The beasts of Barakhai bob-1

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Collins awakened to the slam of a closing door and the pound of footsteps on floorboards. For an instant, his mind returned him to the dark enclosure behind Vernon's dresser, desperately clutching a frightened and morphing dog/boy who might give them away in an instant. His lids snapped open to candlelight that held evening gray ness at bay in a circle. He lay on the pallet. Korfius sat in the chair Collins had vacated hours earlier, his yellow hair mostly flopped over his right ear, his small hands clasped together on the tabletop. Vernon and Falima stood on the threshold, the man carrying the aroma of cool evening wind and the woman wholly naked. For the second time, Collins caught a glimpse of that wonderful body: the generous, sinewy curves, the pert breasts, and the black triangle between muscular thighs.

  Falima glanced at Collins, and her golden skin turned a prickly red. She hid behind Vernon, her discomfort an obvious change from the unself-conscious dignity with which she had carried herself a day ago.

  Sensing Falima's uneasiness, Vernon removed his cloak and tossed it over her bare shoulders. She drew it tightly around her while he crossed to the dresser and began sifting through clothing. At length, he pitched out a simple dress of coarse weave, dyed a sallow blue. Falima turned her back to pull it over her head, giving Collins a full view of her round, firm buttocks every bit as pleasurable as what she hid. The fabric fell into place, disguising the exquisite angles beneath a shapeless blob of material. Only then, she returned the cloak to Vernon.

  Collins waited until Falima had dressed before sitting up and rubbing grit from the corners of his eyes. His mother had called them "sleepy seeds," but Marlys had broken him of the habit. She felt it best not to refer to bodily fluids, whether liquid or dry, at all. Even earwax made her ill, and a used Q-tip accidentally left on a bathroom ledge sent her into a frenzy. Marlys. Collins grimaced. He knew she would not appreciate him staring, or even worse enjoying the sight of, another woman's naked body, no matter how amusing or dire the circumstances.

  Vernon and Korfius seemed to take no notice of the process, though the older man prodded the washbasin they had filled earlier that now perched on top of the dresser and waved at the clean pile of clothing beside it. "Your turn," he said in heavily accented English, then winked at Collins.

  You bastard. Collins glanced in the indicated direction, then sat. He thrust a hand in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the translation stone. He withdrew his hand, clutching the quartz to his palm as he removed the travel-stained tunic to reveal his ribby, nearly hairless chest. "Happy?"

  Korfius glanced over.

  Vernon smiled.

  "Not yet," Falima said, mouth widening into a grin.

  Now it was Collins' turn to blush. Seeking a distraction, he rose and strode to the basin. He splashed water over his face, abdomen, and armpits, then ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair. Grit rasped against his nails, and twigs pattered to the ground. Without a heavy stream of water and a lot of shampoo, it seemed hopeless. He looked at his companions.

  Korfius had lowered his head to his arm, but the other two still watched Collins intently.

  All right, I can do this. Collins thought of his two delicious sessions of Falima-watching. It's only fair. He reached for his fly, thinking back to his experiences in the locker room. For size, he fell squarely into the average category, and his slender figure only enhanced what he had. He turned around, freed the metal button and unzipped. His pants slid to his ankles. He stepped out of them, then his underwear, baring his backside for his companions.

  Collins felt more self-conscious now than the time his six-year-old cousin, Brittany, had pulled the bathroom door wide open during her sister's wedding reception, while he performed inside. He splashed water over his legs and privates, his back to Falima, hoping she had the decency to look elsewhere as he had done for her.

  Collins snatched up the fresh, gray britches that Vernon had laid out for him, the fabric rough and scratchy against his hand.

  "Turn around," Falima teased.

  Collins winced.

  "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Your Majesty." Vernon restored the title and the charade of respect, even as they stripped Collins of all physical dignity. "Those of us who switch see one another naked all the time. There's a lot of… normal variation."

