Looks like all that's left to do is wait until morning and get on a train and to the meeting place.
Yeah. If we can't stuff birdwise and the rats in our stuff, then have them commit suicide somewhere they won't be found. If we can only carry part of them, then the bird gets priority. Hmm... Or maybe we can pretend the bird was our kill? Or would that be too weird?
Let's just take out the cores and have piecewise dump em in the woods or something. Without the cores they just rats. Even if someone came upon a pile o rats in the woods they'd just be like hey weird, a pile o rats in the woods. We should keep birdwise he's super useful.
We have wolverine powers! Awesome. But they run on mana, so let's definitely never find out what happens when the fuel that apparently keeps our physical form cohesive runs out.
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You take off your sneaking clothes and pack them away, replacing them with more acceptable traveling clothing. You then look over the rats and the bird, considering what to do with them. You pull Wisebird's core and put in your pocket, stacking his body with the rest of your "Catch" from the forest; they'll all bend in well enough with your guise of professor and huntsman. The rats, however, stand out too much. You order them to scatter into the woods and destroy their own cores. They obediently scurry off and you feel an odd pang of sentimentalism. The stolen memories conjure images of pets and dull sadness of their lost. You don't quite understand it, but as their tethers snap one by one you feel wistful despite your short time together.
You pack up everything you can, tidy up the room, make sure to leave nothing behind, and then head down stairs. The ever present innkeeper is there, asleep at the front desk. You wake her and pay your bill, thanking her and keeping in character as a kind but naive professor while Piecewise looms behind you, staring into the middle distance. She comments about the hour of your departure- about 3am now- and you assure her you just have to catch the earliest train. She looks at you with the same suspicious and nosy glare she has always had, but it bounces off your grin without effect. She gives you a hand written receipt and you leave, piecewise following closely behind. You move through quiet streets, gas streetlights burn with a gentle hiss and flicker and the houses stare back at you with dark windows. Everything is very still; the sky is cloudy and black, a wool blanket over the world. You walk out to the train station at a leisurely pace, taking in everything around you. It feels right, though you're not sure why. More and more these feelings are coming to you; remnants of the men you have devoured perhaps? Maybe something else.
The first train of the day is a mixed passenger and cargo train that arrives around 5am. You buy a pair of tickets from the sleepy clerk and take a seat on one of the wooden benches on the platform. Piecewise takes up position behind you, but you order him to instead sit next to you and try to look more like your companion and less like your body guard. The two of you sit and wait in silence for a while. You stare up at the ceiling of the platform, stained wooden boards like the inner hull of a ship. You have nothing to say to him, and he has nothing to say to you. The assault was successful, you got the information and got out without being seen. No one is chasing you. Everything is going well. You sink further back onto the bench, hands on your lap. You look at them, flexing the fingers. Despite it all, you feel very alone. This little island of light on the dark countryside, isolated from the village and its shimmering lamps, only serves to remind you of your situation. Piecewise looks at you, his glass eyes staring back into your own. You call him your companion, but under that facade of false flesh and cloth is nothing but a puppet of bone. Maybe you are no better. Maybe these feelings, this flesh, everything you are is nothing but an elaborate facade as well. The documents flash through your mind. "One successful case". Are you really in control? Are you even...you? Piecewise stares back at you, a reflection of your uncertainty. You are afraid.
*****
It takes the entire day to get back to the city, even on this direct route. You make it in only late at night and follow the instructions Esme gave you to the meeting place. You stop outside; the building is a small, heavily run down place in a not particularly nice part of town. It looks as though it is either abandoned, or at least in very poor repair. You wonder if Esme could have been intercepted, the letter you got a decoy set to lead you into an ambush. Wisebird wouldn't allow that, surely. Surely. You walk in, Piecewise at your side, and find what amounts to a large, empty room with a few chairs, a black bag, and a sealed envelope with "READ" written across it.
Author
Topic: The Left-Hand Path (Read 112255 times)