Chapter 3

3.

          “Just put those right over on that table, Marin. Thank you, dear,” the old woman said from her chair. Uncomfortably she shifted, trying to find a spot on the cushion that her rear somehow hadn’t managed to mold permanently into her own shape. Things never seemed to last very long anymore. If would be nice if they would just stay new for a little while at least. It all got worn out so quickly.
          “Of course, Maleth,” the young woman said, gracefully placing the tray of drinks onto the finely polished table. There were four glasses on the tray, all filled with an amber colored liquid that swirled languidly in their containers. “Are you expecting company later?”
          “Perhaps,” Maleth replied, rubbing her hands to increase the circulation. These days she felt cold all the time. “And perhaps not.” Frankly she hadn’t even really remembered calling for drinks, but fortunately Marin was very on top of these things. Honestly she didn’t know what she do without the dear girl. “But it always pays to be prepared.”
          The woman gave her an indulgent smile. “I suppose that makes sense.” A frown creased her pretty face. “But what if nobody comes. Won’t these go to waste?”
          “Ah, dear,” Maleth laughed quietly. “You never allow anything to go to waste. If you learn anything upon reaching my age, that’s probably it.” She cocked her head to the side briefly, as if considering that for the first time. “In fact, it’s probably the trick to reaching my age, more than anything else.” Swinging her legs experimentally, she winced at the aching pain in her knees. By all the gods, she had been good to her body when she was young, why was it punishing her now? “Though sometimes I wonder if the goal is really all that worth it.”
          “Oh, they tell me it is,” Marin replied, absently rearranging the pillows on the other two couches that sat on either side of the chair. They wound up basically where they had been in the first place. The room itself was fairly large, with an opulence that was unassuming, mostly rugs and candles and other fine items that didn’t scream their value until one stopped to take a close look at the objects in question to see indeed how very fine they were. She picked up a covering draped over the back of one of the couches, and shook it a bit to discharge any dust that might have been clinging to it. “From what I hear, it certainly sounds more appealing than the alternative.” Delicately she placed the covering back where it was, running her palms over the cloth to smooth it out.
          “I suppose it is,” Maleth had to admit, “although sometimes I quite wonder.” She started to point a wrinkled hand at one of the drinks, then changed her mind and let it drop, saying, “Actually, I think I’ll have one of those drinks now, dear. I’m feeling very parched all of a sudden.”
          “Already?” Marin asked, even as the other woman crossed over to the table and handed Maleth one of the cool glasses. “Shouldn’t you wait for your guests to arrive?”
          Maleth gave a thin-lipped smile. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but there’s every chance I could drop dead while sitting here waiting. And I’m certainly not going to depart this life with my mouth dry and throat parched.” Raising a wizened hand in a mock toast to no one in particular, the old woman took a long sip of the drink, nodding appreciatively to herself afterwards. “Let them think me rude . . . it won’t make me any older.”
          “Don’t say such things,” Marin admonished, though a half-smile twitched at the edges of her lips. Wandering over to the picture window that occupied a good portion of the wall, she straightened the curtains covering the pane. The hazy sunlight shining through the cloth gave her face a mottled, darkened appearance. The room had the ambiance of perpetual twilight. “People will think you’re a bitter old woman.” Rubbing the fabric lightly between two fingers, she placed a hand on her mouth and murmured, “When were these last cleaned?”
          “Well, I’m two out of three already, I don’t see the harm in being the third as well,” Maleth cackled, resting the glass in her lap, cradled between her hands. “It’s expected of me, the same as guests expect food and drink and a clean house to be prepared for them when they visit, regardless of the state of their own homes.” She reached back with one hand to brush at the her wispy white-grey hair. “They don’t come here to listen to me expound on the endless benefits of being elderly, my dear. They wish to hear my moan and complain about this ache or that pain, to belabor the loss of my youth . . . all so they can feel better that their years added together don’t begin to approach mine.” Blinking faded eyes and gesturing, she added, “Take a drink for yourself, Marin. We certainly have no shortage of glasses, we can fix another if necessary.”
          “They’ll be old one day, too,” Marin pointed out as she reached for a glass.
“If they’re lucky,” Maleth agreed, with some sadistic glee. “But these days, there’s no guarantee. It’s not like it’s something we’re entitled to now, is it?”
          The young woman gave her a sharp look over her glass, but then smiled and shook her head. “You never change, do you?”
          The old woman responded to the light smile with a serious one of her own. “I’m afraid the only change left to me is one I’d rather as not avoid, dear. One eventually reaches a point where stagnation isn’t such a bad thing.”
          Marin bent down, holding the glass close to her chest, and ran her fingers over the wood of the table, rubbing the tips together as if searching for dust. “What did my mother say when you said such nonsense? I hope she didn’t humor you as much as I do.”
          Maleth pursed dried lips, glancing in the direction of the shrouded windows. “Your mother did much what you do now . . . pretend to listen to a cranky old woman talk about the same matters day in and day out.” A ghostly smile inhabited her face briefly. “You both have the same talent of acting like you’re hearing whatever tedious ravings I spout for the first time.”
          “Mm, perhaps I’m just forgetful,” Marin said softly, leaning closer to the table, her eyes fixed on the whorls and curves of the wood grain. “I’ve been with you a long time now, I certainly can’t remember everything you say.”
          “And my poor, bitter heart thanks you for that,” Maleth replied with kind humor.
          “You sure it can afford to . . . there can’t be that many beats left in there,” came the response. “At your age, you need all you can get, eh?”
