14. Hull - The Weak Fall (Patreon)

Chapter 14

The Trouble With Trust

I stared at the shadowed woman in a moment of total shock, and then the old familiar anger sparked inside me. “Bullshit,” I said. “I may not remember much from my kid years, but I’d recognize my own mother’s voice.”

“Ah, you experienced memory loss?” The woman squatted beside me, coming close. “Tell me more. Are certain aspects of recall more affected, or was the loss total?” Her eyes glimmered in the sliver of moonlight that cut across her face. She was young, fair-skinned, and freckled. She couldn’t have been five years older than me.

I scooted away, my skin crawling. “You’re not my mother, lady. I don’t know why you attacked me, but leave me alone and maybe I’ll forget this happened.”

“You haven’t told anyone about the broken grate locks, have you?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

“No, and I’m not going to. You’re lucky I don’t report you to the Grand Marshal.”

“You’re lucky you haven’t.” She leaned back on her haunches. “Shit, all this time and you’ve been right here. I wish I’d known.”

“Stop that,” I whispered, standing. “Quit acting like you know me.”

She hauled herself upright, dusting off her dirty worker’s breeches. “You might want to sit back down for this, Hull. Dear old mama has a few surprises up her sleeve.”

She pressed her hands to her face and began panting softly as her shadowed shape began to ripple. Her quiet grunts only partially masked the sound of popping bones and tearing flesh. She hunched in on herself like a pained animal.

A cold wash of horror passed over me, and I found myself pressed against the wall next to the grate. “Twins preserve me,” I muttered. 

“Ugh, that’s never fun,” she groaned quietly. “And I’ll have to change back in no time. Two minutes together and already you’re making my life hard. Nobody appreciates a mother.” She straightened back into the shaft of moonlight and I was glad to be leaning against the wall, because my knees buckled.

It was her. It turned out that the face I could never remember was still somehow seared into me, because I knew the woman before me. She was a good hand taller than she’d been a moment before, with a thick mane of black hair, arched, expressive brows, full lips, and a heart-shaped face of perhaps forty. Mother. I was struggling for breath like I’d just run a race. I wanted to vomit. “What the fuck?” 

“Tell me again how I’m not your mother,” she said dryly.

I’d launched myself at her before I even formed the thought. Rage boiled up like scalding water through parched earth. We crashed together with my hands around her throat, and I heard her laughing as we hit the ground.

“How? Why? How?” I heard myself growl. I sounded like a crazed, injured bear. “Where’s my card?”

“Oh, sweet boy,” she sighed, plucking my hands away from her throat and pushing me off with an easy strength that belied her willowy frame. “Of course you’re angry about that, but don’t blame me. You were supposed to die.”

Righteous indignation swelled in me, and I opened my mouth to yell. Her hand clapped down over my face, sealing in the sound.

“Neither of us wants too much attention, I think,” she murmured. “Nurture your anger; it gives you power. But do it intelligently.”

I tried to peel her fingers away, but I might as well have been yanking on stone. She let me struggle for a long moment, an amused smile playing on her shadowed face, before finally releasing me. The implied message of her being in charge was unmistakable.

“Is it supposed to make me feel better that you thought I’d die?” I whispered harshly. “I was a little kid. You were my mother. It would have been better if you bashed in my skull and took the card from my dead body.”

“Would it, though?” she mused. “Look at you: training for war among the elite of humanity. You survived the first hit I gave you, which means you have something like a full deck. You’d rather be a little boy ten years dead just so mommy didn’t do something mean? Be reasonable.”

I ground my teeth. It sounded like she didn’t even care what she’d done. She’s a demon, you idiot. Might as well ask a feral dog to feel bad for biting. Hurt and rage and longing made a whirlwind inside me, and her words made just enough sense to tangle my tongue and keep me off-balance. Finally, finally my mother was here in front of me, and she took no more responsibility for the shitheap of my life than Hestorus had. I should have expected as much, but still it cut like a knife dipped in acid.

“I want my card back,” I said. “You stole it. It’s mine.”

“Oh, dear one,” she sighed, caressing my cheek. “If only I had it. The one I serve demands a certain number of cards from me in exchange for my long freedoms, and he will not be denied. Your early years were a fallow time for me, and I had no choice. You were sick already, burning with fever and coughing blood. I thought if I took your card it would free you from that pain… and then I could have your cheerful little-boy company at least a little longer as a card while I journeyed back to make the delivery. No one could have believed you’d live. No one lives when I take their card. I thought I was seeing a ghost when I saw your face tonight. You’ve got the same look, even ten years later.”

