Pathspace
Page 51
Chapter 51
Lester: “but only of proper sowing”
It was almost annoying when someone came to visit him again. He'd gotten quite distracted with his new ability to see through walls. One thing he discovered right away was that he could warm up his cell. Evidently the prison had only one floor above ground, because when he wove the pathspace to make his ceiling transparent, sunlight flooded in, bringing warmth in with it.
Once, when his meal was brought (and he did notice right away that the standard fare was less savory than what they brought the Honcho when he dined with him) he was nearly caught by surprise, because at the time he was gazing up at the clouds. The rattle of the key in the door jarred him out of this contemplation and he barely un-wove the ceiling transparency pathspace in time before the guard got the door open.
This time he was looking through the door, however, so he had plenty of time to make it opaque again before it swung open. The identity of the visitor surprised him.
“You really should work more on looking haggard,” Jeffrey told him. “It's a prison. You're not supposed to be cheerful.”
“And hello to you too. How is Commander Glock doing? Is he recovered enough from his bang on the head for me to kill him now?”
Jeffrey grimaced. “He's up and about. How did you learn his name? I'm not sure you understand the gravity of your situation.”
“I asked a guard. Gravity? Weird way to describe it. I feel my normal weight.” He hopped experimentally, then sat on his cot. “Sorry, I'm just jerking you around. I realize I'm not in a good place. But what can I do about it?”
“Good question. I'm glad you asked that. You know, it's a shame we met the way we did. You seem, a decent fellow, and under other circumstances we might have been friends.”
“I know what you mean. Compared to Brutus, you don't seem so bad yourself.”
Again Jeffrey grimaced. “Compared to him, a rattlesnake isn't bad. It might kill you, but it wouldn't enjoy it. But my father thinks Brutus is a necessary evil.”
“Well then sorry, but I disagree with your father, although he didn't seem too bad when he came to visit me.”
“So do I. There are many things we disagree on. For example, your situation. I'm sorry to tell you this, but it's worse than you might think. The Church wants us to hand you over to them for a public execution.”
Lester scratched his stubble. “I see. And does the Honcho usually do what the Church wants? Too much of that would make him look weak.”
“That's what I think. But he considers them useful, and they have something he really wants. If the only way he can get it is by handing you over, he'll talk himself into it soon enough.”
“Again, I don't see that I can do anything about that.”
Jeffrey pulled something out of a vest pocket and handed it to him. It was a short metal tube, less than an inch in diameter and only four inches long.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“I couldn't bring you anything longer, because you might try to club one of the guard with it. But it might still save your life.”
“I don't see how. Am I supposed to beat it into a key or something? Then you should have brought an even smaller one.”
“Let's get something straight,” Jeffrey told him. “My father doesn't see you as dangerous because you're only an apprentice. But that also means you're not very valuable. He'll trade you for more valuable things if he feels he has to. Then the Church will burn you at the stake. Your only hope of survival is to show him you can be more valuable to him alive.”
“How?”
“Can you make this a swizzle? He needs swizzles, but the Church won't let him have the ones they've confiscated unless he hands you over.”
Lester turned the metal tube over in his hands. “If you'd asked me a week ago, I would have said probably not. Maybe I can now. But why does he need swizzles? I thought he wanted to rebuild the world without alien technology.”
“He does. But in the short term he needs pumps more powerful than hand pumps, and that means swizzles. If you can make them he doesn't have to trade you for them.”
“I get it,” said Lester. “This is a demo. What makes you think I want to be helpful to your father?”
“Let me put it this way. Do you want to be firewood? Sorry, but those are the choices.”
“I'll get back to you on that,” said Lester. “Let me see what I can manage.”