A Slice of Unkindness Read online

  A sudden shout came from behind them as Warren bolted into the room. “Professor? Were you calling me? I was in the basement. I couldn’t hear you. I…”

  His words were suddenly choked off as he saw who stood on the other side of the counter. His eyes went wide and he whimpered like a scared puppy. Morris quickly snatched him by the arm and crushed him into the ruffled folds of her skirt. She clung to him like she would never let go.

  Miss Madeline uttered a truly evil sounding laugh. “You don’t like children, eh?” she sneered. “You always were a bad liar, Edgar my dear. Now hand over the little rat bastard.”

  Edgar’s eyes never left Miss Madeline’s face.

  Behind her she heard Morris gasp in a tearful, choked whisper, “Ya canna…”

  Edgar sighed and stood up straight and tall. She prepared herself to make a stand. “The boy stays,” she insisted in an icy tone of voice.

  Madeline scoffed. “You are not his parent and he is not your ward. Therefore, in the eyes of the law, he is my property. Now hand him over!”

  She heard a pathetic whimper escape from the Warren’s lips.

  “The boy stays!” Edgar insisted again.

  Madeline approached the counter and, placing her hands on it, leaned forward threateningly. “You know, Edgar my dear, you’ve always made yourself out to be all prim and proper. Associating with the dekas and all like you’re better than us. But you’re a troublemaker and an instigator at heart. That’s why you never could get passage off this god-forsaken, smoky rock. You belong here with the rest of us undesirables of society.”

  Edgar’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. She tried not to let the barb prick. She told herself this was always what happened when you told Madeline ‘no’. She would strike back with insults and threats. She was truly wicked at heart. Pleasant negotiations were a talent beyond her skill set. One either gave her exactly what she wanted or the claws came out.

  “You are leaving here without him,” Edgar insisted firmly.

  Madeline frowned. It seemed to make her entire face melt into her large neck.

  “What you’re doing is illegal,” she said softly. “I can come back with a constable and officers to forcibly relieve you of the boy. And there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it!”

  Edgar smiled and mirrored her gesture, matching her threat. “Then do so. When you get back, he won’t be here.”

  Madeline’s face creased in fury. Her words thrust and lunged. “The boy is mine!”

  “Over my dead body,” Edgar parried.

  Madeline laughed. “That can be easily arranged!”

  Just then the doorbells jingled again. Everyone looked up. Madeline turned about with a surprised jerk.

  A personage of singular appearance limped and hitched itself in through the door. It was impossible to tell whether it was male or female, dressed in a fearsome, medieval style, shapeless cloak. It wore brown leather from head to toe. It was completely covered, with no bare skin exposed anywhere. Smog puffed from out of its goggles and leaked from between the ragged layers of its robes.

  Its head was adorned with a wide-brimmed, leather hat sporting some spiky things meant to resemble pheasant feathers and underneath it sprouted an oddly shaped, triangular mask with goggles. Everything beneath its head was robed in tattered brown leather. The one gloved arm that preceded its body had four instead of five fingers and those fingers were exceedingly long and pointed like an insect’s legs. One arm was hidden beneath its robes, the other held a staff with a mechanical disc at the top which seemed to be some sort of old, speaking device. It came through the door bent nearly double and stayed that way. When it walked, it limped on one leg and seemed to drag the other foot sideways from behind. It also hissed and gurgled with each breath. The leather was urine cured. That much was obvious from the smell.

  It half limped, half dragged its painful way up to the counter and positioned itself next to the proprietor of the orphanage. Miss Madeline seemed completely revolted at its presence and held a delicately perfumed, white lace handkerchief up to her nose.

  Edgar didn’t know which person stunk more, Miss Madeline with her wall of perfume or her new guest who reeked of urine.

  The creature then shook itself like a bird, shaking rain off its feathers, and held the speaking apparatus up to its mask. The disc on the staff whined and crackled with static as it fired to life.

