The Cauldron (17 page)

Chapter 28

Shipkeeper

Melusine rested while the shipkeeper paced, the fluttering hem of his robe a susurrus in the otherwise dead air. He’d mentally dissected all of Melusine’s reports on the entity who might or might not be Delphoros. He’d meticulously noted each snippet and replayed it again until everything blurred. His thoughts whirred with dread and possibilities.

The one who Melusine investigated was old, having lived many lives, more than Delphoros could have—Melusine and navigator and himself all agreed on that point. Three hundred, four hundred or a little more … hadn’t that been the number of years Delphoros had been absent from their home world? No. One hundred and fifty. Delphoros had been absent from Elthor for one hundred and fifty years.

Melusine’s quarry apparently had lived at least more than a thousand years. So that quarry could not possibly be Delphoros.

Not if their information on Delphoros was correct.

Puzzling.

Or, more to the point, not if shipkeeper’s memory of that information was correct. Had their travels through
otherspace
rattled his mind? All of their minds? Had he lost decades, not days, during their travels? Time could be distorted in
otherspace
. Had they lost track of years?

Lost track of centuries?

Shipkeeper rubbed at his forehead and quickened his tread, his path taking him around navigator’s tank and then to the liaison.

What if his memory did not serve correctly?

What if the things he held true were indeed true, but the time in which he held the facts was muddled and played some horrid trick?

Could, indeed, his conception of the years be wrong? Could the one who Melusine focused on truly be Delphoros? Their target? Their reason for traversing
otherspace
to reach this retched watery globe?

And if it was Delphoros, shipkeeper knew that he no longer correctly gauged the passage of time. It wasn’t the passing of more than a century. It was the passing of nearly a dozen centuries.

Bring Delphoros home, that was the order.

Delphoros was needed, an essential component to keeping alive their ability to traverse
otherspace
. Bring him home so he could be used, studied, so his presence might breed others with his ability.

Bring Delphoros home.

But if hundreds upon hundreds of years had fled by unaccounted for, more than a thousand years perhaps, would “home” still need Delphoros? Had those in charge nurtured other navigators to render Delphoros’s presence moot? Did “home” still exist?

A shiver raced through shipkeeper and he rubbed his head harder, the self-inflicted pain competing with an incessant throbbing at his temples. He thrust away the ugliest of the possibilities.

Yes, home was still there, he decided. And whoever was in power still wanted Delphoros.

But should they have him?

The one that Melusine watched—the Bright One—worried shipkeeper to the point of vexing his very being. That one was so old and powerful.

Too powerful.

Even if the entity was Delphoros … their target … their very reason for being here … he was too powerful to even consider bringing home.

The world below had a violent history, years peppered with bombs that had ripped cities off the map.

Shipkeeper sensed that the Bright One had that measure of power coursing through him.

So much power. The concept at the same time awed and chilled shipkeeper.

“Too much,” he whispered, fingers reaching tentatively toward the liaison.

Beyond his orders, shipkeeper felt that he had a responsibility to his race—to keep that overly powerful entity instead
away
from the home world and thereby prevent cities from being ripped off the face of their planet. Too, there was the risk the Alzur ship would gain Delphoros, either snaring him from the planet below or raiding this very ship after Melusine had caught him.

The shipkeeper could simply report back that Delphoros was not found.

So Delphoros had to die to keep the home world safe and so he would not fall into the clutches of the Alzur.

Besides, did Elthor really need more than the one navigator working on this ship? More navigators would mean more shipkeepers. Right now, the shipkeeper believed he was the only one. A rare flower, treasured, important. If there were others, he would not blossom so beautifully.

Tendrils of the augmentor caught shipkeeper’s fingers and tugged him closer.

Melusine was resting and would be oblivious. She would not know that shipkeeper used the augmentor to visit Earth by merging with someone below.

Shipkeeper knew that she would not go along with his plan to end Delphoros’s life. It was not in her nature to go against orders, nor in her nature to kill. Therefore it was shipkeeper’s responsibility to snuff out this power, secretly, to be the savior of his people and perhaps thereby at the same time be the savior of the alien world below. To remain the one rare flower in Elthor’s garden.

The tendrils drew his mind in and down.

