Chapter 106: Negotiation

Mara stared at the old man. "You can actually do that?"

"I would not have offered if I couldn't."

"That doesn't mean anything. You could be lying."

"Most negotiations involve that possibility."

The Manager stepped between them before Mara could answer. "And that is precisely why you are not agreeing to anything. We don't know his name, where he came from or what he intends to do once he has you away from the Bastion."

Several Reapers voiced their agreement. Frederick remained beside Mara with his curved sword lowered but ready. The woman carrying the anchor shifted closer to Rook, placing herself where she could strike the old man if he moved. And the other two officers were staying close to the feline making sure it didn't try anything funny.

The old man looked around at the gathering resistance. "You are all remarkably suspicious of someone offering medical assistance."

"You arrived with a Seventh Rank," Frederick said.

"She's very well behaved."

"IT nearly put my head in her mouth."

"You grabbed me."

"That doesn't make her well behaved."

The old man considered the argument before looking toward the feline. "He may have a point."

The creature's ears twitched.

Mara barely heard them. Her attention had returned to Rook. The translucent damage along his throat continued spreading, carrying dim traces of light beneath his skin. His breathing no longer produced any sound. She had to press her fingers against him to feel the weak movement inside his chest.

She had no reason to trust the old man.

She had even less reason to believe Rook would survive long enough for someone trustworthy to appear.

"Prove it," she said.

The Manager turned toward her. "Mara."

"If he can restore memories, he can prove it without touching Rook." Mara looked past her at the old man. "Show me you can do what you claim, and then I'll consider your offer."

The old man nodded once. "Fine."

He stood with some effort, using the cane to push himself upright, then examined the Reapers around him. His gaze passed over Frederick, the anchor wielder and several others before settling upon a broad-shouldered man holding a chipped sword.

"You'll do."

The Reaper frowned. "Do for what?"

"A demonstration."

"I didn't agree to that."

"I have not touched you yet. Relax."

The man looked toward the Manager. She gave him no order to comply, but she did not stop the old man either.

The old man approached until only the chipped sword separated them. "Have you ever wondered what your mother looked like?"

The Reaper's suspicion shifted into confusion. "I know what my mother looked like."

"Describe her."

"What?"

"Her face. Describe it."

The Reaper glanced at the people around him, perhaps wondering whether the old man was making a joke at his expense. "She was small. Grey hair near the end. Thin hands. She used to wear..."

"Her face," the old man repeated. "What shape were her eyes? How did her mouth sit when she wasn't speaking? Was her nose straight or crooked? Which cheek moved first when she smiled?"

The Reaper opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

His brow tightened. He looked away from the old man, concentrating upon some distant point among the ruins. "Her eyes were…"

The sentence faded.

One hand loosened around his sword. His confusion sharpened into alarm as he searched through a memory he had apparently never thought to question.

"What did you do to me?"

"Nothing."

"I remembered her a moment ago."

"You remembered that you knew her." The old man tapped one finger against the side of his own head. "The mind is very good at covering empty spaces. It keeps the feeling that something belongs there, then convinces you the feeling is the memory itself. Unless someone forces you to examine it closely, you may go centuries without noticing what was lost."

The Reaper's eyes moved toward the Manager. The silent exchange between them was immediate. If anything went wrong, she would intervene.

At last, he lowered his sword.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Remain still."

The old man pressed two fingers against the Reaper's temple.

Nothing visible happened.

No light appeared between them. No Death Imprint spread across the old man's skin, and no change passed through the repaired Beacon above. He merely closed his eyes while the Reaper stood rigid beneath his touch.

Several seconds passed.

The feline watched from behind them, licking the last traces of pale light from its teeth.

The old man removed his hand.

The Reaper staggered backward.

Frederick caught his shoulder before he fell. The man raised one hand to his face, squeezing his eyes shut as though the light from the Beacon had suddenly become painful.

Then he began to cry.

The first tears slipped through the dirt on his cheeks. More followed when he opened his eyes, leaving him staring at nothing.

"I remember," he whispered.

The old man rested both hands upon his cane.

The Reaper swallowed hard. "Her fingers were bent from sewing. She had a burn across her left hand, and she always hid it beneath the other when someone visited." His breath caught. "Her hair wasn't grey. Not all of it. There was still black underneath, near the back. I remember brushing it when she couldn't lift her arms."

Nobody interrupted him.