  “Greetings and salutations this day,” the creature said. Each sentence was punctuated with a hiss and a gurgle although no one was really sure whether it was the antiquated machine or the creature’s own true voice. “Forgive my appearance. Your atmosphere… oxygen… is toxic to me.”

  Miss Madeline shuddered and forced herself to speak. “Lord Chamberlin, your presence in this matter is not required,” she said, her voice muffled through the lace. “I am simply getting my property returned, that is all.”

  The mask snapped jerkily from her to Edgar, then back to her.

  “Property?” the Lord Chamberlin said with a crackle and hiss like bacon sizzling in a hot pan of oil. “This is a boy we’re talking about, not property.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Edgar saw Morris’ narrow shoulders relax a bit.

  “He has no family,” Miss Madeline protested. “He came from my establishment. He belongs to me.”

  The cowled head snapped back and down to peer into Warren’s face through the darkly tinted goggles. Warren shuddered with dread and burrowed deeper into the red-haired woman’s thick skirts. The mask jerked back again and faced Miss Madeline. She recoiled from the Chamberlin as its mingled reek cut through the pall of her perfume and she desperately pressed the sweet smelling lace closer to her mouth and nose.

  Again the preceding crackle and static pops filled the air as it spoke. “It seems the child does not like you,” said the Chamberlin. It then bent down and stuck its leathery head into Warren’s face. “Do you want to go with Miss Madeline?”

  Warren’s voice failed him he was so frightened of the Chamberlin’s fearsome appearance. He shook his head in frantic denial and clutched Morris by the hand tight enough to crush her fingers.

  “Speak up! I can hear better than see,” hissed the Chamberlin.

  Warren’s jaw flapped for a few moments. Then the words came pouring out in a rapid gush of desperation and terror. “Don’t send me back there. Please, don’t send me back! I don’t like it there. Please sir, please!” the boy begged.

  The creature straightened up once again and its head snapped about to face Miss Madeline. Her face wrinkled a bit and she took a step back from its odious presence. She seemed as if she was struggling not to vomit.

  Edgar couldn’t help but be amused by this reaction and a corner of her mouth tipped upwards.

  Morris suddenly took a step forward with a newfound sense of boldness. “Beggin’ yer pardon, yer Lordship, but what if we adopt ’im?”

  Both the Lord Chamberlin’s face and Miss Madeline’s whipped about in shock.

  “Morris!” hissed Edgar and kicked her shin in a not so subtle way. Morris took the hint.

  “That is utterly preposterous!” Miss Madeline spat. “Edgar hates children!”

  “Not this one!” she rushed to assure the Lord Chamberlin.

  “I think I could encourage a certain devotion to this particular child,” Edgar forced out awkwardly.

  Morris rolled her eyes and shook her head, muttering softly, “Smooth! Real smooth!”

  This earned a poisonous glare from Edgar.

  Miss Madeline had recovered some of her composure by this time. “That is completely out of the question!”

  The creature’s microphone crackled and bubbled briefly. “Why?”

  Miss Madeline just stared at the Chamberlin before remembering to replace her handkerchief over her nose and mouth. “Because… because… well because… he’s not the adoptable sort.”

  The mask cocked itself to the side like a curious dog. “Why?” it repeated.

  “We
ll, because… because,” she waved her handkerchief about uselessly.

  “How about I tell you why?” the masked figure replied. “Because this boy is the only test subject left, the only one to survive. Isn’t that correct? You need him… desperately, don’t you? He’s your key element, the final missing piece of the puzzle. Now tell me… I dare you… that I am wrong.”

  Miss Madeline flapped her jaws uselessly for a few moments. Then she forced herself to wave it off as if it were a minor matter. They could see her thoughts scrambling to come up with something. Finally she stepped toward the Lord Chamberlin, without her precious handkerchief in front of her face with a fierce expression.

  “I… need… this… one!” she said. “He is very important to me. I… must have him!”

  A strange, gurgling sound came from the masked creature. It took a minute for everyone to realize the Chamberlin was laughing.

