“Certainly.” Lady Janet’s head was pillowed contentedly on Leigh’s shoulder, but her voice was brisk. She was into her part. “I’ll tell you everything I know. I have a excellent sense of direction.”
“I’m sure you do. We have another clue.” Chester pulled a black-bladed dagger out of his belt. “Considering that it was the focus of last night’s ceremony, we can count on its being important. Does anyone recognise the material?”
“Obsidian,” S. J. piped up. “Volcanic glass with a composition similar to rhyolite.”
“Right, “ Chester said, smiling approval for once. “And the significance?”
“No opinion. What good is a glass dagger?”
“It tells us that the people we’re looking for probably live near a volcano. So what we’re looking for is a body of water not too far from a volcanic region. Kasan can help us there. We should have our two replacements pretty quick, and then we’ll be back up to full strength. I have an almost perfect group now, and when the fun really begins we should be working together well. Yes, Tegner?”
“Who will the replacements be, and when exactly will they join us?” Griffin asked.
Henderson’s gaze was inquisitive. “Have you ever been a cop? Or maybe a reporter?” Alex shook his head negative, cursing silently. “Well, they’re the Braddons, Owen and Margie. I don’t know exactly when they’ll show up, but it will probably be within the first hour or so of play. Yes, McWhirter?”
“Do you know what our points are like? I mean, how are we doing?”
Chester didn’t look totally happy with the question. “We’ve lost three people and taken some wounds. We’ve made a lot of kills, recovered a load of cargo, and rescued Lady Janet. There are other factors involved, but for right now we’re ahead. I don’t want to discuss how much ahead we are—things can change too fast in a Game like this one, so I don’t want you to feel either cocky or discouraged. Any more questions?”
There were none. Henderson gestured expansively. Then go and prepare, children. The fun begins in . . . thirty-five minutes.”
Tall, slender palms outlined a patch of lower growth. The crescent-moon-shaped border trailed off from the campground like the tail on a Q. Inside was more tropical jungle, making the “good luck sign” anything but obtrusive. Alex had had to get S. J. to point it out.
As Alex pushed through the palms, the vegetation within the border became ghostly, revealing a tiny rectangular structure. No Gamers were waiting their turns, praise the Lord, and he’d be invisible to anyone outside the border of trees.
It was very basic inside. Toilet, washstand, towel dispenser.
“Marty?”
“Yeah, Griff. I can barely hear you.”
“I’m in the restroom, and there’s no window. I’d rather not be overheard, so I’m keeping my voice down. Let’s make this fast.”
“Okay. What’s new?”
“Some new Gamers coming in. Husband and wife, named Braddon.”
“I’ll check them out. Griff, the Alternates spend all their time watching the Game and looking for details and taking notes and discussing strategy. That waiting area is pretty crowded. I don’t think anyone could count on a chance to get into Gaming A without being noticed.”
“Good. Have you talked to Lopez?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t pressure worth a damn. I managed to get him to look at our map. He pointed out two paths around the mountain to the exit, G. A. 18. Lopez says both paths would take the thief past a piece of a big airplane.”
“Which piece? Wing, cabin, tail? How big?”
“ ‘Piece of a big airplane.’ When I tried to get more he told me to get drowned.”
Hell. “All right, so if we get to a big airplane I’ll watch everybody’s faces. Thanks. Anything else?”
“ Nope.”
“The Griffin, signing out.”
Griffin was paired with S. J. as the group waited for the Game to begin. All bedrolls were stowed, all backpacks shouldered and balanced. The sun shone faintly through the dome that covered Gaming Area A, but the morning was already warm, and the rich aroma of moist jungle greenery was heavy in the air.
At precisely eight o’clock a new sun peeked over the mountain range to the east, sending bands of soft red tone through the scattered clouds dancing above the crest. The old sun faded out. The air filled with the sounds of birds and rustling life. To Griffin’s eye even the trees seemed to stand a little straighter.
“All right, people, let’s move out!” Chester called, and in pairs the column headed toward the sun.
