by Gin Hollan
"Anyway, I had a maid let me in." She stuck a key out Sam's direction and held her hand out for the other one. "Good luck sleeping. I'm sure he snores. We're going down for supper soon?"
“Yes,” Arabeth frowned. "I'm sure the maid didn't just let you in," Arabeth said, shutting the door as Sam left.
"Well, not straightaway. She did have to confirm." She dropped onto one of the two beds, bouncing to test it. "They're soft. Really soft. And they smell good. I may be able to sleep, after all."
"I'm looking forward to a proper shower," Arabeth said, going to check the bathing room.
"Can we shop? I know you'll run out of money soon, but I really need new socks and so forth." She fiddled with her shirt. "I smell horrifying. I'm glad they provide soap—I'm showering with my clothes, so I can clean them, but I think this shirt needs an overnight soak."
"Want a surprise?" Arabeth walked out of the bathing room holding up a soft, fluffy housecoat and a cloth bag. "We can send our clothes out for cleaning. If we stick them in this bag tonight, they'll be cleaned and waiting on the door by morning."
"I love hotels!" Melanie nearly yelled as she jumped up to grab the housecoat. "Can we get food at night, too?"
"I'm sure it's possible, but let's not," Arabeth said as she walked back to have her shower. Locking the door to the bathing room behind her, she felt at peace for the first time in days. It wouldn't last, but she had this moment. She was glad for that.
As she pondered their situation, a growing sense of unease filled her. It all boiled back to Sebastian, still. He was the one who’d said she should look to the king if she wanted to catch the person responsible for attacking Blastborn. He was the reason Heather and Mabel had disappeared without a word.
How had he known their full names, background, and their current location? They hadn't shared more than first names at the gypsy camp. And he had stolen her listening device. What was the point of that, if he already had an effective method in place? Had he sent her off after the king as a decoy?
Finished her shower, Arabeth hurried to get ready for dinner but putting on dirty clothes felt counterproductive. She shrugged them on anyway and straightened herself out as best she could. Dinner. A hot plate of something made to order sounded like heaven, even if she wore rags.
They'd have to find a place that understood the nature of travel. Hopefully they had roast fowl. And some mixed sweet vegetables. She caught herself thinking a moment too long about food and laughed.
"Ready?" she asked Melanie.
Melanie just nodded, her eyes on something in the unseen distance, beyond the walls. That was odd.
"What's going on, Mel?"
"Nothing.... I mean, I hope not."
"Talk," Arabeth said, sitting in a nearby chair.
"I don't want to worry you."
"You already are, so tell me what's going on."
"It's fine. I was just thinking, but it's nothing serious. Certainly nothing impending."
"Not yet, you mean."
"Right. Not yet. Let's not spoil our dinner."
Arabeth smiled, but it felt weak. If Melanie's thoughts were based on periphery information stored in her subconscious, they should pay attention. But later, after dinner.
The ladies went into the hall and knocked on Sam and Graham's door, although they had adjoining rooms and could have easily all left from one room. Was that another moral slip this culture had made, or was it coincidence? Arabeth chose coincidence.
The door opened, with Graham standing on the other side. He and Sam strode out into the hall to join the women.
"We should try the hotel restaurant," Graham said.
"They'll be used to travellers. They might not even view us as completely grubby," Melanie added.
"Did the clerk give you a coupon or something to say that?" Sam laughed.
They walked to the swing lift but Arabeth hesitated at the entrance. How often were these used? Melanie had been right when she said a person couldn't have a problem with heights and live in this place. Sitting on it as it rose was one thing, but this time they'd be going down four stories—and it would feel a little like falling, like a controlled crash.
"Prefer the stairs?" Sam asked.
"Well, no. It's just.... We're putting a lot of faith in these."
"No different than a lift, except it's only lowering your weight, not an entire carriage," Sam said.
"And you can look down to see how far and fast you go," Melanie added with a chuckle.
