“Steve, how’ve you been?” Chet began.
“Hi, Chet.” Steve nodded at him before turning to Journey and Knife. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private. My dorm room is close. I’ll lead you there.”
“Why’d you want us meet you here, then?” Journey grumbled.
“I’m studying for my final in maritime trade with Professor Espies. I can’t have you disrupt my whole day, you know,” Steve said evenly.
Chet blinked. He blinked again. He gazed at Steve’s head as he led them out the backdoor and across the quad to the graduate-student dorms. Steve had the same unfashionable, longish mop of messy curls he’d always had.
Steve said, “By the way, Knife, thank you for the gift last autumn. The miniature propane torch really comes in handy, since my plan to use the furnace in the basement fell through.”
“You’re very welcome. I know what it’s like to live without a fireplace.”
“Was there no privacy in the basement?” Journey asked. “Too drafty?”
“Custodians protested. Fortunately, they don’t know which student I am; the administration simply calls me ‘the Flame’ when talking to people outside the loop. The gossip around here is something fierce among the faculty. Most think ‘the Flame’ is Bradrick from engineering.”
Chet could see why. Bradrick was that kind of guy: a loose partier who dressed in drag while drunk and slept with a different woman every night. Last spring, he’d shaved his head on a bet, too.
Steve, on the other hand, was a young genius who’d studied his way to a secondary-school degree at fourteen. The gravely serious student who flossed his teeth and clipped his toenails when everyone else was out drinking. Abyss, he still was that guy. Chet had gotten along with Steve as a roommate because they both preferred reading over talking.
“The administration seems to be taking your initiation calmly enough,” Journey said.
“Don’t you believe it. I’ve had to attend a number of closed-door meetings regarding my status, even though I fully warned my department heads—well in advance, no less—that I was going to initiate. They can’t accuse me of not preparing them. It’s humiliating what they put me through, at times. Even the propane torch needed to be approved by the fire marshal before I could cleanse myself, but it’s worth it for the degree.”
He unlocked the door of a single-occupancy dorm room. It was tidy and swept, the bunk raised in a loft-like manner above the desk. In fact, it looked exactly like Steve’s side of the room when he and Chet had been roommates. Steve hadn’t even changed his classical-music conductor poster on the wall.
“At least they let you have your own room.”
“Hah. They put me here so I won’t seduce any potential roommate, and I get to pay for it, too. Full price,” Oak sighed.
Knife snorted. “They didn’t believe you on the monogamy thing, eh?”
Oak shrugged as he settled at his desk. “I don’t need to tell you stereotypes are pervasive near the defunct Slave Trade Route.” He dug through a drawer and came up with a folding pen knife. “Which one of you has the Raptus? Much as I enjoy seeing you, Journey, Knife, I’d like to get this over with.”
Journey withdrew the relic from her roomy purse. Steve—or rather, Oak—bled a few drops on the relic. He gave them an embarrassed look and said, “I’m afraid this is going to sound a bit silly.
“There was a woman
Who ate an indricoth
As a baby she started on the tail
That took her ten years
As a girl she ate the haunches
That took her ten years
As a maiden she ate the offal
That took her ten years
As a mother she ate the forelegs
That took her ten years
As a granddam she ate the neck
That took her ten years
As an old woman she started gnawing on the skull
And realized she had no teeth left at all!”
Chet, listening to the old nursery rhyme, blinked when the Raptus flashed bright green in Oak’s hands. Chet stared at it, wondering whether it would do something else. The Raptus remained silent. Oak handed it to Journey, who put it back in her purse.
“Thank you,” Journey said.
“You’re welcome. I want to know what happens, you hear? Don’t just fall off the face of Uos as usual, Journey. You need to write, and write often.”
“Yes, Oak.” They kissed. It was a dry kiss on the mouth, not like the friendly, flirting kiss Journey and Knife had shared only—two days ago? It seemed to be a ritual and not from passion. Knife’s kiss was no less chaste.