S. J. kept stride with Griffin by picking up his step until he was almost skipping. The pathway was broad enough for the youngster to shadowfight in zigzag patterns, slicing at the air with his knife. He pulled a slender branch from a tree and skinned it down to a wand. He flicked it like a whip at branches and insects.
Laughing aloud, Griffin tapped him on the shoulder. “That’s not exactly stealth you’re practicing there.”
Breathing a little heavily, S. J. spoke without turning around. “Nope. Don’t need it.”
“Why not?”
“Lopez won’t hit us with anything too nasty until our two replacement Gamers have joined up.”
Griffin scratched his chin, his fingernails scraping on stubble. “How do you figure that?”
“Easy.” S. J. took a couple of lunging thrusts with his wand. “Lopez wants to catch Chester with his pants down. he’s not going to take any chances to give Henderson a legitimate beef to take to the I.F.G.S. Getting some of us killed out now might do that. If he wants to get us when we’re short he can afford to wait til tomorrow, when we get no more replacements. That way Chester can’t squawk. See?” He finished his lecture with a vicious swipe butterfly. It evaded easily.
“You know a lot about Gaming, don’t you?”
S. J. nodded vigorously. “I’m the best. Even if nobody knows it yet.”
“Do you spend a lot of your time Gaming?”
“Not like this. I mean there’s never been anything quite like this before. Even the ordinary Games only come along every couple of months. The first run-throughs, anyway, and they’re the most fun. I do a lot of home Gaming. I’m linked up to about five Games: three American, one from Japan and one in the United African Republic. That last one is weird. Uses Hausa mythology. I tie into them a couple of times a week, see how far the other Gamers have pushed the expedition, enter my own moves, and see what happens. Sometimes we arrange for all players to be on line at the same time, so the Game can go on for hours and hours. One of the American Games is a solo: you’re playing against the computer, so you can play forever if you like. In general I like the group Games.”
“Why?”
“Gets me ready for Dream Park. I’ll be a Lore Master one day. I want to know how units interact.”
Units. Did he mean Gamers? “You’ve put a lot of thought into all of this, haven’t you?”
“Sure have.” S. J. popped a fly out of the air with the tip of his stick. The mutilated insect flopped to the dust and buzzed around in circles. S. J. made an unhappy face and set his heel on it. “I never expect to hit the darn things.” He brightened and added, “Must be gettin’ better, huh?”
“I guess so. Tell me. What do you do when you’re not Gaming? I mean, is this your only social outlet?”
“Why do you ask?”
Griffin shrugged noncommittally. “You seem to put a lot of yourself into Gaming, that’s all. I don’t know much about all this and I just wondered how high a price you pay for . . . well, excellence. Is that reasonable?”
Now it was S. J.’s turn to hunch his shoulders. “I guess so. I’ve heard all the stuff about people who are into fantasy being reality shuckers. Or maybe it’s reality that shucks us. I dunno. Anybody can see that a group of Gamers has more than the average proportion of Bizarros. But I don’t think Gaming made them that way. Now me . . . I’m still in school, so I’ve got the academic trip to worry about. I’ve got a part time jo
b, so that uses up time too. I guess a lot of the energy that’s left over goes into Gaming.”
“What does that do to your social life?”
“What’s a social life? I mean, do you think I’d be Big Man On Campus if I didn’t trot down to Dream Park, or spend my evenings in front of my console? Heck. Most girls think I’m in free fall. Where else but around Gamers could I possibly find someone I have anything in common with?”
Griffin chuckled. “Any success there?”
“Some times more than others. This trip, zip.” His face lit up. “But I have hope! The Game is yet young.”
“Does it make you unhappy to see other people pairing off if you’re alone? I felt a little left out last night, for instance. I would think that a war game could be a lonely Place sometimes.”
“Yeah. Especially at night. When I find a girl who Games, though, I’m going to start getting her into these things. Until then, I’ll sneak my thrills when I can get them.”
“Meaning.
