Chapter 35
A.N.: Thanks to all of you who have favorited and set this to alert you when a new post comes out! I'm glad you're enjoying my story that much.
It seemed like Lyra had been making Rose walk forever. The sun had risen up high enough that it peered over the tops of the smaller buildings, the brilliance of it glaring into Rose's eyes. She felt like a mouse when the shadow of a hawk crossed over its back; too terrified to act. Her thoughts circled like the hawk, too, wondering what had happened to her baby; to Ronnie and Nathan. Had Lyra hurt them? Had they come around the back of the building to look for her? What would Madeline think, when she got to the Black Horse?
She turned abruptly, facing the smaller woman. "What did you do to my baby?"
"Your baby is fine." Lyra's narrow shoulders moved, as if in a shrug. "I left it there."
"And Ronnie and Nathan?" Her breath caught in her throat.
"They didn't even see me." She took Rose's arm, her fingers holding tight as metal pinchers.
Rose shivered, thinking that Lyra's fingers were as cold as metal, too. Still, she persisted. "So they're all right? My baby and my friends are all right?"
Beyond another faint shift of her shoulders, Lyra seemed to ignore the question. "Keep walking, Rose. We have some place we need to be."
"You made me leave my baby." She jerked her arm, yelping when Lyra held on tight, her nails cutting into Rose's flesh.
"Soon you won't care." Lyra's fingers dug deeper into Rose's arm, squeezing hard. Rose gasped and struggled, fear making her stronger, but Lyra was stronger still. "Don't make me break your arm, Rose, because I will." She didn't seem to notice she had to drag Rose along the street, her expression never wavering from that eerie blank calm.
"But I need to take care of my baby, Lyra." Rose tried pleading, looking over her shoulder, back the way they'd come. Why was no one around? The cracked walls of the buildings, the missing glass in the windows answered her question. No one lived here, not anyone who might help her. "Please, Lyra!" She twisted her arm, ignoring the pain. Terror made her strong enough to yank free but the loss of pressure on her arm sent Rose sprawling on the rough cobblestones of the street. With a moan of pain, she scrabbled back away from Lyra, the stones cutting into her fingers. A rock came loose in her hand and she grasped it without thinking, trying to get to her feet on the uneven surface. Her hip throbbed from the fall; her arm ached from Lyra's grip but Rose faced the other woman, the rock clenched in her hand.
"What are you going to do with that, Rose?" Lyra tilted her head, her silky hair spilling around her face. "Are you going to hurt me?"
Was Lyra laughing? Rose blinked, afraid to wipe her eyes because Lyra might grab her again. "I will," she shrilled, "if you come near me." Taking a step backwards, then another one, Rose thought maybe Lyra would let her go.
"Don't be a fool, Rose." Lyra folded her arms, slender fingers drumming at the crooks of her elbows. "I know all your weaknesses."
"I'm not weak!" Rose risked a glance behind her. The sidewalk was only a step or two away and she'd be off this awful road that seemed almost eager to trip her. The rock was the only thing that felt real right now; its cool, rough surface cutting into her palm. Her hip ached with every movement but Rose persevered, biting her lip in an attempt to counteract the pain.
The laugh cut sharply, a stiletto of a sound, making Rose wince. "Come with me, Rose. We both know you're a pathetic little thing, barely able to keep that baby of yours alive. This way, maybe he'll have a chance."
"He needs me." Rose fought with the terror rising in her belly. Her heart tried to beat its way free from her ribs. Her hands and feet felt numb and cold. "Please, Lyra, let me go to my baby."
"But I need you so much more, Rose." She sounded almost apologetic. Rose shuddered, Lyra's smile reminding her of a cat toying with a hurt bird.
"No." She made it to the curb, stepping up onto the cracked and pitted sidewalk. At least it was in better shape than the street. "You don't need me, Lyra. You never did. You're the strong one." Rose shivered as Lyra watched her with a flat, impassive stare. "My son, he needs me." Pressing her free hand to her chest, Rose tried to see some hint of sympathy in Lyra's eyes.
When the other woman didn't move, Rose felt hope bloom. She couldn't chance Lyra's mood but she didn't seem inclined to follow. Rose took another couple of steps backwards, her fingers loosening on the rock. It clattered to the ground, the sound loud in the empty street. Whispering her thanks to any god that might be listening, Rose turned abruptly, her hair blinding her for a second.
Hands caught her shoulders and she stared up into a face she didn't recognized, a man's face, tanned, moustached, a patch covering one eye. His dark hair was cut with a military precision and Rose felt her body go limp in relief. "Sir, please help me. That woman," she glanced over her shoulder, "that woman kidnapped me. She's taken me away from my child, sir. I want to go back to him." Turning back to face the man, she whispered, "I'm afraid she's going to hurt me."
