The Big Sleep (Duology)

Chapter Twelve - Miss Kathryn's

Dr. Farrah shifted in her seat, then reached into her coat with her long, slender fingers, removed her pipe and a leather satchel from a pocket at her chest. Delicately, she plucked a fingerful of tobacco from the satchel and transferred it to the bowl, not a leaf lost. She pressed a thumb down into the round bowl, pushing it around the edge to pack the tobacco tight. As she replaced the satchel in her coat pocket, she produced a lighter, which she flicked twice before bringing the pipe up to her lips, turning the lighter almost sideways over the bowl, and puffing.

I shook my head, trying to shift my tangled thoughts into order. "What?"

"The Speaker is a Master," Dr. Farrah said. A river of smoke poured from her mouth and flowed around her head, the undulating ebb and flow obscuring her face as it mimicked her movements.

"Is--Is he bad?" I asked. The question sounded as stupid as it felt, but I did not know what else to say. What else to ask. And anyways, stupid as it felt, it seemed a fitting question: the doctor's revelation alleged that the Speaker was a member of the enemy, that he had hidden the fact from the Knights, and, possibly, that he was, indeed, bad.

She shook her head. "No. He is the same man we've always known; his back story is just a bit longer and more complicated than we knew. He actually asked me not to call him a 'Master.'

"There's some sort of movement among the Masters, a group who defected from the official order and returned home. To Earth. They wanted to be human again. Yes, that's right. Again. They call themselves the Regressives and, apparently, the Speaker is their leader."

I shook my head, unbelieving. The Speaker was a Master? A good Master? And the Masters were human? Impossible!

"I see you understand," Dr. Farrah said, smiling at my expression, which must have shown anything but understanding. "We'll be meeting him at Miss Kathryn's for breakfast and exodus proposals tomorrow. Try to look presentable."

***

Billy roused me from sleep early the next morning, pulling me from another of the Master's visions. This time, they were attacking small camps in the Wilds, putting down or capturing small groups and families, sweeping through and taking thousands of souls as I tossed and turned.

"Wakey, wakey, Regressives and--"

I cut him off with a pillow to the face.

"Hey," he said. "I had a whole verse planned."

"Shut up," I muttered, pulling the blankets over my face. "It's too early for the whole Billy thing."

He laughed and yanked the blanket from my face. "You couldn't handle the whole Billy thing."

Groaning both with tiredness and disgust at Billy's attempts at humor, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. After a few mindless, robotic actions, I had a full outfit on a relatively clean body.

"Good enough?" I said, gesturing at myself.

Billy shrugged.

Still running on auto-pilot, I followed Billy to Miss Kathryn's, a fine dining establishment situated on the fourth floor of Miss Becky's building. Unlike Dr. Farrah, Miss Becky did not actually own her entire building. No one person did, officially. Instead, as a group, Miss Becky and ten other business owners filled the eleven floors of the building with their wares and services.

Miss Kathryn's proprietor, Rhys Warburton, claimed to have named the restaurant after his dear, departed mother, though word around town said his mother's real name had been Candi. Rhys nearly assaulted the traders with desperate, endless orders every time they came to town, and often travelled to the harbor to seek out more black and gold brocade, ivory statuettes, and any other tacky "finery" he could find to fill Miss Kathryn's already overflowing dining hall.

Near three white grand pianos arranged in an awkward circle (none of which had a player), Kayle and Dr. Farrah were already seated around a table. The Speaker--the Master, the Regressive--was nowhere to be seen.

"Good morning," Dr. Farrah said. "Rain, you look nearly as chipper as Kayle."

Kayle and I groaned at the same time. The others laughed.

Squinting irritably, I took my seat. "Where's the Speaker?" I asked.

Dr. Farrah shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "He has been spending his nights in the caves. They are not close, and I'm sure he's taking care with his route. He'll be here soon."

Billy took the seat between myself and Kayle, and pressed a menu into my hands as he opened his own. "Meantime, let's see what this Miss Kathryn can do."

Rhys appeared at Billy's elbow, bowing deeply. "We shall satisfy your every desire, young sir. I guarantee it."

Billy chuckled, folding his menu. "Ah, then, let's begin with a plate of cheesy nachos for the table to share. Heavy on the jalapenos, of course. Then, for my main course, I'll have a steak, your very best cut. And we'll finish with something simple. Just a nice angel food cake and some fresh, whipped cream."

Rhys snatched Billy's menu unceremoniously from his hands and frowned hard. "If the boy can afford his luxuriant order," Rhys said eyeing Billy's unfitted t-shirt, "our kitchen will do its best to accommodate."

Kayle rubbed her eyes and leaned forward, one hand lightly resting on Billy's shoulder, "Of course," she said, flashing the small ball of bills at the bottom of her backpack.

Rhys's face lit up at the sight. "Yes," he bowed, backing away toward the kitchen as he spoke, "right away. Right away."

While the rest of us laughed, Dr. Farrah sighed. "All you've done is make sure our food is over-salted, over-spiced, and overpriced. It doesn't matter how much cash you flash, it won't magic sugar or a cow onto the continent. We haven't had those things for a long time."

"Oh, lighten up," Billy said, gently swatting his mother on her arm. "When's the last time you had a person as young and beautiful as Kayle treat you to a meal? Never."

Dr. Farrah playfully batted her son's hand away, then laughed. "You're right. Thank you, Kayle."

My sleepy friend gave our table a half-smile from under her sweep of white hair. "No problem," she said, balling her backpack up under her chin and resting her face on top. "Lemme know when the food's here," she muttered into the bag.

"Hey!" the Speaker shouted from a doorway across the dining room, waving when we all turned at the sound. "This way." He gestured, then disappeared behind the door and into the stairwell beyond.

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