The others began leaving, but Chet didn’t move. “I want to talk to, um, Oak. Can you please go on without me?”
Chapter 10
The Body
Chet handed the car keys to Journey. “I’ll be down in a few minutes, okay?”
The door closed behind the others. Chet wasn’t sure what to say. This was Steve. The guy who’d snored across the room every night for over a year, who’d loaned him books, let him cheat on a test. Steve currently owed him eleven gilt. Yet he was Flame.
After a moment of silence Steve folded his arms, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Yes, Chet?”
Chet felt like he was going to throw up. “Steve, are you really Flame?”
Steve removed the wig, and yes, he was bald. Otherwise, he looked exactly the same as he always had. Fallow skinned and brown eyed with a little scar on his forehead from a childhood accident. Nothing had changed... except everything had changed.
Chet licked his dry lips. “When?”
“Last summer. I’d had it planned for a couple of years.”
“You’ve been Flame a whole year?” Oak’s words caught up with him, and Chet’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, cartoon style. “You had it planned? You knew? You knew when we were roommates?”
“Of course I knew. I was saving my hair even then so that it could be made into wigs.” Oak frowned at him. “What, you feel betrayed because I didn’t tell you?”
“Well, yeah. The way I see it, you owe me! Why did you keep all this from me? We do things together, man. I showed you the steam tunnels when you first arrived on campus, and you let me cheat off your test that one time. It’s only been three weeks since we went out for aran-spiked coffee with Rory to celebrate my birthday. You’re such a liar. Why didn’t you tell me, Ste—Oak?”
Oak rolled his eyes upward, as if seeking patience from the God Plain. “You would have freaked out, the way you’re freaking out now.”
“I am not freaking o...” Chet stopped and took a few deep breaths.
Why was he panicking, anyway? He’d never thought of himself as anti-Flame. Was he really prejudiced? No, he thought defiantly, yet he couldn’t apologize to Oak. It wasn’t that the guy was Flame, it was because he was a sneak and deceiver. Abyss, Oak probably had orgies in here every night, while Chet had always assumed that Oak was just another student. A dull student, sure, but also normal, uncomplicated and most importantly, unaffiliated. Like Chet.
Oak watched Chet with irony, arms crossed. “You know, for someone who’s been sleeping with Journey, you’re treading a very fine line, here.”
“I... uh. How did you know?”
“Please, give me some credit. I’m fond of my colleague, but Journey isn’t exactly discriminating. I, on the other hand, am.”
He sounded so certain—and stuck up—Chet couldn’t help raising his eyebrows. “Why should I believe you? You’ve lied about everything else.”
“I don’t care if you believe me. We’re friends, but I’m not going to sit here and be insulted.” Oak’s eyes were narrow, sharp as broken glass. “Go away, Chet. Leave me alone.”
Chet started to rise... then sat back down. Part of the reason he’d liked Steve was because he valued the past as much as Chet did. If Oak was another reincarnating soul of Pelin, he hadn’t lied about that part. What if he wasn’t lying now? “Oak, I want to be
lieve you. Could you explain? I mean, I’m just trying to learn.”
“No, you’re not. You’re being a doedicu.” Oak sniffed and looked away.
Chet slumped, uncomfortable as Oak grabbed a tissue to hide his face. In Chet’s experience, men didn’t cry, and they especially didn’t cry in front of other men. He hadn’t cried since he was nine, and he didn’t expect to do it ever again. It was visceral proof that Oak wasn’t a man anymore, or at least not the kind of person Chet recognized as male.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. I guess... I guess I’m having a hard time with this because I’ve discovered a new side of me, and I’m not sure I can live with it. I’m just trying to figure out what it all means.” Could Oak help? Did he have a solution to Chet’s newly discovered sexuality, his love of men and women... and Flame?
Oak snorted acerbically. “I’m the wrong person to talk to about this sort of thing.”
“Huh?”