  Let's get this over with. The longer Collins put it off, he knew, the more Falima would expect when she finally saw him. And so what? What does it matter what she thinks of… that? Even in his thoughts, he had to use a euphemism, and it intensified the scarlet circles of his cheeks. It's not like there could ever be anything between us. Yet, somehow, it did matter. Whether or not they ever came together, he wanted her to like him, to want him, as much as he wanted her. This is ridiculous. As if a guy like me could ever attract a hotty like her. Screwing up his courage, he turned, only then realizing that Falima was accustomed to seeing stallions.

  Nervously, Collins watched Falima's face as the smile wilted and her pale eyes widened. She back-stepped, gasping.

  Collins could not have imagined a more unnerving reaction. "Very funny."

  "Wha-what…?" Falima stammered, not sounding the least bit amused. "What happened?"

  "It… I…" Collins floundered with the britches, and it seemed to take inordinately long to find the leg holes. "Sometimes… they're all…"

  Vernon smoothly stepped in to assist. "The cutting," he explained. "The foreskin. We don't do that here."

  Collins tied the britches in place, the excess color draining from his face. He dropped the rose quartz into a pocket to speak the word in English that he knew must not translate. "Circumcision." He took up the stone again, so as not to miss anything. "It's a…a…"

  "Royal thing?" Vernon suggested.

  "Exactly." Collins appreciated the reminder. In the horror of the situation, they had all apparently forgotten his cover. Otherwise, Vernon would have said "switchers don't do that" rather than "we don't do that here." Collins explained, "Keeps it cleaner." I can't believe I'm discussing the details of my penis in mixed company. He tried to drop the subject. "So, any place to get a real bath around here?"

  "Doesn't it hurt?" Korfius piped in, rising to join the others.

  "What?" Vernon inquired.

  "That." Korfius jabbed a finger toward Collins' now-covered groin. "Doesn't it hurt to… to… cut it like that." He added, belatedly, "Your majesty."

  Though unnecessary, Collins followed the direction of Korfius' motion naturally. "Oh, that. I don't know. It's done when you're just a couple days old."

  "Does it still work, Your Majesty?"

  "Work?" All of the blushing returned to Collins' face in an instant. "Of course it works. All the… all the…" He glanced at Falima, then wished he had not. It only intensified the embarrassment. "… functions work. It's just… well… cleaner, I guess." Again, he tried to redirect the conversation. "Please stop with the 'Your Majesty,' though. No one's supposed to know who I am, remember?" He placed a finger to his lips. "Top secret."

  "Top secret." Korfius repeated vigorously. His expression wilted from open and eager to wrinkled disappointment in an instant. "Will I ever get to tell my friends I met a royal?"

  Falima placed an arm around the boy. "I've kept the secret a year now. Think you can last half that long?"

  Korfius nodded. "Longer even."

  "Good boy." Falima tousled the boy's hair.

  Collins used the distraction to finish dressing quickly, glad they finally seemed to have moved beyond his genitalia. Now that they had all seen him, he felt like a great weight had lifted from him.

  "My turn to nap," Vernon announced suddenly. "Got to get my human sleep time in before the switch."

  Collins glanced at his watch. It now read 6:45 p.m., which meant Vernon had a little over five hours before the change; since, according to Vernon, he and Zylas switched at exactly the same time. Collins resisted the urge to ask for an explanation about sleeping. It seemed only right that they would need to do so in both forms.<
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  Collins relished and dreaded the chance to spend some time alone with Falima, to finally explain, one-on-one, his mistake with Joetha. He could get her to understand that she and Ialin had misjudged him, that one error made in good faith, did not make him a monster. For reasons he could not rationalize or elucidate, he needed her to like him. Now, one of his companions slept, but they still had to contend with Korfius. By the time the dog/boy switched, Vernon might already have awakened. I can't catch a break.

  Korfius and Collins took seats at the table while Vernon stretched out on the pallet. Falima searched the top drawer, then the middle, finally emerging triumphantly with an unwearable rag. She set to work, dusting the surface of the dresser.

  Vernon tucked his arms behind his head. "What are you doing?"

  "Cleaning." Falima continued without a pause. "For what looks like the first time in years."

