Special Passage (The Coursodon Dimension Book 4)

by M. L. Ryan

  After moving out of earshot to have an intense, private discussion on the matter, Alex and Sebastian returned to continue their queries. It turned out, the entire GZ wasn’t involved, only a small faction intent on getting the most out of the third dimension. After the Keem debacle, the governments of all eight Courso kingdoms wanted any access or egress from Dekankara sealed. Sensible policy; while most Dekankarans had no arcane talent whatsoever, those who possessed magic were exponentially more powerful in the Coursodon dimension. However, a splinter group wondered if the opposite held true, and if so, could they exploit the third dimension for fun and profit. Even if there was no such magnification of magical ability in Dekankara—which we now knew was the case—Ulut’s descriptions of his dimension conjured fantasies of rapid colonization of an under-developed world.

  “That explains the strange dudes in the suits at Keem’s hideout,” I said, recalling the unknown group who descended upon what remained of the pseudo-third dimension lair after I, as Birdzilla, destroyed it.

  “No doubt,” Sebastian agreed. “Although I still wonder how they were able to keep their existence a secret, even from the Xyzok.”

  “Name the members of the Glyzimutitch Zolmere who are involved,” Alex ordered.

  Prytx was starting to look a little green. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. Truly, I do not. As I said before, I was recruited for my unique skills. I can stay undetected for days in our dimension as well as the human one. They told me the dog had to get back to change into a man, and I was to keep close to see if you discovered a way into the new dimension.” He paused and rolled his eyes. “‘See the world,’ they said. If I had known I’d end up stuck here in the process, I’d have told them to take their great pay and benefits and shove it up their ass.”

  Sebastian’s reputation as a crack interrogator aside, Prytx’s lack of commitment to the cause explained the ease of getting him to cave. As long as he was being so forthcoming, there was something I wanted to know, something Kyzal warned us about during his weird missile silo visit. “Were you supposed to report on our activities in general, or especially mine?”

  “Like I said, I was supposed to see if you found a way into the other dimension. The information I received indicated the prince and Commander Kess were trying to find a portal. No one specifically mentioned anything about you.”

  Alex’s face flushed. “So, there was no mention of anyone wanting to harm her?”

  “Not to me, Your Highness,” Prytx mumbled, glancing sheepishly from Alex to me.

  Now that I looked more carefully, Prytx’s clothes were filthy and torn, and his sunken cheeks looked more a result of sudden weight loss than exceptional bone structure. I sniffed, picking up an unpleasant aroma, something like overcooked cabbage. Weird. My magically enhanced sense of smell couldn’t distinguish unique scents from all Courso, but those who I could perceive had never been something foul. On the other hand—or nose, as it were—most of the Courso I’d been around hadn’t looked as unhealthy and bedraggled as Prytx. Stumbling upon Gera’s farm was a lucky break for us; we worked hard, and the payoff was decent meals and a safe place to sleep every night. If he wanted any shot at getting back home and completing his assignment, Prytx had to stay close and remain undercover.

  “What did you do for food?” I asked.

  His forehead creased with uncertainty in response to what must have seemed a non sequitur, but confused or not, he admitted, “I stole a few things from the edges of the garden. Not much, because I didn’t want anyone to get suspicious. Same thing for water; I snuck out to the well when everyone was asleep to fill my canteen.” He hesitated a moment, and added, “And there are a lot of lizards out there.”

  There couldn’t be many calories in a lizard, I guessed, and as we never noticed a fire, he must have eaten them raw. No wonder he looked so thin. I went inside the house and scrounged up some beans and corn mash.

  “Here are some leftovers from lunch,” I said, handing him the meager offering.

  He took the bowl, nodded, and devoured the contents without bothering to use the furnished spoon. I watched intently as he used his finger to scrape out the last bits, after which he sighed with contentment.

  “Thank you, Hail… er, I mean, ma’am,” he corrected, ducking his head away from Alex’s menacing glare. “That’s the most I’ve had in weeks.”

  “I wish there was more, but we should have some meat at dinner. No reptiles, I promise.”