“Look, I’m considered the most conservative member of the Flame Council for good reason. I practice monogamy and work on long-term relationships. Abyss, over my lifetimes I’ve buried more common-marriage spouses who died of old age than the rest of the Council combined.”
“Oh.” Chet digested this. “Guess you wouldn’t have tried to seduce me when we were roommates.”
“Spare me. That’s such a stereotype. Among other things, you’re the wrong gender—I’m heterosexual.”
“You’re... no, you can’t be. How would that even work?” Chet frowned at him. This conversation couldn’t get any weirder than if Oak had sprouted a second head. Something else was distracting Chet. After a moment, he realized that the invisible cords binding him to the Raptus—and the others—was stretching farther than it ever had. It was starting to feel tight and painful, but Chet couldn’t leave now.
“I like women when I’m a man, and vice versa.”
“Yeah, I know what heterosexuality is. But you can change your sex...”
“No more than once or twice a lifetime, if I can help it.”
“Then why are you Flame?” Chet asked plaintively. It seemed everyone had their own rules when it came to this stuff. Why couldn’t the rules be consistent? It seemed each Flame tailored her own identity to match their internal comfort level, whatever that might be.
Oak looked out the window. “I like Pelin, and I enjoy being alive. Flame live a long time, did you know? We can clock up to a hundred and forty years if we’re lucky and plan well. I plan well.”
Chet could see that. Oak was completing a degree under punishing conditions for the sake of his future career. Chet knew all about being singled out for an affiliation, or lack thereof. Meantime, Oak had drawn his knees up to his chest and was gazing out the window. He looked so sad and depressed that Chet felt alarmed.
“What’s wrong?” he said. Despite everything, it worried him to see a friend looking down.
“Just... thinking about planning. It doesn’t always work out the way you’d hope. I was a teacher last time I died, during the war. Soldiers tracked me and my students down. I...” He gulped and stopped abruptly. “Some days, I regret having to remember. It gets bad on snow days; that’s when I have a hard time leaving this room. Rory brought me dinner, last time.”
“Rory knows about you?” Chet whispered. Sirens were wailing in the distance through the open window.
“She’s been very understanding.”
Chet opened his mouth, then shut it. Did Chet believe his ex-girlfriend had known about Steve—Oak—without saying something? Considering Rory hadn’t even told him about her ability to give him electric shocks and dive into nothingness, let alone wander about at midnight dressed in a dark robe... well, yes, put it that way, and he could believe it.
Rory had said something about being, “one of us.” Which meant she was—what? A spy, like Knife? Abyss, how had he overlooked that aspect of her life for so long? Chet found himself wondering what would it might be like to date Rory for real. To know her secrets, yet still love her and enjoy her company. He felt like she was a book he’d tossed over his shoulder after reading a few pages. There was so much more to Rory than he’d allowed himself to understand.
Then there was Oak himself. Tears non-withstanding, he seemed intensely vulnerable. Enemy soldiers in the snow? Chet had endured many a war story from older, boorish relatives, but he’d never spoken to someone who’d actually died during the war. Oak had died. He’d been dead, and here Chet was being a jerk about it. Ste—Oak was a good friend, Flame or not. Feeling awkward, Chet extended his hand and patted Oak on the knee, keeping his distance more for Oak’s comfort than his own. Oak blinked at him, coming out of whatever reverie he’d fallen into.
“I’m sorry,” Chet said.
Oak smiled and put the wig back on. “Didn’t mean to go all deep on you, there. I hope you don’t mind, but I need to get back to studying. We can talk after you get back from whatever you guys are doing with the Raptus. I hope it turns out well for you. Tell me more when it’s all over, okay?”
That was the Steve Chet knew: good student from head to foot. “Yeah, okay.” Chet stumbled out the door, not sure what to feel.
This was insane. Everything Chet thought he’d known about the world was a lie, yet... was it such a bad thing? Chet inhaled as he walked back to the economy parking lot; the air was redolent with the scent of pine trees and grasses warmed in the sun. There were immense aspects of the world he’d never even dreamed about. Knowledge of such things wouldn’t kill him. In fact, it might even make him a better archaeologist. A better person in general.
