Wordless (23 page)

“Why are the Swiss here?” Tu called, as loud as he could through his battered lips. “I thought I said no one else.”

A Chinese man with streaks of gray in his neatly combed hair stepped forward. He started speaking in Chinese, but Tu interrupted him.

“English, please, so my friends can understand.”

So we could understand that he wasn’t betraying us, his so-called friends? But he had betrayed us.

The man’s smile never reached his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “And of course you understand the Swiss have to be here. We had to give them something to fly into their airspace, land on their soil, and borrow transportation from them on such short notice.” He gestured at the hefty vehicles. “That is simply how it’s done. Protocol—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about protocol,” Tu said. “And what do you mean, give them something? What do they want?”

The Swiss representatives didn’t say anything. The Chinese man—probably some high-up dignitary or diplomat—clasped his hands in front of himself and said, “As you come from China, this young woman here”—he held his hand out to Pavati—“comes from America, and the Swiss have promised to take care of her until she can be safely returned to her rightful place.”

Take care of her
, my ass. They were either going to keep her or sell her to America—or the highest bidder—for an obscene amount of money.

Pavati snarled at the man, wiping the sleek smile off his face. “We come from nowhere! It’s only Eden City’s clever illusion that makes you think we have shit to do with any of you.”

“But Tu knows it’s not an illusion,” the man said. “He knows where he belongs.”

Tu shook his head. “I’m not going if Pavati doesn’t come with me. That was the deal.”

“But, young man, deals must be made with others as well, not only with you. You see, we are on Swiss soil.” The man raised his hands as if to say,
What else can we do?

I was about to tell him what he could do with himself in no uncertain terms, but Khaya spoke next, her flat voice carrying. “And what happens to Tavin and me?”

“Well—” the man began, but a man from the Swiss side stepped forward, interrupting him.

He was the kind of man who wore sunglasses so his opponents couldn’t see where his eyes were directed. Or to look like a badass. Either way, he succeeded. “Eden City has agreed to let the Chinese have the Word of Earth and the Swiss to have the Word of Water, without a fight, if we hand you—both of you—over to them.”

Surprise flickered across the Chinese man’s face, but then it was gone, wiped away as if it had never been there. He hadn’t known about this Swiss agreement with Eden City. Whatever he’d been expecting to be done with Khaya and me, it wasn’t this.

I barked a brief, bitter laugh. “You’re all making deals behind each other’s backs—more like stabbing each other in the back! Tu, you did it to us, the Chinese did it to you, and then the Swiss did it to China. And you know what? Eden City is going to do it to you,” I said to Mr. Sunglasses, “when they invade your country. You think you’re snuggling in bed together, sharing pillow talk? You’re wrong. Eden City shares with no one, and you’ll be the first to fall. She can tell you.” I pointed at Khaya. “They didn’t say
why
they wanted her, did they, why they would be willing to trade two of the most powerful Words just for the Word of Life and a wordless nobody like me? They don’t want you to know what she can do, or what we both know. When they have Khaya again, getting Pavati and Tu back will be easy for them.”

Even drawing attention to Khaya would be worth it if I could get them interested enough not to give us up, or at least stall for time. I seemed to have gotten the Chinese man’s attention, but Mr. Sunglasses shook his head, a cold smile barely moving his lips. “The decision has been made. Representatives of Eden City will be here shortly to collect you two. Now, if you would all come quietly—”

“Are we being welcomed home or imprisoned?” Tu demanded.

“Same thing,” Pavati said. “Always has been and always will be, for us.”

Tu took Pavati’s hand. She broke off her stare at Mr. Sunglasses to glance at him in surprise.

So Tu wouldn’t let Pavati go without a fight either, even if that meant he had to turn on the Chinese. The two of them looked like regular teenagers, standing in their matching sweatshirts in the snow. Abnormally good-looking teenagers, but still—the world knew of the power of the Words, but they hadn’t witnessed it firsthand in a while. My only hope was that these guys would underestimate Tu and Pavati and what the two of them could do together. They were only men with guns, like in Martigny; there were no Godspeakers or additional Words here to interfere.

Then we heard the helicopter, blades beating the air. It flew over us, coming from behind the cabin and sweeping low to touch down in the middle of the clearing in a swirl of white. The black of the helicopter looked sinister against the white backdrop, like a giant raven perched in the snow.