His voice was kind, Rose thought, so kind, she almost didn't hear the words he said. "I'm afraid, my dear, you're correct in your assumption."
Victoria walked through the house quietly, dry washing her hands. Peering into each room as she came upon it, she wondered if she would find Miss Opal anywhere. She'd been looking for a while – long enough that the rooms were starting to look alike. Her stomach grumbled in protest of skipping breakfast and, by the feel in her tummy, Victoria was sure it had to be around lunch by now, but she wanted to find her mentor before she ate. She hated that Opal had less time here to spend with her and hoped that it would change when they started traveling again.
Unsure where she belonged, Victoria had made friends with one of the gardeners, a maid and one of the cooks. The adults seemed to have no time for a girl from Creata and Edward – Eric – whatever his name really was – almost seemed to be a magician, the way he disappeared. With a heavy sigh, Victoria found her way to the garden, taking in the lovely summer flowers. Roses bloomed, as did various kinds and colors of daisies. Lavender scented the air, growing in great, purple clumps along the walking path, encouraging her to touch the sweet-smelling heads of the herbs.
She took the path that led to the smallest fountain in the garden; a little statue of a boy and a girl, an umbrella covering their heads. Ironically, water sprayed out of the umbrella's tip but, as the children were underneath the umbrella, the water dripped off the edges and the children didn't get wet. There was a bench nearby, one that seemed almost to have grown up out of the ground. Victoria thought it suited her, far more than one of the elaborate fountains that she'd been told had been set up to commemorate one or another of the Armstrong ancestors. She had no idea that her mentor's family was so involved in the Amestrian history or so wealthy, before arriving in this country and specifically, this house.
Catching sight of another person sprawled on the bench, Victoria hesitated before she realized that he was one of the people she'd been looking for. Unsure of her welcome, she watched him, half hidden by one of the rose bushes. Edward had a stalk of lavender in his hand, occasionally raising it up to inhale the scent. His expression was downcast, something different than the faces Victoria had seen on him before. She thought it would be nice to see him smile, at least once. She wondered if she could encourage him to smile. Thinking that it would make his eyes sparkle like golden coins, Victoria made up her mind and cleared her throat, stepping out from behind the rose.
Edward raised his head, his feet coming down to the ground in a smooth motion. His face closed in on itself, as if a door was shut and all of his emotions remained on the other side of it.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Victoria said, throwing out a smile as she stepped into the tiny cleared area. "I've been looking for anyone since I woke up this morning." When Edward seemed unlikely to reply, she went on. "I haven't seen Miss Opal for two days, nor Cashern."
"They've been busy." Edward bent his legs, wrapping his arms around them, the lavender stem bobbing loosely in his grip. There was a tone to his voice that warned Victoria from asking exactly what they might've been doing.
Instead, she let her smile dim a little, shrugging. "I just wanted to know when I'd start my training again." She hadn't learned any new alchemy since they'd arrived in Amestris. Miss Opal had been far too busy since returning to her native country to teach her anything. Victoria wasn't lying that she hadn't seen her mentor in the past two days. She'd barely spoken to Miss Opal in five, and that last time, Miss Opal had asked her briefly if she was doing all right and had rumpled her hair before going on to wherever she was headed off to. Victoria wasn't sure what she'd been expecting upon coming along on this trip but not getting any additional alchemy lessons hadn't been, as far as she was concerned, part of the bargain. She was Miss Opal's apprentice, after all, and she wanted to be taught. There was no way she'd become a first rate alchemist with the little bit of teaching she'd had so far.
"That's right." Edward didn't move but it seemed he was watching her more closely. "She's training you in alchemy, isn't she?"
Pouting prettily, Victoria took a few swaying steps around the fountain. "She was." She repeated what she'd thought just a few seconds before, that she'd had no lessons since arriving in Amestris. "I might as well have stayed home."
Edward snorted. "If that's the way you feel, maybe you should've."
Her mouth dropping open, Victoria closed it with a snap. She hadn't expected him to say something like that to her. Edward didn't seem to notice her reaction. "If she doesn't have time to train you right now, that doesn't stop you from learning. You take some books out of the library," he snorted again, grumbling, "the Armstrong family library, passed down through generations, and do your own research. My teacher," he dropped his feet off the bench again, hooking a thumb into his chest, "only taught my brother and me so much. The rest, we learned on our own. If Opal's not there to teach you right now, study up so you'll have questions to ask her when she can teach you." He actually seemed to be looking at her now, rather than through her or past her. Victoria almost shivered at the expression in his eyes, though she couldn't quite read it. "Either that or tell her to send you home."
