We have only the difficulty
of moving the corpse to another locale, and finding a different cause to
ascribe it to. No easy matter, but surmountable. And if she is strong enough to
survive the ordeal,” Brennan Thule explained, with a hint of eagerness, “then
she will be one of us.”

***

“They are talking about me.”

“No,” Alex said,
stroking Eerie’s hair while she rested her head on his shoulder. “They are
talking about us.”

They sat on a barren
hill that provided enough elevation to see over the regular buildings of the Far
Shores to the brightly lit shape of the power plant’s smokestack, the vast
non-reflective darkness of the Ether presumably behind it, blending
imperceptibly with the dull night sky. The wind had died down somewhat, but
Alex still huddled in a hoodie and his recovered hat. As usual, Eerie seemed
indifferent to the cold, wearing little more than a patterned blouse, a
lace-bordered skirt, and silvery metallic tights.

After the chaos of the
afternoon, Alex was surprised that they had had so little difficulty slipping
away from the dining hall, but perhaps Rebecca Levy and Dr. Graaf had been too
preoccupied with the fallout from the events of the tour to bother keeping
track of them. He was certain that Katya had noticed them leaving, but she
hadn’t said anything to stop them, and if she followed, then she did so discreetly.

Alex wished he could see
the stars. He was tired of the empty sky.

He had picked the hill
deliberately. He had been at the Far Shores long enough to identify the
surprisingly humble structure that served Dr. Graaf as an administrative
office, and from their current vantage, it was in plain view. Lights burned
inside, as they had since they climbed the hill, so Alex assumed the discussion
that had begun the moment that Eerie set foot on the sand was ongoing. The tedious
tour of the inner portion of the campus a functionary had led them on for the
remainder of the afternoon – while Dr. Graaf and Rebecca trailed behind speaking
in hushed voices – had been transparently intended to do little more than
occupy time.

Eerie lay down, settling
her head on his thigh, and Alex rested his hand on the swell of her hip. He had
been thinking the situation over for hours, with little result. He trusted
Rebecca to the extent that he did not believe she would not allow any harm to
befall the Changeling. But he did not trust Dr. Graaf or the Far Shores, and
half-suspected they wanted to keep Eerie in some sort of laboratory, running
tests and poking her with needles in an attempt to figure out how she did whatever
she had done.

Dr. Graaf had been very
excited by Eerie’s performance, but to Alex’s eyes, he didn’t seem surprised.
In fact, Alex couldn’t think of a good reason why he would have taken them out to
the beach in the first place if he hadn’t had some idea what might happen. It
was possible that he had intended something like this from the very start.

It was only a matter of
time until someone came looking for Eerie. And Alex didn’t know what he was
going to do about that – if there even was anything to be done. He was
determined to shield her from this situation, but he had no idea how to achieve
that outcome, and sitting on the hill and cuddling with the taciturn Changeling
hadn’t clarified things one bit.

“I think that there are
people,” Eerie said uncertainly, raising her head up from his leg. “Two people.
Coming up the hill.”

Alex stood up and
watched the darkened slope. It took him a moment to make them out for himself.
Eerie was right. Two people, one stopping occasionally to help the other climb
the uneven and shifting gravel. He clenched his fists and swore under his
breath, while Eerie stared out at the night, apparently unconcerned. They were
already too close to consider running, and there was nowhere to run to, anyway.
The Far Shores campus was surrounded on three sides by kilometers of nothing.

Eventually, he settled
for sitting back down beside Eerie and waiting.

“We are coming up there,
you two,” Katya called out from just below them. “So put your clothes back on,
or whatever.”

“You especially, Alex,”
Vivik added, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Christ,” Alex sighed,
shaking his head. “I’m relieved it’s you guys.”

Katya stopped in front
of them, blocking their view of the Far Shores, hands on her hips and smirk on
her face.

“I bet. Rebecca’s gonna
lose her shit once she realizes you guys took off again, you know.”

“She hasn’t noticed yet?”
Alex asked hopefully.

“No. Not yet,” Vivik
confirmed, sitting down near Alex with a sigh of relief. “Not when we left,
anyway.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I don’t see why,” Katya
objected. “That just means they’re still arguing over what to do.”

Eerie glanced from one
face to the other blankly.

“Are we in trouble
again?”

“Probably. But don’t
worry about it,” Alex said, patting her leg. “I’m gonna figure something out this
time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I doubt it
myself,” Katya said, when she stopped laughing.

“What are you guys doing
up here, anyway?” Alex asked. “You could get in trouble too, you know.”

“I could ask you the
same thing,” Katya retorted. She then took Eerie by the hand and helped her up,
ignoring the Changeling’s evident confusion. “C’mon, Eerie. Take a walk with
me.”

“Hey! What are you – ”

“None of your business,”
Katya said, leading Eerie off into the darkness, away from the Far Shores. “Girl
talk. You guys talk about video games, or football, or something.”

There was a brief
silence while Alex tried to figure out what Katya had in mind. Then he
abandoned it as fruitless.

“I don’t even like
football,” Vivik pointed out.

“And I don’t play video games,”
Alex added.

Of course, the girls
were too far away to hear their rejoinder.