- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas knew--vaguely--where Doctor and Kethri had kept their garden.

The pair of birds had not really been at the forefront of his mind at any time; his awareness of them was peripheral, at best, with only a couple short visits tucked away into the past. He was aware of what they were doing: working on poisons and cures of an herbal and chemical nature, by experimenting with plants and a small garden that they kept. But they had never reported any advancement--no real success or failures--only works in progress. If there had been any sort of urgency to the work, if he himself had organized it, he'd have been irritated at their glacial pace--but as it was they'd chosen to work on this themselves, alongside rather than part of the Chaos Forge. He'd kept himself informed, then, just enough to be aware of them, but hadn't pushed them for results. So far as he was concerned, if they eventually found something, that would be good--if they didn't, it wasn't like he was parcelling out Chaos Forge resources that were being wasted.

Kethri was actually a part of the Forge-... Was, he reminded himself, past tense. Doctor had not been. He'd been one of the so-called Sentinels that Desert Rose and Hemlocke had tried to arrange, cycles ago, but when they'd moved to Draco in the absence of their leaders, Vargas had invited anyone who did not want to adhere to the more military nature he intended to impose, to leave. Doctor had not rejoined them, but he had agreed to aid from the outside. The vulture, Vargas suspected, was a creature of the mind: interested in progress for the sake of progress; in learning and in improving the technology that they had, without interference from an Overseer (or a Master) barking military commands. He didn't care; he didn't need the vulture, anyway, so the pair being half-outside the Forge had not bothered him.

It was, then, not a "business" related visit, today. He was not marching out here--picking his way with a grimace through a twist of thorned vines--to demand updates on their work. No, this was a courtesy call, of sorts.

"Doctor," Vargas called, pushing at last into the little garden. Doctor had not abandoned his habit of flipping over skulls to serve as pots for plants and as containers for water, and the small green space was ringed by them; aside from that, the birds had planted a large number of herbs and bushes that he simply didn't recognize, or hadn't paid much attention to in the past.

The Leviathan was careful not to touch them--"poison" wasn't something he wanted in his skin, just now.

One gleaming brown eye swept toward the approaching monster; the other, a blue-grey Schalenblende gemstone, staring blindly.

Massive wings spread, and the vulture took flight: two heavy flaps, a slow glide and a thud into the dirt, talons-first, landed him before the Leviathan. He peered up--ever good-natured, positive, his couple steps taking him closer as wings folded again across his back.

"Master Vargas," he greeted, respectful but bold--he'd never been one of those threatened by Vargas, at least not verbally. He felt a little threatened, sure, but that wasn't quite the same. "An unusual honor. To what is the visit owed?" His phrasing, slightly awkward, held a tang of the foreign to it--some vague and generic otherness that Doctor had never quite managed to undo.

It was at about this time, though, that Doctor began to suspect there was something wrong. Vargas stared down at him not with his usual cheerful bluster, nor his domineering energy, his presence--but with a sort of reserved solemnity.

It's like he's trying to figure out what to say, the vulture realized.

He sobered, his own bright greeting lurching darkly into worry--no, into cold dread. Suddenly, he felt on unfamiliar footing. Was he in danger-? Vargas seemed... not angry, but unhappy. Had something happened? Had Doctor done something wrong?

Had Kethri?

The owl had gone off to the meeting--and she hadn't returned. Sudden misgiving struck him. Had the owl rebelled-? Had she implicated Doctor in some way..? Dread spiked into fear, and his step forward, into a step back as he stared back up at Vargas.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas had paused, trying to think of how to phrase this. He did not know Doctor well, and while he was not averse to simply blurting "your owl friend is dead," he had just enough tact that he'd been have preferred to perhaps be a tad more delicate about it.

But he was pulled from this thought by the way Doctor's demeanor shifted--the vulture changing from brightly confident to clearly afraid. Vargas felt... weary, suddenly. Drained, as he stared down at the one-eyed bird.

"I am not here to harm you," he told it, quiet. And, abandoning his attempts at tact: "Kethri is dead. I came to inform you that she would not be returning--if you were waiting for her." He paused, and knew what the next question would be--if the vulture found the courage to ask it. He spoke preemptively. "You will recall Scout, and what Lord Dhracia--how Lord Dhracia reacted to her insolence-? There is a new Valkhand in the nest. Aethril. Kethri... disregarded orders to treat her with respect."

Enough said, he thought, falling into silence.

He had not wanted the owl dead. He hadn't known her enough to care, but he had been attempting to impart the opposite of reflexive murder in the Forge: suitable consequences for backtalk, rebellion, the ignoring of one's duties. Aethril had... she had not undermined it, not exactly. She did not adhere to his rules; she was beyond whatever petty restrictions he placed upon the Forge. But it was hard to tell his people they were safer than they thought with a Valkhand still turning them to Oil.

His breath caught in his chest, and held there.

A horrific mixture of emotions curled through him. First, the cold unreality of such news--the inevitable horror of hearing that someone one knows is dead. But twinned with that-? Relief. Relief that Vargas was not here to punish him, that somehow he had not been framed or implicated in something terrible that would cost him dearly.

He felt, finally, just a little guilt at the realization.

It took Doctor a moment to compose himself, his beak opening and then closing as he struggled to find words. Vargas was waiting--patient, but waiting--and he tried his best to speak.

"I--eh... Eh, I remember," he croaked, and looked away. He was not the sort to be easily disgusted--on the contrary, he performed worse experiments himself on the Lessers that they had here. Testing explosive seeds on Pitch Rats wasn't pleasant, by any means.

But the idea of Kethri subjected to the agony inflicted upon Scout-... It was a little more personal than that.