  “Ah, Madeline!” the Lord Chamberlin chortled in amusement. “I am very pleased to see you so desperate to get what you want that you would share my air. It has been a long time since I laughed. I will relish the memory of this moment for years to come.”

  The creature seemed to take a big breath. The speaking device hissed ominously.

  “You shall not have him,” it finally said. “Ever! He is to remain in the custody of these two women.”

  She started to protest but the Chamberlin silenced her with a long, admonishing finger waggled imperiously in her face.

  “I will compensate you adequately for your… scientific loss. If I find you have disobeyed my command…”

  The Lord Chamberlin let the threat hang unspoken in the air.

  Miss Madeline’s face blanched at what she dare not say. She aimed a poisonous glance toward Edgar, Morris and Warren.

  Edgar cleared her voice noisily and smiled. “That would be your cue to leave,” she forcefully suggested. “Get out of my shop!”

  Madeline curled her lip in fury at them. She spun on her heel, stuck her nose in the air and flounced out of the store, slamming the door hard behind her. The bells loudly protested the ill treatment.

  “Hmph!” sniffed Morris. “She forgot ta put ’er mask on.”

  Edgar smirked in satisfaction. “The fumes will do her good!”

  The Lord Chamberlin turned its mask back to them. “All better now?”

  Morris was near tears as she knelt and hugged Warren tight. “Thank ye for yer help!” She then swept up the boy in her arms and carried him back to the kitchen, chattering about brewing a pot of tea and dosing it with the expensive honey to celebrate their good fortune.

  The Lord Chamberlin shook itself and turning about, dragged and hitched back to the front door. Edgar ran after the strange creature and took hold of its limb as it was reaching for the knob.

  “Begging your pardon, Lord Chamberlin,” she said breathlessly. The creature turned to face her. “But… why did you help us? What is so important about the boy?”

  Edgar got the strangest feeling the creature behind the mask was smiling at her. “You already know the answer to that question, my dear,” it replied with a gurgling crackle and a hiss. “You have always had… the key.”

  Chapter 4

  Edgar found Warren already in the kitchen when she arose the next morning. He told her he was on his second cup of tea and there was plenty left for her. She thanked him and prepared her cup.

  He seemed particularly pensive that morning. He sat with his arms folded on the table and his chin propped on top of them, glaring thoughtfully at his cup as though he were far away.

  “Am I intruding?” Edgar asked.

  “Hmm? No,” he replied. “Just thinking.”

  “I can see that,” Edgar said. “I can hear the gears in your head grinding from my bedroom. They woke me up.”

  Warren laughed and sat up properly. He stirred his tea and his eyes took on a distant look again.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” asked Edgar.

  Warren shook his head apologetically. “Edgar, is Morris a doctor?”

  Edgar smiled. “Not a proper doctor, no,” she replied. “Although she certainly knows enough.”

  Warren pursed his lips and waggled his head. “Why isn’t she a proper doctor?”

  Edgar sipped her tea and rolled it around in her mouth while she considered her reply. “Because a proper doctor is university trained and Morris never went to any university or was awarded a medical license. But she took an apprenticeship under a doctor.”

  The boy nodded as he absorbed this information. “For how long?” he inquired.

  Edgar sighed and counted back in her memory. “About thirty years, to hazard a guess,”

  Warren’s lower jaw dropped. “You must be joking!”

  But Edgar only shook her head and sipped her tea.

  “Then… how old is she? Really?” Warren asked in a whisper.

  Edgar wrinkled her brows and laughed. “You do know it’s rude to ask a woman’s age, right?”

  The boy’s wide-eyed expression told her he didn’t. And then she thought about where he had come from. She supposed Miss Madeline’s staff didn’t invest much time in teaching their charges basic etiquette. His table manners were proof.

  She sighed and let it slide. “Morris is one hundred and seventeen, plenty enough time to learn and become proficient in a doctor’s skills.”

  Warren’s jaw dropped and his eyes bugged wide. “Then… she’s not… human?”

