12 - What Kind of Monster

  The vial slipped from Maeve’s hand and nearly went clattering over the stone floor if not for the high commander’s quick reflexes. She winced as the monster growled low from his cot.

  “Careful,” High Commander Voss said, voice low.

  “S-sorry,” Maeve said.

  She took the vial back from him and blushed sheepishly while trying to blink away the sleepiness. The high commander frowned at her. Even Luka seemed to glare at her clumsiness, huffing through his nose as he curled up against the store wall, knees to his chest. She said nothing, however. Anything she might have said sounded like an excuse. Couldn’t sleep? Counting inventory? Double checking the records? She’d been burning the midnight oil more often in the last two weeks than any other time before. She didn’t want to give anyone any more barbs to throw at her.

  “We should end here for today,” Voss said, moving to clean up the tiles.

  “I’m fine,” she protested.

  But the high commander shook his head.

  “Neither of you are up for this right now. Besides, he’s being less cooperative than usual.”

  Maeve glanced between the half-finished lunch and the handful of honeyed jerky still in Voss’ possession. Indeed, Luka seemed content to merely curl up and growl today. Though he had let her examine him, he’d been short, snapping more often and pulling away.

  Nodding reluctantly, Maeve helped High Commander Voss clean up the tiles. As they left, Maeve glanced back only once at Luka. His glare followed them, chains rattling as he twitched. The cell door closed with a heavy, metallic thud. The high commander turned to her.

  “Healer Maeve,” he said, “you look tired today. Are you getting enough rest?”

  Maeve waved him off as they began to walk away from the cell.

  “I’m fine, sir. Just a little clumsier today than usual,” she said.

  The lie tasted funny on her tongue, but Voss didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hmm, clumsier?” he mused. “How could that possibly be?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “What about the other healers?” he probed. “I don’t see them often down here. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen them down here in a while. Can’t one of them take over for a day?”

  “They just don’t have the same relationship as I do with Luka,” she said. “They…they do other things. It’s fine, sir. I’m capable!”

  She smiled up at him. Not quite a lie this time, but it tasted just as funny. If High Commander Voss noticed, however, he didn’t comment. Instead, his smile softened.

  “Still using that name, huh?”

  She blushed and pulled her satchel close to her chest.

  “You do it, too,” she protested.

  “Only because you seem hell-bent on trying to make him human,” he muttered.

  Their feet padded quietly through the corridor. She eyed the small crate of tiles in his hands. He caught the look and shook his head.

  “This isn’t about making him human,” he argued, holding up the tiles. “This is about getting information - information we desperately need right now.”

  His shoulders slumped as the weight of expectations dulled his eyes. Maeve could only nod. High Commander Voss wasn’t wrong - information was something they lacked in all aspects, and despite what Reynold and Oliver believed about her, she wasn’t here to play with a puppy. A thought crossed her mind, and she frowned.

  “Sir, can I ask you a question?”

  Voss looked down at her, his brows lifting. “Am I going to regret saying yes?”

  She rolled her eyes before asking, “What do you think he is? The monster?”

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  The high commander suddenly stopped walking, eyes sharp. “What makes you ask that?”

  She shrugged.

  “You said it yourself. We don’t have enough information and we desperately need it. Knowing the origin of a creature like this would certainly help narrow things down and maybe help us make a connection,” she said.

  “Hmm.”

  He looked thoughtful as he resumed their walk back upstairs. As they emerged from the dank, stone prison and into the warm sunlight, his thoughtful frown seemed suddenly more pronounced. He was actually considering her question quite deeply.

  “Beyond the scarring and burns, it’s hard to tell,” he said. “Anatomically, he seems human.”

  “Anatomically, yes,” Maeve agreed. “But the rate at which he is healing suggests a lineage closer to elves while his abnormal strength suggests something else entirely. No other mortal race is quite so…feral either.”

  “It’s almost like Savidor dug this thing up from some dark hole in the Black Forest,” High Commander Voss murmured.

  “Or, it’s simply some undiscovered intelligent race we have yet to make real contact with.”

  “The lack of speech and, as you put it, feral mannerisms don’t exactly spell out ‘intelligence’ though,” the high commander pointed out.

  Maeve stopped them this time, brows raised as she looked up.

