The Puzzler's War

by Eyal Kless

  Emilija was out of his field of vision but her voice was clear. “It’s telling you to open your mouth.”

  “Who is telling me? This damn chair? What is it going to do to—aargh . . .” The last sentence turned into a gurgle as Artium discovered he suddenly could not close his mouth. The arms hovered above his face and he felt something cold in his mouth, touching his gums. There was a high whining noise, but Artium felt nothing. He forced himself to relax, and soon the metal arms lifted to a less intimate distance from his face. Artium found out he could shut his mouth and did so with an overwhelming sense of relief. That sense was short-lived, though, as Emilija said, “It’s telling you to look at the pointed needle.”

  Reflexively, Artium fixed his gaze on the metal arm hovering above his face, and he suddenly felt a thin, moist cloud land on his face. But he still could not move his hands to wipe it off. A long needle protruded from the arm’s metal head and stopped several inches above his eyes.

  “What is it going to do to me?” Artium tried to keep his voice calm, but it came out like a long groan. Discovering he could not move his head away from the pointed needle did not help.

  “It’s telling you not to blink.”

  “What is it going to do to me?” Artium’s eyelids froze and his mouth stopped moving as he uttered the last word.

  Heart pounding, he watched the needle hover above his right eye. Completely helpless as he was, his survival instinct told him something horrible was about to happen. Images of the metal needle penetrating his eyeball flashed in Artium’s mind, but instead there was just the sound of several clicks and he saw the dot of a light beam. With each click his eyesight blurred further until he could see only a white haze. A horrific smell of sizzling flesh reached Artium’s nostrils as he felt something solidify over his right eyelid.

  “No,” he moaned, but it only came out as an “ooh” and it was too late. He could not see out of his right eye, and now the arm’s head and the needle moved to his left eye.

  Somewhere in the background Artium heard strange, uncomfortable noises and Emilija’s monotone voice telling him the horrid machine wanted him to relax but he could only think about spending the rest of his life in the white haze his right eye was seeing. He barely registered something cold touching his right arm, but suddenly his body relaxed and he realised that he’d been tensing against the invisible restraints the entire time. The uncomfortable noise subsided as well.

  There was a series of further clicks and Artium lost his sight completely. It was as if he was buried under white snow. He lay there, breathing slowly, panic somehow gone, accepting his fate. When Artium felt he could move again, he rolled sideways and found himself on his hands and knees on the floor. He crawled until he felt his garments on the floor, his hands searching for the pistol, but it wasn’t there. The little fiend must have taken it. Artium brought himself on his knees and his free hands went up his face. There was something rock hard glued to his eyelids, but two warm hands grasped his wrists before he could claw at it.

  “What did it do to me?” Artium moaned as the hands pulled him gently up to his feet. “I am completely blind.”

  There was no answer, but Emilja did not let go of his wrists. She pulled him gently up and he followed, helpless and too exhausted to be ashamed of his nakedness. He followed her through the corridors and up the stairs. He heard the owls hooting as they entered the familiar hall, where he was helped into his old rocking chair. A blanket was laid over him and he was left alone. Artium took several long breaths to steady himself. He thought about getting up and looking for his pistol. Let the goats be damned, he was not going to live like this—but the ordeal must have taken too hard of a toll, and the next thing he knew he awoke from slumber. His hands went up to his eyes again, and to his surprise the substance that was covering them was no longer hard but foamy, like warm snow. He wiped it away with several quick motions and blinked rapidly. The world swam and spun in front of his eyes. Then he went from the blurriness he used to know to a clear view of the world he’d previously been able to see only in his dreams. Artium got up from the chair, noticing that his knee was not aching. He turned his head left and right, then up, and he saw Ingrid and Fred, the pair of owls up near the ceiling, clearly, for the first time. His eyesight was as good as he’d ever remembered it.

