The Artifact of Foex (14 page)

“Hah. They put me here so I won’t seduce any
potential roommate, and I get to pay for it, too. Full price,” Oak
sighed.

Knife snorted. “They didn’t believe you on
the monogamy thing, eh?”

Oak shrugged as he settled at his desk. “I
don’t need to tell you stereotypes are pervasive near the defunct
Slave Trade Route.” He dug through a drawer and came up with a
folding pen knife. “Which one of you has the Raptus? Much as I
enjoy seeing you, Journey, Knife, I’d like to get this over
with.”

Journey withdrew the relic from her roomy
purse. Steve—or rather, Oak—bled a few drops on the relic. He gave
them an embarrassed look and said, “I’m afraid this is going to
sound a bit silly.

“There was a woman
Who ate an indricoth
As a baby she started on the tail
That took her ten years
As a girl she ate the haunches
That took her ten years
As a maiden she ate the offal
That took her ten years
As a mother she ate the forelegs
That took her ten years
As a granddam she ate the neck
That took her ten years
As an old woman she started gnawing on the
skull
And realized she had no teeth
left at all!”

Chet, listening to the old nursery rhyme,
blinked when the Raptus flashed bright green in Oak’s hands. Chet
stared at it, wondering whether it would do something else. The
Raptus remained silent. Oak handed it to Journey, who put it back
in her purse.

“Thank you,” Journey said.

“You’re welcome. I want to know what happens,
you hear? Don’t just fall off the face of Uos as usual, Journey.
You need to write, and write often.”

“Yes, Oak.” They kissed. It was a dry kiss on
the mouth, not like the friendly, flirting kiss Journey and Knife
had shared only—two days ago? It seemed to be a ritual and not from
passion. Knife’s kiss was no less chaste.

The others began leaving, but Chet didn’t
move. “I want to talk to, um, Oak. Can you please go on without
me?”

Chet handed the car keys to Journey. “I’ll be
down in a few minutes, okay?”

The door closed behind the others. Chet
wasn’t sure what to say. This was Steve. The guy who’d snored
across the room every night for over a year, who’d loaned him
books, let him cheat on a test. Steve currently owed him eleven
gilt. Yet he was Flame.

After a moment of silence Steve folded his
arms, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Yes, Chet?”

Chet felt like he was going to throw up.
“Steve, are you really Flame?”

Steve removed the wig, and yes, he was bald.
Otherwise, he looked exactly the same as he always had. Fallow
skinned and brown eyed with a little scar on his forehead from a
childhood accident. Nothing had changed... except
everything
had changed.

Chet licked his dry lips. “When?”

“Last summer. I’d had it planned for a couple
of years.”

“You’ve been Flame a whole
year?
”
Oak’s words caught up with him, and Chet’s eyes nearly popped out
of his head, cartoon style. “You had it planned? You
knew?
You knew when we were
roommates?
”

“Of course I knew. I was saving my hair even
then so that it could be made into wigs.” Oak frowned at him.
“What, you feel betrayed because I didn’t tell you?”

“Well, yeah. The way I see it, you owe me!
Why did you keep all this from me? We
do
things together,
man. I showed you the steam tunnels when you first arrived on
campus, and you let me cheat off your test that one time. It’s only
been three
weeks
since we went out for aran-spiked coffee
with Rory to celebrate my birthday. You’re such a liar. Why didn’t
you tell me, Ste—Oak?”

Oak rolled his eyes upward, as if seeking
patience from the God Plain. “You would have freaked out, the way
you’re freaking out now.”

“I am
not
freaking o...” Chet
stopped and took a few deep breaths.

Why was he panicking, anyway? He’d never
thought of himself as anti-Flame. Was he really prejudiced?
No,
he thought defiantly, yet he couldn’t apologize to
Oak. It wasn’t that the guy was Flame, it was because he was a
sneak and deceiver. Abyss, Oak probably had orgies in here every
night, while Chet had always assumed that Oak was just another
student. A dull student, sure, but also normal, uncomplicated and
most importantly,
unaffiliated
. Like Chet.

Oak watched Chet with irony, arms crossed.
“You know, for someone who’s been sleeping with Journey, you’re
treading a very fine line, here.”

“I... uh. How did you know?”

