Chapter Text
Time passed. Six is not sure how much. Definitely more than a day, but less than a week from what she was able to count. It was hard to tell when the clocks did nothing but tic different hours.
In her short time spent in the Lady’s quarters, she’s already learned a few things. The word “chamber” means bedroom. The Lady had brought her into a small room that lacked any décor except for a chair – similar to the ones down in to the place she and the Lady were sitting at (she discovered its name too: the “reading hall”) – and a bed. The mattress was soft, but not enough for one to sink into it. It was plain and uninspired just like the rest of the room. Though the air inside felt dead, Six could not shake away the feeling that the bed under her was lived.
She didn’t sleep well the first night. Her mindscape was dreamless, but when she woke up, she felt even more tired than when she fell asleep. So she slept in for… who knows how long. The Lady did not come to disturb her. Being free from her presence was relieving. With her around, Six was plagued by heavy extremes: anger, fear… helplessness. But the underlying discomfort never leaves her: not even as she’s curled up in the bed covers with her head turned against the wall. She doesn’t want to look into the shadows. They might look back.
Six did not see much of the Lady during those first few days. It was also true that she hadn’t left her room much.
There were only two occasions that forced her to leave her room. To go to the bathroom – which was right across from the chamber and, surprisingly, had a toilet that was right her size next to the much larger items – and to eat and drink. Every once in a while, the little girl peeped outside the door and wander down the dark corridor before reaching the reading hall. The first time she dared to wander out of her room in search of food, a strong scent of meat hit her nostrils. She almost couldn’t believe her eyes at the sight of the source of the wonderful aroma: a steak, left on a small plate. All for her. It was the only time Six allowed herself to sigh in relief during the whole week.
A new table had been set up in the reading hall, small enough for her to reach if she stood on her tiptoes. Grabbing the water glass itself was not an easy feat as it was far larger than herself, but as long as she got to drink whenever she wished, Six would not complain. Food was still limited to twice a day, so the little girl savoured each meal she got. She considered taking it back to her room for later so she could avoid leaving, but upon further reflection the woman probably wouldn’t appreciate having her furniture stained by oil.
Six has to give it to her: the Lady had kept her promise after all. And as much as she wanted to get an idea on the structure of the place she found herself in – and to find possible vents to escape through, something deep within her told her that it was not yet the right time. She wanted to blame the strange sense of doziness she felt every once in a while, or maybe even the shock the events had left her with, but the little girl knew that she just did not want to face the Lady again. So, she kept her side of the deal as well. She behaved.
Coexistence with a threat is a lot more peaceful when you do everything in your power to avoid it. Even then, Six knows she cannot run from her forever. This is her home after all.
On occasion, whenever she’d go down to eat, she would find the Lady sat at her chair reading a book. Her presence initially deterred Six, who waited quietly at the entrance for her to be gone. The woman never budged, and eventually the little girl’s thirst got the best of her. The Lady never bothered to acknowledge her either way, not even lifting her eyes from her book. Yet she knew of Six’s presence; every time she entered the room, the woman would start quietly humming to herself. Begrudgingly as it might be, Six has to admit that her singing is pleasant. Had she heard it somewhere else, she might have even let it lull her to sleep. Yet she doesn’t – not even as her limbs suddenly grow heavy, only to return alert once she leaves the room. Away from her.
Today, she is greeted by the same song.
Six quietly approaches the table, tiptoeing across the room while the Lady sits with a book in her hand. The child sneaks a glance up at her hands – her long, black nails still send involuntary shivers down her spine, yet she wonders… if somehow one of her nails either broke or was cut off, could it be possible to make a little blade out of it? Six doesn’t know how resistant nails are, but the Lady’s were hard enough to pierce her skin. Maybe if she tied a piece to a stick it could make for a spear? That’d be really useful.
As she absentmindedly reached for the glass, the Lady’s own voice knocks her back into reality.
“Child.”
Six lets out a startled gasp, the glass almost slipping from her tiny hands. She manages to hug it close to her chest at the last second, walking back a couple of steps to support its weight. Without daring to sigh in relief, Six carefully sets the glass on the ground and she turns her attention to the Lady.
