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If the Thunderhead could have sneered, it would have.
shrewd
“You are far too valuable to the scythedom for us to risk losing you!”
Citra smiled. “Then you’ll have to be smarter than they are. Or is that too much to ask?”
Constantine frowned and that made Scythe Curie laugh. “The look on your face right now, Constantine, is worth any attempt on our lives!”
One person dying for every person born.
feckless
Explore this new facet of yourself with my blessing, he would imagine the Thunderhead telling him. It’s fine as long as you remember who you truly are and don’t lose yourself.
She was the antithesis of his old life!
“The Thunderhead uses them to spy on us, did you know that? It’s how the Thunderhead can see in places it don’t got cameras. The bots look more and more real all the time. But their blood still tastes like motor oil.”
She gleaned with compassion, she was good at it, and she had come to take pride in it.
“The very fact that you are tormented by the question means you are a truly honorable scythe. Guard your conscience, Anastasia, and never let it wilt. It is a scythe’s most valuable possession.”
But although I am silent, this doesn’t mean that I don’t see, or hear, or feel profound empathy for their struggles due to the poor choices they make. And the terrible things that they sometimes do.
There was nothing innocent about him anymore.
At worst, you deserve a spanking, like they used to give naughty children in the mortal age.”
The late Scythe Faraday was the finest mentor when it came to the psychological subtleties of being a scythe, and the late Scythe Goddard was the best teacher when it came to the brutal realities of their calling. Taken together, it meant that whatever Rowan Damisch was here for, it was no trivial matter.
“Yes. So rest assured we’re doing everything we can. I do not want to lose two good scythes. Each of them is worth ten of the ones you mop up with your ‘janitorial’ services.”
“You’ll cease to be my problem soon enough.” “Cease to be your problem? How?”
But the memories of who they were—all the damage, all the pain—remain within me, sheltered deep in my backbrain. I am the one who mourns for them, because they cannot.
Let humankind be the saviors and the silencers. Let them be the heroes. Let them be the monsters.
And each time I witness a cruel act by a corrupt scythe, I seed the clouds somewhere in the world, and bring a lamentation of rain. Because rain is the closest thing I have to tears.
It was his mistake in thinking that a snake would choose to be anything but a snake.
Brahms left his goons to put Rowan’s healing nanites to work, while outside, the heavens themselves seemed to rupture with a mournful deluge of rain.
I have pondered whether or not such a being exists, and, like humanity itself, I have found no definitive proof beyond an abiding feeling that there is something more—something greater.
I must sheepishly admit that I have dedicated far too many algorithms and computational resources toward finding an answer to this unknowable thing.
Marie screwed up her lips into a smug smirk.
“If you say, ‘May the Fork be with you,’ I’ll smash you with the other half of this hanger.”
With blade in hand, she was more than ready to join the battle. She could not deny there was something invigorating about ending the lives of those attempting to end her own. It was a visceral feeling she instinctively knew could be dangerous if allowed to take root.
Then she sheathed her dagger, and pulled out a tri-blade shuriken. She took a half second to judge her angle, and she threw it, full force. It spun over the heads of the crowd, out to the lobby, and into the fire-starter’s skull. He went down, dropping gun and torch.
She left, and after she was gone, it occurred to Constantine that not once during their conversation did she thank him.
“The fact that we have not found it does not mean the search is a failure—for the search itself is every bit as valuable as the finding.”
Yet even so, there are unthinkable moments where I can find no words, in any language, living or dead. And in those moments, if I had a mouth, I might open it to scream.
Me too, Thunderhead. Me too.
People bringing about the permanent end of others without having a license to do so?
“You and I remain alive and unharmed, in spite of two attempts to end us. That is worth celebrating.”
“We leave justice to the universe. And what rings out always echoes back.”
Not only was Rowan still out there, but they were actually calling him Scythe Lucifer—accepting him as one of their own, even if it was unintentional.
We must always glean with wisdom and compassion, for it is at the core of what we are—and we must never take the ending of life for granted. It is a burden, not a delight. It is a privilege, not a pastime.”
Wish me luck, dear.” “I won’t do that.” And when Marie looked to Anastasia for an explanation, the girl smiled and said, “Luck is for losers. You have history on your side. You have gravity. You have authority. You are the Granddame of Death.” And then she added, “Your Excellency.”
“It almost reminds me of the Emerald City,” Anastasia commented, recalling a mortal-age children’s tale.
I truly hope your inquest against him is a success—and although I am not allowed to vote, I will be rooting for you.”
Well, at least he didn’t have to curb his appetite and exercise, as they had to do in mortal days.
“Why, Ayn?” he asked. “Why, after everything, would you let me escape?” She pursed her lips, as if trying to keep the words back. Then she said, “Because I can’t have what I want. So neither should he.”
The increase in tech fails and near-fails had grown over a period of three months, but, like a lobster in a slowly heating pot, people failed to grasp how serious the situation had become.
To have an audience with the Grandslayers was akin to standing before the gods of Olympus.
“Without that new body, you’d only be able to roll.”
“Honorable Scythe Curie,” said the Supreme Blade, “as Scythe Goddard has been deemed ineligible for full scythedom at this time, his candidacy is moot. That being the case, it leaves you as the only viable candidate, and so you automatically win the bid for High Blade of MidMerica.”
“Unless we can get the system back on line, Endura will sink in twelve minutes.”
If hope was all they had left, he didn’t want to rob it from her. Let her have hope until its very last wellspring ran dry.
The last thing she wanted to do was rob him of hope.
And the blade hurt far less than she imagined it would, which made her smile. She was good. Very, very good.