“Please, give me some credit. I’m fond of my
colleague, but Journey isn’t exactly discriminating. I, on the
other hand, am.”

He sounded so certain—and stuck up—Chet
couldn’t help raising his eyebrows. “Why should I believe you?
You’ve lied about everything else.”

“I don’t care if you believe me. We’re
friends, but I’m not going to sit here and be insulted.” Oak’s eyes
were narrow, sharp as broken glass. “Go away, Chet. Leave me
alone.”

Chet started to rise... then sat back down.
Part of the reason he’d liked Steve was because he valued the past
as much as Chet did. If Oak was another reincarnating soul of
Pelin, he hadn’t lied about that part. What if he wasn’t lying now?
“Oak, I want to believe you. Could you explain? I mean, I’m just
trying to learn.”

“No, you’re not. You’re being a doedicu.” Oak
sniffed and looked away.

Chet slumped, uncomfortable as Oak grabbed a
tissue to hide his face. In Chet’s experience, men didn’t cry, and
they especially didn’t cry in front of other men. He hadn’t cried
since he was nine, and he didn’t expect to do it ever again. It was
visceral proof that Oak wasn’t a man anymore, or at least not the
kind of person Chet recognized as male.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. I guess...
I guess I’m having a hard time with this because I’ve discovered a
new side of me, and I’m not sure I can live with it. I’m just
trying to figure out what it all means.” Could Oak help? Did he
have a solution to Chet’s newly discovered sexuality, his love of
men and women... and Flame?

Oak snorted acerbically. “I’m the wrong
person to talk to about this sort of thing.”

“Huh?”

“Look, I’m considered the most conservative
member of the Flame Council for good reason. I practice monogamy
and work on long-term relationships. Abyss, over my lifetimes I’ve
buried more common-marriage spouses who died of old age than the
rest of the Council combined.”

“Oh.” Chet digested this. “Guess you wouldn’t
have tried to seduce me when we were roommates.”

“Spare me. That’s such a stereotype. Among
other things, you’re the wrong gender—I’m heterosexual.”

“You’re... no, you can’t be. How would that
even work?” Chet frowned at him. This conversation couldn’t get any
weirder than if Oak had sprouted a second head. Something else was
distracting Chet. After a moment, he realized that the invisible
cords binding him to the Raptus—and the others—was stretching
farther than it ever had. It was starting to feel tight and
painful, but Chet couldn’t leave now.

“I like women when I’m a man, and vice
versa.”

“Yeah, I know what heterosexuality is. But
you can change your sex...”

“No more than once or twice a lifetime, if I
can help it.”

“Then why are you Flame?” Chet asked
plaintively. It seemed everyone had their own rules when it came to
this stuff. Why couldn’t the rules be consistent? It seemed each
Flame tailored her own identity to match their internal comfort
level, whatever that might be.

Oak looked out the window. “I like Pelin, and
I enjoy being alive. Flame live a long time, did you know? We can
clock up to a hundred and forty years if we’re lucky and plan well.
I plan well.”

Chet could see that. Oak was completing a
degree under punishing conditions for the sake of his future
career. Chet knew all about being singled out for an affiliation,
or lack thereof. Meantime, Oak had drawn his knees up to his chest
and was gazing out the window. He looked so sad and depressed that
Chet felt alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” he said. Despite everything,
it worried him to see a friend looking down.

“Just... thinking about planning. It doesn’t
always work out the way you’d hope. I was a teacher last time I
died, during the war. Soldiers tracked me and my students down.
I...” He gulped and stopped abruptly. “Some days, I regret having
to remember. It gets bad on snow days; that’s when I have a hard
time leaving this room. Rory brought me dinner, last time.”

“
Rory
knows about you?” Chet
whispered. Sirens were wailing in the distance through the open
window.

“She’s been very understanding.”

Chet opened his mouth, then shut it. Did Chet
believe his ex-girlfriend had known about Steve—Oak—without saying
something? Considering Rory hadn’t even told him about her ability
to give him
electric shocks
and
dive into
nothingness,
let alone wander about at midnight dressed in a
dark robe... well, yes, put it that way, and he could believe
it.