Her mask is unchanging, yet Six can sense the mockery oozing from her. Surely she enjoys her reactions. Even so, it doesn’t reflect in her voice, deep and firm as usual when she continues talking, setting her book down on her legs.
“Tomorrow, when the sun rises, the Maw will resume its journey.”
Confusion overtakes Six’s features. Were they not moving already?
“Once every year, the Maw boards thousands of Guests coming from all lands. One of our many duties is to oversee their arrival over the course of one week. During that time, the Maw remains still as to allow the boats and cruises to locate it.” The Lady explains, “After all Guests have been checked in and settled, we return beneath the surface, not to rise until the following year.”
It takes a moment for her to process all the information given. Once it settles in, the realization plummets on the little girl with violence akin to that of a rock.
This whole time, she had the opportunity to escape right under her nose. And it was about to slip away.
Urgency and adrenaline flow through her veins, as well as burning indignation which she is careful not to express, gripping the glass closer to her face to hide behind it. Six bites her lip, forcing herself to keep her voice firm.
“So what?”
It comes out harsher than she meant. The Lady tilts her head and Six regrets ever speaking up. Expecting her to get up, she takes a tentative step back, but instead the woman hums to herself.
“Not eloquently spoken at all, are you.” Six doesn’t know what that means, but she is almost certain it’s not a compliment. The Lady waves her hand in the air dismissively. “That will be taken care of in due time. As I was saying: for the Maw to move, its head must be present to guide the operation. Tomorrow will be no exception. At sunrise, I will be off to the lower levels.”
A brim of hope lights up in the little girl’s chest, but she doesn’t let it flourish just yet. Instead, her eyes narrow.
“Do I come too?” She asks cautiously. The Lady shakes her head.
“Your presence would only be a nuisance. You do not have the necessary skills to aid me in a task of this magnitude yet.”
This must be too good to be true. Why would the woman who had threatened her with torture and murder offer her a perfect opportunity to escape? It feels like a trap, or maybe a test – to see if Six would have the guts to disobey her. Or perhaps it is neither. It could be that the Lady just enjoys putting her in a tight spot. That was quite plausible.
“It will not take longer than two or three hours,” the woman continues. “By the time of my return, you are expected to be waiting for me here. I have let you regain strength long enough: you are to begin your training.”
Six can’t stop her eyebrows from furrowing in displeasure. Training… for what, she doesn’t dare to ask. Her intuition already placed a finger on it, but she refuses to acknowledge the thought. All she needs to know now is that she has to escape and it has to be tomorrow. She might not get another chance.
She has to play along just a little longer. Just a bit. So, the little girl nods her head yes, her hands holding onto the edges of her raincoat. In her attempt to project compliance, Six’s throat tightens at the realization that her avoidance of the Lady’s eyes is still very real. It aids her act, but it tears her apart from the inside because she knows the woman is aware of her fear – Six can’t stand it.
She takes a quick sip from her water, returning it to the table. This time, the Lady is studying her every move. Six feels the heavy weight of her gaze on her bones. Her little steps traverse the room fast and she’s almost reached the exit when the Lady calls for her once more. Six alts in her tracks and glances over her shoulder hesitantly.
“Consequences.” The Lady slowly taps a long nail on her masked temple. “Do not forget it.”
Her stomach twists – not from the familiar sensation of hunger, but from the fire deep within. When Six shakes her head, it feels heavy.
The next morning, the little girl is awakened by the sound of her bedroom door creaking. Her eyes open to face the wooden wall. Her back is to the entrance, but she can still see the dim ray of light from the corridor entering within… as well as a tall silhouette. She tries to be as naturally still as she can – not too rigid, but not too practiced either. Six is not a great actress, but it is enough for the Lady to reconsider whatever she might have wished to do. The woman still lingered just a moment too long before closing the door again. Somehow, Six felt as though she was not just looking at her.
She almost expects to hear the sound of a key turning and locks snapping. To her surprise, that is not the case. Her heartbeat fastens as she lays still as a statue for a bit longer. The Lady never makes a sound when she walks; she might still be lurking closeby.