Sighing, Arabeth stepped into the loading area and sat down. She didn't typically think of herself as the cautious one, but this trip was making her second-guess that. Melanie, who usually second-guessed everything and hesitated constantly, now acted quite the opposite.
"When you're already in the pond, you should swim," Arabeth said.
"Right, that's the spirit!" Melanie smiled.
// Chapter 18 //
THEY SAT AT a comfortably sized round table examining the menu when a young man walked up and sat with them.
"This is probably rude, but we need to talk," he said, waving to a waiter for another menu.
"You're dressed as a friar," Melanie said.
"Observant." Graham rolled his eyes.
“What can we do for you?" Arabeth asked, not letting the friar’s sudden approach put her off.
"I'm here to help you."
"Really? How much will it cost us?" Sam said.
The youth blinked a few times, then smiled. "Well, nothing. Friars don't get paid. You can send a donation, but you don't give me anything."
"And how do we know this isn't a charade?" Graham continued.
Their waiter came over and set a bowl of bread sticks in the middle of the table to politely get their attention.
"Would you like to order now?" he asked.
The friar added a bowl of chicken soup to their bill and munched on some bread sticks as he waited for their attention. He was pretty skinny, Arabeth realized. Thick dark brown curly hair, bright green eyes, a ready smile, and a friar's robe couldn't hide that. He seemed healthy, though.
All eyes turned to the kid again as the waiter walked away.
"Right—as I was saying, I can help you. All I ask is that you let me travel with you a while. I can't say why I feel compelled to do this, but there it is."
"Can't say?" Sam asked.
"I don't have the words to explain," he said. "I think it's a God thing. I'm still new to the friary."
Graham smirked but didn't say anything. Arabeth, however, wasn't about to discount matters of faith. The young friar was on their side. That counted as good, so far.
"We're not going to be interesting. We're just headed home." Arabeth shook her head, wondering if this kid was what had set off her feeling of foreboding.
"That's fine. I like travel."
"What's to prove you're not a thief in friar's clothing?" Sam asked. He didn't seem suspicious.
"I ... uh, well ... I guess nothing. I've never been out in these clothes, so no one can tell you it's my new normal. But I'm no thief. I mean, I was. That's how I wound up in friar's garb. I'm not a thief now."
"How old are you, kid?" Melanie asked, munching on a bread stick. “What's your name?”
"Kennen, and I'm seventeen. And a half."
"So, why help us, Kennen with no last name?” Arabeth smiled, not quite sure what to think of the interloper.
"I told you, it's a God thing." His soup arrived, distracting him. A moment passed, then another as he busily worked on the large bowl.
"And...?" Melanie prompted.
"Oh, and I overheard some of the monks talking about you and how pathetic your situation is."
"That's relevant. Why didn't you start with that?" Sam said.
"Well, you really wouldn't have believed me then." His frown deepened.
"What is less believable than a ‘God thing,’ as you call it?" Arabeth said, oddly patient with his faith-based explanation.
"The toxic crystals you h
ad—do you still have them?" he asked.
"Sure, they're stored until we leave," Arabeth said.
"Once they're cleared up again, they can be used to hear things far away."
Like Arabeth's listening device, she realized. Why would Sebastian take her device, then? Was he afraid she would use it against him, or was it as much a mystery to him as the crystals were to her?
"This is about Sebastian again, isn't it?" she asked.
"I am getting sick of that name," Sam grumbled.
"No, not really. He wants us reporting everything we do because he donates, but I’d rather be stuffed in a crate and sent to Anataka. That man gives me the creeps," Kennen said.
"Back to the crystals," Melanie said, leaning forward. "What do you mean, they can listen? What's the range on them?"
Arabeth suddenly reached into her pocket, feeling for the crystal she had tucked away. It was still there. Was it a transmitter of some kind? Were they being listened to using that?
