Chapter Eight
The Utopia
Sure enough, the bay doors had slid open to reveal an escort for Truth. From the comments he overheard from the researchers, they’d woken up early to squeeze in a before-breakfast ‘session’ with him, in addition to the one they’d managed to fit in their schedule later that day. To his dismay, they’d immediately started him off with reattaching limbs. He made sure to point out that most healers couldn’t manipulate bones well enough to actually reattach more than fingers, if that – but that was apparently the point. His display of skill during his escape attempt had earned him a highly customized set of tests that were going to be recorded in minute detail by every available scientific instrument, down to his last drop of aether. The researchers were far more excited about this than they had any right to be, in his professional opinion, and he told them so.
That was the point at which they gagged him.
When they finally dragged Truth back to his cell, he was exhausted. He hadn’t dared let himself fall unconscious, despite having hardly any energy left – who knew what they’d do while he was out. He’d rather know than have to wonder. There was some kind of thick cracker waiting for him in an indentation in the wall – he suspected it might be the ‘breakfast’ the researchers had mentioned, despite how unappetizing it smelled. Nadir was still seated on the floor where he’d left him; he blinked at Truth slowly, then acknowledged his presence with a quiet, “Doctor.” There was no sign of any such cracker in his cell; he must have already eaten his. Truth might be tired, but he knew eating would help restore his strength and aether both, so he picked the thing up and hesitantly touched his tongue to it, tasting what was in it. He wouldn’t have put it past them to poison the thing so they could study what he’d do about it. The indentation melded back into the wall as soon as he took it, leaving the wall blank and featureless again.
His other talent was just a simple Intuition – knowing what ingredients things he tasted were made from. It wasn’t really something he could turn off, but it was thankfully also undetectable, as it was a completely internal process. It was the talent Spoons used most, since it was useful in her line of work, but it had only ever been a curiosity for Truth.
“Corn, and oats, egg, salt… Is this supposed to be food?”
He was talking to himself, really – he wasn’t expecting an answer, but Nadir said tiredly from the other cell, “I… would not dignify it with that appellation.”
Truth tapped the thing against the cell wall. “It’s hard as a rock.”
That wouldn’t stop him from eating it, but he wasn’t looking forward to the gnawing it would involve. He flipped his bunk down to sit on it, then realized that might have been a mistake, as he didn’t have the energy to get back up again, and it would be just so easy to give in, finish lying down and close his eyes to sleep…
He forced himself to start chewing on the biscuit instead.
While he was at it, he could update Nadir about what had happened, since talking had helped the man. How to start, though? ‘I was right, they’ve planned twice-daily experimental procedures for me and it sucks?’ Seemed a little abrupt… but then again, they weren’t exactly here to make small talk.
“So, uh, it seems it’s a good thing my expertise is more in mending than fortification or regeneration. I don’t know if they’re just more interested in that specific subset of healing or if they don’t know enough to know that’s not all there is to it… I didn’t really get the chance to ask.” Nadir merely stared at him from his seat on the floor.
“It wasn’t… quite as bad as I thought it might be, but this was only the first set of experiments…”
Nadir was silent, then said, slowly, “Is there a point to this line of thought? I am having… trouble… processing it.”
Truth felt a brief pang of reflexive hurt that the man hadn’t been paying attention, but as Nadir blinked tiredly at him, he knew the man couldn’t help his condition either, and the pang became a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t even thought to restore the mental boost immediately.
“Shards,” he mumbled, face heating at his stupidity, “I didn’t realize it would have worn off already – here,” he said, reaching out through that tiny link, “I’ve got you.”
“Oh,” the man said, straightening a bit, “that’s better.”
He closed his eyes in relief, and then opened them with, “My apologies. There were just… the words. There were so many, and they simply became shapeless sounds, ones I recognized, but I just couldn’t piece them together…” He shook his head, strands of that dark hair shifting and falling over his shoulder at the movement, abandoning his attempt to explain.
“Could you perhaps start again, from the beginning?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Truth said with a rueful smile, face still warm with embarrassment, “It’s not your fault. I should’ve remembered. I was just saying that I was right about them experimenting on me. They’re going to be pulling me out a couple times every day for it, and it’s not going to be fun.”
Nadir’s face tightened in anger. “Would you like for me to do something about that? I could make things very difficult for them, even from here.”
“And if they pulled me too far away, you’d start having trouble again, wouldn’t you?” Truth shook his head, still gnawing on his cracker between words. “I can’t imagine that helping anything – you should save your strength. Healing I can do, it’s just the part where they hurt me first that sucks. And at least it’s all clean edged wounds, nothing ragged or already infected.”