  Chapter 48

  Peach

  When this city was still known as Tarkania, the area known as the Pit was a closed maintenance ground. No one lived here, and with the Angels and repair AI bots, no human even walked here. Now, in the City of Towers, it was fucking Mardi Gras all day—and all night. It was also a very dangerous place for a woman to drive alone in the backstreets, trying to figure out where the Broken Blaster was. I came down the road people now called Cart’s Way and realised the protection scam that was going on; buy a tour guide or get mugged.

  I passed the tour-guide offer—in retrospect, a foolish decision, but I was dead tired after not sleeping the night before, and the use of ESM in the Seven Swans had drained me. Consequently, I walked into situations I would have managed to avoid otherwise. But the end result was that I was now in possession of a power gun with a half-recharged magazine, a club, a worn but comfy leather jacket, two metal rings, and several more towers. So things turned out okay in the end.

  Eventually I gave up, paid the owner of a hovel for the use of his space, and spent the few remaining night hours sleeping next to Summer.

  By the next morning I’d decided to gather provisions and tools in preparation for leaving the City of Towers for a long trek in the wilderness. I also needed to meet Sergiu the Dying.

  Thanks to my months of travelling with Trevil, I knew what to expect once I was out in the wilderness. But despite the discomfort and the possible danger, I felt a certain eagerness to leave this city behind. I still remembered the way it looked when I was young, full of wonder and glory. It was now a pale shadow of what it once was and a constant reminder of what humanity had lost.

  It was a sign of my brooding, or my failing discipline, that I almost walked into a standoff between four armed men I’d learned to identify as ex-Salvationist Trolls, and a merchant with two nervous-looking bodyguards.

  “I don’t give a burned wire about your permit,” the oldest Troll growled. His hand was already resting on the butt of his power gun.

  “But I’m only taking it to the arena,” the merchant protested, “for entertainment. Surely it will die soon enough.”

  This did not result in the positive response he was hoping for.

  “You are going to release that thing against a human?”

  “Only in Margat’s Den. Look, I have all the right permits for it.” The merchant waved a scroll in front of the angry mercenary’s face. It did not help calm things down.

  “I didn’t see my entire crew die in the Valley just so you could bring one of them Lizards here with or without a fucking permit. This rusting Lizard is going to die now.”

  I looked at the man-sized cage behind the merchant, and had my heart been a normal human organ, it would have skipped a beat. The creature was definitely nonhuman, but it had a barrelled human chest, torso, and upper limbs. It also had a short tail, vicious-looking claws that had been tightly bound, and a long snout held shut by a power cord. The greenish-hued skin was unmistakable to someone like me, who had been involved in the Angel project from day one and had seen what a vessel’s body looked like in all stages of growth. It was deformed, for sure, but it was unmistakably a Tarakan-made vessel of a Guardian Angel. Things must have gone horribly, horribly wrong in the lab.

  I’d heard about the Lizards, of course, but suspected those were just tales and never made the connection. But this one in the cage was real, and contrary to the stories I had heard, it was also intelligent. When the Merchant and the Trolls spoke, its head moved slightly to focus on the speaker, and it tensed up when the troll threatened to kill it and anyone who would stand in his way.

  Concentrate on the m—
/>   Shut up. I had to find out what this . . . thing . . . was.

  By the time I turned my attention back to the group, weapons were half drawn, and the experienced citizens of the Pit were already choosing cover from which they could still observe the upcoming fight in relative safety. If I went in waving my power sword there was a chance someone would shoot the bound Lizard, so that option was off the table. I stepped in between them before I could think of anything else to do.

  “Excuse me, young man,” was the only thing I could think to say, but it got their attention.

  The leading Troll looked down at me in surprise but was quick to react.

  “Step aside, my Lady,” he growled, “before you get hurt.”

  My Lady—that was a good sign. “I’m glad someone, at least, has not forgotten their manners,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear and even got a short chuckle from someone in the crowd. “But I have an offer which will solve the matter without anyone getting hurt.”

