The flesh of their brethren

I wanted rather more to hear whatever was behind Baggett having paid out of pocket to ward his guard badge, but I also knew him well enough to know that the finality in his tone meant if I pressed it now he’d clam up and divert me. “So last night, I was really worried,” I said, instead of asking. “I planned to go for a healer priest then. But Mag didn’t want me to leave him. He was all pathetic and pleading about it and I felt guilty, so I didn’t go. And then—his shade woke me up, and—his mum turned up—and I had to get all this odd shit together in a hurry while she explained fast what I had to do with it—and then I spent a few hours getting him to cough stuff up and breathe a little on his own. I meant to go right away for the hospital whether he wanted me to or not, except I sat down and fell asleep.”

“That’s when you had the maybe-dream?”

“Yeah.” It made my temples pound a little just to think about it. “But it didn’t feel like a dream—it felt like real life,” I said anyway. “In that version, I never forgot to take my suppressants, so I guess his shade couldn’t get my attention, or his mother. I woke up and he was just—dead. I remember every detail about it. It was the most terrible thing I can remember my whole life. I didn’t suspect a thing,” I whispered, “until I realized he was cold. I think the part that made me feel worst was I wasn’t awake—wasn’t there with him when he died. He was as good as alone.” I choked back an unexpected sob, then wiped at my eyes, and then again. “I never felt anything quite so keen as knowing I couldn’t take back a mistake so bad and so permanent. They weren’t able to recall him because of some complication with the sickness that I didn’t understand. And that was just, it.”

Baggett cleared his throat, quite hard, and tossed the leftover bits of his fried fowl meal to the closest expectantly loitering gull. “It’s really sad,” he said, dragging his solemn eyes up to meet mine, “that they have no idea how close this verges to cannibalism.”

I let out a simultaneous sob and snort of laughter, then followed suit with my own leavings. “I’m pretty sure every one of these gulls has eaten far worse shit than the flesh of their brethren.”

Baggett slid across the bench and draped his arm around my shoulder. “So that’s when you woke up to me and Yerg arriving?” he asked me, with shining eyes.

“No, that’s the thing—that’s why it wasn’t like a dream at all. It just—went on, like life actually would. You came to the house to see me, every day—I swear you were breaking my fucking heart so bad with how much you wanted to see me improve a little. I used to dread seeing you. Three weeks I spent like that, and—” I turned suddenly and leaned into him. “Nan was so upset with me for letting Magnus die that she wouldn’t speak to me. She couldn’t bear for me to have any of his ashes.” There was a long pause while I worked to get myself back under control. “I felt like such incredible shit—deciding to leave you behind, Bag,” I said in a low voice. “My last morning, I parceled my silver cigarette case back to you. Gods, I spent so much time on the letter I wrote you, because I knew it was the last thing you’d ever have of me. And I felt like hell for being such a coward about it but—”

I gave a despairing shrug. “—but I knew you wouldn’t let me go through with it. And I couldn’t bear to go on like that any longer. So I guess I’ve been really fucked in the head all day because when you and Yerg woke me up it was just after—at least as far as I knew—I’d drunk about a pint of laudanum so I could toss myself off the Blackchapel bridge and not make a lot of mess or bother for anybody. I was wearing my bathing costume so nobody would think it was odd and interfere with me. Like, the metal rail was kind of hot from the sun and I remember exactly how it felt under my ass while I was sitting there. Except suddenly, I was here, and he wasn’t dead and I wasn’t about to be dead.”

“Honestly, what the fuck, Bersk,” Baggett said, withdrawing one arm so he could swipe at his brimming eyes. “I’m a bit sorry now I railed on you so hard about Curry now that I’ve got a bit more of a grasp on how absolutely unhinged you must've been all day.”

“I can not shake the feeling that it wasn’t a dream, not that it makes any sense at all. There can’t be some other version of me. Except, if there was, did getting interrupted mean she didn’t finish at Blackchapel? I can’t stop thinking about it. It can’t be real. Right? Except… what if it was something to do with my thing? And I have no idea how to talk to Mag about this so he’ll understand why I’m suddenly thinking about this thing with the College. I mean—hey… buddy… guess what, so you sorta died and now I’m a little worried that I was so devastated I created another Fauzia and stole her life so I didn’t have to play the hand of cards I was dealt—so maybe I should momentarily abandon you and our life’s mission and try to get into sorcerer school? I sound fucking insane.”

Baggett still hadn’t said anything else.

“Have you ever heard of this book The Whale?” I asked.

He nodded. “Haven’t read it in years. But yeah.”

“Technically I haven’t read it in years, either. Curry had this copy that he gave me. It was this special thing from when—well, anyway, it was about this particular understanding between us. He wrote an inscription in his own copy about it, and gave it to me on my birthday the next year. I’ve been meaning to reread it, ever since, and kept not getting round to it. But after he died—I had absolutely fuckall to do with myself—and Nan wasn’t speaking to me—and I was watching you fall apart daily before my very eyes with all the effort of trying to keep me interested in being alive. So I reread it.

“That book is now completely fresh in my head. It took me four days to finish because I kept reaching points that made me think of him, where I couldn’t bear to keep reading for a while—but it refreshed me on all this stuff I forgot about it, which I am positive I couldn’t have described for you a week ago. How can I possibly be holding these three extra weeks in my head that I lived, without him—and as previously mentioned I sound fucking insane talking like this. He’s going to think I lost my goddamn mind, if I try to tell him the truth about most of it.”

“Try him. I think he’ll surprise you.”

“Will he? Or will he think I need chucked straight in the Arvinterite madhouse? I mean—don’t you halfway think that?”

“No,” Baggett. “It’s not like people have never heard of weird shit like this before. I doubt there’s actually some other unlucky version of you whose Magnus Curry you stole—but it might be more of an unstable premonition than mere dream. And I do imagine it has something to do with your gift not being regulated the last few days.”

“Some gift,” I said in disgust.

“I’m guessing you think of it that way because you’ve only ever worked against it. Maybe it’s time you tried it the other way and learn to let it work for you.”

“Now it sounds like you actually want me to pursue this guild thing.”

“Well, maybe I’m wrong about it not being real. I definitely want you to not get sucked into some other fucking reality where I never get to see you again and I have to experience feelings about that. I mean, ugh. Do you hear yourself?” He gave a loud sniff. “Anyway, I have a few ideas for some subjects we can research. When things calm back down a bit and you’ve talked to Magnus about all this, we’ll visit the temple library or the College and I’ll dig up some volumes for us to look at.”

“Thanks.” I slipped my arms around his middle. “You are always impressing me with the shit you know off the top of your head.”

He shrugged. “Unlikeable, unathletic child. Grows up into unlikeable, unathletic adult. Such a one might read a book or two on occasion.” He smiled at me without picking back up the act implying this “hugging thing” was some kind of imposition. “Let’s go back. You’re a fucking wreck, Bersk, and you stink so bad even Curry’s allegiance might falter.”

I was so grateful to him for listening, and acting confident that things might feel normal again one day, that I didn’t even bother pretending to be irritated at this remark.