A Dangerous Game (H 1.6)

Wells walks the aisle like he owns this place...which is true to some degree at least. I'm not sure how the Vaulters have split their duties or their treasures, but Wells did have the key.

He tells me to pick up a bar, and it's an invitation this moth can't deny. I touch one of the bars with delicate fingers at first, a respectful approach to a surface as cool and smooth as Wells himself. But he's right that it is heavy for its size, so I use both hands to lift it from the stack, the weight of it almost comforting, perhaps in the way that using my arms to climb a tower or serve a tray of drinks made me feel productive and strong. This weight, though, isn't practical. It's pure luxury. My eyes flick up at him when he names the price it once fetched and suddenly I'm not sure I should be holding it.

I wet my lips with my tongue. "What is it worth now?"

I turn a slow circle, the priceless brick of gold still in my hands as I take in the shelves upon shelves, bricks upon bricks, each one invaluable, each one worth more than every bit of scrap I salvaged as an Ivy, every tip I made at the Belly, every last blessed thing I own all summed together. The thought is dizzying and I carefully place the brick back on its shelf, suddenly feeling unworthy of holding it.

I swallow back my feelings of inadequacy and focus back on what's important here - impressing Wells enough that I get what I want. "With all of this, you could probably just buy the Tower and everyone in it." I say it with a bit of levity, knowing such a thing would be impossible, but wanting to flatter Wells nonetheless.

I reach out a finger and run it across the surface of a gold bar like it's frosting one last time before I move up to take Wells' arm. "I could eat."

The feeling of the gold lingers on my skin, cold and heavy, the feeling of security, or of drowning at the bottom of the ocean. I'm not sure yet which prize this game will win. The Whispers might know, but I don't want to ask.

When you think of what the Whispers might know, that's when you realize you haven't heard a single one in a little while. As soon as you stepped into the vault, they fell completely silent. Wells guides you through the rest of the gold room towards an elevator, chatting about a few of the art pieces on the walls, history he's committed to memory like badges.

For all the time I have spent trying to quiet and deaden the Whispers, it seems I should appreciate their sudden silence. Instead, their sudden retreat makes me feel abandoned and alone with Wells in uncharted waters. I shouldn't want them here, but I find myself reaching out for them anyway.

'Don't tell me a room full of gold made you shy.'

I look at the art Wells points out, the people and scenes depicted seem so serene compared to the world I know. I wonder if anyone has been jealous of a painting before.

"Which one is your favorite?" I ask when he finishes sharing about another piece.

I study the poster he points out. Some of it seems familiar - tall towers and an armored warrior with a sharp axe - but other parts of it seem foreign to me - the hills in the background covered in green. The hope in the girl's eyes.

"Once," I tell him. "When I was a child."

I don't tell him that it was a special treat from the Gardeners to us Ivies because we'd had such a productive month.

I do tell him, "It was about talking fish, a father trying to find his son who'd been kidnapped."

I don't tell him that I left partway through because seeing the dad fish hunting so desperately for his son made my chest ache and my eyes get misty. I don't tell him that some other Ivies followed me out and beat me up in the bathroom for being a sissy.

I do tell him, "I missed the ending though."

I turn from the poster to face the elevator and I'm tempted to poke the Whispers again to see if they stir, but I hesitate before I do. I know within ten seconds of their return, I'll be wishing them silent again. I'm sure they'll return at exactly the wrong time, as they are wont to do.

I don't laugh with him, quietly joining him in the elevator instead, faced again by golden walls and shining mirrors. I watch with interest as he puts the key into the panel and more buttons light up. I'd thought they were just burnt out before. Knowing it's a part of some intentional security system is impressive.

At his questions, I look away from my reflection and over at him. "That sounds awfully close to business talk," I tell him. "But I came today because I had to make sure you wouldn't forget about me or your offer of a visit." I tack on a little extra flattery at the end with, "I know you're a busy man with many important things to keep track of. I wouldn't expect me to be one of them for long." I look back at the mirror, watching his reflection this time instead of my own. "Lucky doesn't know I'm here yet. Regal owed me a favor."

The elevator seems suddenly smaller when he keeps the doors closed, but I try not to let my alarm reach my face. I know when Wells talks about more cake this time, it is a lie. Or, rather, it is cake, and so much more.

But isn't that why I'm here?

"I saved Regal's life," I answer, turning to face Wells directly instead of watching the doors that now seem more prison than portal. "It might be hard to top that, but I don't think Regal is the one you need to worry about negotiating with." I move a half step closer to him, the distance between us close enough that I have to tip my head back to look up at him. Whether he wanted it or not, it's time to talk business.

"I told you I approached you last night because I had to be sure you were interested in what I have to offer." I meet his eyes and will the calm waters of the morning into my expression. "It seems that you are. So now the only question is, what is it worth to you?" I pause. "What am I worth to you?"

My heart pounds in my chest, the vein at my neck feeling more vulnerable with each beat. "I know what Lucky would trade me for. And you're the only one who can pay it."

I am the only thing I've ever had to offer, I think, letting his comment about me being a gadfly roll off of me. Maybe I'm proving I'm worth a little more than that.

"That's what's happening here," I assure him, dangling myself in front of him like bait on a hook, swinging above depths even I don't comprehend. I let that settle for a moment before I continue, "But it's more than you think. Lucky wants me to be his advisor, because I see things others don't. I'd offer you the same thing." Then, as if to prove the things I know, I ask, "How was your meeting Lucius the other night? I know you were expecting him."

I wonder if Wells means he killed Lucius at their meeting, but I don't dare ask, not now.

If Wells had offered me this exchange a week ago, I might have just taken it. The idea of being here - living here - is so tempting that I don't care if it does mean being paraded around like a prize he's won. How is that any worse than slaving away at the Belly for a pittance, really?

But everything's different now, and a mere trade of my affection for his wealth isn't enough.

"Me for the Merrimack," I answer, not moving away or toward him. "No Sipp library attack, no books or kidnappings. I'm sure you can send someone else for those things anyway, but I'm something you can only get from the Sipps."

I call myself something instead of someone, certain that Wells is thinking the same already, and I straighten a little, trying to seem strong and certain even while nervous tremors make my knees feel weak beneath me. It's not beyond my notice that while Lucky has refused the opportunity for affection and instead sought my advice, Wells will almost certainly do the opposite.

"Settle that contract with Lucky in full, give me a chance to say goodbye, and I will be yours." I take a small step closer, close enough that my body brushes against his and I slide a hand beneath his jacket to rest on his waist. "Jay Pee will be very jealous. I'll make sure of it."