It wasn't that he'd been particularly close to her. They weren't close friends, or even really friends at all--but they were perhaps best described as colleagues. They shared humor, from time to time, and they were both positive about their work; yes, the owl could be abrasive, but she didn't often direct it at him. And more than that, they had spent the last few cycles together, if sporadically: sharing their goals, working toward them together, comparing notes. When an experiment failed, they were both disappointed. When one succeeded, they'd celebrate together, no matter how reservedly.

And now, she was gone.

"Thank you for informing me," he managed--and now the thought curled through him: what now?

He'd lost most interest in the Chaos Forge itself. He wasn't here for them; he enjoyed his work, and little more. Kethri had been the only real link keeping him here, and now-? Could he come back to their shared garden daily, and look upon the empty spaces where her (admittedly harsh) gaze had stared back, and ignore that?

No; some part of him wanted to leave. To go elsewhere--to seek new purpose, new allies, a new name and face to whom to offer his services. He could work alone, perhaps, the plague doctor hermit off in... Monoceros, maybe, he thought.

He realized that he'd fallen silent, half-ignoring Vargas looming there, and he blinked wearily back up to him--the "is there something else?" unspoken.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas gave a quiet and noncommital sound of acknowledgement, and studied the bird, for a moment, at his feet. He could tell that it was upset, but that didn't bother him overmuch. And he had questions, too, but he was not so terribly insensitive that he would simply blurt them.

He waited, for a moment; he gave Doctor the space of a long pause in which to think, and when he did speak it was with some measure, at least, of tact.

"I have a question for you," he began. "It is not why I came here, but I need to ask it nonetheless." A pause, as he gave the vulture a moment to process, and then: "Before she--died," (blunt, Vargas) "-Kethri alluded to secrets she had deliberately kept from the Forge." Vargas shifted to his other foot. "What do you know of her work?"

There was no intentional threat in it... but Vargas knew he didn't need to make one. This bird was... timid? Yes; not fearful but he had simply accepted his lower rank and been content enough with it. He respected Vargas, perhaps even feared him, and Vargas did not need to warn him. The thought hardly crossed his mind; Doctor, he believed, would be honest.

And if not, he would know.

Doctor hesitated, for a moment, brow drawing down.

"Our work," he corrected, quietly. And he turned, waddling off among the garden plants. Here and there his hooked beak pointed toward a plot--a little herb or a bush. "We are testing plant properties--and the mixes of them. We were," he corrected, and was surprised at the spike of bitterness he felt.

He could hear, and feel, Vargas following along behind him as he continued. He pointed from one plant to the next. "Surprisingly nutritious. A painkiller. A sedative. A poison, mild in small doses. I was looking for a way to concentrate the effects; there is still too much ingestion required to kill anything larger than a rabbit." Doctor considered, pausing to peer back. "She had mentioned others that she'd found. I believe she had other plants elsewhere but I couldn't tell you where, but perhaps they were more potent. I know she'd mentioned one whose seedpods burst."

Doctor's wings gave a little shrug.

"If she held any miraculous breakthroughs, I don't know of them," he finished, quiet.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

The Leviathan watched as the vulture gave his little tour, the claustrophobic garden packed with his strange plants. He paid attention, absently noting characteristics of the ones that he was shown. And when the good Doctor had finished, he spoke.

"Very well," he said, mostly indifferently. He doubted, in retrospect, that the owl would have hidden any particularly astonishing or powerful discoveries; she would have, he gauged, been more likely to look for a reward. But then, he didn't know her well. "And as for you-? We will have farms, here, in Pegasus, soon enough. With workers, guards. Gardeners. If you wish, you could plant close by to them and they would be instructed to tend your plot, as well." He paused, but the vulture's hesitation was quite clear, and Vargas exhaled.

"If at some point you wish to join the Forge properly, come to me. But take your time in deciding what to do. I know that such news as I've brought is unwelcome," he added, a little stiffly. "But inform me what you decide--whether it is to leave, or join us, or to remain here as an... ally."

He might have thanked the bird for his work so far, or pressed him for further contributions, but truth be told the two alchemists had never provided much of use. The Doctor could stay and work, or leave; Vargas just wanted to know, in the end, which one it would be.

He paused, eyeing him. "If you were close, you have my condolences." I did not kill her, he thought.

He found it hard to answer Vargas, at first. But to his surprise, his decision was made the moment the Master finished speaking.

"We were not close. I will travel, I think. And think when I travel. If I return, I will inform you. For now consider me--departed." He bobbed his head, studying Vargas with his one good eye, unable to summon up anything beyond a distant, dull emptiness.

All this work, and for what-? What had it all been worth? He'd gotten nowhere, accomplished nothing; and now this.

He needed time away, to think. And when Vargas gave him a short nod, Doctor took wing--without a glance down, or back. In a rush of feathers, he left the little garden behind.

exit

- THE LEVIATHAN -

His nod came with a quiet "very well," and then the bird was gone--its toxic garden abandoned, just like that.

Vargas took a long look over the skull planters and the plants, which would either flourish wildly or waste away without the birds' care. Ahh, well; they hadn't contributed much, anyway, he thought again.

Still, it was unsettling to know that one was now dead, and the other had left. It was a Forge, and an ally, removed from his tally of workers and soldiers, and he never liked that.

There was not much--bar taking Doctor prisoner--he could do, and the bird wasn't worth that much to the Leviathan, not enough to go to the trouble, certainly. For now he turned away, noting the garden's location in his mind in case it became overgrown and tough to find, later. He wasn't much the wiser about Kethri's "secret" knowledge, but he doubted it had been worth that much, in the end.

exit