  The corners of Prytx’s mouth curved upward into a weak smile. “As long as it is roasted, boiled, or fried, I will eat anything.”

  And then I knew why he seemed familiar. He was the faceless guy in my dream. I had no clue what that meant. I didn’t really understand the dream, much less how it featured a person I’d never laid eyes on. I hoped this didn’t signal the onset of a new magical skill. My repertoire was crazy enough without adding precognition to the mix.

  Alex and Sebastian decided to end the Q & A session for the time being. We needed someone to guard Prytx, and Z and W, who had observed from a distance, were more than happy to get involved. They escorted him into the shade of a sprawling mesquite tree, next to which he promptly fell asleep.

  With the prisoner taken care of, Alex, Sebastian, Ulut, and I retreated to the other side of the yard to discuss what to do with our captive.

  “If he was such a fantastic cloaker, how did he manage to get caught?” I wondered aloud.

  Sebastian glanced back at the now-snoring spy. “I have thought about that as well, my dear. He is not in the best shape; perhaps Prytx’s ability to conceal himself was compromised without proper nutrition.”

  “Or maybe he allowed himself to be taken to get a good meal and a place to sack out,” I theorized.

  “That too is a possibility,” Alex acknowledged. “He certainly never expected to end up in such dire circumstances.”

  As much as having someone spying on us ticked me off, I felt a little sorry for him. “Do we have to keep him as a prisoner? It’s not as if he can slip back to Courso and reveal anything, so he isn’t a big security risk at the moment.”

  Sebastian tapped his chin, thinking. “We blundered our way here. What is to say he could not find a means to travel back, intentionally or not? In any event, I do not trust the scoundrel. It might behoove us to keep him as confined as possible. Perhaps Gera has some sort of shackles?”

  I blew out a breath. “Yeah, because farmers always keep a stock around just in case they want to restrain one of the goats.”

  “Stocks would accomplish much the same objective,” Sebastian replied. “But I do not see how a four-legged creature could be placed in one.”

  “A stock,” I huffed, “as in a supply, not a medieval device for punishment.”

  “Ah, I see.” Sebastian’s devilish grin made it clear he knew exactly what I meant the first time and was just yanking my chain.

  “Stop screwing around. This is serious stuff.”

  “Yes, it is, most significant, indeed. However, a bit of levity in such somber circumstances can allow the mind a respite that engenders clarity of thought.”

  “And has your poor excuse for humor made your brain less muddled?”

  He smiled again. “It was not mine I was worried about, my dear.”

  I set my hands on my hips and gave Sebastian the evil eye. “What a load of crap!”

  “I meant no insult,” he insisted. “However, you have little experience with those who lack ethics. He may be more dangerous than you’d like to believe.”

  “Sebastian is right,” Ulut advised. “The falsehoods of an accomplished liar are often difficult to detect, particularly for one as trusting as you, Hailey.”

  “Me? Trusting? Do either of you know me at all?”

  Alex placed a comforting arm around my waist. “I believe they mean once you have an opinion about someone, you tend to stick with it. Like Ulut, you never believed he was dangerous.”

  “Because he wasn’t,” I argued.

&
nbsp; “You didn’t let me finish, carisa. He wasn’t dangerous, but he wasn’t what he seemed, either.” He bent down so we were eye to eye and cupped my face in his hands. “You trust your instincts. I trust them. But even the best of us make mistakes. Sometimes, instincts aren’t enough.”

  The intensity of his words forced me to collect myself. Or maybe he was plying me with a dose of relaxation through his fingertips, although my face wasn’t burning. Either way, I realized he might have a valid point. I didn’t know Prytx from Adam; he could be a flunky with a very specific skillset, in over his head as he contended, or a conniving trickster who would make Machiavelli proud. In truth, my first impressions weren’t always correct—I originally thought self-publishing was just a passing fad.

  “Okay, fine,” I conceded. “We can’t take it for granted he’s on the up and up.”

