The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,139
he was definitely suspicious. She had to turn this around.
“Don’t be so modest,” she told him. “Every scythe knows your connection to the NewHope gleaning. You’re downright legendary.”
“Legendary?”
“Yes – and I’m sure your journals will have their own room in the library.”
He scowled at her. “I cannot abide sycophants,” he said. “Get out.”
Then he sat at a vanity as if they had already gone, and began brushing his long auburn hair.
“Let me have a try,” Jeri whispered to Anastasia, then went up behind Alighieri. “You’ve missed some tangles in the back, Your Honor. Please – allow me.”
Alighieri looked at Jeri in the mirror. “You one of those genderless sorts?”
“I’m fluid,” corrected Jeri. “It’s how we are in Madagascar.”
“A Madagascan!” said Alighieri, his voice dripping with derision. “I can’t stand you people. Make up your mind and be done with it, I say.”
Jeri didn’t react, just began to brush out the scythe’s hair.
“How old are you, Your Honor?” Jeri asked.
“The nerve! I should glean you for asking such a thing!”
Anastasia took a step forward, but Jeri waved her off.
“It’s just that I’ve never met anyone who has lived so much history,” Jeri said. “I’ve seen the world, but you’ve seen the ages!”
Alighieri met all of their eyes in the mirror. For a man who didn’t like flattery, he was drinking it in just as thirstily as he drank in his reflection.
Now it was Greyson’s turn. “Were you … mortal?” asked Greyson. “I’ve never met anyone who was mortal.”
Alighieri took his time before answering. “Few have. After the mortal purges, those who were left kept to themselves.” He gently took the brush from Jeri and resumed the task himself. Anastasia wondered how many times that brush had been through the man’s hair through the years.
“It’s not commonly known, but yes. I was born mortal,” Alighieri said. “I scarcely remember that, though. Natural death was conquered before I was old enough to know what death even was.”
He paused, looking into the mirror again, as if he were seeing through it to that other time and place. “I met them, you know. The founding scythes. Well, not met – I saw them. Everyone did. Every man, woman, and child wanted to get a glimpse of them as they rode through town on their way to Buckingham Palace, where the king knelt before them. They didn’t glean him, of course. That came years later.” Then he laughed. “I found a pigeon feather, dyed it blue, and told my classmates it fell from Scythe Cleopatra’s robe. It didn’t even look like a peacock feather, but my classmates weren’t very bright.”
“Your Honor,” said Anastasia. “About the NewHope gleaning…”
“Yes, yes, it’s old news,” he said dismissively. “I didn’t journal about it at the time, of course. It was all very hush-hush. But I have since then. It’s all in these volumes.” Again he gestured to the pile on the desk.
“What a shame that they’ll be squirreled away in Alexandria,” said Jeri. “Nothing but tourists and academics there. No one of any importance will read them.”
His response was to look at the brush in his hands. “See how full of hair the bristles have become?” Then he handed the brush back to Jeri, who picked out the matt of hair from the bristles and began brushing the other side of Alighieri’s head.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Scythe Alighieri…” said Anastasia. “Isn’t it time you got the credit you deserve?”
“Scythe Anastasia’s right,” said Greyson – who knew none of the particulars, but knew what was needed. “Everyone should know the sacrifices you made. You need to share it with the world, once and for all.”
“Yes,” said Anastasia. “The world has forgotten you – but you can make them remember. You need a lasting legacy.”
Scythe Alighieri took a long moment to consider that. He wasn’t entirely convinced yet … but he wasn’t entirely dismissive either.
“What I need,” he said, “is a new brush.”
“My name is Scythe Dante Alighieri, formerly of EuroScandia, FrancoIberia, TransSiberia, and Byzantium, currently and permanently of Region Britannia, although I do not claim professional alliance there, or anywhere else.
“I am not making this broadcast merely at the behest of Scythe Anastasia; I am here of my own accord, to set the record straight.
“A number of years ago I participated in an organized plan to glean a substantial number of people. A mass gleaning, yes, but not just any mass gleaning. I played a key part in the destruction of the NewHope orbital colony.