Rook

overhead were dim, and the strip of light under the door burned the eyes.
    “… fucking…”
    Through the last set of eyes, she watched television. The room was bright and comfortable, with windows looking out over a river. She ate a carrot and glanced up when a tall woman with piercing blue eyes walked into the room.
    “… bitch!”
    Contact was broken, and Myfanwy took a faltering step backward. She felt like she’d run several miles. She was sweating profusely, her heart was pounding, and her knees were weak. Instinctively, she’d bent over, and the prongs of her corseted blazer dug into her ribs. She drew in a gasping breath and forced herself to stand up straight. She and Gestalt stared at each other, both panting slightly. Neither said anything, and then Myfanwy backed warily out of the room. Gestalt’s eyes were locked on her, smoldering with rage.

26
     
    D id you get anything out of him?” asked Ingrid over a bowl of soup. The warden had insisted on providing them with a dining room for lunch and had diffidently excused himself after Myfanwy asked him for a bit of privacy. Outside the door stood the toxic Pawn and the two honor guards, and three of the bodyguards hung outside the windows, suspended by climbing ropes. On Myfanwy’s insistence, they were facing out.
    “Maybe,” said Myfanwy.
    “Did he get anything out of you?”
    “I like to think not.”
    “Did he figure out that you lost your memory?” asked Ingrid casually. Myfanwy looked up at her, shocked. She slammed her mind down around Ingrid’s body, cutting off everything but voice, sight, and hearing.
    “I suppose I should have expected that,” said Ingrid. “The word around the office is that you can now seize control of people without touching them.”
    “You didn’t see it yourself?” said Myfanwy. “I did make a man stab himself with a knife in front of the whole Court.” She put a little steel in her voice, hoping to get across the idea that if she so desired, she could make Ingrid do the same thing. Admittedly, Ingrid was currently holding a soupspoon, but Myfanwy felt sure she could improvise.
    “Well, keep in mind that I was choking and flailing around in the cloud that Bishop Grantchester had produced,” pointed out Ingrid.
    “Of course.” Myfanwy nodded.
    A pause ensued, during which Myfanwy felt uncomfortable and Ingrid seemed quite content with herself, despite the fact that her muscles were frozen.
    “So, anyway, about that little item you brought up…”
    “Your amnesia,” said Ingrid helpfully.
    “Yes, that,” said Myfanwy. “Although I prefer not to think of it that way.”
    “You prefer not to think of your total lack of memory as amnesia?”
    “Does that sound unreasonable?”
    “I’m only striving for accuracy, Rook Thomas,” said Ingrid.
    “And yet you call me Rook Thomas,” said Myfanwy.
    “
You
call yourself Rook Thomas,” Ingrid clarified.
    “Let’s not get caught up in minor details,” said Myfanwy. “How long have you known?”
    “Since the evening when I came into my office and found Rook Myfanwy Thomas curled up on the floor, weeping and muttering about how she could feel her memories evaporating.” Myfanwy gaped at her. “This was the other Myfanwy Thomas, of course,” added Ingrid helpfully. “The one that was you before
you
were you.”
    “Uh-huh,” said Myfanwy.
    Ingrid looked at her levelly and heaved as much of a sigh as her body would allow her.
    “Very well,” said Ingrid. “This is what happened.”
    I t was late, and Ingrid was not pleased to be in the lift of the Rookery. Her eldest daughter, Amy, was coming in on the train from York—back from university for the weekend—and Ingrid was eager to get home. It was only when she’d pulled out of the underground parking lot and swerved around a late-night protester that she realized she’d left her daughter’s gift in the desk drawer. Just one last irritation in what had been an exceptionally long and irritating day.
    First, there’d been the frantic covering up of an escaped harpy in downtown Stoke-on-Trent. Then, there’d been the last-minute discoverythat a report due to the Prime Minister that day contained several major errors and would have to be rechecked in minute detail. Ingrid had felt guilty leaving Thomas alone in the office, since the little Rook was still scanning the final version of the report, but her boss had known about Amy’s arrival and urged her to leave.
    “Honestly, Ingrid,