  Edgar laughed and poured herself another cup of tea. “No, my dear, not by a long shot! But what exactly she is, I leave her to tell you when you’ve earned the right. Many people have secrets on Castor 5. Sometimes it’s their secrets that keep them alive. So don’t be rude and try to pry it outta her. You’ve never seen her truly mad and believe me, you would not want to!”

  Warren was quiet for a long moment. The next time he spoke, his question startled Edgar. “So… if she needed to do something to you… medically… you would trust her… right?” he asked.

  Edgar looked up and met his gaze. She saw behind those wide, blue eyes a young boy struggling to make a decision well beyond his years.

  “Warren, are you dying or something?” she asked. She was suddenly quite concerned.

  “No, of course not!” he hastened to reassure her. “At least, I don’t think so. Um… I’m not sure.”

  Edgar frowned and wrinkled her nose at him in confusion. “You’re making no sense, boy. Spit it out!”

  He sighed in frustration and rubbed his fingers through his already tousled hair. “It’s just… people have told me that doctors do good things… save people’s lives and all. But that’s not what I’ve seen. All they’ve ever done to me is stick me with needles and give me stuff that makes me sick. And do experiments on my friends that end up making them go away forever. When Morris tried to make me drink that blue stuff…”

  “Ah!” breathed Edgar in sudden understanding. “Now I see.”

  She took a large swig of tea and swirled it about in her mouth, noticing its syrupy sweetness and black bitterness all at once while she pondered carefully her next words.

  “Warren, listen to me,” she said at last. “I’ve known Morris for twenty years. I’ve seen her in many different situations. I’ve known her professionally and as a dear friend and as something more for most of that time. She is the only one I trust implicitly, without question on all of Castor 5. I trust her with my friendship and I trust her medically. If I was dying of some rare disease, or needed a treatment or needed a limb amputated or whatever other horrible thing that might happen to me, I would trust her to do the right thing. And I know she would never betray that trust without a gun being held to her head or a knife to her throat.”

  Warren stared deep into her face as she said these things. Then he smiled and nodded. “Thanks. That helps.” He sighed. “But if she knows all these things, why isn’t she an honest to goodness, real doctor?”

  Edgar sighed and smiled. “Because here on Castor 5 it’s a
ll about who you know and what title you have. Everyone who is someone has some sort of important sounding title attached to their name.”

  Comprehension dawned on the boy’s face. “You mean like ‘Professor Edgar A.P., Scholar of Lost Languages and Collector of Rare & Unique Tomes of Antiquity’.”

  Edgar smiled and nodded. “Exactly! If you have an important sounding title you are important. Universities hand out titles like ‘professor,’ ‘master’ and ‘doctor’ to people they believe will do important things or associate with important people. Even the owner of the local bar on the corner is called the ‘master of alcohology’ just to give his business certain… respectability. Here it is expected.”

  Warren nodded in understanding. Then his forehead crinkled as he thought of something. “And the people without a title, the people who never attended any university or anything… who doctors them?”

  Edgar’s face darkened. She heaved a heavy sigh and finished her last dregs from the cup. “They doctor themselves.”

  Warren’s face fell. “That’s why Morris has no title. She’s the only doctor they can afford.”

  Edgar nodded. “Morris refused a title of any kind, preferring to let her reputation speak for herself. And it has. The poor know she’ll do right by them.” Then Edgar paused. “But it doesn’t exactly keep a roof over our heads or put food in our bellies.”

  “Who does then? Pay the bills, I mean. You?” he asked and she nodded.

  “I have a quite extensive collection of hard to come by books that people want. I also have a collection of banned books and a list of wealthy investors willing to pay any fee to get their hands on them. It’s illegal but it keeps things paid and food in the pantry. And the police are more interested in catching murderers than book thieves!” Edgar chuckled.

  Warren laughed in response. “They say everything is illegal on this planet. So just don’t get caught.”

  Edgar sniffed and nodded. “Clever boy! Remember that and you will go far.”

  It was then Morris walked into the kitchen.

  “Mornin’, all,” she said smiling. “Well, you’re up early.”