The Book of Water (33 page)

Lealé motions them toward the sofas in the alcove and mimes eating. “Rest, children, and we’ll talk later,” she says in her Glory voice. “I must return to my duties.” She draws heavy, embroidered drapes across the archway and lets herself out between them. N’Doch can hear her unlocking the big double doors and exclaiming in full-blown Glory persona, “My goodness, what
is
all the fuss about?”

The reply is murmured and unintelligible.

“What did you think?” Glory comes back. “Of course I’m ready! Are the afternoon candidates assembled? I hope you remembered to . . .”

The thick wooden doors shut behind her. The big room is silent. N’Doch gets up to sneak a peek through the drapes, and feels the now familiar itch inside his head. He turns to reply out loud, but the apparition quickly raises a finger to its lips.

—
We’ll take no chances
.

N’Doch nods. It’ll be an effort, him not being real experienced at it, but he’s beginning to see real advantages in this
silent communication. As soon as he goes to the right place in his head, he feels the big guy’s presence there again and hears his rumbled greeting. He’s surprised how glad it makes him.

And now he guesses it’s safe to ask:

—
What’d you mean, your
other
brother?

—
Our brother Fire
.

—
And he’s, y’know, like you? A dragon?

—
Of course
.

Her voice in his head is irritated, and in front of him, the apparition frowns. But its gaze is oddly distant and N’Doch’s almost sure it’s frowning at the possibility of Fire and not at him at all.

—
And if Fire were to take a human form, it would likely be as Lealé has described
.

The girl’s voice chimes in, softer than her spoken voice.

—
Surely not, Mistress Water! A dragon works only for good!

—
Whatever gave you that idea? Brother, perhaps it’s time to relieve this child of some of her illusions
.

The girl looks dumbstruck, and Earth’s reply, when it comes, is humble.

—
I did not recall what our brother Fire was like until just now
.

—
We gotta go talk to this asshole, then!

N’Doch turns to the hidden archway, where the paneling had swung inward so readily at Lealé’s touch. He presses on the wall and nothing happens. He feels around a bit, searching for a seam or crack to tell him where the hinges are. Nothing.

“Damn!” he murmurs. He tries to picture exactly where Lealé placed her hand just before she vanished, and feels around some more. Still no luck. The apparition joins him but stands back after a while.

—
We will look very suspicious to anyone monitoring the surveillance system
.

N’Doch shakes his head. He’s beginning to understand why they need him around after all. He’s like their technical expert.

—
From what she said, I got the idea there was only sound sensors in this part of the room
.

—
That doesn’t seem very thorough
.

He wonders how much detail he’s gonna have to go into.

—
But look at all these big plush sofas and things . . . maybe the big bankroll himself wants a little privacy in here from time to time . . . you know what I mean?

The girl looks back at him blankly, but N’Doch feels Water’s knowing assent in a whole new corner of his mind, a place apart from where all four of them spoke together. He hopes the images that ran through his mind along with the thought of the bankroll on the sofas have stayed in that special corner as well. He figures they must have, or the girl would be blushing something fierce. What’s odd about all of this is he’s just recalled what Papa Djawara implied about Lealé preferring women. Maybe when he said her interests lay elsewhere, he meant she was hot for some other
guy
. Certainly now that he’s watched her operate, N’Doch’s inclined toward that explanation. He realizes now that Lealé’s a hard one to read. She’s like a whole lot of people rolled up into one.

—
So we can’t get back in there till Lealé tells us how. What’d you wanna do, then? You think she expects us to just hang around here?

N’Doch looks longingly at his plate still mostly full of food. He sees the girl has edged herself closer to her own plate in order to pick at it surreptitiously.

“You hungry, girl?” he asks aloud.

She nods, and N’Doch grins. It’s beginning to feel like she really is his baby sister. “Then, first things first, I say. Let’s eat.”

*   *   *

It’s just about the best meal N’Doch can ever remember. He tries not to stuff himself so much it’ll slow him down, but it’s hard. His reflex is to eat when the food’s at hand, ’cause it’ll likely be a while before you see it again, especially food like this—safe, fresh and delicious, with such a variety of tastes and textures all at once. He’s not used to being able to choose to eat
this
instead of
that
simply because
this
might taste better.

After a while, he looks up. The apparition is waiting none too patiently in front of a full plate.

“Eat up,” N’Doch advises. “You don’t get it much better than this.”

The kid makes a little Jéjé face, entirely out of sync with the voice in N’Doch’s head.

—
I can’t eat in this form. The parts aren’t all in the right place
.

N’Doch doesn’t know why, but it makes him laugh.

—
You mean, if I sliced you open right now, it’d be a real biological surprise?

—
Wouldn’t be a pretty sight
.

—
Kinda like it isn’t when you’re changing, huh?

—
Probably so
.

Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the sofa, struggling not to get lost in cushions too deep for his small body, the apparition’s really looking like his dead little brother. It makes N’Doch remember stuff he’d forgotten, moments of stupid kid-jokes, moments of shared conspiracy, the few moments they’d had to feel like brothers before Jéjé was gone. Moments sort of like this. He grins across the girl’s dark head, bowed over her plate.

—
Whadda ya say, think we oughta go exploring a little?

The apparition nods, and the girl looks up. She’s been listening in.

—
As soon as is possible, we must find some place for Earth to join us
.

