Jim Baen's Universe-Vol 2 Num 3

by Jim Baen's Universe! staff

  At length, she blew air through her lips. "Okay, I see why you don't want to call the cops. And I guess if I was in your shoes I'd be the same way. It's just hard for me to see scum like that get away with what they tried."

  "Well, if it helps any, you didn't get hurt. Think of it like I backed them off of you in the parking lot." She nodded—with some reluctance, I judged, but she nodded. "Besides, I never said they'd get away with anything."

  Sharon gave me another of those third grade teacher looks. "And just what do you mean by that?"

  I looked at the clock and stood up. "Come on and I'll show you."

  We went out into the driveway. Sharon stepped up beside me, still swallowed in my jacket, while I pulled the signal unit from my pocket and pressed the button. We waited. In a matter of moments something large, black and almost silent moved in and settled on the helipad out on the lawn with a slight whistling sound. She turned to me, eyes at their widest for the night.

  "Cargo lighter," I said. "Just watch."

  The big door on the side opened up, spilling light somewhat yellower than my work shop fluorescents were flooding out the open shop door. A figure appeared in the door, dropped to the ground and strode toward us.

  "Hai, friend John." The big cat threw his arms around me. And he is big, at least two inches taller and a good fifty pounds heavier than I am.

  "Hai, friend Asfet. Let go of me before you break me in two, you big lug."

  "So, who is this?" Asfet released me and turned to Sharon. "I am Asfet, what you would call, urrr, lieutenant." He held out his hand to Sharon, who limply put hers out to be grasped. This shock had gotten to her more than anything else that had happened that evening. He turned back to me. "She is pretty, yes?"

  "Yes, you old rogue, she is pretty."

  "That is good for you, then, friend John." He clapped his hands together with a sound like a gunshot. "So, then, let us see what we have come for."

  "You know where it is."

  Asfet almost bounded into the workshop. I leaned over to Sharon, whose mouth was standing open. "Asfet is a bit of a connoisseur. He always wangles these trips, so he can be the first one to see the new work."

  "I see." Her voice was thin, like she was gasping. I looked over at her to make sure she was still breathing. She was.

  I chuckled. She hit my arm without looking. "Ow! What was that for?"

  "For not telling me." She looked at me with eyes blazing. "For springing this on me without warning." Sharon was officially all right, crossed off the 'concerned about' list.

  By now we had walked up behind Asfet, where he was studying the statue in the open shipping case. He looked back over his shoulder, all seriousness now. "It is your best work, my friend. Do you have a name for it?"

  "Nope. You know I never name the ones I give you. You will have to name it."

  "A challenge it will be." Asfet stared at it for a moment longer, then closed and latched the shipping case door. "The arguments about who will be chosen to display it will echo among the stars." He fingered his collar for a moment, hissing something in his native tongue.

  A moment later we were joined by three more crewmen and a floating dolly. While they took charge of loading the shipping case on the dolly, I pulled Asfet aside.

  "Asfet, old friend, I need a favor." Sharon was standing at my elbow. "In the back of my pickup are three men who have seriously annoyed my friend Sharon. I need them and their vehicle, a . . ." I looked to Sharon.

  "Cadillac Escalade."

  I shook my head. Of course that's what these fools would be driving. ". . . that's parked on the road that runs along the north side of this property; I need them deposited in the parking lot closest to the Marquette police department. I need it done tonight, quiet and sneaky. Can you do that?"

  A most alarming grin split Asfet's face, displaying plenty of evidence that his forebears had been carnivores. "Of course we can do that, for you and for the pretty Miss Sharon. Oh, the fun to be had around you, friend John." He rubbed his hands together.

  "Good." I smiled back. "You should also notify the police somehow that they are there. And, ah," I grinned at Sharon, "if you can think of some way to encourage them to be honest, that would be good, too. No damage, mind you." I pointed a finger at the cat, whose grin threatened to cross the line to predatory.

  It was the work of just a moment more to open the back of the camper and let the crewmen pluck the punks out and plop them on top of the shipping case. The dolly bobbed a little, then moved off smoothly toward the cargo lighter. Asfet shook our hands once again, exclaimed, "We will have fun tonight," and bounded off after the crewmen. A minute later, the big door closed. That slight whistling sound built up, the lighter lifted off the helipad, and in a moment it was gone.

  I looked at Sharon. She looked back at me somewhat wild-eyed. "Can you live with that?" I asked.

  Sharon gave her head a violent shake. "I guess so. That's not, ah, exactly what I thought you had in mind. Of course, now that I think of it, I'm not at all sure what I thought you had in mind." She laughed. "But yeah, that will do." She yawned. "I need to get home."

  "You could stay here," I offered. "I've got extra bedrooms."

  "No, John. I've had a long day and night, and I want to sleep in my own bed. Can you take me to my car?"

  I opened the door of the truck in answer, and she climbed in.

