The Finisher

QUADRAGINTA SEPTEM: Dust to Dust

AT MID-LIGHT MEAL I didn’t go into the common room with the others. Quite frankly, we were all mourning the loss of Newton Tilt and I did not want to sit with the other Stackers and talk about his death. Soon I would be facing the Wug that had killed him.

Instead I sat on the marble steps leading up to the second floor. I sat on the exact spot where Ladon-Tosh would stand when he was the guard here. Perhaps I felt that whatever answers I needed about the sinister Wug would be conveyed to my poor brain merely by my close proximity to his former presence.

When I finished my work that light, I met Harry Two outside and walked back to my digs. I had a bit of food, changed into my blue frock and heels and headed back out. My destination this night was not one of pleasure. All of Wormwood was heading to the Hallowed Ground. This night we would be putting Newton Tilt into the dirt.

I had not been to the Hallowed Ground since they had buried my grandmother Calliope. It was a peaceful place, granted, but not a happy one. And there was enough unhappiness in Wormwood without adding to the burden by plunking yourself down in the middle of more. I moved through the rusty iron gates with the image of a mother and a very young on them. Crowds had already started to gather around the hole.

As I drew closer, I saw the long, plain wooden box with Tilt’s remains inside. His mum and dad were sobbing next to it. Tilt had three brothers and one sister. They were all there, all crying just as hard. Tears were constantly wicked off the faces of all Wugs here because the Tilts were a kind and good family that did not deserve such a tragedy as this.

I stopped drawing closer when I saw Morrigone sitting in a chair next to Thansius as he stood by the hole that would quite soon become a grave. She was dressed not in white this night, but in black. The far darker color seemed to suit her better, I thought. Yet I had to admit I had never seen a Wug more stricken than Morrigone. Her face was a hard knot of rigid pain. She looked sessions older. Lines on her face I had never seen before now were bared to us all. Tears stained her cheeks and, while she was doing her best to hide it from us, every so often her body shuddered.

From time to time, Thansius placed a large, supportive hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly to her with words I could not hear. What was going on between those two special Wugs would take a great deal more thinking than I could give it right now.

As I continued to look around, I noted that there was one Wug conspicuously absent. Ladon-Tosh was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if charges were to be referred against him. What he had done was murder in my eyes, plain and simple. He could have beaten poor Tilt easily and with no need to kill him. It was an evil act, but then again, I wondered if the rules of the Duelum exempted combatants from any such punishments. If they did, the rules should be changed.

Wrong, after all, was wrong, no matter in what venue it might have occurred.

Everything had a moral hitched to it if one bothered to look for it.

I was surprised to see Delph slowly coming up the path. He was still limping and still holding his arm funny, yet he seemed to be getting stronger with each light and night. However, I was stunned to see Duf walking next to him, wearing his new timbertoes and using his new stick, which he gripped in his right hand. He seemed to have adapted to it well and it was hard to tell who was supporting whom more, injured son or legless father, because each had an arm around the other.

I hurried over to them and hugged first Duf and kissed him on the cheek, and then I embraced Delph, who was as cleaned up as I had ever seen him. I think he had actually used some of his winning wager to buy new clothes at the male shop next to Herman Helvet’s confectionery.

“Heard ’bout your last round, Vega Jane,” said Delph. “But we need to talk,” he added solemnly.

I shushed him as Ezekiel came forward, the only sparkle of white in a sea of dark.

He prayed out loud and then led us through another. We sang. He committed the body of Newton Tilt, a fine Wug struck down long before his proper time, to the dirt.

Then Thansius rose and said some comforting words, his huge frame quivering with emotion. All of Wormwood was distraught, but I had heard no protests that the Duelum should be canceled before the last bout was held. Our collective empathy apparently had certain limits.

After Thansius finished speaking, all heads turned to Morrigone, figuring that she would close the sad ceremony with some appropriate female commentary, but that was not to be. She never rose from her chair and never looked up at any of us. She just sat there as though cast in unyielding marble. Her grief seemed even greater than the stricken Tilt family’s.

Later, as the box was lowered by some sturdy Wugs into the grave, the crowd started to disperse. I was surprised to see Morrigone leave her perch and walk over to the Tilts. She put her arm around Tilt’s parents and started speaking to them in a low voice. They nodded and cast tearful smiles and seemed consoled by her words. She was evidently evoking kindness and sympathy and support. A more inscrutable Wug I had never encountered, because I was certain she had used her powers to try and kill me in that looking glass. Anyone who could control a maniack in order to murder was not someone I wanted as a friend.

Then I turned to Duf.

“You seem to have taken to the timbertoes and stick very quickly, Duf,” I said encouragingly. “You’re getting around like your old self.”

