Maybe inserting this into chapter 12 will bring it up to the (lowered!) bar of nanowrimo chapters. I'm gettin' kind of scared of what I'll find when I go to edit in december. Whatevs!
At least the conversation does some work now. Stupid deadbeat conversation...
The Curator spoke to them through their own thoughts, so Lyn couldn’t always tell when something was her own idea or if it was implanted by a stranger. The cadence of that last one didn’t sound like him, though. Most of his thoughts seemed to be questions.
I can relate, Lyn. Would you believe me if I told you this also feels like a dream for me?
Trent, Jedrek, and Idris looked at her. Their expressions were guarded, despite the Curator’s constant assurances that he wasn’t going to harm them. Lyn believed him; he seemed genuinely delighted by their presence. She couldn’t understand why Trent was so insistent that they be here, though.
“I have to sequester the plan, even from my own conscious thoughts!” He’d told them. “Now that I know what needs to happen, I can’t have him finding out about it, and that means I can’t share it with you. Just trust me. Stage one involves us going to see him!”
Lyn was beginning to think ‘stage one’ was about baiting a specific reaction out of the Curator, like she was always forced to do if she needed something from Soko. All taming had this element to it, to some extent. She supposed she just had to trust Trent knew what he was doing.
“I’m not sure,” Lyn replied. “I guess not. Is this not something you do often?”
No, not at all. I’d forgotten how things are out here! How vibrant you people are. You’re so different from this rabble. He motioned at the horde surrounding them. So curious, so innocent, so beautiful! Forgive me for saying so.
“If you like us so much, then why attack us?!” Jedrek couldn’t contain his outrage, but seemed to regret it once it was out. Lyn could relate; how much did they need to hide their hostility? Which topics could they talk about, and which would betray Trent’s plan? “I mean, if you’re fond of us, why can’t we talk this out?”
Alas, that’s out of my hands. It pains me a little - just a little, mind you - but order must be maintained, and this is what must be done to maintain it. Order is everything. It pains me to hurt you, but you’ll survive. Thrive, even. Don’t feel guilty about your hatred, Jedrek. Or Lyn, or any of you. I deal with thoughts of violence against me every waking moment. Your naive versions are like a breath of fresh air, compared to the schemes of these lot.
The apprentices exchanged looks, and nobody spoke for several seconds. Nothing he said made any sense. Lyn felt a little sorry for the Curator. Nobody knew what life was like in the Dawnless Woods, but she’d assume it was madness. Of course the Curator would have to be insane to survive it.
He chortled, and the apprentices could only wonder whose thoughts he found funny.
“Your soldiers,” Trent said. “They’re not loyal?”
Oh, no, not in the slightest. Fortunately, they don’t have a choice. Literally. Well, most of them; some only obey on threat of death. Most can have their choice taken from them. Most will obey any order I give them, almost like my own arms and legs.
“How is that possible?” Trent asked. “Do you tame them, like Lyn and the herd?”
Like Lyn and the heard… the Curator paused. Ah. That’s a beautiful memory, Jedrek, and you make quite the conductor, Lyn! There is an element of taming in my work, but it’s not all of it. How do I explain my method? He paused again. Ah! Your have a similar affinity to mine! The sparks you study, those drops of lightning: they are the basis of thought. When you move a muscle, dream, even the beating of your heart are all driven by sparks. I’ve honed that element of my own body, can broadcast to others. It’s how you hear me now. It’s how I control them.
“Could you control us that way?” Trent seemed to understand the concept better than Lyn did.
The Curator chuckled. No. Well, yes, but it would require… modifications. I’d need to change you. No need to be frightened, I wouldn’t. There’d be no point. It would deprive you of what I like about you. I’d be depriving myself! I have more soldiers than I know what to do with, I wouldn’t ruin potential friendships for a handful more.
‘Potential friendship’ was pretty optimistic, by Lyn’s reckoning.
“What about precision, once they’re modified?” Trent motioned into the crowd. “Could you order a specific monster to come over here and, I don’t know; use its blade-hands to cut my hair?”
The Curator shook his head. Not without some practice. That pertains to the ‘taming component’ I mentioned earlier. I can issue orders remotely, he tapped a claw against his temple. But when I’m in control, once I’ve broadcasted my ‘obey’ signal… they enter a sort of trance. They’re not very creative when that happens. As a matter of fact, it lowers their individual prowess by a large margin. I trance them up then drill them in simple maneuvers, much like how Lyn taught her friends to sing by using noises they naturally made. I could bring one over here, but the most complex order I could give it after that would be ‘kill.’ I could even assign a target, but their drills have taught them to kill anything that gets in the way. I’m afraid I couldn’t help style your hair, son.
“Concerning the battle, then. Wouldn’t it be more efficient to march them here in a trance, then release several at a time to fight at their full potential?”
Absolutely. But I was permitted to lead in person this time! I was not given any parameters for my mission, no deadline nor any restriction on my losses. I intend to enjoy my excursion as long as I can!
When Trent didn’t ask any more questions, Lyn glanced at him. His eyes seemed distant, and he chewed his thumbnail as his mind went about its math.
The Curator let out a guffaw, startling the apprentices. Yes, Trent, I do have major, exploitable weaknesses. Doesn’t everybody? Don’t fret for my sake, though. There isn’t anyone around who’s capable of exploiting them. After all…
His right arm was a blur as it swung down to cleave a skull-sized rock in two with its wrist blade.
One does not live long enough to learn these skills if one is very vulnerable on their own.
Trent swallowed hard and seemed a little paler than before, but the Curator just laughed again. Don’t be so embarrassed. I told you, I get this all the time! My life is a constant stream of schemes, it’s actually refreshing to be the target of such a… wholesome brand of scheme.
Lyn wished she could also read Trent’s mind, the same way the Curator could. Had the whole plot been exposed? How much did the Curator know? It would take a special kind of arrogance to reveal these sorts of secrets knowing how they would be used against him. It fit with the rest of the Curator’s methods, though. He’d approached this mission like he would a holiday. It was more about enjoying the journey than reaching the destination because he was utterly convinced he would get there no matter what.
Was that arrogance, or just simple reality?
This is a give-and-take conversation, young friends. It’s my turn to take! Come, show me what goes on at these dinner fires. Conjure some of the more memorable…
The thought trailed off, and Lyn could feel his distraction as if it were her own. It would seem your mother wants a word with me. I can oblige. The more, the merrier!
Lyn wondered which mother he meant, but didn’t have to wait long before Cascata found them. She should have guessed. The warrior matron looked livid and a little confused as she strode towards them.
“‘ave I gone mad?” she asked. “Runts, what’re you doin’ here?!”
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