          Poised to take another drink, Maleth paused with the glass just touching her lips. Slowly, her small, old eyes came to rest on Marin, who was staring at her with a friendly smile on her face and her head cocked almost questioningly to the side.
          “Oh, there’s enough to last me at least today,” the old woman replied evenly, putting the glass back into her lap. The coldness of the liquid had seeped into her fingers, giving them a peculiar numbness. “After all, there’s no reason to look beyond that, is there? You never know what might happen.”
          Marin grinned and nodded, swirling the liquid in the glass casually as she rose to her feet. “Indeed. But isn’t that the beauty of life? You can never grow so used to it that you stop being surprised.” With the hand holding the glass she pointed at Maleth. “How about that, old one? Or would you rather the surprises stopped coming?”
          “I suspect we’re well past that point,” she murmured. Staring at the young woman standing across from her, she asked in a louder voice. “And what sort of surprises are we talking about here?”
          “Oh, grave surprises,” Marin said in a low voice tinged with humor. She pivoted smartly on one shoe and strolled to the other end of the table, taking a long, deep drink from the cup as she did so. “Life altering, one might say, even . . .” her grin became particularly wicked, “though as you so poignantly pointed out not that long before, yours is not a body all that accepting of change now, is it?”
          “I adapt well enough,” Maleth replied darkly.
          “Good to hear,” Marin noted tartly. She took another drink, swishing the liquid around in her mouth for a moment before finally swallowing it. Maleth was distantly pleased to see that she had the decency to avoid belching. It was good to maintain some semblance of decor. “Because you may need to, soon. Adapt, I mean.”
          “Riddles?” Maleth asked mildly, raising one thin, pale eyebrow. “That’s not at all like you. Praytell, are you feeling okay?”
          “Never better,” came the reply, without any hint of sarcasm. Putting her hands on her hips, she regarded the old woman on the chair, her face suddenly serious. “Word is they’re coming for you.”
          Oh. This was news. “Just me?”
          “No, after everyone, I guess. I just wanted to get your attention.” That last was said with a grimy smirk.
          Her withered lips pulled down into a frown. “I’m not so senile I can’t follow key concepts. But who are we talking about here? And where did he get this vaunted information?”
          “Who else? There’s no one left. But his source must be good enough to scare him into spreading it around, we all know how much he hates looking silly.” She sighed and hugged herself briefly, an oddly vulnerable gesture. “I guess the whole mess is finally over, and it seems clean-up appears to be starting.” Marin shrugged, looking down. “Someone must want all the loose ends snipped off.”
          “He finally believes me, then?” Maleth asked, trying not to let a small pulse of glee show on her face. She knew she should be afraid, but one of the few benefits of getting old was that you outlived all those shriveled, useless emotions that kept you up at night. Her sleep had been nothing but restful for years now. “I told him they were more than just propaganda to keep us in line.”
          “You can understand his skepticism, I mean, they were always talked about but nobody ever saw them-“
          ”I’ve seen them,” Maleth rasped, the closest she could come to a shout these days. Some things age couldn’t replace. “A long time ago, they came. I don’t even know who they were looking for, but they came like shadows and left like ghosts.” She closed her eyes briefly, remembering. “We watched from the window as they moved about. Then, everyone said they weren’t real. Even afterwards, it was never spoken of.”
          “People forget,” was the quiet response.
          “People choose to forget,” Maleth spat back. She felt the claws of an old woman rant biting into the contours of her mind, and reigned herself in. No type to play completely to type, now. She forced herself to settle back deeper into the cushion, folding her hands together in front of her chest. “So, what does he intend to do?”
          “What would you do?”
          “Oh, so he’s asking me for my opinion? This is a rare day indeed. I’m so glad I lived to see it.”
          Marin gave her a sardonic smile. “Don’t break those fragile bones patting yourself on the back, woman. He has his own ideas, I’m asking you just so I have some backup ideas in case things don’t work out.”
          “Well I’m pleased you wish to partake of my wisdom anyway,” Maleth replied, letting herself sound slightly miffed. “My advice? Hide. Disappear and hide.” She raised one eyebrow. “That is his plan, right?”
          Marin only grinned.
          Maleth just shook her head. “Whatever. If he’s smart he won’t risk a confrontation, or he’ll bring it all down on our heads.” Shaking her head again and sighing, she added, “But that’s just conjecture for now. No need to get too worked up yet.” Glancing over at Marin, she asked carefully, “I suppose he’d like some advance warning, hm?”
          Marin nodded. “We’d all appreciate it.”
          Maleth appeared to consider this request. In the end, all she said was, “I’ll see what I can do.” But Marin grinned back at her, as if signaling the debate to be already over.
          Maleth sighed again, wondering at which point she had lost control of the day’s events. Going to take another sip of her drink, she was dismayed to note that it had achieved room temperature during the course of the conversation. Oh well. First things first. She was more than capable of fixing her own drink.
          “Marin,” she said after a moment, trying not to keep the weariness out of her tone, “how long would you say we’ve been together?”
          Looking over at the old woman with a knowing smile, Marin replied, “Oh, ages, nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Why, are you getting tired of me?”
          “No, no, not at all, dear,” Maleth said, holding her glass up to eye level, watching the meager light in the room filter through the fine particles in the liquid, tiny worlds in suspension. What kept them together? She liked to think it was will. She didn’t believe in anything else.
          Hiding a small smile behind the cup, she added, “In fact, I have a small errand I’d like you to run . . .”