Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe #2)(15)

“If there were any, I didn’t see them,” Tyger said. “The funeral was last week.”

That hit just as hard as the news.

Tyger offered him an apologetic shrug. “Like I said, there were tons of Ronald Danielses. It took a while to find you.”

So his father had been dead for more than a week. And if Tyger hadn’t come to tell him, he would never have known.

Then the truth slowly dawned on Rowan. This was no random event.

This was punishment.

This was retribution for the acts of Scythe Lucifer.

“Who was the scythe who gleaned him?” Rowan asked. “I have to know who did it!”

“Don’t know. He swore the rest of your family to silence. Scythes do that sometimes—you’d know that better than anyone.”

“But he gave the others immunity?”

“Of course,” Tyger said. “Your mother, brothers, and sisters, just like scythes are supposed to.”

Rowan paced away, feeling like he wanted to hit Tyger for how completely oblivious he was, but knowing that none of this was Tyger’s fault. He was just the messenger. The rest of his family had immunity—but that would only last for a year. Whoever gleaned his father could pick off his mother, then each of his siblings, one a year, until his entire family was gone. This was the price of being Scythe Lucifer.

“It’s my fault! They did this because of me!”

“Rowan, are you even listening to yourself? Not everything is about you! Whatever you did to piss off the scythedom, they’re not going to come after your family because of it. Scythes aren’t like that. They don’t hold grudges. They’re enlightened.”

What point was there in arguing this? Tyger would never understand, and probably never should. He could live for thousands of years as a happy party boy without ever having to know how petty, how vindictive, how human scythes could be.

Rowan knew he couldn’t stay here. Even if Tyger hadn’t been followed, the scythedom would eventually track where Tyger had been. For all Rowan knew, there was a team on its way to take Rowan down.

He and Tyger said their goodbyes, and Rowan got his old friend out the door as quickly as he could. Then, a moment after Tyger was gone, Rowan left as well, taking nothing but a backpack stuffed with weapons and his black robe.





* * *




It is important to understand that my perpetual observation of humanity is not surveillance. Surveillance implies motive, suspicion, and ultimately, judgment. None of these things are part of my observational algorithms. I observe for one reason, and one reason only: to be of the greatest possible service to each individual in my care. I do not—cannot—act on anything I see in private settings. Instead, I use the things I see to better understand people’s needs.

Still, I am not insensitive to the ambivalence people can have at my constant presence in their lives. For this reason, I’ve shut down all cameras in private homes in the Charter Region of Texas. Like all the things I do in Charter Regions, it is an experiment. I want to see if a lack of observation hampers my ability to rule. If it does not, I see no reason why I could not turn off a vast majority of my cameras in private homes around the world. However, if problems arise from not seeing all that I am capable of seeing, it will prove the need to eradicate every single blind spot on Earth.

I hope for the former, but suspect the latter.

—The Thunderhead



* * *





7


Scrawny, with Potential


Tyger Salazar was going places!

After a life of wasting time and taking up space, he was now professionally paid to waste time and take up space! He couldn’t imagine a better life for himself—and with all the brushing shoulders with scythes, he knew that eventually one of them would take notice of him. He figured that he might have a ring held out to him and get a year of immunity. He never expected one of them would hire Tyger for a permanent position. Much less a scythe from another region!

“You entertained us at a party last year,” the woman on the phone had said. “We liked your style.” She offered him more than twice the money he was making, gave him an address, and a date and time to be there.

When he got off the train, he immediately knew he wasn’t in MidMerica anymore. In the Texas region, the official language was Mortal English spoken with a sort of musical accent. It was close enough to Common that Tyger could understand it, but working so hard exhausted his brain. It was like listening to Shakespeare.

Everybody dressed a little different, and walked with a very cool swagger that he could get used to. He wondered how long he’d get to be here. Long enough and he’d be able to buy himself that car his parents never would, so he wouldn’t have to take publicars everywhere.

The meeting was in a city called San Antonio, and the address turned out to be the penthouse suite of a highrise overlooking a little river. He assumed a party might already be going on. A perpetual one. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

He was greeted at the door not by a servant, but by a scythe. A woman with dark hair and a slight PanAsian leaning, who looked familiar.

“Tyger Salazar, I presume.”

“You presume right.” He stepped in. The decor was ornate, which he expected. What he didn’t expect was the complete absence of other guests. But as he once told Rowan, he went where the day took him. He could roll with whatever got thrown his way.