The Thieves of Nottica

by Ash Gray

Lisa blinked her large doll eyes. “Inter . . . sex . . . ual,” she repeated in confusion.

  Morganith rolled her eyes. “I hava dick.”

  “You are a woman,” Lisa said baldly, factually.

  “I hava pussy too,” Morganith sang, sticking a blade of grass in her teeth. “And I have tits. And I hava dick. All Anikye demons do. And I am a woman.” She stared into the fire and said nothing more.

  Lisa’s round, flat eyes turned to Hari for an explanation.

  “Anikye demons can reproduce on their own, without the need of ah mate,” Hari explained. “Or they can reproduce with any Anikye demon they‘re paired with. Morganith identifies as ah woman, but her father identified as ah man.”

  “Hmm,” said Lisa thoughtfully, “like snails.”

  Morganith tensed. “What did you say?”

  “Go easy on her, Morganith,” Rigg said wearily. “She doesn’t understand.”

  “Gender is an interesting concept,” Lisa said. Something behind her eyes clicked, and Rigg knew she was storing the information in her databanks.

  “Gender is notta concept,” sneered Morganith. “That’s like sayin’ havin’ tits is a concept. No, it just is.”

  The machinery in Lisa’s head whizzed and whirled as she compiled the information. After a long pause, she said slowly, “I . . . think I understand.”

  “Good,” snarled Morganith, chucking away the chewed blade of grass, “then we can stop talkin’ about this and go ta sleep. The sun’s goin’ down.” Morganith pulled her shotgun from inside her coat, letting it sharply unfold. “I’ve got first watch. The rest of you get some shuteye.”

  “But Rigg did not tell her story,” Lisa said.

  “Look,” Morganith said impatiently, “drone bots might come by here any minute. I realize the Hand knows we’re comin’, but I’d rather not draw any of their cronies. We’ve gotta put that fire out and get some shuteye. Now.”

  “Morganith is right,” Hari said, glancing at her watch: the drone bots always kept a precise patrol of the wastelands.

  Morganith smiled. “My favorite words.” She pulled a flask from her coat and took a long swig.

  Hari rolled her eyes. “You won’t be watchin’ anything, if you’re drunk, Morganith,” she scolded and snatched the flask.

  Morganith flexed her empty fingers and gulped in confusion on the air. Her mouth twisted irritably when she realized the flask had been taken, and she put both hands on her shotgun again, shifting where she sat.

  “Time to sleep, then, I guess. I’m pretty wrecked,” Rigg said through a yawn. She glanced at Lisa. “Do robots even . . .? I mean, can you sleep?”

  “No,” Lisa answered simply.

  “Great,” muttered Morganith and shook her head.

  “Lisa could keep watch while the rest of us sleep. If drone bots get near, she can put out the fire,” said Hari. “Would you do that, Lisa?”

  “I do not mind,” Lisa answered softly.

  Morganith opened her mouth to protest, but Hari said over her, “We all need our rest, Morganith. Even you.”

  Morganith took a shuddering breath. “Fine. Fine.” She slid forward off her log, sat on the ground, and leaned back against it. After staring at Lisa in contemplation a moment, she closed her eyes. Her shotgun was held fast in her hands.

  Hari slipped her folded staff from her satchel and pressed a button on it with her thumb. Lisa watched in wide-eyed fascination as the staff extended with several mechanical clicks, lengthening until the sectioned wings of buzz saws were gleaming on the end. Hari set her weapon in the grass and fluffed up her satchel to use as a pillow. “Goodnight, Rigg,” she said, stretching out in the grass.

  Rigg took off her coat and spread it like a blanket. “Night, Hari,” she said, getting settled. “Night, Mor.”

  “Night, Rigg,” Hari and Morganith said in sleepy unison.

  Rigg closed her eyes. She smiled when she heard Lisa whisper warmly, “Goodnight, Rigg.”

  Chapter 6

  Artificial Dreaming

  Rigg awoke again not an hour later, panting and covered in sweat. She sat up with a panicked cry and was embarrassed to find Lisa still sitting beside her, watching her in concern. Lisa’s legs were folded under her skirt, and she was hugging her knees. “Rigg!” she cried. “What is the matter?”

  Rigg closed her eyes and tried to shake the dream, but she could still hear Hari’s screams. She fumbled in her coat for a flask and took a shaking drink. The flask was filled to the brim with a bitter rum she’d lifted off Morganith. She felt its warmth spreading through her blood and her eyes dulled as her breathing slowed.

