Andrea Höst - And All the Stars

In a chair moved from the locker area and set so he could gaze in the direction of the Spire, he sat legs stretched out, posture weary. His glasses were folded on a closed book on the floor beside him, and she could see his face reflected in the window: brows drawn together in one of those frowns which made him look furious. So familiar, and so wrong.

What could she do, to get back the person who was so incredibly precious to her?

"The knife seems a little redundant."

Madeleine started, and saw that he – the Moth controlling Fisher – was watching her in the thin reflection in the window. She looked down at the knife, decided that she was more likely to hurt herself with it than him, and put it on a nearby counter.

"I don’t have a key to the lift," the Moth added helpfully. He hadn’t turned, had straightened in the chair, but continued to watch her via the reflection. He held himself so like Fisher, had that quality of attentive contemplation.

Her mouth so dry she could barely speak, Madeleine asked: "Why are you here?"

"Oh, I have various threats and ultimatums to deliver," he said, with a faded hint of amusement. "The theory being that you’re less likely to attack me. But before we go on, there’s something you should know."

"What?"

In the reflection his eyes met hers, inexplicably sad.

"You’ve never met Fisher."

"I don’t believe you."

Hoarse, whispered protest, but Madeleine had to grab the nearby counter to keep herself upright. Because the expression was his. The way he held himself. She’d known on some level even before he spoke. This was the person who had watched her paint. The person she had danced with. The one who had held her, kissed her, become a new sun in her sky.

"It doesn’t make sense. You helped us hide! You…ever since the stair? But why?"

"Initially my role was forward scout," the Moth who was not Fisher said. "To locate Blues sufficiently stained for the Five’s purposes. And, if possible, assemble Blues for the initial dispersal. That practically arranged itself. You, of course, I had marked for the Core." Still watching her in the glass, a reflected boy with a steady gaze. "I don’t know if it was due to your sheer strength, or your initial contact with the Spire, but you were able to instinctively defend yourself, and injured the Core badly. My orders changed: to keep you within reach until the Core was able to claim you."

"They knew where we were the whole time?" All that hiding, a futile game?

He nodded. "What better way to stop you running than to let you think yourself hidden? The North Building would likely not have remained unoccupied without orders to stay away. Unfortunately your existence was known to the other clans: that Rover’s attack was almost certainly an embedded command. And then the challenge, which made it necessary to properly hide you."

Effortless manipulation. Tiny touches, never pushing. Supporting decisions to stay, to fight. Playing Musketeer while searching out holes in her defences, gaining her trust. Throat tight, muscles rigidly locked, Madeleine faced all which had been said and done between them. She could barely force the question through her lips.

"It was all an act?"

"No."

Those reflected eyes were fierce, his mouth a set line, firm and absolute. Then he looked away, drawing in a deep breath.

"There’s a great deal I can’t discuss. Most outside the Fives are barred from speaking at all to the Untaken. I have minor exemptions, but critical subjects can’t even be broached, and I’ve lost some of the leeway I had. Do you remember what I said, the first time we spoke?

A boy with a head injury, newly possessed, glaring at the Spire with concentrated hatred. All this useless death. Don’t you want to tear that down and stamp on the pieces?

"That was true? But…why? You still – you told them where we were, didn’t you? Unlocked the elevator."

"You’ve never met a hierarchy like the En-Mott," he said, then winced, as if something had poked him. "I can’t explain in any detail. I can’t directly act. I’ve done all I can to…to line up dominos. Time, place, opportunity. The pieces of information you need." He frowned at the window. "Let me get these threats out of the way. You understand what the Core intends to do to you?"

"Take me over slowly, instead of all at once."

"Your strength makes that a dangerous process. You cannot be kept permanently asleep – it requires a conscious mind. Each time, you need to be made safe to approach, prevented from attacking. You might choose to harm yourself. You might even manage to escape. And if you do any of those things, the Core will hunt down your parents." At her sharp look he shook his head. "He does not have them yet, though the Press very helpfully traced them to Bathurst. Tell them to move, the first chance you have."

What was he suggesting? Did he intend to help her escape? Madeleine stared, but he was no longer looking at her reflection, was gazing down toward Hyde Park. She didn’t know how to feel. It would be stupid to trust someone who had lied to her from the day they’d met. There was no way to simply step back into absolute certainty. But something about the way he held himself, shoulders tight as if braced for a blow…

"Do you have a name?"

His eyes came back to her reflection with a jerk. Startled. Had he expected her to keep calling him Fisher? Then, a thin, wobbling note, a sound she would struggle to describe, and certainly couldn’t reproduce. The name of a Moth.

"Call me Théoden," he said, with a shrug. "He was only possessed in the movie, but it seems appropriate enough."

After a blank moment she realised he was talking about a character from The Lord of the Rings . A fictional name, to emphasise the falsity of the person she had known, telling her Fisher’s hopes and dreams while carrying out the Core’s orders. And behind it, an agenda of his own. She had been utterly taken in, never for a moment suspecting.

"You act very–" She stopped, finding herself stupidly embarrassed. "Nash and Pan, the others. No-one from the school noticed any difference?"

"Why would they?" Her question had conjured the ghost of a smile. "I’m not sitting in a little control room in Fisher’s head pulling levers. He is…a layer of knowledge and reaction, a filter through which I experience this world. Of course I would act human."

His reflected gaze was unwavering, saying things words did not. Madeleine wanted to look away, to deny any kind of response, but she could not. Everything about this was wrong, based on five kinds of lie, and still her heart raced looking into his eyes. This was a person who had connected with her on a level no-one else had, and the air between them thrummed.

Beyond Théoden, a ribbon of light curled across the sky. He looked away from her reflection to watch it twine once around the Spire, then dive and disappear.

"Time to start," he said, in a voice which sounded short of breath. He stood, and Madeleine was unable to stop herself from taking a step back, but if Théoden noticed he gave no sign. "Go to this point on the floor below."

Madeleine hesitated, then obeyed, perhaps because he was walking toward her and she was not sure if she could deal with him any closer. Her mind raced as she headed down the stair, keeping well ahead while she tried to guess his plans. When she reached the window there was no sign of movement in the park below, and so she watched the reflection of a boy walking up behind her, stopping perhaps two metres away.

"Is it time for another of the challenges?" she asked, mouth dry.

"Buenos Aires. The Core and two others of the Five will be gone till dawn. Think about how Nash survives."