  Alex straightened to his full six-foot, four-inch height, lips brushing the top of my head. “However, if he wanted to harm us, he had plenty of opportunity.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in response to that revelation. Had Prytx’s intentions been evil, he could have murdered us in our sleep. “So, what’s the plan? Gera’s place isn’t really set up for a prisoner,” I said, suddenly less sympathetic towards our captive.

  Alex and Sebastian shared a quick glance, unfathomable to me, yet probably with deep significance to them. Some sort of wordless Xyzok-talk, honed over their many years of training and partnership. “Even if we had some means to restrain him, there’s no way to be certain he couldn’t use his magic to break free. I’m afraid my power to hold him could be tenuous, at best. There’s not much we can do except take him at his word and make sure he’s always watched,” Alex concluded with a small shrug.

  I knew from their identical sour expressions that neither Alex nor Sebastian found this solution particularly to their liking. After a lifetime of relying on magic, now their usual bag of tricks wasn’t available to them. They were doing their best to appear confident and untroubled, but I could tell neither liked the uncertainty one bit. It must be like suddenly losing the ability to see or hear, or a limb, I thought, trying to cast their difficulty in terms to which I might relate.

  Agnes requested the next shift overseeing Prytx. She rarely volunteered for anything and the sudden rush to pitch in seemed off to me. If she had some ulterior motive, Alex and Sebastian remained unconcerned, and they knew Agnes was up to the task.

  “She probably found the tilling and plowing not to her liking,” Alex said when I voiced unease at her abrupt change in enthusiasm for work.

  “Too bad there wasn’t any hoeing,” I mumbled under my breath. “That would have been right up her alley.”

  Sebastian piped into the conversation. “You really should be more generous to the deputy, my dear. You admonish her when she doesn’t pull her weight, and again when she does.”

  “Whatever.”

  The corners of Alex’s mouth twitched, as if he was stifling a smile.

  Sebastian crossed his arms. “You know, when you use that term, you are admitting you have nothing more to offer and I have won the argument.”

  “That’s not true,” I replied.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Beg all you want, it doesn’t mean I’m conceding anything.”

  “You are as stubborn as the spawn of a horse and donkey,” he snarled, and stalked off.

  Alex watched as Sebastian disappeared into the barn. “So, when you say, ‘whatever,’ you really mean, ‘fuck you’, right?”

  “Yes, but it seems so much nicer, and I am trying to reduce my swearing. Besides, it’s only fair. When Sebastian says, ‘I beg to differ,’ he actually means, “that’s bullshit’. It’s our passive-aggressive way to annoy one another.

  “So, when you say ‘whatever’ to me, does it mean the same thing?”

  “Of course not, Blondie. Then it means, ‘I love you beyond words, you sexy hunk of man-flesh.”

  “Then it’s almost the same thing,” he said, breaking into a full grin.

  It took me a second before I caught his drift. “Ah,” I said, unbuttoning my blouse. “Let’s see if you’re right.” I sashayed toward the relative privacy of the trees, curling my index finger to beckon him to follow.

  Alex yanked his shirt over his head and flung it haphazardly over his shoulder.

  “Whatever,” he mumbled, following me into the hedges.

  Our unscheduled interlude achieved the desired effects: I’d forgotten about my various interpersonal conflicts and Alex demonstrated the differences between the pronouns, “you,” and “me,” when added to an action verb.

  20

  Despite any preconceived notions of peeping toms and inter-dimensional spies, Prytx turned out to be a useful addition to our band of wayward explorers. He worked hard, never complained, and didn’t snore. Even if the only reason he was so agreeable stemmed from the joy of three square meals a day, you couldn’t ask for much more from a captured snoop with whom you had to share a bedroom. Best of all, as his food intake reached normal levels and his health improved, so did his aroma. Instead of rotten cabbage, he exuded the more tolerable bouquet of freshly steamed cauliflower.

  With Prytx’s help, we harvested and preserved all of Gera’s warm-weather veggies in record time. In fact, there were so many dried, pickled, and canned goods, there was no place to store them, and Gera decided to sell some at the village bazaar. He hadn’t been there in ages, and he looked forward to both the extra money he might earn as well as purchasing some items he couldn’t make or grow himself.