He seemed pleased by my words but in his gritted teeth I saw the pain behind his smile. And I noted how his hands kept clenching and unclenching. “Takes a bit of gettin’ used to, I’ll grant you that. But I’m gettin’ there, I am.” He added with a lifeless chortle, “And I’ll never have to worry ’bout me bad knees no more, will I?”

“No,” I said with a smile, admiring greatly his attitude but feeling awful at seeing his obvious discomfort.

“Still, I probably shoulda kept to me bed this night,” said Duf, his face suddenly contorted in pain. He gasped and held on to Delph for support. Then he righted himself and added weakly, “But known the Tilts for ages. So sad. Couldn’t not come, could I? Wouldn’t be right. Can’t believe little Newtie’s gone. Held him in me arms when he was just a wee Wug. Never gave no one a lick of trouble. A good lad. A fine lad.” A tear trickled down his face even as he gave a sharp cry and grabbed at his right stump.

I was becoming more and more bewildered by this. I thought with the legs gone and the timbertoes on, there would be no more pain for him. When I looked over at Delph questioningly, he explained, “They had to burn the ends of his legs, Vega Jane, to get the stumps ready for the timbers.”

His father said admonishingly, “This pretty female don’t need to hear no rubbish talk like that, Daniel Delphia.” He smiled back another bout of suffering that crossed his face and said, “Now, that is the loveliest frock I believe I’ve ever seen, Vega,” he commented. He nudged his huge son. “Ain’t it, Delph? Eh?”

Delph nodded shyly and said, “’Tis, Dad. ’Tis.”

I reached in the pocket of my frock where the Adder Stone lay. After nearly losing it I’d decided to always keep it with me. I palmed the Stone so it could not be seen by either of them. Maybe it could not regrow limbs, but I knew it could make pain vanish. When they turned and spoke to some other Wugs who inquired how Duf was doing, I surreptitiously waved the Stone over what remained of Duf’s legs and thought as good thoughts as I could. The change in Duf was almost instantaneous. I had just put the Stone back in my pocket when Duf turned to look at me, the most serene expression on his face.

“Are you okay, Duf?” I asked innocently.

He nodded. “Okay? I’m like a new Wug, ain’t I?” He slapped his thigh.

Delph saw this and exclaimed, “Cor blimey, don’t do that, Dad.”

Duf slapped his other thigh and stood totally erect without his son’s help. “Lookit that, Delph. No more pain. Bloody miracle, i’tis.”

Delph eyed his father’s legs and then he turned to me, suspicion all across his features. He knew. I could just tell he knew what I’d done. When Delph glanced away, I passed the Stone over him too. He turned once more to stare at me. His leg was now fine. His arm no longer hung funny. He was healed too. I was a git for not thinking of doing this before. But I was happy, and some of my guilt melted away.

We parted company on the High Street. Delph and Duf were headed back to the Care. But Duf felt he could head home soon, especially with the pain gone.

I heard the carriage wheels long before I turned. I was on the Low Road now and the carriage shouldn’t have been. I finally looked back to see Bogle pulling his sleps to a halt next to where I stood.

As she stepped from the carriage, Morrigone still looked awful, which made me feel immeasurably better, despite the grief she had shown at the Hallowed Ground, despite her consoling words to the Tilts. Her gaze searched mine. I merely stared back quizzically. I did notice with unconcealed relish that with my heels on, I was now taller than her. She had to look up to me.

She said, “I was glad to see Duf here this night. The timbertoes seem to be working for him.”

“I think they’ll work just fine now,” I replied tersely, watching her closely.

“And I have spoken with Delph recently. He … he seems far more assured in his speech than he once did.”

“He is,” I said. “It simply took him remembering something that others did not want him to recall.”

“I see.”

“So you can stop paying him coin, Morrigone. He doesn’t need your pity or your coin anymore to recompense for what you did to him.”

I had finally figured that one out too.

“Is that what you thought it was, pity?”

“Wasn’t it?” I challenged.

“You have much to learn, Vega. However, I came not to speak of Delph but of the Duelum,” she began.

“What about it?” I said.

“You versus Ladon-Tosh.”

“That’s what the competition board says.”

“He didn’t mean to kill poor Newton Tilt.”

I shook my head stubbornly. “I was there. I saw what happened. He didn’t need to hit him that hard.”

She looked down and I thought I saw her lips tremble. She looked back up and her features were tight and composed. “I think he sees that now.”

“Lucky for me, since I’m next. Where is he, by the by?”

“I asked him to stay away. I didn’t think it would be … appropriate.”

“Why is he even in the Duelum?” I asked.

“Why shouldn’t he be?” she said warily.

“He’s clearly older than twenty-four sessions, for starters.”