S. J. contrived to combine mystery and childish glee in the same smirk. “The night has a thousand eyes, Mr. Tegner.”
“Meaning?”
“Nothing, unless you’re vulnerable to blackmail.”
“Being deliberately vague?”
“You betcha. I’m allergic to pain.”
The mountains were noticeably closer now. The troop was tramping through regions less like green hell and more like densely shrubbed foothills. The ground was no longer mushy, but hard-packed dirt giving way to rocky ground. Soon they were winding their way past huge moss encrusted boulders and under the lip of a sheer cliff. Looking back, Griffin noticed that perspective had changed; the jungle behind them seemed to be lower than the path along the cliff face. As they wended their way into the “mountains” Griffin lost sight of the jungle several times, and each time it came back into view it was smaller and lower.
They continued to climb. By contrast with the stark rock walls around them, the trees and thick brush had been downright cheery. After a long stretch with nothing to look at but granite, they broke through the first set of foothills into another stretch of greenery.
The trail led down into a meadow marked with huge twisted trees, green and greener still from the vines that swarmed up into their branches. Flowers exploded from the vines, red and violet fantasies that looked ripe enough to pluck and eat. The meadow was ringed with tumbled rock, but at the far end it was fenced by the rise of a mountain. From halfway up the mountain face tumbled a cascade that sparkled like blue diamonds in the sunlight, and where waterfall met ground it formed a small lake.
Two people waited on the shore.
More cautiously now, the column wound downward. Griffin saw the white aura glow around someone near the front, and tongues of green flashed out in all directions, then vanished.
No danger on the trail. Chester let the line hurry a little. Alex began to smell the moisture in the air, to feel the coolness of the lake, to sense what it would be like to plunge into its depths. Previously ignored, the. grittiness of dust-encrusted underclothes and the strong soupy smell of an unwashed body became jarring irritants.
He found himself breaking into a run. Around him Gamers were abandoning backpacks and outer clothing. The two strangers on the bank beckoned them on with lazy smiles. Griffin had almost reached the water when Chester yelled, “Hold it, dammit. We’re going to have to test that water first.”
The group grumbled, but waited for the go-ahead.
Chester strode over to the newcomers and greeted them happily. “Margie. Good to see you.” The lady was in her early sixties, judging by her hands and neck, but as well-preserved as a woman could be. When she stood it was with a grace that would turn any man’s head, and her figure was still trim and firm. Her hair was gloriously gray, rippling softly down to her shoulders and not much further. “And you, Owen. Sorry to make you wait.”
“It’s okay, Chester,” the man drawled. He looked to be Margie’s age, and carried himself well. He stood with a trace of stiffness, and he stretched like a big gray cat. “Margie and I can always use a little time to sit and watch the water gurgle.”
The Lore Master smiled. “The water’s safe, then?” They both nodded. “Don’t mind if I test it myself, do you?”
“Not a bit, dear. Don’t drain too much of your power, though.”
Chester gave her a tolerant wink and spread his arms. “Hear me, oh Gods . . .” His aura flicked into place. “Reveal danger!” The lake lit up in clear green.
“We’re safe, children. What the hell—I declare a break. Let’s have some fun!”
Mary-em whooped and stripped her chunky body down to the buff, dove into the water without even testing the temperature. Leigh and Lady Janet were next to strip and dive. Eames, still in his underpants, wiggled a toe in the water, grinned with hollow bravery, and took the plunge.
Soon the entire group was splashing and playing. Griffin stood on the bank alone, chewing his lip. Acacia swam over to him.
“Hey there, big fella. Come on in and play.” She splashed at him with deadly accurate aim.
Griffin caught himself peering through the water for a better view of her. “Aren’t the cameras still on?” Bobbick and Millie must be having a wonderful time . . .
Acacia gave him a raspberry. “Don’t be silly. We’re on break now. The Game is suspended for half an hour. Are you coming in, or am I coming out to get you?”
“Not that that’s a bad idea, but. . .” Griffin balanced one-legged to pull off his shoes. He sat down to pull his pants off.
