Walkers to stop cleaving, the best we can do is to head off as many cleavings as possible.”
Addie’s project, I realized. Lattimer had asked her to help find the Free Walkers, and now I knew why. They were interfering with his cleavings.
Gently she said, “It’s an imperfect solution, but we do the best we can. We cauterize the most unstable Echoes before the Consort can cleave them, and tune the ones we can save.”
I leaned my forehead against the cool tile wall. “But if the Consort knows the truth, why are they still cleaving?”
“Their only concern is protecting the Key World. If that comes at the expense of every other branch in the multiverse, so be it.”
“Obedience, diligence, sacrifice,” I recited. The Consort’s watchwords.
“The Consort views untethered Echoes as an abomination—people without souls.” Her mouth twisted. “As such, the idea of entire branches filled with them doesn’t appeal. It’s not only the physics they object to; it’s the ethics.”
“So you want to take them down.”
“Sometimes a world has to be torn down in order to make way for a new one. Remember, a Consort member usually holds his or her seat for life, and they choose their own successors. We’d hoped, years ago, that your grandfather would be named to the Consort. He was well-regarded by the woman who held the seat; he had the support of his colleagues. Nobody knew he was a Free Walker. Everything was falling into place.”
Which was usually the time things fell apart, in my experience. “What went wrong?”
“Lattimer,” she said. “We’d been so focused on Montrose getting the Consort seat, we forgot about the other two members—but Lattimer hadn’t. He’d convinced them he was the man for the job, and promised to put an end to the Free Walkers as proof. On his orders, the Consort launched a massive, coordinated attack against us. They caught Gil, your grandmother went on the run, and Monty’s chance at the Consort seat disappeared along with her. Countless Free Walkers were captured and interrogated, which led to more arrests and more cleavings. It’s taken us years to recover, and we’ve learned our lesson. Caution takes time.”
“And haste leads to unexpected consequences,” I said. Another proverb.
“Exactly. Your textbook got that right, at least. Now you understand why we can’t rush off and see Simon.”
The mention of his name sent me reeling again. I’d killed his Echo when I cleaved Park World. Every time my father and Addie cleaved, they killed people. My mom planned their Walks to help them kill with maximum efficiency. Eliot, my classmates, and I were all training to do the same. Our lives were built on murder.
“You can’t blame yourself,” she said, as if she could hear my thoughts.
I could, actually. I did. “Were you born a Free Walker?”
“Yes. My parents left the Consort before I was born. I’ve never known anything else.”
She’d never cleaved a world. Never killed anyone. Her sympathy was theoretical, and she had no idea what it felt like to carry that kind of weight.
“All those people . . . ,” I said softly.
“You had no way of knowing. Now you do, and you have the power to change it. You can help us.”
“It’s not enough.” Nothing I did would make up for how casually, how thoughtlessly I’d ended lives.
She shook her head. “The past is a hungry creature. If all you feed it is regret, it will consume you. Let it fuel you instead.”
She steered me out of the bathroom and back to the pivot. As soon as we returned to the Key World, my phone started buzzing with texts from Eliot.
“I have to tell him.” I needed to hear that the wrong I’d done wasn’t the entirety of who I was.
“Not yet. It’s not safe.”
“He’s as trustworthy as I am. More, actually.”
“You’re an Armstrong.”
“That’s Monty,” I said. “I’m a Sullivan.”
“Not to us,” she replied. “Will you help, now that you know the truth?”
Truth is as fluid as water, as faceted as diamonds, as flawed as memory. That’s what Monty always said. And my truth was, I would have helped them anyway, to save Simon. But now I would do it to save myself.
“Yes.”
She sagged with relief. “I’ll work on setting up the meeting with Simon. I know you must have more questions—”
“I have a million questions,” I said. “So does Bree Carlson. She’s not going to quit looking for Simon.”
She tapped the desk, skeptical and impatient. “Do you really think she’s a threat?”
“I don’t think so. But . .