Rory had said something about being, “one of
us.” Which meant she was—what? A spy, like Knife? Abyss, how had he
overlooked that aspect of her life for so long? Chet found himself
wondering what would it might be like to date Rory for real. To
know her secrets, yet still love her and enjoy her company. He felt
like she was a book he’d tossed over his shoulder after reading a
few pages. There was so much more to Rory than he’d allowed himself
to understand.

Then there was Oak himself. Tears
non-withstanding, he seemed intensely vulnerable. Enemy soldiers in
the snow? Chet had endured many a war story from older, boorish
relatives, but he’d never spoken to someone who’d actually
died
during the war. Oak had died. He’d been dead, and
here Chet was being a jerk about it. Ste—Oak was a good friend,
Flame or not. Feeling awkward, Chet extended his hand and patted
Oak on the knee, keeping his distance more for Oak’s comfort than
his own. Oak blinked at him, coming out of whatever reverie he’d
fallen into.

“I’m sorry,” Chet said.

Oak smiled and put the wig back on. “Didn’t
mean to go all deep on you, there. I hope you don’t mind, but I
need to get back to studying. We can talk after you get back from
whatever you guys are doing with the Raptus. I hope it turns out
well for you. Tell me more when it’s all over, okay?”

That was the Steve Chet knew: good student
from head to foot. “Yeah, okay.” Chet stumbled out the door, not
sure what to feel.

This was insane. Everything Chet thought he’d
known about the world was a lie, yet... was it such a bad thing?
Chet inhaled as he walked back to the economy parking lot; the air
was redolent with the scent of pine trees and grasses warmed in the
sun. There were immense aspects of the world he’d never even
dreamed about. Knowledge of such things wouldn’t kill him. In fact,
it might even make him a better archaeologist. A better person in
general.

The invisible cord—which had grown looser the
farther he walked—started tightening again as soon as he turned
into the economy lot. He ignored the sound of sirens and kicked a
beer can up the road, concentrating on the weird feeling. Why was
the tightness still there? In fact, it was getting worse.

Oh, shit,
Chet thought as he walked
up to the silent, unoccupied rental car. He frowned. Where were
they? The cord was tightening even further... he blinked. A police
car with the siren wailing was coming closer at top speed, headed
for the archaeology quad. Chet gulped and began trotting in that
direction. The invisible cord loosened—the direction was apparently
correct.

Those had been real police, not campus
security.

Chet raced into the archaeology quad and
froze, uncertain where to turn. A group of police officers and
Professor Clementina were at the center of the courtyard. No, he
definitely didn’t want to see her. Chet turned to go back the way
he came. Maybe he could go through a backdoor, or use the
underground steam tunnels?

A deep, two-packs-a-day voice rang out across
the courtyard. “There! That’s one of them.”

Chet instinctively began to run. The
policemen tackled him to the ground before he’d even cleared the
quad. They were strong, and he yelped as they twisted his hands
behind his back. He was cuffed, the metal harsh and cold against
his skin. Shocked shivers ran through Chet’s body, making him feel
stupid. The cords had stopped feeling so tight, but what would
happen when Chet was driven away in a police car?

“Do you know this person, ma’am?”

Chet couldn’t see the police officer who’d
spoken, splayed on the ground as he was, but the guy sounded
properly respectful and intimidated. Like so many people who met
Clementina.

“This is Chet Baikson, an archeology student
who was working on the dig site. He and the others stole a valuable
relic, running away with it together. Over thirty of his fellow
students witnessed the act.”

The police hauled Chet to his feet and walked
him around to the back of the quad, where a two squad cars and the
campus security vehicle were waiting. No one else was there.

One officer muttered to the other, “Thought
we were looking for couple of Flame baddies, but this one’s just a
kid. He’s got student written all over him.”

As if to confirm the observation, the other
tugged at Chet’s hair.

“Ow,” Chet muttered, resentful and
frightened. Pantheon, the cords were really beginning to hurt,
again. One of their group was traveling too far away, and the link
was stretching, pulling him. Surely the person would stop... unless
they were being chased by police.

“Yep, just a kid, all right. Probably talked
into it by the fire perverts.” Despite their words, they opened the
back door of a police car and made Chet climb inside. The policeman
sighed. “You want to drive him back to the station, or should
I?”