He pushed off the bench, twirling the lavender stem between his fingers. "It's your choice but if I was teaching you, I'd be more impressed if you studied on your own rather than waiting for me to teach you."
Swallowing hard, Victoria reached out, not quite touching him as Edward started to pass her by. "Would you…would you teach me?"
Edward shied away from her hand, putting more distance between them, his brow knitting. "Me?"
"Yes. I mean, Miss Opal will always be my mentor but if you could help me, maybe suggest some books to study." She spread her hands, giving Edward a hopeful look. "I'd really appreciate it."
"My training methods would be nothing like hers, I'd bet." Edward still seemed to be considering the idea, reluctantly, but at least thinking it over and not telling her 'no' offhand.
Victoria remained quiet, her hands twisting together as she waited for his decision. He studied her with those peculiar gold eyes, sweeping them up and down her figure dispassionately. She wondered what he saw. Would he like her dress? Did he think her feet were too big? Maybe he thought that she wasn't pretty or her figure too plain. With an aggravated sigh, Edward jerked his head at her. "C'mon. Let's go see what the library has to offer."
Biting her lip to keep from squealing, Victoria fell in behind him, unable to keep from hopping a little in her excitement. Edward glanced over his shoulder, not quite meeting her eyes. "Look, I'll help you," he said, "but you need to remember that Opal's your teacher. I'm not getting in the way of that."
"I understand." Victoria bobbed her head. "I just want some help, Edward. Even if you just pick out some books for me to study, that'd be wonderful." She wrapped her arms around herself in glee. "I want to know everything there is to know about alchemy!"
That exclamation made Edward shake his head a little. "What have you been learning, anyway?"
"Mostly green alchemy, you know, helping plants grow?" She skipped again, so she could walk next to Edward, now that the path had widened enough for two people.
"Yeah," he took a deep breath, glancing around at the gardens pointedly. "I'm not good at that. I'm better with inanimate objects."
"But you like plants." Victoria risked pointing at the lavender, still in his hand.
The corners of his mouth tipped up a little and Edward raised the herb to sniff at its fragrance. "Smells like home," he said, so quietly that Victoria almost didn't hear him.
Margot drew her jacket close around her shoulders, shivering. She decided that she was ready to leave this place, right now, even though she wasn't the one making the decisions. The small military camp was anything but friendly or welcoming to her, despite the fact that she carried off the uniform well. Some of the men looked askance at her; the women ignored her. Sherman didn't seem to notice and, Margot thought, probably didn't care. Not that it mattered; he was paying her to travel with him as his adjutant. All she really had to do was fetch and carry; make a few telephone calls. Talk to people.
She could certainly do that.
Information was something that a whorehouse ran on. Miss Lizabet's house offered that in trade along with flesh. The staff all knew when to talk and when to keep their mouths shut; how to encourage pillow talk and what dribs and drabs of knowledge could be given out…for a price. The same standards held true here, except that she was an outsider, as was Sherman, and while he, with his ranking, had at least a grudging trust from the other soldiers, she did not. Margot knew she'd have to prove herself to them and that was not something she'd ever considered having to do.
At Miss Lizabet's, it had been easy – give the mark what he wanted. Her own enthusiasm for the game had brought her to Miss Lizabet's attention and made her a favorite. Sherman liked her for the same reason, which was why he bought out her contract. There was also the information she could offer about Ed, though those nuggets of wisdom were dwindling fast. Still, her accompanying him meant that Sherman was afforded some protection – surely, if he was diddling her, he wasn't interested in the young male soldiers. And if he wasn't interested in the young male soldiers, they had nothing to worry about.
Of course, rumors were hard to extinguish.
Leaning her chin in her palm, Margot considered her next move. Flirting openly with Sherman would make the soldiers more suspicious – as his adjutant and very much his junior, it would be possible that someone would take it badly. Margot didn't want to cause that much trouble, she just wanted information. What little she'd managed to gather told her nothing interesting; certainly didn't even suggest that Edward Elric had come to Lior since his escape from Miss Lizabet's house. Margot wasn't sure where else he might go, either. Possibly back to his home town, wherever that might be; even Central or somewhere else entirely.
"You're going to make it difficult to track you down, Ed." Margot drummed the fingers of her free hand on the tabletop. It was time to remind Sherman that they should visit Ed's hometown. Surely that girl he mooned about was there and if she was, possibly they could find Ed there, too. Then again, there was his brother. Ed had mentioned him a few times at the very beginning of his stay at the house. Maybe they needed to concentrate on finding him and making him lead them to Ed.
Straightening in her chair, Margot decided that would be her suggestion to Sherman. And if that didn't work, there had to be other people who knew something about the Fullmetal Alchemist.
It was just a matter of finding them and figuring out what they were willing to protect in exchange for that information.