  “What is it?” Lisa asked.

  Still panting weakly to catch her breath, Rigg leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees, and bowed her head. The screams were still ringing in her ears, and the sound of her own pounding heart thundered against it. “I-I . . .” she squeezed her eyes shut, “. . . hadda dream.”

  “A dream,” said Lisa wistfully and sighed.

  Rigg glanced sideways at Lisa, sadly reflecting that she had never dreamed before. “It was a bad dream, though,” Rigg said with a flat laugh. “Nothin’ to sigh about, really.”

  “You looked upset for a long time,” Lisa said. “I thought about waking you up, but I was not certain if you wanted me to.”

  “You watched me sleep?” Rigg realized.

  Lisa bit her lip. “Well . . . yes,” she admitted sheepishly. “I have nothing else to do. Back at the castle, while everyone slept, I would sit at the window and count the stars. It scared Evrard, so he had me shutdown and put in the closet each night after.”

  Rigg scowled. “What an ass. Why would counting stars scare him?”

  Lisa shrugged unhappily, her lips tugging in a sad half-smile. “Why do you think, Rigg?” she said in her slow, even voice. “It meant I was alive, that I had thoughts and feelings. Evrard needs me to be a soulless object. That way he can live with himself . . .” her voice shrank, “and what he has done to me.”

  Rigg looked at the fire, trying to push down her anger. If they were really going to take Lisa with them to Ironmire, they had to find someway to ensure that she left with them again. Rigg silently started devising a plan to hide Lisa somewhere as they were meeting with Evrard.

  “You are worried,” Lisa said, shattering Rigg’s thoughts. She laughed and touched a spot on her own forehead. “You get a cute little wrinkle between your eyes when you are worried – I-I mean . . .” She bit her lip. “Not th-that your wrinkles are c-cute.”

  Rigg laughed. “It’s okay, Lisa. You can find my wrinkles cute.”

  Relief washed over the automaton’s face. “Oh, good. I thought I might have . . . I am not sure what offends organics and what does not. When I compare your temperament to Evrard’s, it does not match up.”

  “Most organics aren’t like Evrard. At least I hope they aren’t.”

  “Me too,” Lisa whispered. She hugged her knees and whispered excitedly, “What is it like to dream?”

  “Meh. A little weird. Most of the time it’s boring. You might dream about pickin’ your nose or somethin’ dumb like that.”

  Lisa laughed. “Why do organics pick their noses?”

  “Your nose never itches?” Rigg wondered.

  Lisa shook her head. “Why would it itch?”

  “I . . . . don’t know,” Rigg realized. “Well, sometimes dreamin’ is boring, but sometimes it’s fun. You might dream you stole something priceless or maybe you flew away to a magical world. Other day,” Rigg laughed, “I dreamt I found ah lollipop in the gutter. Best lollipop I ever tasted and it was all mine.”

  Lisa’s golden eyes crinkled up with mirth, listening enrapt as she hugged her knees. “Even if I could dream, I would not know what a lollipop tastes like.”

  “You don’t taste?” Rigg asked in surprise.

  Lisa hesitated and shook her head, as if she was ashamed of the fact. “I-I could get sensory chips if I wanted, but they cost a great deal of ri
ggits, and . . . Evrard would beat me. I can only smell fire.” She dropped her eyes. “Evrard wanted me to be able to smell fire.”

  “Hmm,” Rigg said thoughtfully. “If we run across any sensory chips in Coghurst, I’ll swipe ‘em for you.”

  Lisa’s eyes grew round in amazement. “And risk getting arrested!”

  Rigg laughed softly. “Lisa!” She straightened up, playfully wobbling her head and jerking her collar. “I’mma Keymaster!”

  Lisa giggled. “Oh yeah.”

  “So you can smell, but you can’t taste. . . . Can you feel?”

  “Yes,” Lisa whispered. She slowly took Rigg’s hand and gently caressed her fingers. She looked warmly into Rigg’s eyes. “Your hands are . . . surprisingly soft.”

  Rigg laughed nervously. “Y-Yeah, well, when I change my hands into weapons, it makes the skin all dry. It gets too dry and it hurts. So I gotta keep puttin’ lotion on. Oil works too, though. It’s actually ah pain in the ass and one of the reasons I don’t change much.”

  “And you can make your hands into anything?” Lisa asked with round eyes.