Shipkeeper had used the augmentor before, in his role he had to be familiar with all aspects of the ship, including this. He was in charge of the entire ship’s operation and could fill in as needed, save for dipping into the navigator’s tank. He certainly was not as proficient as Melusine with the augmentor, clumsy compared to her, a veritable novice by her standards. But he knew enough.

Shipkeeper felt himself spiral down a tunnel, shadowy shapes twisting past his mind’s eye, reaching for him even as he reached for the woman Melusine frequently had been merging with.

What was she called?

They all had such varied, interesting, multiple names below.

Jerrah.

That was it. After a few moments shipkeeper felt his consciousness settle into the woman’s form. It was a jarring sensation, like his skin was being prickled all over by the needles of a sticky plant.

He fought the urge to retreat while at the same time the woman fought his intrusion. But her mind was not as strong as his. An inferior race, shipkeeper judged. No wonder Melusine had such an effortless time merging with them.

“Delphoros.” Shipkeeper tried out the woman’s voice and found it melodic.

Melusine had discovered that this woman was an easy target on one of her first forays here, and when she’d made the connection she forced this woman to travel onto a … shipkeeper searched for the term … Greyhound bus … to get closer to the Bright One. Melusine periodically had visited Jerrah again to keep her close to the Bright One—Carl, he called himself. The Jerrah creature didn’t understand why she dogged this man, and Melusine had been careful not to impart that information. The Jerrah creature worried that she was going mad. Perhaps the woman would indeed lose her sanity before this was all concluded. A small price, shipkeeper knew, and an insignificant casualty.

Shipkeeper pushed Jerrah’s thoughts aside and looked out through her eyes. “Delphoros,” he repeated. “Where is the Bright One?” He took a step forward, testing his host’s legs. “Carl!” he hollered. “Are you here, Carl?”

No answer. Shipkeeper stretched a foot forward again, and then another, nearly falling as he worked to get used to this body. He bent at the knees, stretched his arms out, and rolled his shoulders. The body was reasonably fit. He took a deep breath and inhaled again before releasing it.

The air was so different here than his home world. No better, but different. Here it was tinged with the scent of wood, a hint of mustiness, and the odor of hated water. He turned the body so he could look out the window at the lake, then he bent over again and emptied the contents of Jerrah’s stomach on the floor, trembling at the expanse of the lake.

The shipkeeper focused on the importance of his task, steadied the borrowed form, and spun to face the wall, keeping the water out of sight. He forced his mind—and in response this body—to relax. He was not in the water, and neither would he be going in the water. He was safe.

The colors of the place pleased him, more varied and bright than the muted sameness of the ship. From her mind he gleaned labels for the hues, finding the words curious and trying them out on Jerrah’s tongue. He decided he liked green the best. He reached forward and felt the upholstery of the couch, running his fingers over the nap and delighting in the threadbare spots. Next he glossed over the varnished wood paneling, then the weathered feel of the door frames. The shipkeeper suppressed his childlike wonder and forced himself to regard the place stoically. He would view his surroundings as simply a box that contained objects, the colors and textures unimportant. He thrust his borrowed hands inside his pockets to avoid the temptation of touching more things.

He knew this body he controlled was not as large as Carl’s, and so simply physically overpowering the target would not be possible. But there were tools, knives, and heavy things that could bludgeon Carl unto death. Anything shipkeeper decided to employ would require the element of surprise; if Carl—the Bright One—was alerted, he would escape through
otherspace
.

Shipkeeper could not allow the entity to escape.

That’s why he would try to avoid using the ship’s weapon. Delphoros was powerful, and perhaps he could sense the disturbance in space that powering the weapon created. Delphoros must have no warning!

He looked into the small rooms—two bed chambers and a bathroom that smelled of a flowery astringent cleaner. He stared for long moments into the mirror before returning to what passed for the kitchen.

Carl/Delphoros clearly was elsewhere.

The lodge, Jerrah’s thoughts revealed with more pressing. Carl was no doubt with his elderly wife in the lodge or in her rooms above it. The shipkeeper probed deeper into Jerrah’s thoughts to understand the terms and implications. The shipkeeper knew Melusine used more finesse when manipulating borrowed bodies, there was more art than violation in her practice. But the shipkeeper had neither the time nor the skills to be delicate.