  I turned to the merchant, noticing his paleness and dilated pupils. My guess was he hadn’t been expecting this when he bought the creature and brought it to the city.

  “I’m getting out of this city, so I’ll take this creature off your hands, cage included, for . . .” I took out the heavier of my pair of coin bags and jingled it in my palm before tossing it to the merchant. He caught it, looked inside and snorted in contempt, shaking his head, but there was a definite defeat in his demeanour. I knew he’d cave.

  The Trolls needed some convincing. “I ain’t letting this thing live,” their leader said behind me.

  “Relax, I’m not taking him for a pet.” I glanced back. “But I’m not killing him here, either. I want him fresh.”

  The Troll nodded slowly in comprehension. “Skint?”

  “No, I need him for soup.” My theatrical cynicism worked and he barked a short laugh.

  I looked back at the merchant and raised my open palm. “That’s the best offer you’re going to get.”

  He glared back angrily. “You’re robbing me. This is a shakedown if I ever saw one.” But he didn’t throw the coin bag back. “The power cord isn’t for sale, and the handcuffs are twenty more in coin or kind.”

  “Power cord is yours if you take it off yourself,” I said, “and I’ll give you ten extra for the rusty cuffs.”

  He showed his discontent by spitting on the ground, but I saw one of the bodyguards catching the merchant’s eye and nodding to him encouragingly. I could not blame him for not wanting to die for the Lizard.

  “Where you taking it?” The Troll relaxed a little, but his hand was still resting on the holster of his power pistol.

  “Want to help me carry this creature out of the city?” I answered with false eagerness. “I live only three miles north of the sewage gate, near the swamp.”

  “Rust, no.” One of the other Trolls shook her head. “We just want to see it dead.”

  “Well, would you do an old lady a favour and lift that cage onto my cart?”

  The Trolls looked at the Lizard with slight hesitation. “He’s bound,” I said, “and if you strong lads could lift the cage from the bottom, you’d be even safer.”

  Everyone around me seemed to be happy about the peaceful resolution of the encounter, even the merchant.

  “Fine.” The Troll dropped his hand from his holster. “But when I pay a visit to your village soon, I want to taste your best, freshest . . . soup.” He winked at me theatrically.

  I guess chivalry wasn’t dead after all.

  Chapter 49

  Peach

  I ended up travelling through what must have been the Pit’s most run-down area, a pretty low bar to begin with. The high wall and immense towers, wide plateaus, and suspended bridges meant this area was in constant shades of darkness. During my time, it was warded off and guarded by cameras and Angels. Sometimes troubled teenagers would sneak in on a dare, only to be quickly discovered and returned to their distraught parents. My memories of those incidents kept playing through my mind as I walked, but the stench had nothing to do with the past. For some reason, perhaps because of the war that had raged outside the city’s energy barrier, the sewer gases leaked out through cracks on the ground in geyser-like steam lines. The smell was nothing less than a full assault on the senses. Anyone who could afford it lived elsewhere, leaving only the old and the weak.

  But there were plenty of those around. Hovels were stacked three stories high, and rope bridges crisscrossed above me. The people I saw were as white as ghosts, from malnourishment and underexposure to the sun. Those who were strong enough to move about were busy doing what they had to do to survive, haggling over what little they had left or taking what they could from those who could not protect themselves. It was a scene from hell.

  The good side of my situation was that in an area so poor, there weren’t many people worth robbing, so the dangerous thugs and the bullies were prowling somewhere else. No one paid too much attention to a small, middle-aged lady pulling a stubborn, sickly looking mule and a covered cart after her. The second good thing about the area was that labour was cheap. I’d already sent two local children to the Broken Blaster and knew that Sergiu the Dying was still waiting for me.

  The Broken Blaster wasn’t a “tavern” in any real sense of the word. It was a barely standing, two-story wooden hovel built against the surrounding city wall.

