An Unimaginably Bad Title

Cedric had often heard it referenced in literature and allegories that immortality would only lead to pain as the ever-living watched their friends and family die around them. He had to disagree. From such a statement, he was forced to conclude that the authors had only lived a few hundred years at most. After about four hundred centuries, immortality’s only enemy was boredom.

Apparently, certain cults of whatever religion was currently all the rage believed that their gods (or god, perhaps, he didn’t pay much attention anymore) had abandoned them for something horrible they’d done. Again, he had to disagree. If their creators were truly immortal beings, then Ced could guarantee that they probably weren’t miffed at the world--they were just bored and had probably gone off to watch supernovas with their celestial popcorn.

And so it was no surprise to him that he was bored. Or, at least, that was his excuse for perusing the shelves at Richard’s Books, which was really a mediocre bookstore at best, even with CAFE factored in. He’d asked several times for them to expand their classics section, but apparently his suggestions were going unheeded. How was CAFE supposed to survive if they could not heed the errors of their past?

Ced softly released his breath, fingers gliding over the spines of the books, occasionally tapping at the spine of an old friend. The staff here hated him. So much loitering, so little buying. His excuse was that he was a teacher, he was broke. No one so far had managed to ferret out that little lie. And, at least right now, he was disguised anyway, so they thought he was just another random buyer, rather than their favorite annoyance. Right now, he wore the face of a freckled red-head. 

He stopped in his tracks and backed up a few steps. Oh, that was a new title. Peacocks and England: What Every Gay Man Needs To Know. He grinned wickedly. Why, it was just perfect for him! And the “peacock” bit was a little too obvious to pass up.

Pulling the book from the shelf, he quickly noted the cover: a damn bloody flamingo. Ced shook his head and tsked. Such a disappointment, some publishers were. He’d have to heckle the staff behind the counter about this one. Surely it’s been mis-catalogued, shouldn’t this be in the birding section? Eyes twinkling with the find, Ced did the obvious thing: he held the book vertical with one hand and flipped through it with deft strokes of his thumb across the open edge of the pages. The paper made a quiet whirr as it flew. After a few tries, a slip of paper fell out.

Grinning, Ced replaced the book and picked up the slip. A quick jotted note--like an accidental bookmark. But he knew better.

He’d helped crack the bloody Enigma, CAFE couldn’t stop him.

The real question was, though, did he want to be the one in trouble for interrupting the flow of information? Probably not. But fortunately, identities were rather expendable to a doppel as old as he. And he was already disguised--a perfect opportunity.

Humming quite contentedly, Ced made his way to a nearby reading area, the slip of paper in his pocket, and picked up a newspaper, flipping to the crossword puzzle. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he folded the newspaper until it was small enough to be manageable, then lounged back in his chair and placed the slip beside the crossword. And then he began to work.

He’d managed to crack the code (it wasn’t just easy, it was atrocious--this informant was horrid) and had moved on to the crossword when a soft purr made him perk up. Ced quietly slipped into his shadow’s eyes, seeing what had alerted Puck: a man reading the exact same book he’d found the slip in. Ced cracked a grin and continued to watch through Puck’s invisible eyes as the man’s expression grew increasingly sour.

After a few minutes, he snapped the book shut and angrily placed it back on the shelf, then stormed off towards the entrance to the lower levels.

As he turned, Ced noted something interesting: this man was Icarus Syer, one of the many candidates for WRAITH. Most curious.

“That’s our cue,” Ced whispered, switching his mind back to his own body and leaping up, leaving the half-completed crossword on the table and pocketing the slip of paper in his overcoat. Quietly, he followed Icarus down, following at a suitable distance and sending Puck to scout ahead through the darkened halls.

He’d been planning to follow this agent about already, the fact that it happened to be someone he was interested in was just gilding the lily.

As far as Ced could tell, they were going nowhere in particular, so he hurried to catch up, keeping his footsteps hushed.

Finally, when he was at the other end of a long hallway from Icarus, he announced his presence with loud, echoing footsteps. Puck quickly shot back to him, acting for all the world like a normal shadow.

Ced paused at the end of the hallway, then slowly took a few steps forward, letting his shoes fall loud and clear against the tile.

“Two words,” he said as way of a beginning. “First of three letters, second of four. What I gave you. What you’re looking for. What I might still give you, if you ask nice and polite.”

“Excuse me?”

Icarus took a step back. Ced watched calmly, refraining from the predatory gaze that sent so many running.

“If you’re playing riddles, I sincerely apologize. My expertise lies elsewhere.”

Ced scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and running a hand through his currently-ginger hair. “You’re such a disappointment,” he sighed. “No fun at all. Is there no one even remotely capable of witty wordplay employed anywhere in this department? And are not riddles simply puzzles of language? Goodness me, how do you problem solve on the field if you refuse to face a simple riddle?”

With a sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper. “For the record, the answer was ‘the slip,’” he said, masking his careful inspection of Icarus’s body language. Body language was an easy enough study for him--he was a doppel, he had to learn how to copy it, and moreover he’d been in many situations where he was both prey and predator. This one had very little underlying tension. There was no trust on either side, but that wasn’t to be expected. Open, unthreatening, but Icarus’s guard was distinctly up.

He held the paper at arm’s reach, examining it disdainfully over his glasses. “And may I say that this particular slip is very interesting indeed. Although perhaps not as interesting as you’d hoped. I would also suggest informing your informant on proper encryption techniques.”

Ced gave a perfectly innocent and cheery smile.

“And you are?” he asked, as if he didn’t know this man’s name already.