  "Really," Collins said, trying to save their host's face as well as display the manners his mother had taught him. "I hadn't noticed." Now that Falima had drawn his attention, he saw cobwebs looped and hammocked along the ceiling, walls, and especially the corners. Dust peppered the floors, and food stained the wooden table.

  "Of course, you hadn't noticed." Falima redoubled her efforts. "Filth is invisible to males."

  The words struck staggeringly close to home. Collins recalled the times his father would pass his room as adequately straightened and let him watch television. His mother would poke in her head, shaking it and rolling her eyes.

  "Not invisible." Vernon rolled to his side. "Just tolerable." Collins rose. "Toss me a rag. I'll help." Sitting had become the most boring pastime in the universe. Though he had never considered himself much of a watcher, he missed television, movies, the internet, video games. It seemed so natural to flick on an electric light rather than search out dust bunnies in the dim flicker of a tiny flame. He suspected even finding a book here would prove nearly impossible. He would rather grade freshmen papers than sit twiddling his thumbs while Falima worked. "What do you people do with your free time?"

  "Free time?" Falima repeated as she rummaged through the chest of drawers. "What do you mean by that?"

  "Try the bottom," Vernon suggested. "Older stuff there."

  Falima slammed the middle drawer shut and opened the bottom one. In a moment, she pulled out the torn remnants of a sleeve. "Here." She tossed it to Collins, who caught it in his right hand.

  "Thanks." Collins returned to his question. "You know, free time. Like now. When you have nothing in particular that needs doing."

  Falima tossed Collins' dirty clothes on the floor near the door. "I don't know, really. It almost never happens." She scrubbed at the dresser top. "I used to spend all night patrolling or guarding the prison. During the day, I was carrying someone or something. When I wasn't doing either of those, I was sleeping or eating."

  "Or searching for food," Vernon said. "Or fixing things that broke."

  Korfius added his piece, "Or helping someone find something he lost. Or picking up the slack from someone who's sick or something."

  "This situation." Falima made a grand gesture. "This waiting for someone, unable to go outside because someone else is hunting you-"

  "Very unnatural," Vernon finished.

  "Never happens." Falima dunked her rag into the washbasin and resumed working. "Normally."

  Collins thought of all the things his new friends knew nothing about, did not even have the experience to miss: washing machines, dishwashers, music on demand, refrigerators and freezers, vacuum cleaners, cars, ovens, plastic raincoats. The list seemed endless, and he wondered when he had stopped appreciating any of it. No wonder Zylas and Vernon left Barakhai when they could. He suspected they had visited his world more times than they admitted; to have learned even as little as they had managed seemed miraculous. "Zylas brought a lighter back," Collins remembered.

  Vernon's deep rumble of laughter surprised Collins. He had not realized he had spoken aloud. "You should have seen him struggle. Entertained me for an entire day. Still makes me laugh."

  Falima looked up from her work. "Why didn't he just wait for the switch?"

  Vernon propped up his head on one hand, rolling his gaze toward Korfius in a pointed gesture. Though Falima had asked the question, he answered in broken English. "Only can go as animal. Not switch there."

  Intrigued by the answer, Collins wrapped the cloth around his hand and casually released the translation stone. "You can't switch? Or choose not to?" "Can't."

  "Interesting." Collins surmised that they had to obey the physical laws of his world once there. The Law of Conservation of Mass and Energy, perhaps? He hoped that did not mean he would become a shapeshifter while here, though the thought of soaring like an eagle, swinging through trees like a money, or running as wild and free as a cheetah intrigued him. With my luck, I'd probably turn into some plodding old tortoise.

  Collins set to flicking at cobwebs with his rag while Korfius watched him from the table. The boy did not seem to miss working at all, enjoying the opportunity to spend the entire day sitting, sleeping, and talking. And why shouldn't he? Collins refused to begrudge the seeming laziness. He probably doesn't get the chance to do absolutely nothing as often as once per year.

  Though he would have preferred listening to Nirvana or Matchbox 20 slamming from a CD in the background, Collins enjoyed the slowed pace as well. For the first time since entering this odd and backward world, he felt almost safe.