  It was only about a thirty minute drive to the restaurant's parking lot where they had grabbed her. Just when I pulled up alongside her car, a lovingly maintained Trans Am, my comm buzzed. I popped it open after I parked the truck, read the brief text message and started howling with laughter. Sharon looked at me like I had just gone over the edge, so I passed her the comm. She started laughing even harder than I was.

  Friend John –

  Delivery made, pickup notice sent.

  Have discovered that human urine is very noxious.

  Aft cargo bay may never be the same.

  A.

  "Okay, okay," Sharon gasped. "That's good enough."

  She opened the door and slid out. Just before she closed it, she leaned back in. "John. Just for the record, not everyone thinks you were a traitor."

  I watched her taillights recede on the highway, then put the truck in gear and drove home.

  After I pulled up in the driveway, I walked out on the lawn and just stared at the heavens for a while. I had been among them, for a time, but there was something about seeing them here that was just right. I said I think God is an artist. Certainly the beauty and elegance within creation must have come from an artist's soul.

  When I got cold, without thinking I said, "Come on, Rowf," then stopped dead as the fresh pain knifed through me.

  In human existence, great art often involves pain, suffering and grief; either as a subject or as a driver in the artist's life. The fact that it can be expressed doesn't mean it hurts any less.

  I went into the house, alone.

  * * *

  Four days later

  I looked up from where I was clearing out a flower bed to see a car coming up the driveway. I stood up, dusted off my knees and shoved my work gloves in my back pocket.

  It was a Firebird. In fact, it was a Trans Am—a rather familiar Trans Am. It pulled to a stop not far from me. Sharon got out. Today she was wearing jeans and a bulky sweater.

  "You clean up pretty well," she smiled, rubbing at her chin to mimic my newly shaved face.

  "Do you know you're trespassing?" I asked deadpan.

  "No. Really?" We laughed together.

  "It's good to see you." It was, I discovered with a bit of surprise.

  "I would have come out sooner, but do you have any idea just how hard this place is to find, when you've only been here once and that was in the dark?"

  "Yes." We laughed again, and stood there smiling at each other.

  "I brought you something." Sharon toed the ground.

  "Huh?" The very soul of articulation, that was me.

 
"To make up for the trouble of the other night."

  "You didn't have to do anything."

  "I want to. And it helps someone else out, too."

  Sharon opened the passenger door to the Trans Am. Out jumped a Labrador puppy, about six months old. She grabbed at the leash as he lunged toward me. I knelt down just before he careened into me.

  The puppy was all paws and tongue, bouncing like only a puppy can, happy and excited. I wrestled him around a little, and he bounced back to Sharon, almost tripping her as he tried to wrap her up in the leash. If he fulfilled the promise of his feet, he'd be a big dog when he matured.

  "He belongs to a friend of mine. She thought she wanted a big dog, but he turned out to be more than she can handle." Sharon looked almost shy, and her voice was quieter. "I know he's not Rowf, he can never be Rowf, but I think he'd be good for you and you'd be good for him."

  I looked around at where the pup was just wriggling around on the dry grass. I laughed to see his antics, and a dark spot in my life lightened a little.

  "What did she name him?"

  "Jack."

  I tried that in my mind. It sounded good. I knelt again. "Jack. Here, Jack." The pup turned, tripped, and bumbled over to me, where he flopped on his back and waved all four feet in the air, begging for a belly scratch. I obliged him and he wriggled in delight.

  "Thanks." I stood and faced Sharon again. "Thanks for thinking of me." It felt very odd, to know that someone was doing that.

  She looked down at the ground, then back up at me with a very fierce expression on her face. "I just couldn't stand to think of you here by yourself. You deserve better."

  A large smile broke out on my face when it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, the next ten years would hold more for me than the last ten.

  * * *

  The Waters of Eternity

  Written by Howard A. Jones

  Illustrated by Paul Davies

  Thus said Asim el Abbas, slayer of ill-natured beasts and right hand of that most far-sighted of men, seeker of hidden things, Dabir ibn Khalil, favored of the Caliph Harun al-Rashid, upon whom be peace. These are his words:

  The girl was going to die. So the hakim had pronounced and Dabir said there was no reason to doubt him. The wasting sickness would soon snuff her candle. Yet the girl trotted back and forth between the members of the expedition, chattering as though it were a feast we rode for.

  On this, the third day of our travel, God had blessed us with mild winds and a warm sun. Captain Sarsour and the four-man escort waited with Lina's chaperone a few lengths ahead, at the mouth of the high, narrow pass. Pines fought for life here and there on the crags to either side, but snow and ice surmounted the heights. The soldiers made a brave sight, clad as they were in varied shades of blue, their helmets wrapped in turban cloth, their cuirasses gleaming. Gems flashed upon their belts and sword hilts. Not so many years ago I too had worn such gear, and ridden far under the banner of the caliph.

  Lina lingered for a last look at the plains. I saw most of her long neck and thin face through her veil's fabric. Moments ago she had been laughing at ducks arrowing overhead. Now she was solemn. Might she be searching for a last sight of her home for all her fourteen years, the city of Dariashan?