I would have recognized Dr. Swanson and Herio from a mile away. At this distance, they were close enough to meet my eyes as they stepped out of the helicopter, and for Swanson to raise a hand in greeting.

twenty-five

Swanson and Herio weren’t approaching through the snow. They were waiting—for us to go to them, likely.

Mr. Sunglasses surveyed them. “See, they stuck to the agreement,” he said, in a fair imitation of a reasonable tone. “No betrayal. They brought only a few men and one Word, like we each have.” He peered over his shades. “Looks like Herio.”

He was certainly well-informed, and it occurred to me that this man probably knew all about Eden City’s plans. Maybe he was one of those in the Swiss government waiting for it to fall, so he could be the first to catch the spoils.

Tu and Pavati still had time to act. I was about to signal them when someone else—and something else—disembarked from the helicopter. The man was dressed in the white, doctorlike garb of the Athenaeum and might actually have been a doctor, or at least a medic, because he was pushing a gurney. Someone was on it, swathed in blankets and IV tubes.

“Oh, Gods,” I said.

It was Drey.

I took a step forward without thinking, then stopped, my teeth grinding so hard they creaked. Swanson called across the open space.

“I, too, want Andre to live, Tavin. Khaya can heal him, no strings attached. I only want to talk. Come, we’ll meet in the middle.”

He motioned for his two uniformed men to stay near the chopper with their guns while he and Herio advanced with the medic, who was pushing the gurney through the snow. The wheels on the bed had been replaced with a gliding, sledlike base. How well-planned.

It had to be a trap. But Drey … Drey was right there, and we could save him. The delegation from Eden City was small, exactly half the numbers of the joint Chinese-Swiss delegation, which might make them easier to take on. Eden City did have Herio, but the guys surrounding us had more guns, especially since Swanson had told the two security guards to wait by the helicopter. We probably stood a better chance against Swanson.

But only if I thought it through. Swanson was smart. I understood why he’d brought Drey, as well as the small security force. He wanted to put the Chinese and the Swiss at ease, and to lure Khaya and me in before we had a chance to flee. But why Herio? Swanson didn’t want to kill us—or at least, not Khaya—and besides, he could kill us in all sorts of ways without Herio. The Word of Death was supposedly useless in any tactical, large-scale way, so why hadn’t Agonya or Luft come instead? All Herio did was make me insanely edgy …

Which was why Swanson had brought him, I realized. To distract me, to keep my eyes nailed to Herio whenever they weren’t on Swanson.

The medic. The medic would have the tranquilizer gun. He was the real threat. Herio was probably under orders not to do anything; just a phantom to frighten us, a diversion.

Knowing all this—and this time I didn’t need Khaya or Pavati or anyone else to tell me I was right—I made a final decision.

“They’re never going to let you have her, Tu,” I murmured, glancing at Pavati. “Earthworm on my signal.”

I didn’t say
or else
, but it was obvious in my tone. And I meant it. If my plan went awry, Tu would be the one I came after if I wasn’t dead. He knew it; I could see it in his eyes.

“Let’s go,” Khaya said, calm as always, and we started through the snow toward Swanson.

I had a diversion of my own, something for them to look at while Tu and Pavati worked their magic. I pulled the gun out of the back of my pants and held it at my side, in plain sight.

“I see we’re both armed,” Swanson said when we drew nearer, shooting a meaningful glance at Herio, as if the Word was a weapon—his only weapon. “But this doesn’t have to come to violence. We each have something the other person wants.”

I halted well away from their group, and Khaya stopped with me. “I thought you said we could heal Drey, no strings attached. Khaya and I aren’t going to trade her life for his.”

“I spoke the truth,” Swanson said, motioning the medic forward with Drey. “What I want is to talk, only.”

I couldn’t look at Drey’s face for long. It was so good to see him alive, even looking as ghastly as he did—which made him yet another distraction.

Swanson and Herio hung back about twenty feet while the medic stopped, with only the gurney between us. We faced him over Drey’s still form. The medic’s eyes were placid, expressionless, but his act didn’t fool me. He looked as if he were made of steel.

I chanced a glance behind us at Pavati and Tu. They stood uneasily in front of the Chinese and Swiss delegation. All of them were quiet, watching us, waiting to see what would happen.

