Between the Lights, Interlude 22.5: Cheshire

[liquidcitrus]

A short fiction about an event that took place in the background of session 22. If you're following my summaries rather than just reading this as a standalone piece, please read that one first for context.

---

meanwhile, under the Web of Khedeb Neret

The afterparty, while not quite the scale of the full summit that they'd held the previous day, is still very much alive. The floor that had been filled with chairs the previous day, and ballroom dancing the previous evening, now hosts an impressively drunk moshpit. The deep red light of the Web that hangs above casts the scene into a darkroom twilight, only occasionally interrupted by pyrotechnics. There is a six-armed man with fish-fins for hair on the stage, playing an entire rock band's worth of instruments by himself. He is currently performing a cover of an old Dionyl folk song.

The entire scene strikes Cheshire as intensely odd. Yesterday they voted to exile several Nobles, including the once-foremost of the Powers of Heaven. And today they’re celebrating?

A man in a dupioni-silk dress shirt approaches Cheshire. “Not terribly interested, I see? Odd, for a Power of the Dark.”

“Rock and roll's no fun when everyone involved is effectively immortal,” Cheshire says. “No chance of someone dying of a heroin overdose.”

“Fair point.” The man extends his hand. “Toby Houston, Shepherd and Regal of the Internet, at your service. I believe you would be Cheshire of the Dark?”

Cheshire grins, and shakes Toby's hand. “Yep. The very one. In the flesh. Somethin' up?”

“Just wanted to ask you about your speech yesterday. Any particular reason you'd attend just to dispute the proceedings?”

“Someone's gotta be the devil's advocate around here, and I didn't see anyone else doing it.”

Toby Houston shakes his head. “That's not your real answer.”

Cheshire stares at a nearby mountain, its black bulk stenciling out a starless webless gap in the sky. “She reminded me of Aliki. And - d’you remember the last time the Valerian Clause was invoked?”

“I’ve only been here for fifty years.”

“The Valerian Clause, the Rule of Rupture... it’s one of the final clauses of the Accords. And it was never meant to be used for factionalism. That’s why so many people were required to come here physically, to touch the Engine’s tree, to speak the words. No one person could gather so many. Not until...”

“Vien?”

“Nah,” Cheshire says. “Sasha.”

“And that’s when you realized you had to...”

Cheshire shrugs. “This lack of solemnity is just wrong. The last time we did a Valerian, it was back when the Five Hundred Years were stolen from the world and sold to the Excrucians. It wasn’t a party. There didn’t need to be a party, to attract everyone. Not after that. Everyone knew what had to be done. It may as well have been an execution.”

“So you’re saying that Vien holding the party of the century here was just a bribe.”

“For some of them, yeah. For others... I mean. I guess they put their hands on the tree because they felt betrayed. By Diane, or by Aliki. For abandoning us like this.”

“To the best of my understanding,” Toby Houston says, slowly, “Aliki’s departure was not entirely of her own volition.”

Cheshire squints. “The hell are you talking about? She was the foremost of the Dark. She did whatever she wanted.”

“You hear about Anze Torquil’s recent reappearance? The deaths of the Emperor of Ice Cream, the Baroness of Metaphors? She’s been targeting the Familia Kethredamen. Picking them off. I’m pretty sure she just went after Aliki first, getting her out of the way.”

“Six years before she died,” Cheshire says, her diction suddenly precise and sharp as knives, “Aliki of the Dark told me that I was never really her successor. That all I was to her was a pretty face. That sucking up was the only thing I would ever be good for.”

“That was after -”

“And that’s why yesterday I stood against them all, my hands clasped in front of me instead of laid against the Engine’s tree, and told the rest of Noble society that I’d sooner stick my face in the dung-pits of Hell than kick out an entire res’s members just because of one person’s crimes.”

“Anze has the ability to force people into isolating themselves with -”

Cheshire is suddenly shouting. “I just tanked my reputation trying to do what I think is right and now you’re here telling me that all of this was based on a lie!?”

Toby Houston looks around, as if searching for somewhere to hide. But it’s just sheer cliffs and cobblestone. “Let’s be reasonable -”

“F--k being reasonable! That’s what you Lighty types always say! Let’s just forget about the trail of broken lives we leave behind for some greater good that they won’t ever see!”

The Shepherd of the Digital Cleave is silent. He looks upon Cheshire with a new respect.

“I just -” Cheshire sighs. “Your sister Punctuation, she’s in the Revolution, right?”

A nod.

“It’s not her fault that the Robber-and-Ravens cracked in two. It’s not her fault that Sasha broke Diane over her knee. It’s certainly not her fault that Revolution isn't this beautiful equal society that Sasha keeps trying to promise without following through on. And yet everyone here decided that she should suffer from Sasha’s guilt.”

“So you’ve seen that Society can do this to people, and that you don’t have enough influence to stop it.”

“I don’t like it, but yes. So I sympathize with their cause. Even if I hate Sasha's guts.”

Toby tilts his head. “Have you considered... joining Revolution, then?”

“No. Giving it up and just throwing everything into even more chaos would be stupid. You been watching Heaven’s Powers lately? They’re running around like headless chickens.”

“A valid choice, I suppose. But I’ve got contacts with them, so if you ever need something from their side, let me know.”

Cheshire smiles. “One of these days I just might.”