Eventually the little girl slips down the bed, tiptoeing her way to the ajar door. It barely creaks when she pushes it open. The end of the corridor leading to the reading hall is dark: the fireplace has been put out. Good. Now she needs to figure her way around. Though she briefly regrets not taking the chance to explore further, ultimately Six pushes the thought away as she darts down the corridor in the opposite direction. Taking the elevator would be the fastest route down, but by doing that, she’d risk running into the Lady. The next best bet was either a crack in the walls or a vent. She runs past paintings and smaller corridors, desks and drawers full of dolls, even a large flight of stairs leading to the parts of the quarters she has not seen yet.
Just as her eyes are adjusting to the darkness, a small light from far away has her squint. It’s a dimly lit room, she realizes as she approaches, devoid of anything if not for the four tall pillars placed in circle. Her hesitation is overshadowed by tiny voices reaching her ears. She sprints into the room, stopping to take a breather before tossing a glare over her shoulders. The porcelain faces of the shadow creatures are barely visible, yet their voices are loud and clear in the silence. Discussing amongst themselves whether they should report back to her or not. Had Six not been in a hurry, she would have gladly given them a piece of her mind – and a demand for her lighter to be returned to her, the horrid thieves – but she needs to focus on her escape now. The thought of her little light lost to their hands leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, but she forces herself to swallow it away.
In spite of herself, though, her eyes are pulled to the four pillars just a moment too long. Each has their own statue atop starring down at her. Six can’t explain the sensation stirring her chest upon seeing the cracked head of the highest one. Impulse almost prompts her to reach out; but Six can’t let the weight of their judgement bring her down. She tears her gaze away runs out of the room with newfound resolution, barely missing the shadow of the tallest pillar taking form just outside her field of vision.
Sprinting through rooms filled with identical mannequins, the anxiety of seeing the Lady’s mask emerge from between them rears its ugly head. Six bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to sting – not enough to let the fear fade, but it at least provides a distraction. Doorway through doorway, Six can’t help but wonder – just how many mannequins can one woman own?! When she finally makes her way in a larger room with none to be seen, she breathes a sigh of relief. Though there is a large corridor just to her left, the door is what interests her. To her dismay, finds it to be closed. Gritting her teeth, she touches the wall and her hands eventually find a crack, but it’s too small for her to fit in. Familiar croaking comes from the other side and the child takes a peek inside. She can see very little of the room, but she does recognize the peculiar shapes of the Nomes. In an attempt to grab their attention, Six fits her arm into the crack. Her waving and hissing causes the croaking to get farther. Did she scare them? Or maybe…
The image of a Nome laying in a pool of blood is not an easy one to forget. Especially if you are the culprit. Six can almost taste its blood on her tongue. It had a terrible taste, so much so that it might have been worse than the Lady’s. And still, Six devoured. It is in that brief instant of reminiscing that a realization clicks in her brain.
She has not been hungry in a long time.
Just as her hand fleets to her stomach, an equally fleeting whisper calls her name. It’s a familiar voice. Six is surprised at how tranquil her uneasiness feels when she turns to face it. Almost as if her body is scared, but her heart isn’t.
She doesn’t just see her outline: a person stands away from her, away where the shadows grow. Someone with long hair and a round face, slender hands… a dress just like the Lady’s. The sticks on her head were ears, belonging to the smoky mask of which Six could barely make out the shape. The mask only falls on the left half of her face: the other revealed a slanted eye and lips stretched into an expression which the child can’t read.
Perhaps, Six doesn’t want to read it. Just because she can see her better now, it doesn’t mean she has to. She did help her, but shadows can’t be trusted. Especially when she is about to leave them behind.
Her legs move faster than ever before when the shadow opens her mouth to talk, skimming down the corridor. She runs close to the walls, running her hand alongside the wallpaper until finally, she feels metal under her fingers. She wastes no time in celebrations, grabbing the vent at both sides and pulling like her life depends on it. The vent breaks and Six is quick to make her way inside. Crouched as she is, she hopes the shadow will not be able to follow her here.