Khaya laid a hand on Drey’s pale ankle and began muttering a string of Hebrew Words under her breath, her eyes closed. I would need to keep my eyes open for both of us.

“So.” I forced myself to look at Swanson so he wouldn’t think I suspected the medic. “Talk.”

“Andre is my friend,” Swanson began.

“That’s why you sent Herio to kill him.”

“Herio was a little”—Swanson glanced at him, while Herio stared at me almost hungrily—“overzealous. We thought you would bring Khaya back to the Athenaeum if you knew we had Andre and that his life was at stake. But it didn’t work out that way, and you thought he was dead after you found him at the garage. We recovered him and have cared for him. We never meant to kill him, or let his pain last this long.”

“Still, that’s some way to treat a friend.”

Swanson took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself, but he already looked calm in his gray suit beneath the gray sky. “Andre has done more for me than anyone I know. You have no idea—but I will tell you all in due time. As I’ve already told you, he eventually decided to work against me, and both the Godspeakers and the City Council have no tolerance for traitors. I had to act, even though I regretted it.”

He sounded sincere, but I couldn’t believe it.

“What did he ever do to you?” I demanded. “Aside from get me away from you? Not that I can believe that you’re my … ” I swallowed.

“Your father. Yes, Tavin, I am, and Andre took you away from me because I told him to do so, as a favor to me—one that I can never repay.”

My mouth opened. Then closed. I tried again. “What?”

“Yes, Andre gave up a brilliant career as my assistant—a junior Godspeaker who showed talent like I have not seen since—to take you out of the Athenaeum and live a life of ignominy, to raise you in ignorance of the Words and their politics. But I feel this favor, while not repaid, was somewhat nullified when he had you abduct Khaya, risking your life to do so.”

“What?” I said again, stupidly. “He didn’t tell me to abduct Khaya! That was all me. And I thought—” All this time I’d thought Drey had somehow saved me from Swanson. And yet, Drey was a Godspeaker just like him? Had Khaya known this? “I thought he turned against you back when—”

Swanson shook his head. “Not when he took you years ago. Oh, he wanted to resign before he left with you, disagreeing with the City Council’s use of the Words. But he never acted on those beliefs, other than to obey my wish for him to vanish when he did. He never acted against me. Until now … and yet you claim he didn’t instruct you to abduct Khaya?” Swanson actually sounded confused.

“No, he didn’t. But why did you want me to vanish with him? Are you not allowed to have kids or something?”

And then it hit me, like one of Tu’s fists. Swanson might be allowed to have kids, but not … “Oh, Gods,” I croaked. “Which one was it?”

Swanson glanced back at the guards and pitched his voice lower. “I—I wasn’t careful,” he stammered, his cool composure ruffled. He looked uncomfortable in his perfectly tailored suit. “She was the Word of Death. An unwanted pregnancy shouldn’t have been a problem. But that was the catch: she wanted it. She wanted you. And Tavin, when I saw you, I wanted you too. But for both of us, that meant giving you up.”

“Em,” I said.

Herio’s eyes were now on Swanson. He made no pretext of seeming uninterested, unlike the medic. Khaya’s Words over Drey even faltered for a moment, then resumed in an intense whisper as her eyelids squeezed tighter together.

“The stillborn … ” I said.

“Was no stillborn.” Swanson nodded. “Smart boy. When I realized Em was pregnant, we sent for the donor from France. It was easy to call you premature when you were born—the date was far too early, if one assumed that the Frenchman was your father. And it was a simple matter for Em to bring you so close to death that no one would be able to tell the difference … except for the Word of Life.”

“Hayat,” I said, glancing at Khaya. But she didn’t stir from her chanting this time.

“A loving man,” Swanson said, sounding far away. “He said he would want to do the same in my position. So he helped. He publicly announced that you were too far gone to bring back, and then revived you in secret. That was when Andre left the Athenaeum with you. Afterward, we used the Frenchman’s genetic material along with Em’s to replace you. Herio is your half brother.”

“But why?” My voice sounded lost, helpless. Like a child’s. “If you’re telling the truth, why send me away?”

Swanson was looking at me with a strange intensity. “We wanted to save you. We didn’t want you to become a weapon, a killing machine that would be discarded when you had exhausted your usefulness. As a child born of one of the Words, you would have succeeded Em.”