  The hakim, on his gray mount, cleared his throat, but Lina did not respond. I looked to Dabir.

  Dabir opened his mouth to speak, then brushed his small spade beard instead. He smiled sadly at me. "Give her another moment." His voice was soft.

  My horse snorted impatiently and bent to nibble clover.

  A long moment passed, yet the girl showed no signs of moving.

  "Lina," Dabir said gently, "we must be going."

  Lina's eyes were half-closed as she looked over her shoulder. "Of course of course, don't rush my horse." She giggled, then turned with a toss of her dark curls, her veil swinging.

  Lina kicked her mount into a canter, and Dabir and the hakim and I followed the doomed girl.

  Captain Sarsour started the column forward.

  "I gave her too much bhang this morning," the hakim confessed to Dabir, adding softly: "I thought she needed to relax. It's made her . . . silly."

  "Yes," Dabir agreed.

  The hakim was silent for a time, but I sensed he had another purpose in riding beside my master. I was right, for soon he asked another question. "Do you think we'll find the fountain?"

  "It may be," he said. "I have seen stranger things." I knew from his tone that Dabir meant to conclude the conversation, but the hakim pressed on.

  "Would we not have heard of such a miraculous fountain, were it true? Would not the map to it be revered, framed in gold, and kept under lock and key? It would not be kept in a corner, stuffed under some worthless scrolls. The matter is strange to me."

  "Some true things are kept hidden for good reason," Dabir said.

  The hakim gave him a funny look. He opened his mouth as if to ask further questions, but my master spoke first.

  "How much longer will she last?"

  The hakim glanced ahead before answering. The girl was out of earshot. "Two or three days at most. Long enough to get her to the fountain."

  "Good," Dabir said, though his voice was grim. He clicked his tongue and urged his mount faster. The hakim had the sense this time not to pursue conversation.

  I stayed at Dabir's side. "Do you believe it's real, master?" I asked quietly. He had been mostly silent on the topic since the governor had presented us with the faded map. A week's worth of desperate searching by the whole of the palace staff had uncovered it, following the orders based upon the governor's vague memory of a tale his grandfather had told. I did not know why Dabir's mood was so dark, for surely he and I had looked upon many strange things in our years together. Could there not be a fountain that bestowed eternal life with its waters? Surely the governor believed it, and he was my master's friend and superior.

  Yet Dabir's blue eyes were grim as they flicked to me. "I hope, Asim."

  Lina was the governor's only child, the light of his life. Poets compared her laughter to music. Scholars praised her knowledge of the book-to-be-read, from which she could recite long passages. Her keen wit pleased my own master, who enjoyed instructing her. As for myself, I had little patience for women, especially those who chattered—-yet I had enjoyed her singing, which echoed cheerily through the halls of the governor's palace whenever Dabir and I were summoned there.

  And so I hoped with Dabir.

  Clouds blanketed the sun as we rode. Chill wind whipped down the heights. The trail steepened and we passed sheer drops of hundreds of feet. Then, in late afternoon, we reached a plateau several leagues across. High yellow grass waved about our horses' withers, and clumps of pine trees and boulders and small hillocks broke the horizon. Foreboding filled me. Though I saw nothing as I searched the distance, I felt certain we were watched from behind the boulders. Lions, perhaps, or bandits.

  Yet the day passed, and nothing ventured close but birds and rabbits. All was well after evening prayers. Even the weather was kinder, for the cold breeze that had blown throughout the day lessened beneath the dark blanket of clouds.

  A scream woke me to nightmare. Instantly my hand found my sword and I rolled out of my covers. The watch soldier stared open-mouthed at the thing looming out of the starless night, the thing that even now doubly impaled the hakim on gigantic mandibles. The dying fire sketched a horse-high beast with a lobster's segmented carapace and two waving antenna. A sickly number of legs skittered beneath its shell, and its mouth, inside the circle of its great mandibles, dripped foam as it opened and closed spasmodically.

  It smelled of the grave, but sight alone was enough to take a man's breath.

  Dabir roused even as I yelled to God to give me strength. Sarsour shouted for his soldiers to take up arms, but I paused only to draw my sword and slap the stunned soldier on the back. "To battle!"

  He picked up his courage and followed.

  The hakim had ceased struggling. His bo
dy shook this way and that as the monster insect turned to us. The mandibles opened and he dropped like a grain sack.

  Many were the monster's legs, and they were swifter than I supposed. Its mandibles clacked like dancer's bracelets. I was close enough now to see the black eyes set in the horror of a face. I cried out and cut. It was a mighty stroke, and sheered the insect's mandible in half. So great was my blow that I lost balance and followed the direction of my swing. It was a beginner's error not to have better planted my feet, and I attribute it to my fatigue and the unevenness of the ground; moreover, that God had not written my death for that moment, for there came a hissing noise from behind me and then a scream that did not stop. I rolled to my feet to see the face and tunic of the soldier covered in smoking black ichor. He threw down his sword and reached for the pitted ruin of his face, then wailed all the more as he yanked his hands away.