Melusine …

Shipkeeper abruptly withdrew from Jerrah and pulled back from the augmentor, checking to make sure that Melusine still rested. She did, soundly. Then he returned to Jerrah … to find that in the brief moment she’d been freed of his control she had dashed outside the cabin.

Shipkeeper slammed hard into her mind and rested control of the body, returning her to inside the cabin where he could more thoroughly investigate. He registered an assortment of knives in a drawer. He could use these. Rummaging through Jerrah’s satchel he discovered vials of pills, which he crushed up using a bowl and large spoon. He poured the powder into an opened container of liquid in the small refrigerator; perhaps Carl would drink it and succumb to a dose of medicine lethal enough to do the job. Jerrah’s mind had told him pills could be dangerous. The shipkeeper planted a suggestion that Jerrah stay away from what she called “juice.”

He investigated the bedchamber that clearly was Carl’s; the other had Jerrah’s scent about it. Here he placed a knife under the mattress, another under a small chest, one under the bed. The smallest he put in Jerrah’s back pocket, surprisingly discovering one already there and tucking her shirt over the handles.

Any of these knives could slit Carl’s throat. Keep it simple, he thought, nothing that might alert the Bright One.

The shipkeeper understood the principles of these beings’ vehicles and suspected he’d have little trouble operating one. They would be infantile compared to the workings of the ship. If needed, he could run Carl over with one, though again surprise would be needed to keep the entity from fleeing into
otherspace
. Simple ways to kill a powerful man, the shipkeeper mused. Simple, primitive, likely more effective than something elaborate or of Elthoran make. Use nothing that could give him advance warning.

Satisfied he knew every inch of the cabin, the shipkeeper delved into every corner of Jerrah’s mind, capturing image after image of Carl and collecting all of her impressions and interactions with him. Melusine’s reports had been thorough, but shipkeeper wanted to be certain that she’d left nothing out.

“Delphoros.” The word was a curse on his borrowed tongue. “Delphoros or whoever you are, you will die very soon. To keep my world safe and to keep you from Alzur, you will cease to exist.”
And to keep me in power.

The shipkeeper breathed deeply through Jerrah’s lungs and strode surely to the door, opened it, and stepped outside, turning the woman’s head to avoid looking at the lake. The scent of the water was much stronger out here, and it almost made him retch again. He felt for the knives in his pocket. He wouldn’t wait for Carl/the Bright One/ to return to the cabin. He would go to the entity. Though in truth it would be easiest to dispatch the target while it slept in the dingy bedchamber, the shipkeeper was impatient. He would take Jerrah’s body to this lodge and …

The shipkeeper leaped out of Jerrah’s mind, and inside the ship he pulled back from the augmentor, the sudden extraction dizzying him. He staggered away and caught himself against the navigator’s tank.

Melusine was rousing from her rest.

The shipkeeper would have to delve into Jerrah later. At least he had made preparations for Delporos’ simple but effective death.

***

Chapter 29

Carl Johnson

Jerrah rocked back on the balls of her feet, hands clenching and unclenching, knuckles white. Her usual stoic mask had been replaced by a grimace.

“Whoa,” Carl started. He was surprised to see her show so much emotion. “What’s going on that—”

“I tried to leave,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Well, not tried. I did leave … while you were chatting up Ellen. While you were out of this stinking cabin. I really booked. I got out to the road, was looking at the highway, was thinking it’d be great if some guy came cruising by and would give me a lift. Save the soles of my shoes, get me out of here. Get me the hell out of here.”

Carl spotted her backpack on the floor in front of the couch. He opened his mouth to say something, and then thought better of it. He waited, listening to the call of a loon on the night-black lake and Jerrah’s huffing breath.

Ooooh-weee-oooh oooh oooh oooh, the bird repeated musically. Ooooh-weee-oooh.

Finally, Jerrah continued. “So … I left. I really did hoof it out of here. I left you and this stinking little resort. But—” She glared at him. “Obviously, I came back.” She tapped her foot now, the impatient gesture a signal he should reply. When he didn’t, she dropped her gaze to the tips of her shoes. “
It
made me come back.”

Carl swallowed hard. “It?”

“Yeah, ‘it.’ And don’t tell me I’m nuts.”