"I'm not sure. Pretty far. Once they're set up in a pattern, sound starts to resonate between them when the distant crystal feels voice vibrations. In essence, the field crystals relay that voice."
"The field behind the castle seemed pretty organized," Melanie said.
"And sections did seem to follow patterns," Arabeth agreed. "But why didn't we hear anything?"
"Sebastian may have taken the key crystal out while you were there," Kennen suggested.
"What's that, and why do you know so much about this?" Graham asked.
"There's only so much to do at the friary. Reading passes the time."
"You didn't happen to bring one of those books, did you?" Arabeth felt her hopes rising.
"No, most crystal chatter is experimental. I'm not even sure how I got that book. It was just there, on my bed one day."
"Seems convenient, right?" Sam said.
"Too right," Melanie agreed.
Arabeth considered the crystal in her pocket. Had she interrupted a pattern when she took it? Who was Sebastian using that field to listen in on? She would have to be an idiot to think he would let her freely walk around, opening up secret channels and finding out who he was eavesdropping on. She'd have to drop this crystal in a box too. Maybe something padded, so the vibrations around it seemed minimal.
"You're deep in thought," Sam said to her.
"Other crystals transmit, and the fields listen.” Arabeth paused long enough to chew a bite off one of the bread sticks. “Is it the whole field that listens, or just a specific group within the field? My most recent project was a listening device." Were the emotions and impressions she got when touching a crystal a simple transmission echo of sorts?
"Ah! Just as I suspected. You were making those for your mother," Graham said, grinning.
“I guess eavesdropping is old news here. I should work on some form of interference technology instead," she said.
"That wouldn't be difficult. All you need is something that generates enough feedback that eavesdroppers would get an earful of static or noise," Kennen said, his mouth half-full again.
"Wouldn't that be dependent on knowing the frequency?" Melanie asked. "And it would need to be ... non-organic, predictable, with on and off switches."
Arabeth looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Melanie?"
"I worked at one of the radio broadcast stations for a short time, remember? Apparently I ask too many questions." She scowled, took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. "If anybody knows how to generate static, it would be me. At least, that's what my boss would say."
"And you thought having all those jobs was a detriment." Arabeth chuckled. "We'll have to talk later."
She was going to have a nice, long chat with this friar. Simply adding him to the conversation brought new insight, it seemed. He might even be able to help her figure out what the king of Vensay was up to. Suddenly she wanted to know everything there was to know about using these crystals for communication.
“I can see the wheels turning, Arabeth. What are you planning?” Sam asked.
“Graham needs to go home, and anyone else who wants to. Kennen, are you familiar with this city? Is there an underground transport anywhere?" She smiled, but didn't look at him directly. She didn't want to intimidate him. She wanted open, honest conversation.
"Yes, ma'am. Although there are some here who would recognize me, and of them, some who might not take kindly to my being here,” Kennen said.
“Wait. If you're not going home, neither are we,” Melanie said.
“I am,” Graham muttered.
Arabeth ignored Melanie's declaration.
"It seems our paths were indeed meant to cross, Kennen." Arabeth paused as their dinners arrived, catching the server’s attention. "This young man needs to order a proper dinner."
"Yes, ma'am," the server said, turning to look at Kennen.
The sudden flurry of people calling her ‘ma'am’ was a little off-putting, but Arabeth shrugged it off. It was appropriate, even if it did make her feel a little old.
The young friar didn't hesitate. "I've been wanting one of their hot beef dip sandwiches for months now, if that's all right with you." He looked at Arabeth.
She nodded. Simple tastes. That was a good sign. Arabeth found herself distracted by the small plate of aromatic beets sitting as a side dish. They smelled divine. Ignoring the general conversation, she was content to let the others chat.
As they finished their meal, both Graham and Melanie begged off, saying they just wanted to sit in their rooms and relax. Arabeth suspected they'd last ten minutes before curiosity got the better of them, but just smiled.