The noise Nadir made could have been described as a disgruntled huff, if Truth had been listening, but he was still thinking about the link. “A sympathetic healing link won’t last forever, after all – it’ll fade eventually, even with me manipulating it to extend its lifespan. I doubt they’ll be so careless as to let us out in the same space again, so you’ll have to be ready for that when it happens.”
“I had not considered that,” Nadir said after a long moment. “You are correct; while I have the chance I should take advantage of this mental clarity to devise my own solution for my instability. The effect of yours faded gradually enough that I should be able to implement mine before I lose focus again when it comes time.”
That hadn’t exactly been what Truth had meant, but it was a good idea. There was no guarantee they’d keep both of them in the same place after all, and Nadir would do much better if he didn’t need to rely on Truth just to function normally.
“Yes,” Nadir agreed, slowly peeling the dried blood off his hand bit by bit, letting the flakes crumble and fall to the floor as he watched. “I do not intend to stay here forever; I am entirely capable of bypassing or overpowering these restrictions. All that I need is to solve the problem of leaving this isolated location. Continued mental clarity would only make it easier.”
Truth said, thoughtfully, “You could always try to get on a resupply ship when one shows up, but if they noticed you were gone before it left they would probably hold it here until they found you-” He stopped himself abruptly, holding up his unoccupied hand.
“Wait, wait wait wait, you realize they’re recording all of this through those cameras, right?” He pointed them out to the man, the little lenses in every corner of each cell and the spaces in between. “Even if they’re not actively listening right now, they can definitely check up on us later and make sure no one’s, you know, plotting to escape or something.”
Nadir eyed the cameras suspiciously, then said, “Noted.”
It seemed that would be the end of the conversation, both men breaking eye contact and avoiding looking at the ever-watchful cameras. Then, in the back of his head, the link between them… almost vibrated oddly, a peculiar sensation he couldn’t name, and Truth looked up sharply as the man’s voice whispered softly in his head.
<They may have placed mental blocks for telepathy here,> it said, <but an internal link is not technically telepathy. As you can use it to bypass the distance between us to heal, so can I bypass the distance between us to communicate directly.>
There was a distinct undercurrent of smugness running through the foreign thought, and an overlying sense that Nadir hadn’t been sure it would work, matching the trace of pleased satisfaction on the lean face across from him.
<Yes, I wasn’t certain,> the voice agreed, <as my talent is definitely not telepathy, but I am fortunate to have trained in the skill enough to try it. This way, while your connection lasts, they cannot hear us. One less problem. As for the other problem, the guards realizing I was gone, it would be simple enough to leave an illusion in this cell for them to watch instead.>
Truth knew they’d built illusion strippers into the walls, though. They weren’t that out of touch with aetherological studies.
In the other cell, Nadir snorted, amusement clear in his thoughts. <Those? I would not build one so easily destroyed. They would wear it down eventually, of course, but by then I would be gone.> He gestured at the prominent teleportation blockers carved in various locations, and continued, <These, now, these are strong and well-made enough that I might have to break them, rather than bypassing them. But I rather think a gaping hole in my cell walls would be noticed. I will have to consider what to do about them.>
He nodded firmly, one hand rising to tuck that stray lock of hair back behind his ear. <Once I am past those I can travel where I please, and I think it would please me to remove you from their grasp as well. You have committed no crimes deserving of confinement or torture; and you have also been kind. I will remember that.>
“Oh,” Truth said out loud, with a startled blink. He hadn’t been expecting that at all, and took a moment to process it, half-eaten ration remnants forgotten in his hand. Then he tried to form a clear thought in reply to the man, rather than just letting him interpret his mental reactions.
<I suppose if you were to take me with you I could reestablish a link too, in case you can’t figure something more permanent out yourself.>
He certainly wasn’t going to object to not having to endure torture for the rest of his life – and on second thought it might give him a chance to warn someone about Boots. That decided him; he was definitely going to help if he could. Nadir nodded again at that thought, a pleased smile forming on his lips. He looked dignified even sitting on the floor of his cell planning a prison break, his straight, easy posture a glimpse of the man he was behind the fractured spellwork.
<A good first attempt, Doctor. Forming the thought solidly is the basis of every mental skill.>
He looked back over at Truth, the smile fading to his normal serious demeanor. <Do remember, such aid would only be necessary until I locate my brother. We woke together; and I remember noting before he cast the sleep spell on me that his circle was whole and unbroken. He would know how to repair this wound, if he mended his own. After that, you would be free to leave without worry for me.>
Not that Truth had anywhere to go, now, he realized, carefully picking the crumbs from his jumpsuit and eating them one at a time. The underground would take him in, he knew, but he’d still have this criminal record to trail him for the rest of his life. He’d always hoped that he could transition to working at his clinic full time once magic was finally legalized, but that would never happen now.