She’s right, of course. N’Doch gives it some thought.

—
There’s a big garage out back
.

—
What about the park you and Mistress Lealé spoke of? Is there cover?

—
Not much. Besides, I got a weird feeling about that place
.

The apparition hops to its feet.

—
Let’s go take a look
.

The girl’s been eating slowly. N’Doch waves at her to keep at it.

—
You stick close and hold the fort, case Lealé comes back
.

Her eyes widen in protest.

—
She won’t expect you to talk to her or anything. Just keep an eye on her, y’know? Follow her around like you’re glad for another woman’s company
.

He thinks it’s a pretty clever ruse, but the girl nods so pensively that N’Doch suspects he’s touched a true nerve. It makes him wonder about her a little. Like, maybe she’s
got a mother somewhere worrying about where she is, like his mother worried about all her sons, and lost them anyway, all except him. What would it do to poor Fâtime, so worn and numbed by loss, to see the spitting image of her youngest standing right in front of her the way the apparition’s there in front of him now, ready for an adventure? He thinks it might just finish her off.

He jerks his head at the kid gruffly, the way older brothers get to do, and lifts his hand to the girl.

—
You can always just pretend you’re asleep. And if you need us, just give a yell. We’ll come running
.

She nods. She doesn’t look all that worried, actually. She knows, as he does, that she can monitor them every step of the way through the big guy.

N’Doch turns and parts the concealing draperies with a finger. He surveys the outer room, counting a camera port in every corner.

—
No way we’re gonna get outa here without them seeing. Better just look like we know where we’re going. I’ll go first, see if I set off any alarms
.

He pushes through the heavy curtains and wanders across the room to the food table. It’s all still there, laid out like a gang leader’s funeral supper. Though he’d been sure he couldn’t possibly cram in another bite, N’Doch finds a few things he hasn’t tried and starts nibbling. It’s a good enough cover, and so far, he’s heard no bells or sirens, no Jean-Pierre flapping down the hallway, screeching like some big white bird. Course, all the most expensive systems give silent alarms: some bright red readout below a bank of sleek monitors in an office somewhere full of fast guys with guns.

The apparition joins him and pretends to pick at the food for a while. Neither of them have any trouble producing the right body language of two bored young men tired of being cooped up inside.

—
You ready, bro?

The apparition grins at him. As one, they turn and head for the door.

I
t was odd, Erde thought, the lassitude that came over her when she was left alone in the alcove, enclosed by its thick draperies and its strange furniture, as softly cushioned as a feather bed. The cool air smelled faintly of perfume, and the light was dim and golden, like a dying fire but as miraculously steady as the sun’s own light. This, she supposed, was Master Djawara’s “electricity”, which she had not yet seen close up. The lanterns that made it were tall and thin, like brass bells turned upside down on the top of pike poles, and did not flicker. For the first time since arriving in this world of 2013, she was not hot and sweaty, she was not uncomfortable or dirty, and she was not hungry. She thought perhaps she should be a bit more nervous than she was about being left on her own in a strange house, but the rich food and the sudden comfort were making her irresistibly drowsy.

—
Dragon, I need to sleep a little. Will you watch over me and wake me up within the hour?

—
I will, as best I can from such a distance
.

—
Not so far, really, and they will find a place here for you soon
.

—
I am eager for that
.

—
As am I, dear Dragon
.

Erde settled herself into the deepest cushions, in the farthest corner. Perhaps if someone looked in here, they wouldn’t even notice her. Her last thought, swimming up through the layers of drowse just as she fell asleep, was: I hope I don’t dream.

But of course she did.

*   *   *

She thought she woke in darkness, but then the darkness showed a dim light through a crack across from her bed. A lantern in the outer room, she decided sleepily.

—
For shame, Dragon! You’ve let me sleep far too long
.

She yawned and stretched, awaiting his reply, his expected excuses about how badly she needed her sleep. But the dragon’s answer did not come. Then she realized that, stretching, she could not feel her body. She tried to sit up and had no awareness of limbs. No sensation at all except a creeping dread. She was not awake. She was dreaming, and the air in the room was damp and chill, and full of the snap and groan of wind among tent ropes.

She watched the lighted crack, her only anchor in the blackness, and understood she was looking through a slit between lowered tent flaps. Outside, the light dipped and flared in the breeze. Torches, then. One at least. And no other sound but the wind.

Suddenly, as if she’d arrived in this dream just at its moment of crisis, she heard the soft thud of running feet, feet trying not to make noise, encumbered by the weight and rattle of weapons and armor.

She heard a frightened voice cry, “Halt!” and heard it just as quickly hushed, followed by a hurried conference, low and urgent.

The tent flap was snatched aside.

“My lord!” A half-dressed squire, painfully young, stood in the opening. “My lord baron! Are you awake?”

“What? Yes!” growled a voice so close to Erde’s side that the shock alone nearly woke her up, a voice shaking off sleep like a dog shakes off water. “Yes, fool, I’m awake. What is it?”

The boy hissed to the man behind him, then took a torch from him and stepped aside. A tall and burly soldier stooped into the tent and went down on one knee. The torch at the opening lit his mud-spattered face and heaving chest, and the grim rage in his eyes.

“Wender. What . . . ?” The man on the cot came up warily on one arm. The edge of the torchlight touched the rough gold of his beard, and Erde could confirm what she already anticipated: Adolphus of Köthen.