Fortune seems to be on her side: the vent proceeds downwards. Following the trail during a time that stretches endlessly, the sounds of the Maw are overwhelming as they occupy the sacred silence. It’s confirmation enough that she’s left the quarters, but she still has trouble understanding where in the ship she is located. She has to be careful not to go too low: the entrance of the Maw was above the ocean, where its horn could be heard. Six lends her ear carefully, choosing when to move downward and when to continue straight ahead.
When chatter and the smell of cooked meat seeps through the vents, Six knows she’s reached the rooms where the Guests rounded up to eat. Her muscles are starting to ache due to her continued crouching, yet she is unwavering. Adjusting her position to crawl, she presses onward. She just needs to get a bit lower.
Six takes in a deep breath. She’s almost there.
***
From the early hours of the day, the Lady is displeased.
Having to leave her quarters at dawn is one of the very few things she simply cannot grow accustomed to. Duty is duty, yet the Lady can’t help but inwardly groan whenever the time comes for her to take the leave.
When she got down to the residential area, she took time to silently skim around through the shadows. Counting her food is something she occasionally needs to keep track of – it would be much harder to keep track of the rations without doing so; though usually she leaves the long, boring job to the Bellhop, she felt as though it’d be best to check for herself. Her suspicions revealed to be somewhat true: the soul mass in the residential areas does feel slightly lighter this year.
This alone would be enough to put her in a sore mood. A decline (no matter how minimal) cannot be accepted under her reign – leave it to those before her to accept mediocrity. But of course there was more. Eye forbid she ever has a moment of peace.
Before ascending to the island on top of the submarine, she requested for all the employees to meet her in their reunion room. This only ever happened sporadically, whenever she needed to communicate something of great importance to all of them. This year it is, unfortunately, an annoying necessity. Much like it had been a few years prior, when she forced herself to inform them of the imminent calamity that would befall the Maw – the Sixth’s arrival. Sharing it felt almost as a violation of her own privacy, however the Lady had to bite back her discomfort for the sake of the Maw. Her employees were parts of the organ that kept the machine living: they deserved to know of the pest’s existence so that they may continue operating efficiently even in the eventuality of her sudden passing. In a situation as precarious as theirs, the Lady had to play the long game to ensure the best possible outcome. Though, she cannot say that she is not angry at their failing to contain the Sixth. A scolding was in order.
Upon entering, the Lady expects to see all her underlings present as usual. All the present men rise from their spot, including the elusive Ferryman who stands behind her chair, rendering the absence of one of them even more glaringly obvious.
She gracefully gestures at all of them to seat before inquiring, “Where may the Janitor be?”
Hesitant silence descends upon the men. The twins stare at each other before eyeing the Bellman, who clears his throat, sweaty hands clasped in front of him as he speaks.
“He called at dawn to warn of his absence,” he says, the nasal inclination of his voice being amplified by his nervousness. “Something about… an infestation in the lower levels. He said he’d take care of it, but that it was rather urgent.”
The woman can’t hold back a scoff. Of course he’d phrase it that way. She shakes her head, waving her hand in the air dismissively as she takes a seat at the head of the table. The Ferryman silently moves the chair closer to the table for her before sitting at her right side.
“No matter: I already had the chance to discuss his duties privately. We may proceed without him.” She closes her eyes and breathes in as quietly as she can, though the large man next to her still turns ever so slightly to eye her. She does not meet his empty sockets. Certainly, they would be asking the same question as Them – and she does not wish to grace him with an answer just yet.
“I realize that summoning you during such a busy period is, at the very least, disrespectful of me. An apology is in order for all of you.” Sugar-coated as they may be, her words are not entirely dishonest. All time taken from work is time lost, especially with how demanding their Guests are. The men accept her apology with equally faux kindness. She can see the nervousness and exhaustion in their postures, begging her to just spit it out already. But the Lady is not magnanimous enough to give them peace just yet. “How have you all been faring during these times?”
Confusions rings between the men. One of the twins nods his head while the other shrugs – they’ve been fine, while the Bellman mutters a simple: “It’s been busy.”
The Lady hums. The tapping of her nails on the table fills the room. “I trust all the cargo has been already checked in and properly dispatched, yes? We wouldn’t want the filth destined to go down below to get mixed in with our more valuable visitors.”