  “My whole body can change into anything,” Rigg explained, “so my whole body can get dry and even harden into a shell. On top of that, a full body transformation is really painful. That’s why I only change my face and hands.”

  “You can look at anything and become anything?”

  “Not quite. If I’m gonna change, it’s gotta be somethin’ I touch directly on my skin. My skin will store the information in my brain, kinda like a blueprint. It’s a good way to remember stuff, too. Like . . .” Rigg hesitated and touched Lisa’s round cheek. Her eyes softened. “If I wanted to remember someone’s face. . . .” Rigg looked at Lisa’s lips. They were soft, thick, and inviting. The top lip was round and supple, and because Lisa could simulate breathing, her coppery breath was warm at it tickled Rigg’s skin. Without thinking, Rigg smoothed her thumb over Lisa’s lip. Lisa breathed sharply, and when Rigg looked into Lisa’s eyes, it was to find her frowning with longing.

  “A-Are you going to kiss me?” Lisa whispered hopefully.

  Rigg hastily pulled her hand away and hugged her knees. “That wouldn’t be ah good idea. What if Hari or Mor saw us? And the spiders could a-attack.”

  They sat in silence for a time, staring at the fire. Rigg felt flushed with arousal and tried to will it down, but her heart was thundering in her ears. She glanced nervously at Lisa and wondered if she could feel sexual arousal. There were models – the companion units – that were anatomically correct and could simulate it.

  “So how did you join the Keymasters?” Lisa asked in her melodic voice. She sat very straight and stiff, watching Rigg with her round, innocent eyes. Her legs were as neatly folded as stacks of books.

  Rigg’s lips pulled in a half-smile. “Yeah, that’s ah funny story. It don’t begin funny, though. I grew up in an orphanage over in Sixsmith, little town of Harlie. Turned up on their doorstep when I was ah baby. It was ah human orphanage, right? They don’t have orphanages for demons. So I grew up with humans who made fun of me all the time, but I was never turned over to the Hand cuz Ms. Brattle, she thought it would be cruel. And I guess,” Rigg shrugged, “bein’ picked on constantly was better than whatever the Hand would do to me. The day finally came when I’d had enough, though. We kids used to take baths together. They made us get bare-assed right in front of each other and get in this big basin.” Rigg shook her head sadly. “And everyone would see my tail.”

  Lisa’s eyes widened in surprise. “You have a tail?”

  “Yeah,” Rigg admitted sheepishly. “It’s real small like a chameleon tail, all curly and tiny. I keep it hidden cuz it could get me recognized easy. Aonji aren’t exactly . . . common. We’re . . . dyin’ out.”

  “Oh,” Lisa said sadly.

  “Humans screw it up and call us genies. They’ve got some stories about us grantin’ wishes and all this crap. Hari says it’s because our people had houses that were shaped like bottles, and the invading humans were mystified by them.” Rigg snorted. “Yeah, they was real mystified as they was tearin’ ‘em down.” She plucked a blade of grass and stuck it in her teeth.

  “Harilotecca knows a great deal about demon history,” Lisa pointed out.

  “Well, yeah,” Rigg said with a laugh, “Hari is real old.” But she glanced over at Hari, knowing it was more than that: Alteri demons had genetic memory. They carried the memory of their ancestors in their blood, and thus, they could see the past as clearly as if it were happening now. No doubt everywhere she went, Hari was inundated with visions of things that had happened in the time before time, which was how most demons referred to the time before the alien invasion. Hari was likely forced very often to witness the invasion in every new location they traveled through, which would explain why she – and all Alteri demons – often seemed to be the people angriest about the past: they had no choice but to relive it.

  “How old is Harilotecca?” Lisa asked.

  Rigg shrugged. “Somethin’ over ah hundred? I’m not sure. Not like she goes around tellin’ anybody.” She laughed. “But she’s way over ah hundred.”

  Lisa looked at Hari, who was sleeping soundly not five feet away. Her round golden eyes were curious and surprised. Hari didn’t look a day over thirty, after all.

  “Do many demons live such long lives?” Lisa asked, amazed.

  Rigg was baffled by such a question, for the longevity of demons was common knowledge and something the short-lived humans had always resented them for. But she had to remind herself that Lisa had led a very sheltered life, and before the last few days, had probably never left the governor’s castle, nor even spoken to a demon.

  “Yeah,” Rigg answered. “Mor looks about, what? Twenty-something? She’s actually seventy-two. Er . . . don’t tell her I told you that.”