  Having completed the plowing tasks for the season, Gera harnessed the mule to a small wagon into which the extra goods were loaded. The five-mile trip to town would take a couple of hours, and he set out just past sunrise to secure a prime spot at the marketplace. As he snapped the reins and coaxed the beast to move out, Gera waved goodbye and called out that he’d be back before dark. I’d never seen him look so happy.

  As promised, we heard the clip-clop of heavy hooves as the sky turned crimson and violet. He had a good day, selling everything and using some of the proceeds to buy a seed planter, a canister attached to a wooden frame that released one seed at a time when a large handle was pulled. I wished we had the contraption a couple of weeks earlier; it would have made planting the back field with the cold-weather crops a whole hell of a lot easier than dropping in seeds by hand. Gera also bought, and gave me, a thin, woven bracelet. I knew he shouldn’t use his earnings to buy gifts and had Ulut explain my misgivings. Gera just tied the black-and-tan band around my wrist.

  “Gleb huratka dof a gleb meiatka,” he said, smiling. “Pord eticam melid fi guri na mitopo.”

  “He says, ‘Pretty women should have pretty things, and the bracelet will bring good luck’,” Ulut interpreted.

  It was quite beautiful, with intricate designs that resembled partially eaten pies. Alex, Sebastian, and Ulut admired the gift, and Gera looked so pleased to be giving it to me that I didn’t have the heart to argue over the wisdom of the expenditure.

  “How do I tell him, ‘thanks’?”

  “Nitkew,” Ulut responded.

  “Nitkew, Gera. “Nitkew very much.”

  His face lit up as though I’d told him the most wonderful news. Gera picked up my hand—I thought to admire his gift—but instead, he pressed his lips to my knuckles. “Nitkew, gleb huratka.”

  “I may have to keep an eye on the two of you,” Alex teased. “He’s quite the charmer.”

  Gera grinned at Alex and winked.

  “I thought he didn’t speak anything other than Dekankaran,” I noted, surprised at Gera’s response.

  Sebastian smirked. “There are some things, my dear, that do not necessitate translation.”

  Yep, the universal language of a horny male.

  The aroma of stewed heaven greeted me as I stopped by the kitchen to see if anyone needed my help. Bex and V had a knack for preparing delicious fare using minimal ingredients, and if
whatever they had simmering tasted even half as good as it smelled, we were in for a treat. Leaning over the cast-iron pot, I used my hand to waft more of the savory perfume into my nose. I clasped my hands to my heart, hoping to convey how fantastic the food smelled, but instead of approving smiles, the Jyryxahal focused on my wrist and the bracelet.

  It was clear they appreciated it—it was lovely after all—and, at first, I felt uncomfortable that Gera had singled me out with such a lovely gift. My unease quickly dispelled when both women raised their hands, displaying their own identical wristbands. The old man really is a playa, I reflected with amusement. Later, when I recounted Gera’s generosity to Alex, he pointed out Gera did say, “Pretty women should have pretty things.”

  At dinner, which was amazing, Gera rehashed his day with uncharacteristic exuberance. Using animated gestures, he described how the villagers were surprised to see him, and could barely hide their jealousy over both the quantity and quality of his wares. Often, because it was difficult to pick everything on his own, a portion of Gera’s crops would spoil in the field if he didn’t invite his neighbors to take the excess. Some did not hide their disappointment there would be no such donations this season, he recounted with pride. He knew not to mention his unhired hands, and when folks questioned how he managed such a bountiful harvest, he made oblique references to utilizing better methods of fertilization.

  “Let them believe I’ve become some sort of champion farmer,” he gushed. “For once, they will not make fun of me behind my back for trying to work the land on my own.”

  In my mind, I pictured Gera as Plowman, a scythe-wielding superhero, standing triumphant upon a gargantuan melon he grew using his cultivating prowess. I knew he had a hard time sustaining himself and the property alone, but I never stopped to consider how the isolation might affect him emotionally. It thrilled me to see him benefit more than just financially from our assistance. Sometimes, no matter how petty or childish, it felt good to make petty and childish people green with envy.