“Nothing of the sorts,” assures the Bellman. “Everything is where it’s supposed to be.”
“Everything, you say.” This fool. She clasps her hands in front of her, “I see. Then, I find myself perplexed. Roger could have sworn a slippery little one managed to find their way up to the higher levels… a little girl with a bright yellow raincoat.”
She examines them carefully, trailing between them one by one. They all pale at the description: it’s familiar. The same she had given them years ago, with the addendum that the child had to be hunt down at all costs.
Horrified, the Bellhop jumps to defend himself. “Madame, I – I haven’t seen such creature anywhere during my rounds. I swear it on my life.”
He is not lying. Though he flinches when she rises slowly from her seat, he doesn’t turn away from her. Instead, her eyes narrow when the twins both glance at each other before diverging their eyes to the ground. Anger bubbles from deep within her core, but the Lady knows better than to let it explode. The woman walks over to them and the brothers tense up when her hands settle on both their shoulders. Even standing up they’d look short next to her might, but now they couldn’t possibly ignore her presence looming over them. Not when her nails dig through the cloth of their shirts, sinking into their skin – it’ll leave them with bloody marks.
Good. A little pain will certainly help get her point across.
“A useless oath,” the Lady scoffs, scraping the skin of the Chefs’ shoulders. And swearing on something as insignificant as his life, no less. She might take offense at his audacity. “She has already come to me.”
The only one whose surprise doesn’t immediately manifest is the Ferryman. One of the Chefs emits a squeak and the other gasps when her grip tightens, while the Bellman who leans over, melting face gaping at her in a way the Lady wouldn’t have believed possible.
“But – but how –“ The wax man stammers, but the Lady’s lifted hand is enough to silence him.
“I would trust you all to remember what I have told you, but for fairness’ sake,” she holds the twins closer to her, digging her long nails further in, “Let me remind you. Back then, I warned you that my encounter with her could have ended in one of two ways: either my permanent departure or her death. Though all of your jobs include disposing of pests,” that part comes out as an elegantly posed hiss and her hostages lower their heads in shame, “I knew she would have eventually found her way to me regardless of your efforts.”
It is bound to happen. Like many years ago, when she found her way to…
“But then, Madame,” interrupts the Bellman, “If you are here… does this mean she’s perished?”
In spite of his question being legitimate, the Lady glares at him behind her mask. Will the stinging embarrassment and disappointment swelling in her chest ever fade? Or will she have to experience it every time she is reminded of her failure? Yet blaming it on external reminders is futile. As long as the little beast breathes, she will be haunted by it.
“No.” It’s harder to admit than she would like. “Our confrontation has been… postponed. Powers far above us all saw it fit that her life be preserved as mine until the moment comes for us to resume as intended. I gathered you here to inform you that, from today onward, you are to refer to her as both a priority and a superior.” Their shared look of disbelief is not voiced by any of them. They must not be happy to be put second to a child of all things. The Lady refuses to acknowledge her understanding of such feeling. “This within limits, of course. Her requests do not out rule mine, nor is she allowed to run around as she pleases. If she is somewhere she should not be, I expect her to be returned to me as soon as possible. Not a hair on her head must be put out of place by your hand. There will be punishment otherwise.” She informs them sternly. The men shake their heads in understanding.
Finally, she sees fit to let go of the Chefs. Her fingernails are covered in blood. Sharp as daggers, but not as drastic. She frankly would not have minded making use of the silver at her disposal, but she only has two Chefs – very talented ones at that. Finding replacements would be bothersome and she is not in the mood for yet another change.
“Of course…” The Lady continues, tapping a finger on the side of her mask, “You do not account for the behaviour our Guests might hold in her regards. Nor for that of any other beast inhabiting the Maw. Do keep that in mind.”
The employees exchange a glance; this time, even the Ferryman raises a fold of the skin above his socket, reminiscent of an eyebrow.
“Besides this, nothing else is to change. You are expected to carry on with your duties as you normally would.” The woman turns to the Chefs. “Is there reason for me to retrieve the fishing nets?”