Every word cut a little deeper. I’d been dying? I didn’t remember that. But then, I hardly remembered anything from my childhood. She’d taken my card as a mercy. But how could a mother abandon her dying child like that? My card was gone, traded away to who knew where, to some demon overlord, far out of my reach. It had been no closer yesterday, but I felt the loss afresh.

“You’ve succeeded incredibly even without it,” my mother said, sounding thoughtful. “Cardless and alone, still you excel. What made the difference? Hmm.” She looked so lovely, so real with the moonlight showing only the barest outlines of her face, and my heart ached. That profile sparked some deep fragment of memory within me, and I could almost hear some long-lost version of her humming a husky, mournful lullaby. Anger and yearning warred within me, and neither could gain the upper hand.

“Fortune plays his tricks,” she said, a bit of humor lightening her tone, “but sometimes they’re good ones. Who’d have thought the night would bring me my dead son?”

“And who’d have thought it would bring me my demon mother?” I managed to say.

Her soft chuckle warmed the darkness. “Oh, so he’s not totally without resources. Do you remember our time in the Unyielding Court? I’d have guessed you were far too young.”

“The Unyielding…?” I shook my head. “No, I have your old Night Terror.”

“Oh, that nosy bastard.” She sounded almost fond. “Ticosi must be dead, then.”

I had a sudden flash of the slumlord ripping my Souls and source from me and nearly killing me with them. All I could do was nod mutely.

“I wondered when he failed to send his reports. Were you the one who did it?”

I felt a moment’s hesitation, but I nodded again.

“The weak fall and the strong rise,” she said, sounding as if she were quoting something. “If you were full blooded I’d take you in to claim a new name.” She took me by both shoulders. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you again soon.”

Unreasoned panic rose in me. “Wait. Why?”

She looked toward the fortification’s tall central tower. “You mustn’t speak of my presence to anyone. I’m a secret liaison to the King’s army, but no one can know of it. Humans consorting with demons? The nobility would have a fit. It had to be me.” She paused, peering at me. “You remember your father? You understand what I mean?”

“I remember.” A former lover, even a disgraced one, would have easier access to the King than others. I suddenly realized that Hestorus had known she was here, had been meeting with her, and still he’d had the gall to lie about it when he’d finally bothered to speak to me. Every time I learned something new, the scheming son of a bitch turned out to be even worse than I’d thought before.

“This must remain secret,” she insisted. “Will you swear it?”

I didn’t want to. Good reasons or not, she’d stolen my card and left me for dead. I’d hated her my whole life. But the more I learned of the great and powerful, the more I understood that the real business of governing was done in midnight meetings no one could ever know about. “What’s in it for me?”

“Let’s think,” she drawled, “what about the good of the realm? The continued safety of your dear mother?”

“The dear mother who left me to die,” I said flatly.

“Touché,” she murmured. “Though you have no idea how much it pained me all those years ago.”

“You need to promise to help me get my card back,” I said.

She scoffed. “The Primarch doesn’t give cards back.”

I shrugged, feigning indifference. “High Paladin Edaine will be very interested to hear about the broken drain locks.”

She made a noise of frustration. “Fine. Next time I go home I will do what I can.”

“You’ll trade it back from him,” I insisted. “None of this what I can bullshit.”

“Good to see that you have a bit of your mother’s spirit,” she said, a smile curving her lips. “I promise to do this.”

“Then I swear no one will hear about you from me.” As the words left my mouth, I realized I meant it. For all that it had felt good to tell Basil and Esmi my story of taking over the Lows, this was different. This was my mother. This was something that was only for me. “When will I see you?”

“Soon,” she promised. “I won’t look like this, but I’ll come find you. There is so much I want to know, so much that we’ve missed.” She swept me into an embrace. “My sweet boy.”

I froze, stiff as a board, and then something inside me thawed and broke. I wrapped my arms around her and held tight. I squeezed my eyes shut, glad for the darkness to hide the tears gathering there.

Then she broke the embrace and pressed something into my hand before stepping away. She was gone so quickly I wasn’t quite sure which way she’d darted off. I sagged against the wall and let myself slide into a sitting position. My head ached and my heart was a jumble. For years I’d dreamt of coming face to face with my mother, and when it had happened, the whole thing had been nothing like what I’d expected. She hadn’t said sorry; she didn’t have my card… but she’d taken me in her arms. She’d been impressed by my accomplishments. I was her sweet boy. The bitter and painful bits sat cheek-and-jowl with the good ones, and I couldn’t figure out what to think. What to feel. 