  Lisa’s brows went up in surprise. Her golden eyes looked at Rigg curiously, and Rigg knew she was on the verge of asking her age next. “How long do Aonji live?” she asked, confirming Rigg’s suspicions.

  “Dunno,” Rigg answered. “Hari says they used ta outlive the other demon races in ancient times.”

  “How many other races were there?”

  “Well, in Nottica, there are five demon races,” Rigg explained, drawing up her knees and resting her elbows on them, “and for every realm the humans took, a race of demons was driven out. Or else enslaved.” She shrugged moodily. “To hear Hari tell it, the Aonji got it worst. I’ve never even seen another Aonji demon.”

  “Would you like to?” Lisa said softly.

  Rigg looked at her curiously. “What d’you mean?”

  Lisa hesitated shyly. “A-An Aonji demon works for Evrard . . . as head of his Intelligence division. She’s the reason he knew your address,” she added guiltily.

  Rigg scowled. “And I would wanna meet her why?”

  “W-Well, you seemed so sad,” Lisa said in a small voice. “I-I thought . . . I am sorry.”

  Rigg swallowed guiltily. “No, Lisa. I’m . . . I’m sorry. I just . . . I hate that a person like that could even exist, that one of my own could willingly work for the Hand. I mean, yeah, Mor worked for ‘em ah while, but she eventually straightened up. Don’t think she really hadda choice. What was she gonna do when they asked her? Say no? You don’t say no to the Hand. But an Aonji demon? An Aonji could escape that life if they wanted. I just can’t stomach the thought.”

  “I know how you feel,” Lisa said in a low voice. “The Crows who work for the government . . . It is an easy thing for an automaton to acquire a different face plate, to even change units entirely. The Crows could walk away if they wanted to. Many of them choose to stay.” She glared into the fire.

  “Yeah,” agreed Rigg, realization dawning on her. “I guess they could walk away, huh? I’ve always actually pitied the Crows.”

  Lisa looked at Rigg in surprise.

  “Yeah,” Rigg said with a dry laugh. “I figured they were tools of the Hand and had no choice,
but after what you just said . . . gives me a new perspective on it.”

  Lisa smiled faintly. “Glad to be of service.”

  Rigg laughed. “Yeah, well. I was tellin’ you how I joined the Keymasters. I left the orphanage when I was about ten. A kid wouldn’t lay off my tail. Same kid had been pickin’ on me my whole life. I got so mad, I laid him out flat. He didn’t get nothin’ butta bruise, but I was still a demon who’d raised a hand to a human. Ms. Brattle was furious and was gonna turn me over to the Hand to be killed. Aonji demons are supposed to be killed on sight,” she explained when Lisa looked at her in horror. “One of the kids at the orphanage was always nice to me. She helped me escape.” Rigg gazed off dreamily. “Her name was Starla. She named herself. Didn’t have no name when she popped up at the orphanage, and Ms. Brattle started callin’ her somethin’ stupid that she hated.”

  “Did you love her?” Lisa asked dreamily.

  Rigg averted her eyes. Was it that obvious? “Yeah,” Rigg muttered. “I loved her. I never saw her again, though. I ran away to the Low Quarter that night, joined the boiler workers. Aerta demons took me in. Real nice people but real afraid of the Hand. I always gotta earful when I didn’t come home two hours before curfew. You know the law: demons out after curfew get treated real nasty. They were so uptight, I couldn’t breathe. Guess they hadda right to be, though.”

  “Did you runaway?”

  “Not on purpose,” Rigg said with a laugh. “When I was sixteen, I snuck out to see this human festival. The festival was way after demon curfew, and I knew I could’ve got in serious trouble, but after livin’ with humans, I was still sorta . . . curious.” Her eyes lingered over the hint of Lisa’s round synthetic ear, which was half-hidden behind her mass of hair. “I wanted to see what life was like for humans at the top. I mean, there are poor humans too, but only humans can be rich. The festival was for rich humans to celebrate another thousand years of their boots on our faces. I wanted to see the celebration, taste the food, filch some riggits, maybe get stinkin’ drunk.”

  Lisa giggled.

  “I wanted to live,” Rigg said with yearning. “We demons aren’t allowed to celebrate our holidays. Demons aren’t allowed to celebrate anything. Our religions are banned, too. We don’t get to drink. We don’t get to dance. That night,” Rigg grinned, “I put on my most convincing boy face and I danced! Ate my first pie. Stole some wallets. A girl even kissed me.”