One of the twins shakes his head vehemently while the other makes the motion of hold something large in his hands. There’s still a lot. The shook of his hands leaves the Lady pleased. “Very well. Inform me when there will be need for a restock. Bellman,” she finds herself amused at how his shoulders tremble, “Have you warned our Guests about the imminent diving?”
“D – Did it first thing in the morning, my lady.” He stuttered, “I gave precise instructions per your request. Everyone should be returning to their rooms shortly.”
The Lady nods in approval. “This was all. Is there anything you wish to inform me of before we part?”
There is. She can see it in their eyes – in how they avoid hers. Something tells her that they’re dying to ask more about the little pest, rather than it being anything regarding their roles. Roles at which they spectacularly failed: said pest would not be a topic of discussion otherwise. Although she had been incredibly merciful to not extract revenge, they rather not remind her of their shortcomings. She understands their fear, to a certain extent; there were times when she could be rather… vicious to those who wronged her. The small twinge of satisfaction she feels at the thought of their fear is proof that there is no real empathy behind it.
They all bid her farewell with a bow, but wait for her to be the first to leave the room. An insignificantly small detail that has her straighten her shoulders. Befit of creatures still beneath her, she thinks, to wait for her to dismiss them.
When she slides outside the room, the Ferryman is at her side. He offers his arm to her and the Lady snakes her hands around it, aware of what comes next. They’d done this countless times. It all happens in an instant. The ground disappears from under her feet and reality itself wraps for a moment, distorting in an incomprehensible mix of shapes and colours changing from dark browns and purples into the yellows of the morning sky. The sun hits her eyes and the Lady grumbles a curse under her breath, shielding herself from it with her hand. With the other, she keeps the Ferryman close. Just as he’s about to depart, the woman holds him tighter.
“Come,” she says instead. “Walk with me.”
He walks her up the stairs, all the way to the very top, with their arms elegantly intertwined. When they reach the lighthouse, they stand in silence, with only the wind breaking it with its howling. The beast who moves it must be having a lot of fun, as it always does.
Far away, in the distance, the Lady can see something moving on the edge of the water. Many tiny dots trailing the waters together in direction of the Maw. Boats, rafts and maybe even some mad men floating and swimming, all with the objective of reaching the submarine. It happened every year; worshippers of the Maw were everywhere after all, coming from every social class. In spite of the very subtle decline of Guests, the Lady never allowed those too poor to pay for the expenses to even see its entrance, let alone let them make their way inside. Money is still the force that moves the world and those who have none of it may as well have no power at all. One of her predecessors in particular would recoil at this principle, but the Lady shoos her away from her mind.
She’s not worried about them. What concerns her a lot more is the dark matter shifting above and around them. They cannot see it, as such creature can hide in the breeze, but to the Lady it’s as clear as the light of the sun. His magic is not that much different from hers. He too is attracted by the carnage, which is exactly why it hovers around the unfortunate souls who try to find their way to the submarine. But his crave for human bones to add to his meaningless collection is not the only reason he agitates the waters.
The Maw is always fleeing and North Wind loves a good game of catch. Especially when the prize is the bones of thousands of little ones… and her own. He’s been trying ever since she became the Lady and old records revealed that he persisted in trying to haunt down her ancestors as well. A force mighty as his own could move the waters in a way too potent to counter even for the Lady. He was still far as of now, probably tormenting the people on the boats, but it wouldn’t be long before he approached the Maw. Luckily, she has a distraction she knows the creature will take deranged interest in right at her side.
The Ferryman is the first to turn. She can see him eyeing her face while she scans the horizon. When he speaks, his voice is as deep as the ocean.
“You are taking a dangerous gamble.”
The Lady rolls her eyes behind the mask. Did he think she had done no reflecting before taking her decision on the orders to communicate to her employees? That she hadn’t spent the last week considering what the safest way to get rid of the Sixth would be without it concluding in her own demise?
“Do you believe me a fool?” She asks with an undertone of annoyance.
“I believe you impatient. You have always been.”
Emptier words have never been spoken. The only thing stopping her from reminding him she was no longer a little girl is the single ounce of respect she holds for the Ferryman. His role in the Maw was of utmost importance and the Lady could only admire his resilience. However, it’s still not enough for her to not respond altogether.
