They
were called the Lost Ones. The psychological profile, as Milton read it,
appeared to be all about disempowerment. The average person did not simply get
the offer, go off and become one of these things. Most were traumatized in some
way, often quite horrifically, and whoever made them into these things preyed
on this. They had a thick file on Aragoth, he of the blue suit. He’d been born
in Fealdoraga, down on the southern tip of Elderland. His parents were killed
in a Red Sails raid and he was taken by the ship’s crew. It seemed the captain
had held a special interest in the young boy – whose name had been Hundé. The
story had a twist, though. The ship ran aground on a small island in the
Selatian Sea two months after the boy was taken. Rescuers found a lot of dead
bodies on that ship, all of whom had been killed with some sort of bladed
weapon, and many of whom had human teeth marks on their corpses. Hundé was
nowhere to be seen. Then, in 473…
Milton
looked up from the file. “Wait a minute. Aragoth is over six hundred years
old?”
Tessa
nodded. “Honestly, the more I learn about the universe, the more I realize how
brief our visits are. To me, the place I was born feels buried in the fog of
history, yet to one of these things, I only just left.” She leaned against the
window of the train compartment, wistfully watching the moon rise.
Milton
realized he had been staring at her. She was, in many ways, just as much of a
mystery as this Aragoth. Tessa Olanis – a pseudonym, he was sure. Perhaps he
had spent too much time out of the company of women – disregarding the Thin
Woman, of course – but there was something about Tessa that made him feel far
less uncomfortable than he had been in the presence of the Diplomat.
He
realized this could very well be by design. The comfort brought on its own new discomfort.
The
details on Aragoth were staggering. The House was thorough to an absurd degree.
The process by which he had become what he had become, however, was somewhat
hazy. It appeared that, consistent with all of the Lost Ones, he had merely
disappeared and come back days later, the only noticeable differences being
that he no longer had any color to him, and that he had become a monster.
The
journey, which was only about eighteen miles, was delayed by a rockslide. It
seemed a boulder had fallen onto the track, and while the conductor had
announced that the track was undamaged, removing the rock was proving
difficult.
Upon
hearing the announcement, Tessa reached a small brass earpiece hidden
underneath her hair. After receiving what appeared to be some kind of radio
signal, she nodded to herself, satisfied, and went back to looking out the
window.
Milton
put down the file. “What is the plan here?”
She
looked back at him. “The plan? We’re going to Towatki.”
“I
appreciate that, but what are we actually going to do once we get there? The
Diplomat told me…”
“The
Diplomat?” Tessa furrowed her brow. “Who is that?”
“I
thought he was your boss. Isn’t he the one who sent you to get me?”
Tessa
shook her head. “No. I’ve never heard of the Diplomat. Probably someone
low-level, on another chain.”
“Then
who is your boss?”
Tessa
smiled. “I actually cannot tell you that.”
“You
can’t?”
“Policy.”
“I’m
under your protection. I doubt that you people think I’m a threat.”
“No,
you don’t understand. I don’t know who my boss’ boss is. My boss does not know
who his boss’ boss is. That’s the way the House works.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.
If an Agent is compromised, their superior can simply drop out. Everyone is
isolated, so there’s very little risk of a major compromise.”
Milton
idly picked up the file. “That’s insane. So every order is one massive game of
telephone?”
“Orders
are given in somewhat broad strokes. If one of the higher-ups needs something
specific done, the orders are transmitted word-for-word.”
“How
do you even know that you’re getting orders from the actual House then?”
Tessa
shrugged. “Faith, I guess.”
Milton
shook his head. “You must be joking.”
Tessa
drew backward, sitting up a little straighter. “You’re Narcian, so you believe
in Kerahn, right?”
“I
believe in the philosophy. I’ve never met the guy personally.”
“But
you follow his teachings because he’s your god.”
Milton
shook his head. “Not at all. I agree with the teachings because they make
sense. It really just boils down to being open-minded and treating people
decently. I wouldn’t care if it was a god or just some guy who said that.”
“But
that’s just it. That’s your faith. You’re so devoted that you would not even
care if it were actually the words of a god. Understand this: I’ve been a part
of the House for nearly my entire life. It has given me the comfort and safety that
I could have never dreamed of. I have faith in the House for the same reason I
have faith that I won’t fall into the sky if I look up at the stars.”
Milton
nodded. He had never considered the kind of religious devotion required of a
House Agent, yet there it was. He did not know whether to find it sad or
frightening.
“I
will say this,” began Milton, but then he reconsidered and stopped himself.
Tessa leaned forward.
“What?”
“Tessa,
do you know why I’m here?”
“I
was told you had been taken out of Narcia by Aragoth’s people.”
“They
took me, but they didn’t just let me go. They tortured me for… months, I think.
I’d heard of the House before, but never good things. But it was the Diplomat
who saved me. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have ended up…” Insane, he thought. But that would
require too much explanation, so instead he simply said “dead.” The mere
thought of his experience down in the cell was almost physically painful. “In a
sense, I owe him my life. Yet… yet I still don’t trust him. I don’t trust the
House.”
“And
you don’t trust me,” said Tessa, with a hidden but not unnoticed hint of anger.
“It’s
nothing personal, Tessa.”
She
leaned back against the train wall, pulling her legs up onto the seat. “So what
can I do to gain your trust, Jack?”
Milton
looked down at the file in his hand. “I want to see the file you guys have on
the faceless man.”
(Copyright Daniel Szolovits 2012)
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