Somewhither: A Tale of the Unwithering Realm (69 page)

“I see the prospect frightens you,” she said. “Don’t fret! You and the others can escape easily, you know. Just jump from a window. Ossifrage can bear you aloft.”

“I won’t leave you!”

“Boys!” She held up her little soft hand in a stern gesture, cutting me off. “Don’t make me sound harsh, young man, but you are an idiot, were you informed of that fact? Or are you too much of an idiot to know? Without you in their hands, I will not be tortured. This is all your fault.”

“This is
my
fault?”

“Man of you to admit it!” She half-lowered her lids in derision.

“How? How is any of this my fault?”

She said coolly, “First, if you had not come to the Museum, the Astrologers would not have foreseen my attempt to open the gate. At that moment, I was hidden in the shadow Wild Eyes cast. You were not. Your fumbling attempt to rescue me and protect me did nothing but summon the invasion fleet. Second, if you had not decided to develop a foolish schoolboy crush on me, the Lord of Magicians would not have thought of breaking you by threatening me. That is the only reason I had to get you out of that cage. The moment you were free, I was safe. Imprisoned, enslaved, but alive and quite safe.”

“Safe? You killed these guards!” I pointed at the one-legged men, all still armed, all drowned. “You have to flee now.”

“The Dark Tower foreknew their deaths and let them die. They were also slaves, none of them worth a silver talent. But I am worth many talents of gold to them. Do you understand how cold these people are, how their knowing the future makes them cold? To them, everything has already happened long ago, and nothing can change, and nothing means anything! As for you, big awkward surface-dweller, you cannot defy them. You cannot fight them.”

“For you, I will!”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know what my heart tells me!”

“Lub-a-dub? 120 over 80?”

“I know you own more shoes than any girl in Oregon. You kept sixty pairs just at the museum. And I know you are a mermaid who works for the Wisecraft.”

“What planet am I from?”

“Planet? Um…” Foster had not mentioned a name for her world.

“What’s my mother’s name?

“Well, uh.” I stammered, “I mean, uh, ….”

“That’s her. Willamina from planet Um. So you know everything about me. You want to do something for me? You want to save me? Then go! I cannot leave here, so to save me, you
must
go!”

She raised one eyebrow like Spock, and for a moment, she did not look like the unearthly walking mermaid, and she was just Penny again, the girl from the newspapers.

For a moment, she was once again the young woman I so worried about as her father slowly drifted deeper and deeper each day into mental illness.

I remembered one evening, after her father had suffered a particularly bad episode, and she had called friends to take him home because he could not be trusted with his car keys. I had been walking with a mop and bucket down the hall and past her office door, silently swabbing. The door was open a crack. She was sitting at her desk, illumed by one lamp in a dark room, facing the dark window, with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. I tiptoed away, not wanting to intrude.

But I wanted to protect her. To save her. There was nothing I could do to save her father from his insanity. I hated the sensation of helplessness.

Now it was the same thing again. I was helpless to help the helpless girl.

I wondered what I could say to snap her out of this lunatic idea of staying behind bars. There had to be a way.

“Miss—”

“Don’t call me Miss Dreadful. It sounds…”

“Miss Prisoner!” I snapped. “Time is short. Some of my friends here might be able to …”

“Ilya!” she snapped back, trying to draw herself up (which only arched her back more, and made her look more fragile and lovely) “I know who these people are and what they can do! I just told you, remember? Well, not him—why doesn’t he have a head? And why are you grinning?”

“You called me by name. I didn’t think you knew it.”

She looked flustered and dropped her eyes to stare at my sternum (which was eye-level for her) and tucked a clingy wet strand of her sopping hair behind her ear.

“Never mind Knack,” I said. “He was built by Volkswagen, and they put the engine in the trunk. Speaking of engines, why are we not jogging at full speed away from this location, before more guards arrive?”