  “That may simply be cultural or at least part of his species’ practiced habits. The rate at which he learns would actually indicate intelligence on at least the level of a mortal race.”

  The high commander scoffed. “Learns?”

  But Meave nodded enthusiastically.

  “The deal system, the communication via pictures, the tiles, how quickly he learned to negotiate, his responses to certain individuals, his obedience - it’s rudimentary but highly unexpected for a less developed life form to understand so quickly.”

  “I hadn’t quite thought of it that way,” High Commander Voss said, frowning thoughtfully. “That is dangerous talk, though. Don’t let the Creationist church hear you or you might find yourself on the wrong end of their rhetoric like the animalkin.”

  Maeve shook her head, “There are many records that were lost during the Dark Era. We know where animalkin come from and the crazy mage who made them. But if you study history from a few millennia ago, you can trace back to the moment where we discovered the existence of elves and dwarves and were able to connect the creation religions through our records.”

  High Commander Voss shifted the crate beneath one arm and held up his hand, staving off another academic dissertation.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “I understand what you’re saying. Save the lectures for the classroom, professor.”

  Maeve blushed. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head and continued walking.

  “I’ll have to see if anyone can be spared from the intelligence network to investigate this. Maybe even look into the Black Forest and see if any records can be found of a discovery Savidor hid. If there’s any mythos to support this theory, they’ll be able to find it.” He glanced down at her, eyes shining with quiet approval. “Well done, Healer Maeve.”

  A warmth bubbled up in Maeve’s chest. She tried not to feel giddy at the praise, but it was hard to keep from smiling.

  “I mean, it’s only a theory, but still,” she shrugged. “Just don’t blame me if it’s a wild goose chase.”

  “Wild goose chase or not, worst case means we can eliminate a possibility. Best case, we understand where this creature came from. Now,” he said, shifting subjects, “before we part ways, we ought to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About your lack of sleep.”

  “Oh.” She glanced away nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Maeve,” the high commander said.

  Her steps slowed to a halt. She refused to look him in the eye.

  “You should be resting,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine,” the high commander said. “Every little action gets a reaction from the monster. Every noise and sound, every slip up could make or break his trust in us. If you mess up, if you make a mistake, this could jeopardize our entire purpose here.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Maeve protested. “Don’t think I don’t see the light from your window-”

  “-when you say you’re supposedly resting?” the high commander quipped.

  “Er, um…” Maeve couldn’t think of a comeback.

  His eyes softened. “You need to take care of yourself. I’m not the one who holds the medical needs of our guest in her hands. A healer is responsible for life and death. You know,” he paused, considering his next words carefully, “Healer Reynold came to talk with me about his concerns in placing you in charge of the monster’s care. He seemed to think you weren’t up to the task.”

  Maeve wilted under his look, scowling at her shoes.

  “And? What did you tell him?”

  “That I don’t like my orders questioned and if he had good reason to pull you for negligence, he ought to look at himself in the mirror first.”

  Maeve’s gaze snapped up, startled. He knew. The sly, old dragon knew! How much did he know? The snide comments? The whispers behind her back? The fact that they were restricting her access unless she could prove she needed everything and wasn’t being purposefully wasteful? Oliver’s brainchild, that. She wanted nothing more than to ground him into powder with her herbs.

  But if the high commander knew, then why didn’t he do anything?

  As soon as she asked the question, she knew the answer. Because he wanted her to take charge, to lead. He wanted her to stand on her own two feet. The whispers about her status-climbing would only get worse if he stood up for her or forced their hand. They’d never respect her otherwise.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  “I’m there if you need me,” he said.

  But she shook her head. “No. I can handle it.”

  High Commander Voss sighed and nodded. “Figured as much. But listen, you come to me before you make a mistake, got it? We can’t afford setbacks.”

  She smiled wanly.

  “Only if you listen to your own advice,” she teased.

  The high commander rolled his eyes. “I’m working on it, cheeky little scamp. The palace received Riven’s request and hopefully we’ll get an answer at the end of the week. Now, get out of here.”

  He made a wide, sweeping motion with his hand, shooing her away from him. She snorted and skipped away, clutching her satchel close to her chest and wrinkling her nose at him again before she left. She felt lighter. Lighter steps. A lighter feeling in her chest.

  Voss trusted her.

  She couldn’t afford to let him down, then.