"Remember how to find the hotel," she winked.
"Oh, that's easy," Kennen said. "Ask the clerk for a location tag. The downside is that you can be tracked too. But at least you won't get lost."
Arabeth's head whipped around, and she stared at him.
"Sorry, did I say something wrong?" He sat back.
"No, but...." Melanie paused. "Arabeth has been working on that technology for a few years now."
"Ah, well, I'm sure there are differences." He shrugged.
"It raises a question or three, though, doesn't it?" Graham mused.
Arabeth looked at him and nodded, suddenly feeling a lot less brilliant. Unless there were crystals around, hearing her discuss inventions, how could there be such a strong coincidence? But that was crazy. How would someone know who to listen to or where to put them?
"Well, you came up with yours from scratch, so that's something," Melanie said.
"I'd like a good look at the technology that went into theirs," she said softly.
"The inventor lives here, so that's easy." Kennen tilted his head. "Well, it might be easy. He's become something of a recluse in the last few years."
"I thought you were a friar. Don't you guys just garden and preach?" Graham asked.
Kennen barked a laugh. "Sorry, sir. Friars exist to serve. That's one of the reasons I'm here, with you all. Growing our own food helps keep us from being a burden. Understand?"
"Ah," Graham said, face tinged with a bit of red.
Arabeth stood, needing to walk off a sudden case of nerves.
The group dispersed as she paid the bill, each getting a location tag from the hotel front desk before they left. Even Sam excused himself after returning with her tag.
"Where are they all going?" Kennen asked.
"Oh, I imagine your talk about the technology differences here has them all curious. We are each specialists, after all."
"I see." He looked around, waiting.
"Not to be rude, but don't you have somewhere to be, now that you've introduced yourself?"
He shook his head. "I am completely at your disposal."
"I see." Arabeth sighed.
"Although I do need to use the facilities here," he added.
"Sorry, the what?"
"The water closet. The bathing room."
"Oh." Arabeth hadn't heard it referred to as facilities
before. Where she came from , that term was reserved for large structures filled with equipment for public activities, like rallies, lectures, and so forth.
"Wait for me, please," Kennen said, hurrying away.
Wait? She sighed. Fine. He'd been a good source of information, so far.
Having a guide should simplify her ability to locate the checkerboard, but logic told her it would be in the deepest, darkest corner of the city, and she really didn't want to go there with a virtual stranger. She wondered at that impulse. Kennen was no threat, and here she had no reputation. But still, the underground transport was supposed to be kept secret. All she wanted to do was find it, strap her friends in, and go back to hunting.
The device in Arabeth's hand vibrated a moment, causing her to nearly drop it. She opened her hand to take a closer look, and noticed it had a hidden section under a thin top cover. She pushed lightly against the cover and smiled when it rotated open. Inside was a little display screen, not unlike the one Marble had on her collar, except that this one showed a variety of colours and symbols. Maybe it could be calibrated to work with Marble's collar. It was far more detailed than her own display.
Kennen came back with a bounce in his step, smiling. "What would you like to see first?"
"I understand radar, but explain this to me." She held out the tracking device.
Kennen quickly but smoothly slipped it from her hand and put it in her pocket.
"It means you have friends here. Someone slipped you a monitoring device, instead of a tracker. You should stop talking about it immediately." He spoke from behind a hand, quickly and quietly.
Mildly alarmed, Arabeth nodded and started walking out into the hallway. "I'm going to need some new clothes. There's only so often this set can be cleaned before it gets ratty."
"We'll head to the textile district, then. But I think we'll take the scenic route," Kennen said.
His demeanour had altered, shifting from light-hearted to guarded, and the change was not lost on Arabeth.
"Is there a train here, leading out?" she asked.
"Where do you need to go?"
"Away. Back to our home."
"That could be difficult. The border is closed," Kennen said.
"We weren't planning on flashing our identification at the border."