“I told you!” she said angrily, rising her eyes again to mine. I am not sure I had ever seen her looking angrily at me before. Strangely enough, it made her seem fragile. The mocking smile made her seem like a person from another world, someone far beyond reach. But once she started raising her voice (and flashing her eyes and heaving her bosom, etc.) she was no different than arguing with my stubborn cousin Alyonushka. “And I have very little time to explain what needs to be done. So I am
ordering
you to—”

“Whoa, whoa! Or should I say, since you’re a sailor girl instead of a cowgirl,
belay that talk
? Lady, I am not on the clock right now, and we are not in the Museum, and this is not you telling me to put a second coat of wax on the floor!”

Her eyes narrowed and glittered. “Are you still grousing about that? It needed a second coat of wax.”

“Sure, but
not
right before opening time, when visitors might slip and fall! That forty-weight shine takes an hour to dry. Do you think I don’t know how to do my j— ah, yes, ma’am! You are right about the wax! You have absolute authority to do what you like with the Museum, and I recommend setting even more deadly traps for unwary tourists when we get back — but first we've got to
get
back! Now, put on some clothes— if they gave you any clothes— and prepare to march out of this hellhole, or I swear by Saint Arthelais of Benevento, I will tuck you under my arm and haul you out of here kicking and screaming!”

It must have made an impression on her. Penny raised her hand and tried to slap me, which I hoped was a good sign. I mean, a girl only does that if she likes you, right?

I suppose I should have let the blow land, because you really are not supposed to shout at girls, but her hand was moving so slow, I figured she was telegraphing it on purpose, and wanted me to block it. I raised my right palm to pattycake the incoming rush of slender, soft fingers with painted nails, but somehow her wrist intercepted my palm, and my fingers closed, and I had her trapped. Her wrist was so small and delicate that it almost made me dizzy. It was like grabbing a flower stem. I was ashamed my hand was so big and rough and dark compared to her hand. And it was so warm.

She made a noise of irritation in her nose, and yanked her hand out of my grip. Or tried to. All that happened was that it made her shrug her shoulders, which caused a jiggle to travel down the curves of her half-naked and all-wet body, and she made a little gasp that sounded unintentionally sensuous.

When she yanked, it was like yanking against a stone statue, and this made her shoulders tilt one way and her hips tilt the other, displaying her figure to her best advantage. It was almost as if nature designed women to look good struggling in a man’s grasp.

At this point, when I thought that thought, somewhere in my brain, I came to the realization that boys my age should probably not be allowed anywhere near girls. Men should not be allowed to see women until we are old enough to be President. In the meantime, we should be kept in military bases or in the field, killing pirates and Communists, drug runners, pantomime clowns and other lowlife undesirables, so we can have a healthy outlet for all that built-up sexual energy and aggressiveness. That is what the Victorians did, and they conquered most of the surface area of the planet.

Embarrassed, I let go of her wrist. “Sorry, Miss Dreadful.”

She said with icy calm, “Do restrain your instinctive inclinations, Tarzan. You are not carrying me anywhere. Did you not understand what I said before? The collar has been told to constrict for each step I take, or am carried, beyond the deadline surrounding this place.”

“Wh-what?”

“The one-legged guards torment the harem by forcing us over the line and watching us choke and faint as we struggle to return to our confinement. The collar has also been told to pinch my head off, if by any means I depart to an even greater distance. That includes stepping through a Moebius gate.”

I opened my mouth, she held up her hand. Her fingers were near my mouth, and for a moment, I thought she was going to touch my lips.

“And do not suggest to have the foreverborn girl use her blade,” she said, “It would be like wrapping my neck in the coil of an electric stove.”

“I have the right tools for the job,” I said. I put my hand into the secret pocket on my utility belt where the hacksaw was stowed, or where I thought it was stowed, and triumphantly pulled out the small ferro-cerium rod instead. I stared at it stupidly for a moment, and began rifling through my jacket pockets.

Penny added, “Your diamond drills and blowtorches and other technomancy of your Earth are in vain against a metal that can grow red hot at will, or grow spikes inward, or repair cuts faster than any chisel can cleave. You assume the metal will stand still. This collar will punish me for any attempts to remove it.” She touched the hard dull surface unconsciously with fingers that suddenly seemed very slender, white, gentle, and precious. I wanted no harm to come to that soft hand.