  It had a small, fenced yard, and Sergiu was standing there, wearing his signature wide-brimmed straw hat despite the darkness and leaning on his walking stick. In his other hand he was holding a large plastic bottle. I guessed the visit to the Menders had worked miracles because his wounds seemed to be better. There was less pus on his skin and he looked, well . . . slightly less dead.

  If there were any patrons about, they were inside. Except for Sergiu and myself, the area was deserted.

  “Ah, Colonel Major,” he quipped when I stopped pulling on the mule’s bridle. “I see you are masquerading as a cart driver now, but there is a major flaw in your disguise you might have missed. It’s the animal which is supposed to do the pulling.”

  “Peach will do as a name,” I said, letting go of Summer’s bridle.

  “Right you are.” Sergiu limped closer and reached out to pat Summer, but she backed away and moved her head to the side.

  I learned long ago to trust animal instincts. I walked over and gave Summer a tired carrot I got from the market, which she snatched from my hand.

  Sergiu did not seem to be fazed by Summer’s rejection. “Have you found out where Emilija is?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not really. Do you have what I asked for?”

  Sergiu raised the dirty plastic bottle. “Boiled water. Quite a lot of work to quench the thirst of a soon-to-be dead mule.”

  I grabbed the bottle and walked to the back of the cart, pulling the black canvas away to expose the tied-up Lizard.

  For the first time Sergiu lost his cool. I heard him gasp from behind me.

  “You know what this is?” I asked, looking at the creature.

  “Of course I know—it’s a damned Lizard.”

  I looked at the creature. “I’ve never seen one before. Where do they come from?”

  “From Tarakan Valley, but w—”

  “No,” I snapped. Looking at the creature was unhinging me. “I mean, where the fuck did those Lizards arrive from. There were no such things in my time. This is . . . this is . . .” I searched for words, but abomination was somehow inappropriate.

  “Is that why you . . . acquired it?” Sergiu was quick to regain his composure.

  I nodded, looking at it more closely. It sat there, hunched, filling the entire cage. Its claws were still bound, but the merchant had taken off the power cord around its snout. Our eyes met and I began doubting the choice I’d made. Any hint of intelligence I’d seen before was gone. I only saw in its eyes the glare of a frightened, caged animal.

  I walked over
to the cage. Even with its head bent down, the Lizard managed to turn toward me. When I was a step away from the cage it suddenly opened its mouth and lunged forward with a hiss. I jumped back as the Lizard banged its head against the metal cage and heard the power-up of a weapon behind me. When I turned my head, I saw Sergiu holding a power pistol in his hand, aimed straight at the creature’s face.

  “No,” I said, and quickly stepped between Sergiu and the caged beast.

  “Colonel Major.” Sergiu forgot my alias but kept his aim. “You don’t know these creatures. They are cunning and dangerous.”

  “Perhaps, but did you notice its teeth?”

  “What about them?”

  “They are blunt. Not sharp like a carnivore, more like a plant eater.” I turned back to the Lizard.

  “Nice deduction, but did you notice those claws?” Sergiu commented, still behind me. “Maybe it doesn’t need sharp teeth to tear meat from bone.”

  I didn’t answer Sergiu, perhaps because he had a point. Instead I moved again towards the Lizard, this time stopping a bit away from the cage. The Lizard’s attention was focused on me as I slowly raised the bottle, tilted it, and let water briefly cascade into my mouth. I turned the bottle back up, held it from the bottom and slowly advanced towards the cage. The Lizard leaned closer without taking its eyes away from me and opened his mouth as I tipped the bottle over his head. I watched the Lizard drink, noticing for the first time how wounded this creature was. It bore countless scars, and its skin was broken in scores of places, exposing red and green flesh. As I watched, flies were freely landing on its body. When the bottle was empty I took a quick step back, dropped the bottle, and brought out another carrot. I presented the vegetable clearly to the Lizard and advanced slowly again. It snatched the carrot with its mouth as soon as it passed into the cage. I heard the crunching noise as it was crushed, and the vegetable disappeared into its gullet.