a stab of pity for her.
‘Don’t worry, today was disastrous – I mean, it was not disastrous. You didn’t do well – I mean you did well.’ He cleared his throat, silently cursing himself, and changed the subject. ‘Your bloodline.’ He nodded to her bandaged arms. ‘Ivory Condor and Nightcat? I read your personnel file. I hope you mind – don’t mind,’ he corrected himself.
‘I don’t mind,’ Silho replied, and Eli liked how her soft voice caressed his ears.
‘You’re an interesting mix . . . the birds and the cats usually don’t intermarry,’ he continued.
‘My parents . . .’ She began to explain but then stalled, and Eli quickly rushed in, ‘Don’t worry, I understand – mine too. Glee and Greer – there’s a reason it’s illegal.’ He snorted. ‘Actually, I don’t know whether you’ve heard about this yet, but the Standard and the independent governing councils are discussing implementing more serious penalties for people who participate in illegal breeds. It just produces children with too many problems – like me. It’s not just the talking and stealing thing, I’m actually also allergic to my own saliva. I have to wear this,’ he indicated to the cap on one of his pointed teeth that gradually dispersed medicine into his system, ‘so that my body doesn’t swell up like a balloon and burst.’
Alarm registered in Silho’s eyes and he hurried to reassure her, ‘Don’t worry it’s secure – I hope – just kidding.’ He giggled, but Silho was still looking decidedly uneasy, so he hurried on.
‘But you know,’ he steered the craft out of pipeway seven and onto a shorter westward-bound tunnel, ‘some of the greatest warriors and minds of all time have been illegal cross-breeds. Sometimes an unusual mix can create unusually strong and unique skills and strengths. Of course the downside is that the person is also usually completely insane – but elite nonetheless. There’s just a fine line, I guess, between trying to prevent birth defects and impeding the natural freedom of the different races. I mean, look at what already happened to the Midnight Men.’
Not so long ago the Standard, on behalf of the king, had given an extermination order against any person who was a cross-breed between a Midnight Man and any other race. The Midnight Men were a largely unknown kind of spectral-breed – their title given to them in the absence of anyone knowing their true name and because they only usually appeared at mid-dark. They were thought to feed on the essence of death and were also called ‘Scorpia’s Vultures’ as they tended to stalk people whom they sensed were about to be injured or killed. When the person went down, either dead or close to it, they would attack, finish the job if necessary and then eat their flesh and drink their blood. As a result there hadn’t really been that many cross-breed Midnight Men, due to the fact they tended to rip apart anyone who got near them, but there had been a strange few mixed with other kinds of spectral-breeds, many completely harmless, who had been rounded up and executed. The Standard and its governmentals had feared what would happen if the Midnight Man gene started dispersing more widely into other races. Eli understood their fear, but their methods had been brutal, and he couldn’t help but feel sadness for the slaughtered Midnight Men, and worried that one day the state might also decide all imp-blood cross-breeds were dangerous and have them exterminated as well.
‘Your parents – are they still together?’ Silho asked him.
Eli laughed. ‘I’m not sure they ever were. They both took off a long time ago – left me with Gran’ma and Grampy. They raised me.’
‘Did you like living with them?’ Silho asked a question that, for Eli, had no simple answer.
‘Grampy was a very kind man,’ he said in reply. ‘But he died quite young. He left me an absurdly enormous collection of hats. One night during a storm,
‘Don’t worry, today was disastrous – I mean, it was not disastrous. You didn’t do well – I mean you did well.’ He cleared his throat, silently cursing himself, and changed the subject. ‘Your bloodline.’ He nodded to her bandaged arms. ‘Ivory Condor and Nightcat? I read your personnel file. I hope you mind – don’t mind,’ he corrected himself.
‘I don’t mind,’ Silho replied, and Eli liked how her soft voice caressed his ears.
‘You’re an interesting mix . . . the birds and the cats usually don’t intermarry,’ he continued.
‘My parents . . .’ She began to explain but then stalled, and Eli quickly rushed in, ‘Don’t worry, I understand – mine too. Glee and Greer – there’s a reason it’s illegal.’ He snorted. ‘Actually, I don’t know whether you’ve heard about this yet, but the Standard and the independent governing councils are discussing implementing more serious penalties for people who participate in illegal breeds. It just produces children with too many problems – like me. It’s not just the talking and stealing thing, I’m actually also allergic to my own saliva. I have to wear this,’ he indicated to the cap on one of his pointed teeth that gradually dispersed medicine into his system, ‘so that my body doesn’t swell up like a balloon and burst.’
Alarm registered in Silho’s eyes and he hurried to reassure her, ‘Don’t worry it’s secure – I hope – just kidding.’ He giggled, but Silho was still looking decidedly uneasy, so he hurried on.
‘But you know,’ he steered the craft out of pipeway seven and onto a shorter westward-bound tunnel, ‘some of the greatest warriors and minds of all time have been illegal cross-breeds. Sometimes an unusual mix can create unusually strong and unique skills and strengths. Of course the downside is that the person is also usually completely insane – but elite nonetheless. There’s just a fine line, I guess, between trying to prevent birth defects and impeding the natural freedom of the different races. I mean, look at what already happened to the Midnight Men.’
Not so long ago the Standard, on behalf of the king, had given an extermination order against any person who was a cross-breed between a Midnight Man and any other race. The Midnight Men were a largely unknown kind of spectral-breed – their title given to them in the absence of anyone knowing their true name and because they only usually appeared at mid-dark. They were thought to feed on the essence of death and were also called ‘Scorpia’s Vultures’ as they tended to stalk people whom they sensed were about to be injured or killed. When the person went down, either dead or close to it, they would attack, finish the job if necessary and then eat their flesh and drink their blood. As a result there hadn’t really been that many cross-breed Midnight Men, due to the fact they tended to rip apart anyone who got near them, but there had been a strange few mixed with other kinds of spectral-breeds, many completely harmless, who had been rounded up and executed. The Standard and its governmentals had feared what would happen if the Midnight Man gene started dispersing more widely into other races. Eli understood their fear, but their methods had been brutal, and he couldn’t help but feel sadness for the slaughtered Midnight Men, and worried that one day the state might also decide all imp-blood cross-breeds were dangerous and have them exterminated as well.
‘Your parents – are they still together?’ Silho asked him.
Eli laughed. ‘I’m not sure they ever were. They both took off a long time ago – left me with Gran’ma and Grampy. They raised me.’
‘Did you like living with them?’ Silho asked a question that, for Eli, had no simple answer.
‘Grampy was a very kind man,’ he said in reply. ‘But he died quite young. He left me an absurdly enormous collection of hats. One night during a storm,
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