  Chapter 9

  AN hour and a half later, Vernon snored musically on the pallet, Korfius lay, in dog form, with his head on Collins' foot, and the cabin practically sparkled. Falima tossed herself into a chair across from Collins, regarding him in silence.

  Feeling the need to speak first, but not wanting to launch into contentious subjects immediately, Collins simply said, "He's a good man, Vernon."

  A forelock of black hair fell over Falima's forehead, between the strikingly blue eyes. Her long lashes swept downward, then up again. "Yes."

  "Zylas, too."

  "Yes."

  "And Ialin…?"

  "Yes," Falima repeated, as if Collins had spoken the third name in the same tone as the others rather than in question.

  Collins smiled. "What do I have to do to get you to use more than one syllable?"

  Falima tapped her balled hands on the tablet op. "Try asking a question where the answer isn't obvious." She also smiled, apparently to show she meant no malice.

  "All right." Collins leaned toward her and addressed his mood. "Are we really safe here?" Falima's grin broadened. "Yes."

  As Falima returned to her ubiquitous monosyllable, Collins groaned. "All right, then. Let's put this in the form of an essay." He cleared his throat. "Do you believe we're really safe from Barakhain guards here? Why or why not?"

  Though Falima could not have understood the reference, she laughed. It was a surprisingly loud sound, full of joie de vivre and mirth, nothing like the dainty bell-like twitters Marlys loosed when she deigned to enjoy one of his jokes. "As safe as we can be for the moment, I guess. Vernon has a web throughout the durithrin community. If the guards remained in or returned to the area, they would tell him."

  That explained why Vernon spoke so freely in the forest as well as in his cabin.

  Korfius smacked his jowls a few times, then sighed deeply.

  Collins jerked his attention to the dog. "Do you think he understands any of this?"

  "No."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes."

  Collins forced his attention from the dog to Falima. "Positive?"

  "Yes."

  Realizing he had cornered Falima into monosyllables yet again, Collins placed the onus on her. "How can you be so sure?"

  Falima slouched. The candle struck red-and-purple highlights in hair otherwise dark as shadow. "Horses are senior guards, dogs junior. I spent my last twelve years working over dogs. He's too young for much overlap, even if he had put most of his effort into it. B
ut he's clearly…" The last word, though apparently enunciated, did not translate.

  Collins placed the rose quartz on the table, deliberately removing his hand. "Clearly what?"

  "Lesariat," Falima repeated dutifully. She inclined her head toward the translation stone, and Collins placed his palm squarely over it. "Zylas really trusts you."

  "He honors me more than I deserve."

  Falima did not argue that point. "I knew him almost ten years before he let me use it." She turned Collins a telling look. "Now, thanks to you, it'll probably be another ten before he lets me touch it again. If ever."

  Collins felt his cheeks warm. "Sorry." He directed the conversation back to its previous point. "What is this lesar… lesar… rat?"

  "Lesariat." This time, the stone allowed the foreign word through without attempting translation. "It's a… a… state of mind… of being." Falima sighed, struggling. "The masuniat find their animal form an inconvenient interruption. Most don't bother to seek balance or overlap. They live from human time to human time. Some leave themselves notes to allow them to take up exactly where they left off. It's more common in Randoms. The Regular masuniat often take herbs at coming-of-age to shorten switch time."

  Worried about getting hopelessly lost, Collins tried to clarify. "All right. So the masuniat try to spend less time as animals and more time as humans."

  "Right. The Regular masuniat," Falima reminded. "The more successful the herbs, the more like Randoms they become, at least in terms of switch time. Fulfillment would mean they spend exactly half their time human, like Randoms."

  "And you?" Collins looked pointedly at Falima, who lowered her head.

  "You know, don't you?"

  "Yeah, and I'm not quite sure why you lied to me." Worried that he'd never understand Korfius, he reluctantly dropped the matter. "But first, lesariat."

  "Getting to that," Falima promised. "The herbs have side effects that limit their use. They can cause bellyaches, rashes, vomiting. Even coma or death. They also lessen overlap. So it's a balancing act."

  "I'd say so." Collins could think of nothing short of cancer that would make him take anything so toxic.