<Do not think about what could have been,> his fellow prisoner advised him, <for there is nothing to be gained by such regrets right now. You will have the entirety of your life to find a new path, once we are free. Until then, we should both focus on the now and the morrow.>
He added, tilting his head, <I can sense how drained you are from your trials. You should sleep, before they begin again.> Concern threaded through the thought, a sense that Nadir knew just how far the healer had been pushed earlier. <Even should that limit your help, I can still use the time before it fades to work.>
Truth shook his head ever so slightly in frustration, knowing the man was right. There was no reason for Nadir to be worried about the mental boost, at least. It wouldn’t fade unless one of them got too far away, as it was just a simple fortification twined through the link itself, nothing that required his active attention like the more physical healing skills.
<Ah,> that quiet voice in his head said, <I see. I am no healer, so I will trust your expertise. Sleep, then, and regain your strength. I do not wish to overstrain this link with my presence, but I can still stand guard from without while I think.> Truth could sense the man withdrawing from his mind as he finished the thought, making it clear that the conversation was over, for now.
He certainly intended to sleep, but once Truth lay down and closed his eyes his traitorous mind kept turning to the market, remembering the broken homes and trampled gardens he’d seen in those brief glimpses. He hoped Cherry had made it out. He’d taught her everything he knew, both medical and magical, and she’d be a real help for the underground at a time like this. He hoped she – no, no, he needed to sleep. He was exhausted, he knew he was, a bone-deep tiredness he’d only felt once before in his life, when he’d been sick with the measles as a child. But closed, his eyes saw only the market. Open, there were only the featureless walls of his prison, and his mind ran in circles either way.
Perhaps if he asked nicely, the guards would use the tranquilizer on him again. He wouldn’t even fight it this time. Or he could hit his own head-
“I would not recommend that,” his fellow prisoner said from across the way. “I suspect it would not be restful, not in the way you need.” He paused, then added, “I may not know any fictional stories, but if you need something to distract you from your worries, I could tell you about my old garden. It is not exactly a thrilling-”
“Yes,” Truth said gratefully, seizing on any possible distraction. “Yes, please. Anything.”
“Very well,” Nadir said, “I am no poet, but I will do my best.”
“Behind our family house,” he began, slowly, trying to find the right words in an unfamiliar language, “we had a small courtyard, where I grew a variety of flowering plants. I tried to keep one of each I ever found, and it grew quite crowded over the years. There were decorative pillars lining the edges, around which I grew ivy and climbing… climbing roses. At the base of each column were the sturdier plants, the shrubs and the small trees, the little bushes. In the shade of the walls I grew the shyer plants, the ones that wilted from too much sun, and in the center were the sun-loving ones. There was always something blooming, no matter the season, except when the snows came, and even then there were the trees to care for.” His voice deepened as he spoke, the words that had come so slowly beginning to flow easily from his lips as he described the little sanctuary.
“At the far end there was a small stone bowl for the birds to bathe in; I hung little rooms for them from the wall and the pillars there, and left seed for them to eat nearby. In the harvest season some of my bushes grew berries, and they loved those almost as much as the seeds. The bolder ones would fly to your shoulder and eat right from your hands, and sometimes they would let you stroke their heads. Their feathers were nearly as soft as the fine cloth you could sometimes find at the markets, but the smaller ones were so… so fragile I was almost afraid to touch them, for fear they would break.”
“Had I my brother’s talent,” he continued, “I could share with you exactly what it looked like as the rising sun colored the sky and warmed the stone in the early morning, and the sounds of the birds waking in song. Or the way the sun’s rays would filter through the leaves that climbed their way over the wall, before the vines uncurled and the day flowers opened their petals.”
The man clearly loved his garden. A garden that Truth realized, on reflection, was almost certainly no longer in existence. Not after this long.
“I know,” Nadir said, voice once again barely audible. “I have seen enough in your mind and the minds of these others to know that. But I am still here to remember it, even if it is gone. And I can start another, some day. It is something to look forward to.”
A strangely hopeful thought, that. That even here in prison he could look forward to starting a new garden some day. “Maybe you can show me when you do,” Truth said, closing his eyes and trying to imagine it. He’d never seen a sunrise himself, but he’d seen videos.
“I will,” Nadir affirmed. “I think you would like it, doctor.”
“Tell me more,” Truth said, wanting to keep hearing the comforting sound of that quiet voice. It didn’t really matter what it said. “Tell me about your favorites.”
So Nadir began describing his plants in detail, and Truth finally drifted off to sleep, mind full of imagined flowers and darting birds, growing vines tangling the bitter worries that would have woken him.