Carl thought she well could be, but who was he to be judgmental. Not when he thought he’d been married … maybe still was married … to Ellen at this resort. And especially not when he thought he might have lived through World War I. He could well have the corner on “nuts.”

“It? What’s ‘it?’”

She mumbled something he couldn’t make out.

“What?”

“Dunno. I said I don’t know what ‘it’ is … or who ‘it’ is.” She slapped the side of her head and resumed clenching and unclenching her fists. “But ‘it’ gets inside my head.”

“And is ‘it’ there—”

“Now? No. ‘It’ isn’t inside at the moment. Not that I can tell for certain anyway. But ‘it’ has been coming and going all day. Something or someone coming and going and making me do things. Probably coming and going for more than a few days. I’d just never noticed it before.”

“Do things? Like—” Carl took a step forward, but she waved him off. He kept his distance and stuck his hands in his pockets to appear non-threatening.

“Like making me take the bus to Morgantown for starters. Like making me find you and then dog you. Like not letting me leave this fusty-hole-in-the-wall rattrap with its elderly caretaker that you might be married to. Stuff like that.”

Carl silently regarded her, a dozen questions forming that he kept bottled up. He hoped she’d get to answering some of them without his prodding.

“Look, Carl … or John … or whatever the hell your name is. I figured there was something about you that made me follow you back in town. I halfway suspected you’d hypnotized me or something.” She tipped her face up, her eyes daggers boring into his. “Only I know for certain you had nothing to do with any of that. It was … it was the ‘it,’ the whatever that jumps into my brain and decides to take a turn steering me someplace. Only this last time when ‘it’ came to visit, it got sloppy and left shit behind.”

Carl looked away, finding her stare uncomfortable. He waited, and after a few more moments, she started up again.

“Like a bird leaves droppings on a sidewalk, you know? It left stuff in my head. Little droppings, little pieces. Not enough so I could make sense of everything. But it left shit behind. Maybe on purpose. Maybe by accident. I think it just got sloppy. The whole thing felt so rushed, zooming into and out of my head. In any event, Carl-my-friend … well … the droppings aren’t good news.”

“Jerrah—”

“You see, this thing … this ‘it,’ this presence or whatever….” She sucked in a great breath and held it until Carl feared she might pass out. She released it in one ‘whoosh.’ “This thing, whatever it is … whatever you want to call it, is trying to find out if you’re human. Really human.”

“Jerrah, that’s scary. I—”

“Scary?” She drew in her lower lip, appearing to Carl like a petulant child. “Scared? Good word. Yeah, I think this thing is frightened of you. Scared to death.”

“Jerrah—”

She cut him off again with a glare.

“Scared shitless, Carl. If it decides that you’re not human, it’s going to kill you.”

Carl felt the color drain from his face.

“Actually, it’s going to have me kill you.”

Carl felt the pent-up questions dissolve.

“Don’t ask me how I know. I don’t know … I just … I just can tell, that’s all. It made me put a knife in my pocket. See?” She pulled out one of the knives and dangled it by the handle, like it was a dead rat that offended her. She let it drop to the floor. “So the ‘it’ isn’t friendly.”

“I don’t know what to say, Jerrah.”

“How about tell me whether you’re human. You are human, aren’t you?”

“Jerrah—”

“And tell me I’m not nuts.”

“Jerrah—”

“Don’t. Just don’t say anything, Carl-my-friend. Just lock your bedroom door tonight. ’Cause, who knows? ‘It’ might pay me another visit.”

He nearly offered to give her a ride into Morgantown to see if there was a Greyhound bus leaving tonight or early in the morning. He’d buy her a ticket back home. But as soon as the notion rose, he stuffed it back down. If Jerrah was nuts, she needed help, not a bus ticket. And if she wasn’t nuts, he needed to keep a close eye on her … for her sake and his.

He headed toward his bedroom and wrapped his fingers around the knob. “I’m human, Jerrah,” he said. Though as the words tumbled out, he wondered if they were true. How could he be human and be here … looking as he did … and yet be Ellen’s husband? If he fought in World War I, like his dream suggested, and panned for gold, and worked in a circus, and escaped a witch trial in Salem, and done all the other things that felt so real … how could he have lived all those lives and be human?

“Are you, Carl?” Jerrah asked. “Are you really human?”

***