Shit, girl, this is bad. Okay, Disaster, drink this. More than tha’. More than tha’. Okay. Good.
I hate ta ask thissa ya, ‘specially ri’ now, but you got the gold for this? Gore don’ work fer free.
Okay, thank ya, thank ya kindly. I’ll see what I kin do. Hand me tha’ bottle. No, t’other one. The germ killer.
When ya say one offum beasts, ya mean a fang proper, or a blue beastie? Do I gotta worry ‘bout poison or just stichin’ ‘im up?
Shit, might not matter with the way ‘is gut looks.
Whisper, this is bad. Okay. Hold ‘im, hold ‘is legs. I gotta look inside, gotta look at the damage.
Shit, don’ really gotta look inside, do I, with most of ‘is insides on the out. I don’ know ‘bout this, Whisper. I don’ think there’s much I can do. Disaster, drink morra this. More than tha’. More than tha’. Hell, finish the bottle.
I mean, I kin slow the bleedin’, I kin make ‘im comfortable, but shit, Whisper. I think this might be it for yer da’.
Don’ say tha’. Don’ cry. I din’ mean to make ya cry. Shit.
Even with jus’ the wound, I’d have trouble fixin’ ‘im, but if it was a blue beastie tha’ done this there’s the poison to think ‘bout. I don’ have any of tha’ special aneedote the Cervellos have. This might be more ‘bout makin’ ‘im comfortable ‘til he goes than fixin’ ‘im.
I speak real with ya; I know yer jus’ a girl but I’m not gonna lie to yer face. I respec’ ya more than tha’. Here, girl, take a drinka this. I know yer da’ say not ‘til yer older but I don’ think he’s one to say right now.
I’ll keep tendin’ to ‘im, I’m not jus’ gonna give up, I’m jus’ givin’ ya the real talk now so it don’ surprise ya later. Okay? Chin up, girl, be strong. Yer da’ would wan’ ya to stay strong.
Now, who’re you with ‘er? And what’re you doin’ in Aorta?
PRINCESS RUBY, MOTHER OF THE DAUGHTERS OF DESPAIR Two days after I killed Snow, Scarlet and I were sitting at the table in the great hall of the Spire. Her in her usual spot and me in Snow’s old seat at the head of the table. I hadn’t sat at the table that many times, only a handful at most, but it still felt weird to sit in that seat. I still didn’t feel like I had earned it.
Two days where I felt even more lost than I had when I was a prisoner. I was the Mother of the Daughters of Despair now, but I had no idea how to lead. Not only that but I had no idea the scale and scope of the Daughters’ plans and machinations. All of the information that the Librarian knew, that Snow had known, was password protected. And so I was still in the dark.
Scarlet said she should have known better, that Snow was careful and wouldn’t have left that information unprotected. I felt the same. Snow would never have told me the password, most likely wouldn’t have told Scarlet either, but we should have done more reconnaissance beforehand and figured out that we needed the password in the first place. Maybe then we could have done something about it, maybe tried to trick Snow into telling Scarlet. Now we had no chance.
“We can’t tell anyone,” Scarlet said after the Librarian asked us for the password. “We can’t tell anyone that we don’t know what we’re doing.”
“Obviously,” I said, my voice more snide than I meant it to be. But it wasn’t Scarlet’s fault. I felt stupid so I had snapped at her. She didn’t deserve it. I turned to the Librarian again.
“Did Snow keep any notes?” I asked. “Anything tangible, written down, not inside this… database?”
“There are manual transcriptions of our conversations,” the Librarian said. “Within the topmost drawer of this desk. On the left side.” I opened the drawer and rifled through the papers. It was difficult with one arm in a sling from when I broke my arm killing Snow. On the top of the pile was the transcription of Snow’s most recent conversation with the Librarian. I took it out.
“The Librarian asks her for her password,” I said, “and she answers. But it’s redacted.”
“Of course,” Scarlet said. “That would be too easy.”
“Then she asks about ‘Project Blackout’” I said, reading the Librarian’s response to myself before reading it out loud to Scarlet.
“Read it,” Scarlet said.
“‘Ten Librarians dead,’” I read from the paper. “‘All Spinal Librarians dead. All Barriga Librarians dead. Two Sval Librarians dead. In the towns of Sinew and Tendon.’”
“The Daughters are killing Librarians,” Scarlet said.
“How?” I said. “How are they doing it?”
“I know that, at least,” Scarlet said. “The Librarians are programmed not to harm anyone with royal blood. So the Daughters are able to kill them. Easily.” I stared at the paper, unsure of how to respond. Killing the Librarians? It seemed ludicrous. But months ago I thought the Daughters were a myth, a bedtime story, so I guessed I better get used to things I previously thought impossible.
“How do they know who has royal blood in their veins?” I said. “How do they know who’s a Daughter and who isn’t?”
“That,” she said, “I do not know.”
“Why are they killing them?” I said, though I partially knew the answer.
“Blackout,” Scarlet said. “To restrict the flow of information across the kingdom. To instill fear and chaos.”
“Maybe the aims of these other projects are similar,” I said.
“Maybe,” Scarlet said. “Blackout’s one of the few projects I know of. Are there more listed?”
I looked back at the papers, hoping to find more names, more information, and that’s when I saw a name that closed my throat.
“Prince Stoic,” I said.
“What about him?” Scarlet said.
“He was looking for me,” I said. “The Daughters were tracking him.” Flash, Sugar, and Banquet.
“We knew that already,” Scarlet said. “We have his dead body in the storeroom.”
“Yes,” I murmured to myself. “We have to do something about that.”
“What does it say about him?” Scarlet said.
“He was with Godspeed Nano, the Head Librarian,” I said.
“That was part of the plan,” Scarlet said. “To have him chronicle the journey. To write down the narrative.”
“Along with… Malevolent Cash?” I said. “Why on earth would he be with Mal?”
“Who’s that?” Scarlet said, leaning over my shoulder.
“A man named Kalashnikov Cash owns the Drink in Spinal,” I said. “Mal’s his son.”
“Why on earth would Nano and Stoic be travelling with a pub owner’s son?” Scarlet said. I read a few lines ahead. “It doesn’t say,” I said.
“Where are they now?” Scarlet said.
“It doesn’t say,” I said. I kept reading. “Molotov is in Cervello… but why?”
“I’m not sure,” Scarlet said. I could tell that she was antsy—that she wanted to read the transcriptions herself, that she was anxious to be given access to something she had wondered about for so long—but I couldn’t help myself. I kept reading.