Opening my hand, I saw a small, smooth stone in my palm. It felt like a common river rock one could find kicking along any dirt road in the world, and I wondered why she’d given it to me. But then I held it up into the faint shred of moonlight, and the light shone right through it, making it glow a deep purple the exact same shade as my Nether source. It was warmer in my hand than it ought to be, and it felt like it vibrated in a way that resonated with me. Is this from the Demon Realm? Maybe, but then again, maybe it was just a pretty rock she’d pawned off on her idiot son.

I considered the grate I’d been about to climb through to sneak off to the Lows and couldn’t imagine facing Harker or working with Roshum tonight. My head was too full. I’d make a hash of it. I needed quiet. I needed peace. The Lows would have to take care of themselves for an evening.

Confused and numb, I got up and made my way back to my hut. Harganut looked up from his crystalline berth when I staggered in. There was more stone and quartz around him every time I looked. Not a speck of metal was visible inside the place; everything was covered in facets of white and pink that reflected the soft lamplight. “You don’t seem to sleep like the others,” he observed. “I thought I wouldn’t see you until morning.”

I said nothing and climbed onto my smooth, warm slab of crystal. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to rage or to cry, but either way, it felt better to have my eyes closed. I heard the dwarf shift back to where he lay and a Twins-blessed silence fell. With the storm inside me, only silence was tolerable.

“Your rhythm is disrupted,” Harganut said.

My anger flared, and I opened my eyes. “What?”

“Your breathing. Your heartbeat. These things are more variable among your kind than mine, but now yours are changing more quickly than usual.” He regarded me solemnly. “You should stop that. I do not like the disruption.”

“Yeah, well, me neither,” I growled. “Sleep somewhere else if my heartbeat bothers you.”

He cocked his knobby head as if taking my suggestion seriously. “No,” he finally said. “Our superiors will not appreciate it if I modify another living space.”

“And I don’t appreciate it when you start saying weird shit,” I said, closing my eyes again. “So shut up and go to sleep.” 

There was another long silence. “You should think about stone.”

“I’m about to put a stone in your face,” I growled, keeping my eyes shot.

“No thank you,” he said, sounding confused. “I have already eaten.”

I barked a bitter laugh. He thought I was offering him a late-night snack. I couldn’t even threaten this odd son of a bitch right. Giving up on silence, I sat up. “Why should I think about stone?”

His ugly, craggy face split in a smile. “Stone is not variable. When your tempos are disrupted, be like stone, and you will be still. Stillness brings clear thought. Clear thought brings good craftsmanship.”

I sighed. “Those sound like good things.”

He bobbed his head eagerly. “Metal is good too, but the structures are harsher and more brittle. Stone is best for the things that last. More humans should think like stone.”

“Plenty of us humans work with stone and metal,” I told him. Yes, but you’re not really human, are you? Your mom is a demon, and who knows what the hell that makes you? A freak. A cardless street rat. A kid that everyone left behind. I shook off the self-pitying thoughts. They were pointless. “Look at Treledyne. Plenty of lasting stuff there.”

Harganut made a non-committal noise. “The greatest of human work lasts a few hundred years at best. Thinking like stone can create structures of beauty that last for aeons.”

I snorted. “You Deepkin live in caves, don’t you? Like trolls, just deeper down. Banging together rocks and sleeping in shit.”

He went still and then laid back stiffly. “Yes. Caves. Shit. This is true. Good night.”

He didn’t say anything else. I’d probably offended the bastard, but I didn’t care. Somebody else deserved to feel a little bad tonight too. I screwed my eyes shut and willed myself to fall asleep. It didn’t happen, and I wasn’t sure if it would any time soon. There was just too much boiling inside me. Harganut was right: my tempos were off. I tried thinking about stone, focusing on the translucent purple rock still clenched in my fist, but it didn’t help in the slightest. I laid there in the darkness and stewed in angry thoughts and hurt feelings.

She looked human, not like a demon. That probably wasn’t even her true form, just the one she used when she was with the King, one I’d recognize. How does she change shape like that? She said it hurt, and I made her do it twice. If I hadn’t, would she have stayed and talked longer? No, that’s stupid. Burning with fever. Coughing blood.  Free me from pain, she said, but how could she do something like that? And then she runs off. But she hugged me first. Fate take me, did she ever care at all?

I sighed and wrapped my hands around the useless, pointless, precious stone my mother had given me. It was going to be a long night.