“On the contrary, I have been far too tolerant recently.” She observes quietly.
The wind is rising, she notes with displeasure.
“Much has yet to come,” the Ferryman continues. “The tide is retreating too rapidly. Times are uncertain. Walk the line too far and you may be swept away by a wave much too large.”
A warning. The Lady finally turns to face him, grip tightening around his arm when the wind blows a bit too harshly upon them.
“I have done nothing to deserve such punishment,” she proclaims. “I have not laid a hand on the child. She is and will be alive until she remains under my sight.”
“And still you left her behind. She will not be there when you return –”
“Obviously,” the Lady mutters, unable to hold back.
“ – If she’s swept away under the surface, you too will drown.”
“I will not.” The Lady raises her chin, standing tall and proud. “I have abided to the rules given to me, as I have chosen to do so. The Sixth was given instructions on how to behave: it is in her right to choose whether she wishes to do so or not. Is that not how our entire system is built, pray tell? On choices?”
Or, well, the illusion of choices. When presented with the opportunity for safety, any sensible person would cling to it willingly. The Ferryman knows this better than anyone, and so does she. And although the Sixth is an incognita, the Lady saw defiance shining within her eyes. She would never stay put in her place.
So the woman considered her possibilities accordingly. She thought long and hard. During her time on the Maw, the Sixth could have died at any given time – but it wouldn’t have been her own responsibility to assure her successor arrived to her. She had the Maw to think about. Eventually she concluded that if the Sixth had indeed died before reaching her, the consequences would not fall back on her as she was still the beating heart of the Maw. Likewise… if the Sixth chose to attempt an escape while she was off serving the Maw – the priority – it would not be the Lady’s responsibility to save her.
That’s right, she reflects elated, even in a situation like this, the Maw cannot afford to replace her. It still needs her.
The Ferryman sighs. “Inciting ignorance will not help you. The little one’s life must be preserved in spite of its attacker.”
“As I have ordered,” she points out plainly. “But she is restless. My magic is of no use and all of us cannot be expected to put a stop to our duties to the Maw because of her. I have responsibilities far greater than running after a little cretin.”
“You say this, yet you dwell on what’s done. You stun the flow of time when it’s not needed.”
“I do not follow.”
“What use do you make of a janitor who can’t keep his arms?”
She’d ask how he knows, but the Ferryman always knows when it comes to her. The Lady really doesn’t like the way his sockets judge her. It’s demeaning, the way they see right through her. Absolutely unacceptable. From her height, the woman can easily look down at him, who is just a few inches shorter. She remembers how impossibly massive he seemed many years ago. He was scary back then, when he was out of her control. The fear passed when she grew into her role. Now, all that is left is the uncomfortable reminder that he sees her.
“The same use I’d make of a ferry with no cargo,” she retorts coldly. “I would make sure it returns to work. Speaking of which, I have a request before you part.”
He stares at her for what seems like an eternity before muttering, “I am at your service.”
Yes, he is. “I was not deceiving you earlier: the child is restless. I believed a miracle struck this morning when I found her asleep in her bed,” with the First standing at the edge of it, the Lady recalls with a mixture of disgust and an unnamed squeeze in her chest, “Even when I directly tried to tire her, she did not budge. Such is her resistance to my spell. I concluded that it’d be wiser to take a different approach, since the situation calls for it. There is many medicines on land that can achieve this more than efficiently; before you return to your work, bring some of those back for me.”
The Ferryman nods. The Lady looks back at the horizon: the black mass is getting closer.
“I will turn the Maw south-east. Lead him in the opposite direction, as far as you can. Do entertain his whims if that’s what he will ask for.”
The man sighs, heavy with resignation. She lets go of him and the Ferryman disappears in the fraction of a second. The Lady leans over the edge of the lighthouse to see him already in his boat. Once he’s gone far enough, the Lady turns back and inside the lighthouse. She can already feel the exhaustion that will come after she’s finished, but for now she sucks a deep breath in and ignores it.
