chapter 5. Family portrait in gray tones

The heavy door closed behind Lyra, burying her last warning. A звенящая silence hung in the workshop, thick and dense like unspoken words. Gray and Hugh stood motionless, listening to the girl's footsteps fade away on the cobblestones. The air was filled with anxiety, and Gray could almost taste it, metallic and sharp.

This fragile, newly formed world of mystery and understanding did not last long.

He was interrupted by a ringing, joyful voice that burst in from the hallway:

“Dad! I’ve made a flying spool!”

Leo, Gray’s younger brother, appeared at the doorway of the workshop. His cheeks, usually a uniform shade of peach (which Gray described as “warm and soft”), were now adorned with vibrant patches of clay. In his hands, he held a clump of multicolored material that to Gray appeared as a dark, shiny substance with lighter, rougher grains.

"And look, she's got wings!" Leo poked his finger at the tortillas sticking out of the sides of the ball, his face beaming with absolute, undisturbed delight.

—Leo, not now,— Hugh said. His voice sounded muffled and tired. He was still staring at the closed door, as if trying to complete the conversation Lyra had cut off in his head.

—But Dad…

Their mother, Elina, followed Leo into the workshop. She was taking off her light coat, and her movements were precise and tired. Her face, usually smooth and calm (for Gray, "like smooth, cool porcelain"), seemed strained. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, swept over Hugh, who was standing by the door, and Gray, who was standing by the workbench, and stopped on the empty space between them, which still bore the marks of their recent visit.

"What's going on?" Her voice, usually melodious, was sharp as a blade. "Hugh? Who was that?"

Hugh turned around. He tried to pull an ordinary, everyday mask over his face, but it cracked at the seams. Gray could see the small muscles around his eyes twitching, making his gaze nervous.

—Lyra," he replied, too quickly. — The daughter of a colleague. I brought... books. According to the old pigment technique.

Elina did not answer. She walked slowly through the workshop, her fingers brushing away invisible dust on the tabletop. She noticed two empty stools that were too close together, as if a confidential conversation had just taken place.

"Books," she repeated without inflection. "Is that why you look like you've just seen a ghost? Is that why Gray is standing there white as a sheet?" She stopped in front of her husband, her arms crossed over her chest. "Hugh, I'm not stupid. What's going on? What are you hiding from me?"

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Sensing the stormy atmosphere, Leo grew quiet and hugged his "katusha" to his chest. His lower lip trembled.

Gray could see his father fighting inside. He could see the fear in his eyes, the desire to protect them, and the desperate weariness of lying. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom," he said quietly. Elina turned to him, and her gaze softened for a fraction of a moment. "She came to warn me. About a man. He... he wants to do bad things to people like me."

Gray saw his father struggling internally. I saw the fear in his eyes, the desire to protect them, and the desperate weariness of lying. He couldn't stand it.

—Mom,— he said softly. Elina turned to him, and her gaze softened by a fraction of a millimeter. "She came to warn me. About one person. He... he wants to make people like me feel bad.

"What do you think?" Elina froze. Her eyes slowly, horrified, returned to Hugh. "Hugh? What does he mean? What man?"

Hugh took a deep breath, and with that breath, all the tension seemed to leave him. His shoulders slumped.

"Vivian," he said quietly. "It's about Vivian. He... his ideas have become dangerous. He's talking about 'purifying' the city of Monochroms. Lyra overheard him at the Council."

The workshop became so quiet that you could hear the wheels of a passing carriage outside the window. Elina stood still, processing these words. Her face gradually lost its color, becoming pale and lifeless.

"Purification? " she whispered, and there was a chilling horror in her voice. "Purification? Of my son? And you... you knew about it? And the two of you were whispering with some girl while I... while I was working, and Leo was making his katulas, not even aware that his brother was in danger... in danger..."

She stopped, her hand over her mouth. There were tears in her eyes, glistening, wet spots on the gray background of her face for Gray.

"I wanted to protect you," Hugh's voice was full of desperation. "I didn't want to scare you until it was over."…

"Protect them?" She straightened up abruptly, and her voice rang. — Protect is to lock the doors and call the guards! To protect is to go to the boss of this madman! Protecting him means telling me, his mother, about it, not having secret meetings in my house with strange girls!

Her anger was quiet, which made it even more frightening. It filled the room, displacing the air.

Leo finally broke down and let out a loud sob.

"Mom, don't swear! Dad, don't swear!"

Gray approached his brother and silently took his hand. Leo gripped his fingers with such force that his bones ached.

Elina looked at her husband, and in her eyes was not just anger, but a deep, crushing disappointment.

“All this year,” she said again, softer, but in a way that made his skin crawl. “All this year I’ve seen you pulling away. I’ve seen you sitting here for hours trying to ‘fix’ him. And now I realize… you weren’t trying to fix him. You were preparing for war. And even in this, you decided to do it without me.”

She shook her head, and there was such bitterness in the movement that Hugh could not bear it and dropped his eyes.

“No, Eli … I …”

“Dinner is on the table,” she interrupted him, and her voice was suddenly dead and flat, as it is with people after the most terrible shock. “Go and eat.” She turned and left the workshop without looking back.

Leo, sobbing, pulled Gray after him. Gray took one last look at his father.

Hugh stood in the middle of the room, his head down, alone and broken, in the fading light of the sun, which cast him in a deep, sad shade of the very last gray before complete darkness.

The secret was out. The war that Lyra had warned of had not yet begun outside. It had only just rumbled inside their home. And the worst was yet to come.