The invisible cord—which had grown looser the farther he walked—started tightening again as soon as he turned into the economy lot. He ignored the sound of sirens and kicked a beer can up the road, concentrating on the weird feeling. Why was the tightness still there? In fact, it was getting worse.
Oh, shit, Chet thought as he walked up to the silent, unoccupied rental car. He frowned. Where were they? The cord was tightening even further... he blinked. A police car with the siren wailing was coming closer at top speed, headed for the archaeology quad. Chet gulped and began trotting in that direction. The invisible cord loosened—the direction was apparently correct.
Those had been real police, not campus security.
Chet raced into the archaeology quad and froze, uncertain where to turn. A group of police officers and Professor Clementina were at the center of the courtyard. No, he definitely didn’t want to see her. Chet turned to go back the way he came. Maybe he could go through a backdoor, or use the underground steam tunnels?
A deep, two-packs-a-day voice rang out across the courtyard. “There! That’s one of them.”
Chet instinctively began to run. The policemen tackled him to the ground before he’d even cleared the quad. They were strong, and he yelped as they twisted his hands behind his back. He was cuffed, the metal harsh and cold against his skin. Shocked shivers ran through Chet’s body, making him feel stupid. The cords had stopped feeling so tight, but what would happen when Chet was driven away in a police car?
“Do you know this person, ma’am?”
Chet couldn’t see the police officer who’d spoken, splayed on the ground as he was, but the guy sounded properly respectful and intimidated. Like so many people who met Clementina.
“This is Chet Baikson, an archeology student who was working on the dig site. He and the others stole a valuable relic, running away with it together. Over thirty of his fellow students witnessed the act.”
The police hauled Chet to his feet and walked him around to the back of the quad, where a two squad cars and the campus security vehicle were waiting. No one else was there.
One officer muttered to the other, “Thought we were looking for couple of Flame baddies, but this one’s just a kid. He’s got student written all over him.”
As if to confirm the observation, the other tugged at Chet’s hair.
“Ow,” Chet muttered, resentful and frightened. Pantheon, th
e cords were really beginning to hurt, again. One of their group was traveling too far away, and the link was stretching, pulling him. Surely the person would stop... unless they were being chased by police.
“Yep, just a kid, all right. Probably talked into it by the fire perverts.” Despite their words, they opened the back door of a police car and made Chet climb inside. The policeman sighed. “You want to drive him back to the station, or should I?”
“I’ll take him. I got paperwork to catch up on.” The guy paused as yet another officer stuck his head around the quad corner.
“Both of you jokers better get back here. We found a body. It’s still warm, too.”
A body? A body? Chet craned his head over his shoulder as the police ran off, leaving him alone. He jittered, trapped in the back of the police car. His arms were starting to hurt, too. Chet absently wondered whether the Flame ever had circulation problems with their shapeshifting talents, then snorted. They could probably just shape out of handcuffs.
Speaking of which... Chet closed his eyes and concentrated on the invisible bonds. Now that he was properly paying attention, he could feel the movement of the others. Though they were in three different places, he was pretty certain none of them were dead. The Raptus was headed toward him, he knew that much—it was growing closer by the second.
“You thought you and your nasty friends could grab it without repercussions, didn’t you?”
Chet’s eyes flew open. Professor Clementina stood outside the car window. They were alone, no police in sight. The window was closed, but Clementina was pressing her face against the glass as if he were a biological specimen in a zoo. Chet scooted into the middle seat by instinct, wanting to get as far away from her as possible. She smiled and opened the door—wait, hadn’t the police locked it? Chet yelped as she reached in and grabbed him by his lapels. Clementina pulled him from the car like someone cracking open an ocean crustacean for its meat.
Chet squeaked, pumping his legs. He was being held inches above the ground. “Hey, I’m in police custody! What do you think you’re doing?”
The Artifact of Foex Page 10