“Not according to his records.”

“I’d like to see those records. Just to confirm where the Hel he came from.”

She looked at me with a degree of incredulity that I found pathetic under the circumstances. “He came from Wormwood. Where else would he have come from?”

I shook my head again, plainly showing my disappointment with her response. “Well, if he is a Wug, he’s a most unusual one. I’ve never even heard him speak. And the rumor about him killing that Wug at Stacks … you have to admit, it’s all a bit dodgy.”

“It is a bit dodgy” was her surprising reply. She had lowered her eyes again, but then she raised her head and looked directly at me, her green eyes glowing as though they had been ignited. “You don’t have to fight him, Vega.”

“Then I’ll end up in Valhall, won’t I?”

“I can meet with Krone. I can work something out. Any sentence in Valhall would be relatively short. But there would be another condition.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “What?”

“You know far more than is good for a Wug.”

“You mean I know the truth,” I shot back.

“The condition is that you will not be allowed to remember such things anymore.”

“So the red light, then?” I remarked coolly. “I think I’ve figured that out. Red must be more powerful than blue. Delph was much bigger than me, even back then. The blue light was sufficient to wipe my thoughts nearly clear, although I could still remember the scream, Morrigone. And the blue light.”

“What?” she said, clearly astonished by this.

“I thought it was just a nightmare. And Delph eventually remembered, with a little help from me. That’s what I meant when I said he no longer stutters. He remembers, Morrigone. All of it.”

We stared at each other in silence. I finally said, “So I’ll take my chances in the quad, thanks anyway.” I added firmly, “You’re not messing with my mind ever again.”

“I am well aware that you dispatched your other competitors with relative ease.”

“Except for Racksport. He shot himself accidentally. Or so they say.”

“What do you mean ‘or so they say’?”

“What I mean is that a suspicious Wug, namely me, would think that Racksport was got out of the way so I would have to meet Ladon-Tosh in the final bout.”

She said, “If true, that would be a very evil thing to do.”

“I completely agree,” I replied, staring back at her. “I also know that our last few encounters have ended badly, very badly.”

“And I also know that you have visited my home twice now while I was away. May I ask why?”

“Once to confirm something.”

“What?”

“Your taste in looking glasses.”

We once more stared at each other in silence. I could tell that Morrigone was appraising me in a whole new light and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“And the other time?”

“To wish my brother a happy birthlight. And to give him a present.”

She looked down. “That was thoughtful of you, very thoughtful, considering the circumstances.”

“He is my brother, Morrigone. No matter what happens, he will always be my brother. And I love him. Unconditionally. Far more than you ever could.”

I said all of this in a loud voice because I just knew that John was in the carriage listening intently.

“I can understand that,” she said. “Blood is blood.”

“As to the Duelum. Why are you suddenly so concerned about my welfare? You said I had to fight my best. Well, I’m fighting my best. And if I die, so be it. I die for the right reasons. I die with the truth in my heart. Not like the adars that Wugs have become, just parroting back what they’re told. Not understanding who they really are. Where we came from. What Wormwood really is.”

“And what do you think Wormwood is, Vega?” she said, giving me a deadly stare.

“Well, speaking for me — it’s a prison.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

I cocked my head, studied her. I was comfortable doing so, because now, more than ever before, I was seeing myself in a different way. I was seeing myself — as her equal. Or better. “I saw you at the Hallowed Ground. I believe your tears were very real.”

“They were. I was crushed by what happened. It was unthinkable.”

“I’m curious that you had a chat with Ladon-Tosh, and you said he understands he was in the wrong?”

“That’s right.”

“So he does talk, then?”

She seemed caught off guard by this. “Yes, I mean, he … communicates.”

“But only with … you?”

“I can’t really speak to that. I’m not with him for much of the time.”

“I see. Well, put in a good word with him for me, will you?” I said casually.

She suddenly gripped my arm tightly. “Do not take this lightly, Vega. Please do not. If nothing else, think of your brother. You would not want to be lost to him, would you?”

I glanced at the carriage. I thought back to my last encounter with John. To the things I had seen on the walls of his room.

“I think he might already be lost to me,” I replied slowly. “So you see, there is really nothing left for me here. Nothing at all.”

She released my arm, stepped back and looked down. “I see.”

“Do you really see, Morrigone?” I asked.

She glanced up sharply, her gaze probing, almost menacing. “I see far more than you realize, Vega.”

I squared my shoulders and stared down at her. “If I fight, I was told I would be free. I intend to fight to the end. And if I survive, I intend to be free. Really free,” I added. Then I turned and walked off. As always, it was a good idea to keep moving in Wormwood.

And so I did.

I had two more lights. Perhaps to live.