Acacia’s appreciative whistle echoed across the lake. “My my. Just look at those legs.” She swallowed water and coughed it out, laughing.
“Inherited ’em from my mother,” he growled. From now on he’d spend more time on his sun deck. He seemed to be wearing flesh-colored briefs. “All right. Here I come.” He jumped in with a resounding splash.
The water was cold and sweet, and varied from two to four meters deep. Griffin forgot his embarrassment and let his whole body wriggle with pleasure. He dove down to the lake’s sculpted stone bed, running his hands along it, watching air bubbles leak from his mouth and wobble up to the surface.
How long had it been since he last dipped in a pool? The only possible answer was: too long. He spent fifteen hours a week exercising, but it was all work-related. At this moment Dream Park and Alex Griffin’s work seemed worlds away.
He arced back up to the surface, barely avoiding Owen Braddon, who was backstroking across the pond. Not swimming as fast as (for instance) Bowan the Black, nor looking as pretty—he was easily thirty years older than Bowan, and the small pot belly ruined his streamlining—Braddon clove the water with a clumsy enthusiasm that made him a joy to watch.
Griffin sank beneath the water as a weight landed on his shoulders from behind. He came up sputtering.
“Guess who?” Acacia yelled, and pulled him back under. This time he grabbed one of her legs and wrestled her down. Her giggles sent a stream of bubbles frothing from her mouth as she kicked out and caught him firmly in the chest, breaking his grip.
She swam quickly away, and Griffin followed. He watched the sun play on the muscles of her long, light brown legs as she tried to outrace him. Acacia glanced back over her shoulder, eeked to see him so close behind her, and dove under water again. Griffin gulped a lungful of air and followed.
Turbulence clawed at him, water and bubbles forced their way into his nose and buffeted his face. Then the water was calm again, and he realised that they’d swum through the waterfall.
There was eight meters of space between the rock wall and the cascading tons of water, and Acacia waited for him there. He swam to her, taking her into his arms playfully. Her body was slippery in his hands as she jumped up and licked the tip of his nose. “Very kinky,” he said, glancing through the waterfall to the Gamers beyond. Nobody was paying any attention.
“Only mildly so, hombre.” She locked her arms around his neck. “Hey,
mister.” She arced her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Ya wanna fool around?”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Griffin said, nuzzling her.
“Believe this, then.” She kissed him fiercely, lifting her body to him, and Griffin found that one part of him believed her totally. They rolled in the water, blinded by mist, and roar and water, aware only of each other. Mouths locked and bodies pressed tightly together; they were a tiny, tangled pocket of heat in the roiling cold.
When they broke, she pulled a few inches away, eyes glowing, huge, breathing a little shallow. “Now that was communication, mister.”
“Yesss . . . I thought I heard something there. What was it saying?”
She hoisted herself tantalizingly high enough to look him squarely in the face. “Me want.”
Griffin’s hands steadied her hips, adjusting, and they both took a sharp inhalation—
“Well. Is this a private party, or what?”
Griffin and Acacia broke away from each other. Tony McWhirter was treading water about three meters away. A grin was frozen, lifeless, on his face.
Acacia flushed guiltily. “Tony! I, uh . . . thought you were . . . well, I—”
“It’s pretty clear that you weren’t thinking about me, so save it, Cas.”
The dark haired girl shook her head disbelievingly, her hair spraying droplets in all directions. “Tony, don’t be mad. You said it was all right if we each had our fun—” She turned pleading eyes to Griffin for an instant, and he backed away from her. Acacia swam over to Tony and tried to link her arms around his neck. He shook her loose.
“Yeah, well that’s true, and it’s certainly worked out well for you, hasn’t it? I mean, with every available woman sewn up, and four or five loose men running around, you’ve had plenty of opportunities to bat those lashes and wiggle your hips. Then, if things didn’t work out, well, old Tony’s always available, right?”
“Tony, it isn’t like that—” Again she tried to hug him, and he pushed her gently away.
Dream Park Page 20