"I remember her last night. She kept asking me to open the window because she thought she heard my father outside." His hand closed over his mouth, failing to contain the sound that escaped him. "I thought I remembered. All this time, I thought I knew."

"You remembered loving her," the old man said. "The rest had worn away."

The Reaper turned from the watching crowd. Frederick kept a hand upon his shoulder and guided him aside.

The old man faced Mara. "Is that sufficient proof?"

It was more than proof.

Mara looked at Rook and thought of the laboratory concealed inside the Fourth Rank's memories. She remembered the young man strapped to the examination table, his face twisting out of sight whenever she came close to recognizing it. Rook had spent three hundred years claiming there was nothing in his past worth finding, yet every question concerning that laboratory had frightened him more than any Abomination they encountered.

If the old man spoke the truth, he could give them what no memory fragment or Remembrancer had been able to provide.

He could tell Rook who he had been.

Perhaps those memories would explain why the Fourth Rank recognized him. Perhaps they would lead to Yama's Gate, or explain why Mara had been misplaced in the Underworld. Even if they did neither, Rook was dying in her arms, and the old man had offered to save him.

"I accept," she said.

The Manager turned on her. "You are accepting nothing until we know the full terms."

"The terms are that Rook lives."

"The terms are that both of you disappear with a stranger controlling a Seventh Rank."

"It's my decision."

"It is not only yours. He cannot agree while unconscious."

"If we wait for him to wake up, there may not be enough of him left to decide."

The Manager's jaw tightened. She looked down at Rook and found no answer that could change the condition of his body.

Mara faced the old man. "Heal him, return what he lost and tell me what you want to learn about my Death Imprint. If you try anything else, the agreement ends."

The old man smiled faintly. "Good."

He turned toward the feline. "Take him."

The creature approached.

Mara pulled Rook closer as its head lowered toward them. Its breath rolled across her, damp and heavy with the smell of the core it had eaten. Pale light still clung between two of its teeth.

When its jaws opened around Rook, Mara drove her dagger against its lower fang.

"What are you doing?"

"Stopping the decay," the old man replied.

"By feeding him to your Abomination?"

"She has already eaten. You watched me feed her."

"That doesn't mean she won't eat again."

The feline waited with its mouth open, showing more patience than most of the Reapers surrounding it.

The old man crouched beside Mara. "The digestive fluid of the pale one is still inside his remembered flesh. You pulled him from its body, but you did not remove what had already begun feeding upon him. Every moment it remains, more of his memories lose their connection to the rest."

"Then clean it out."

"With what?"

"You said you could heal him."

"I can, once the damage stops spreading. The fluid belongs to a Seventh Rank. Your healers could scrape away every piece they see and still miss whatever entered his memories. Another Abomination is the only thing here capable of suppressing it."

Mara glanced into the feline's mouth. Behind its teeth, darkness descended into a throat wide enough to swallow Rook without difficulty.

"You want to put him inside her."

"The remembered flesh of one Abomination rejects the digestive memory of another. She can surround him, stop the pale one's fluid from continuing its work and preserve what remains until I remove it properly."

"And she won't digest him instead?"

"No."

"You sound very confident."

"I control what she feeds upon." The old man rested his palm against the feline's nose. "Besides, I need him intact. Killing him would be inconvenient for everyone."

"That is not reassuring."

"It was not intended to be. It was the truth."

The Manager stepped closer to the creature. Stone crawled over her fingers, forming a thin layer across both hands. "If IT harms him, I will tear IT open before IT swallows."

The feline's pupils narrowed.

The old man sighed. "You do realize threatening her makes this more difficult."

"It was intended to."

Mara looked down at Rook one final time. The translucence had reached the edge of his face. A section of his cheek briefly lost its shape, flattening before his flesh struggled to remember the bone beneath it.

She removed her dagger from the fang.

The feline lowered its jaws carefully around Rook. It did not bite. Its tongue slid beneath his body, lifting him from Mara's arms while the teeth closed without touching his flesh.

Within moments, Rook disappeared into its mouth.

A thick movement passed down the creature's throat.

Mara stood so quickly that her knees nearly failed beneath her.

The old man caught her elbow. "He is alive."

"How would I know?"

"You wouldn't."

She pulled her arm from his hand. "If that is another attempt at reassurance, stop trying."

The translucent chain between her and Rook remained visible. It passed from her chest into the feline's body, faint but unbroken. Wherever the creature had placed him, the bond still reached him.

For now, that was enough.