I was appalled for a speechless moment at the horror of it. It was like a terrorist chaining a dynamite vest around a girl’s neck, wired to blow. No wonder all the girls in the room were backed up against the far wall and quaking.

I looked at the flock of cowering, half-clothed girls again. None of them would raise their eyes to meet mine. They were school-aged kids. They should have been worried about nothing worse than learning how to paint fingernails or keep an embarrassing diary. They should have been home with their folks, fretting over algebra homework. They should not have been chattel in a whorehouse or prisoners on death row.

“So you see,” Penny began calmly, “If I cannot be saved from the danger you put me in, you must take it upon yourself to complete my mission. Listen carefully. The forces of the Dark Tower have many of the twilight gates from their world watched, but not all. At the mouth of the Great River, Euphrates, there is a pirate captain with an ironclad submarine, trustworthy, I hope … Are you listening to me?”

I had not been listening, but staring at the floor. Now I looked up, grinning.

“I can break you out of here,” I told her.

Penny looked at me with surprise for a moment, and then a hopeful look appeared in her lovely green eyes, but then, very quickly, her face froze and she forced her expression back into a calmly dignified one.

“Seriously. I think I might be able to get
everyone
out of here.”

“I may be able to help,” she said. “My songs are strong! I have been trained for this work by the wise of Thalassa and of Amorreus and of Cush.”

“Fine, but stop talking and listen to me for a second.”

Foster broke in. His voice is so smooth and musical, it never sounds like he is interrupting when he is. “It means, genetically speaking, she kicks ass. Her father is a rocket scientist and her mother is a brain surgeon.”

I was not sure if he were kidding or exaggerating or what. “What does that have to do with what we are talking about? It is only a matter of time before someone notices the dead people and comes here, or the shift changes, or the local torture theater and go-go dancing club needs a new virgin, or something!”

Penny said briskly, “Squire Falinn is not kidding you. I am the youngest of my order ever to have achieved the master rank in three disciplines as a siren, as a theriomancer, and as a strega. That is why my familiar can speak like a man and enter the mists of the dream realm, and why I was sent here. Of mermaids, only I can elude the stars. This is why you should heed my voice.”

I had the sensation as if she were slipping higher and higher up an invisible ladder, farther out of my grasp. I had been intimidated by her being in the newspapers, or being the youngest girl ever to sail around the world. But now she was the youngest magical spy-girl ever to infiltrate the Dark Tower.

No wonder she was confident. Or cracked.

Foster said to her lightly, “Well, I have ranks in three of the occult crafts as well, I’ll remind you, missy! The Dark Elves taught me the secrets of mist, twilight, and of doppelganger. So, by that logic, you should listen to me, not me to you!”

“Mine is a mermaid cap!” she said proudly. “Woven of the hidden songs of deepest sea!”

“I have a tarn cap!” he said, more proudly. “Forged of hidden fires from deepest earth!
With
matching tarn cloak!”

With her little fists clenched at her hips, Penny stamped her foot in anger, something I had never seen a modern woman do. Her bare foot made no noise on the marble, but her whole body bounced buxomly at the moment, and Foster was struck mute, staring in awe at her cleavage for an unboyscout-like half-second before jerking his eyes back up to hers. I selected the spot on his jaw where I would clout him.

“Eflast! You will obey orders! You and Ossifrage will descend from the windows of the Tower to the Great River Euphrates, to the rendezvous spot! You must take this—” she glared at me with eyes like emerald lasers, so that I froze with my fist half-cocked “—this
janitor
with you! With him gone, I am safe! Too valuable to be slain!”

He opened his mouth to give some smart-alecky answer, but now her eyes glittered like green fire, and her voice was like a silver dirk sliding softly up under the ribs, “Or would you have me tell the Dark Grandmaster of your Order that you are absent without leave, and have violated your fealty? Well…? I am not the one you should fear. What price do Dark Elves demand to teach their arts to mortal men? I recall the clever trick you used to escape paying it, gypsy boy.”