“But why care about
me
? You treat all those other kids like tools!”

“You are my son. You wouldn’t understand the feeling. I lost Em to that fate, but neither of us could stand to lose you.”

Herio was staring at Swanson with an expression I’d never seen on his face—not that I’d seen all that many. He looked surprised, of course, nearly as shocked as I was. But there was something else … a look of betrayal.

Lacking parents, Herio had obviously turned to Swanson as some sort of father figure. Never mind that Swanson made him kill. And yet I’d ruined even that twisted relationship for him, now that he knew
I
was Swanson’s true son—the son both Swanson and Herio’s own mother had loved enough to save from his fate as a Word.

I’d be pretty pissed myself. I was already pissed. My entire life was a sham. I was supposed to have been the Word of Death until someone else was sacrificed in my place. And then I was raised wordless, with garbage. No, I was raised by Drey. But was Drey’s love for me a lie too, like everything else? Whatever moral qualms he had, he’d still been a Godspeaker … someone who’d used people like tools.

I looked at Drey, whose color was already improving, but then my eyes shot to the medic. I was letting myself get distracted.

Khaya’s low murmur tapered off. She pulled her hands away from Drey, stepping back from the gurney. “I’ve done what I can, for both his stomach wound and the lung cancer. He’s not fully healed, but he should be able to recover on his own now. He’s sleeping peacefully.”

I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. How, if at all, the revelation that I should have been the Word of Death affected her.

“So what do you want?” I asked Swanson, my hand tightening on the gun.

Swanson obviously knew our meeting was winding down. I expected an even greater diversion, and he didn’t disappoint.

“Come with me,” he said, lifting a hand in invitation. “You will find protection and power in the Athenaeum. I’ll give you whatever you want—a life of luxury and knowledge. I won’t tell anyone about your heritage, as far as Words are concerned, only that you’re my long-lost son. Enough time has passed that no one will question who your mother was.”

I tossed my head at the medic. “He just heard the whole story.”

“He is an automaton, one of the first few prototypes brought to life. Khaya and Cruithear made him. He follows every order to the letter, and I told him to disregard whatever he heard me say to you.”

That explained the blank stare—the medic wasn’t faking. But that didn’t make him any less dangerous, and my eyes returned to his involuntarily. It made him more dangerous, if he was designed to be a super-soldier. I wondered what other orders he’d received.

“Herio knows,” I said, trying to change the subject.

Khaya shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what Herio knows, because if I go back, he’ll be replaced with an automaton.” She turned her ruthless words on Herio. “You’ve served Swanson so willingly all this time, more obediently than any of us, and yet he’s still going to make you die to give up the Word of Death.”

Swanson stood in silence without contradicting her. Herio really didn’t have much time left, if he was being exposed to this truth that was as deadly as poison. It was a truth I already knew, and still it was cruel to hear it spoken aloud.

Herio’s face showed no sign of registering it, no disturbance, not since he’d looked so betrayed. He only shot a quick glance at Swanson, as if trying to base his reaction off the older man’s. Which meant there wasn’t much reaction of his own.

Khaya shook her head in disgust. “Swanson won’t need to make you into an automaton. You already are.”

Swanson didn’t look at Khaya, only at me, probably to avoid showing interest in her. Not that I doubted he was telling me the truth—too many pieces fit. But I knew he still wanted Khaya.

“If you come back with me, Tavin,” he said, “
no one
you care about will have to worry. I promise.”

Herio shot another glance at Swanson. He must have known what Swanson was offering, even though the words were vague: Khaya wouldn’t be replaced if both she and I cooperated.

But Khaya would never cooperate, because if she did, the world would fall under the direct control of Eden City. She would rather die than let that happen. Even if she’d somehow managed to trade the world’s future for mine, giving me my life back by surrendering, she could never have lived with herself afterwards. Or at least that’s what I told myself as I turned the gun on her.

Everyone froze: Swanson, Herio, the medic—though, admittedly, he was already motionless—and Khaya. Her dark eyes were wide and afraid as they met mine.

“If you shoot a tranquilizer into her,” I said, “I will shoot her. Same if you shoot one at me. I don’t know how fast they work, but the second I feel a sting, I’m pulling the trigger.”