She closes her eyes and lets her mind wander: deep down, at the very bottom of the Maw, she sees the Nomes promptly begin their work. The submarine clunks under her feet and she extends both her arms.
Time to begin.
***
Suddenly, Six is knocked over by a swing of the Maw. Her head hits the wall of the vent leaving her dizzy as she tries to scramble back on her knees. The little girl barely has time to process what just happened that her surroundings lean forward, sending her sliding down face first. She is just in time to shield her face with her arms, but it’s no use: she flies right out of the vent through a hole, tumbling down a long way before hitting the ground – landing on something suspiciously soft and hairy. Air is knocked out of her and for a second Six thinks she might pass out, colours and shapes becoming a murky mix. Her head feels like its splitting open.
A shriek alerts her, dread washing over her even in her hazy state when she realizes that whatever is under her started moving. It twitched and pushed her off, hitting her again with its tail, but it has no time to grab a hold of her before the Maw swings again. This time, Six manages to grab onto the creature’s tail, preventing her from falling over the edge. The realization that she’s not in a room hits her just as she sees the dark edges where the pavement ends. The ground beneath her finally begins to form better in her eyes: it’s grey and humid. Nothing like the one she had seen in the Guest’s area.
She’s not in the right place.
Six wants to cry. She doesn’t leave herself time for it. She tries to get up, but the beast tackles her with a hiss. Blinking a couple of times, Six realizes it’s a rat – a very angry one at that. It tries to bite her, but she quickly gets a hold of its teeth and jaw, holding it as far away as she can. Her arms wobble under the pressure and Six kicks the rat the stomach in an attempt to get it off her, but her legs are not strong enough. Exhaustion is staring to get the best of her and she almost gives in until her eyes meet the rats’. They are crazed, lost in its animalistic impulses. She’s seen this look before: they remind Six of her.
If she gives up now, she’ll lose to her.
Her mind clears. That’s when she remembers something: the place where the Guests came from was not entirely made of wood. No, there was… another platform before the wooden one. The one that lead the Guests coming up from the boat inside. That one had metal pavement, just like this one. Her heartbeat quickens, her raincoat reflecting the lights above her brightly even as the rat stands over her.
A spark lights up in her muscles and she almost lifts the rat off. Just then, an unexpected hit in the muzzle knocks it off. The animal whimpers and Six sees someone small run up to it with something in their hand – a wooden spoon? They hit the beast again and this time the rat flees, squeaking away into the shadows. For a moment, all she hears are their breaths. Then they speak.
“I was right, it is you.”
Their voice is not new to her ears. Curious and wary at the same time, Six manages to sit up, but a splitting pain in her head has her resting it on her hands. She pulls one away: there’s blood coming out from somewhere. The figure is quickly at her side. The little girl instinctively flinches away from their touch, but once her eyes land on their face, she finally recognises them.
It was one of the boys from the campfire… the Refugee. That’s what he called himself. Six remembered how he shared his story with her around the warm fire. He was a good kid, though Six still hesitates to lean into his arms. She can’t see his eyes, covered by his hood, but she can hear him click his tongue.
“Your head… there’s a lot of blood.” He helps her get up. “What in the world are you doing out here anyway? It’s dangerous. You could have fallen off, especially now.”
Six attempts to wiggle away from his hold.
“The… the exit…” She slurs out, but the boy only tightens his grip on her arms. She glares at him, pulling away again, yet the boy doesn’t seem the least fazed. Instead he shakes his head.
“Look.”
He points somewhere beyond her shoulder. When she follows his gaze, her heart sinks in her stomach. She is on the bridge leading outside the Maw, but its jaws are closed. Only endless walls of metal.
The Maw has already gone down. She didn’t make it.
Six collapses. The Refugee is quick to catch her, holding her from under her shoulders. The little girl almost doesn’t even notice him as she bites her lip, trying not to scream and kick in frustration. Her eyes sting with tears. She wants to run at the wall and scrape her way out with her nails and teeth. In her imagination, she is victorious. Reality reveals itself to be far harsher as the wall becomes farther and farther, her lower half sliding across the bridge slowly.
The Refugee’s voice sounds impossibly far, she barely understands it. “Come on… We need to get going before it starts rotating.”