Medusa in the Graveyard (The Medusa Cycle)
Page 33
“I suspect our business isn’t finished,” I said. “We’ll collaborate again?”
“Yes,” said Crow.
“Not today, I hope.”
“Not today. I think you’ll be ready, when the time comes.”
I sighed. “Then I hope you don’t mind if I ask your opinion about something.”
“Not at all.”
I pointed over his shoulder. “What do you think of my tiger? Is he worried?”
Crow inspected the screen for a long moment. Then he turned back to me. “We think he’s just getting ready to sneeze.”
* * *
It’s interesting that Crow presented himself as a scarecrow. They’re supposed to frighten scavengers off. They’re protectors.
We enjoyed a pleasant visit. I stuffed myself full of waffles and drank too much coffee. He had a few more bombshells to deliver. “The Rock Elves are the ones who invited Sheba to Graveyard.”
I had no idea how to respond to that.
“The Earlies declined to interact with her,” he continued. “They believed she wouldn’t see them as intelligent people. The Earlies are very, very smart, and very, very kind, but even they have a limit to their patience.”
I was out of coffee by then, so I couldn’t nurse a cup while I pondered what to say. Something in his demeanor warned me I hadn’t heard all of it. “The Rock Elves are still talking to Sheba?”
“It’s for the best, don’t you think?” He steepled his stick fingers. “She rallied the survivors of Titania. Her fast thinking kept them alive until they could be rescued.”
“Her fast thinking got them blown up in the first place.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s easy to misunderstand the Rock Elves. Many of their actions seem whimsical on the surface. They’re anything but.”
“Fair warning,” I said.
“Indeed. Are you feeling well rested and recovered now?”
“Well fed and scrubbed, too.”
“Good,” said Crow. “Because there’s one more detail you have to attend to on Graveyard.”
* * *
Medusa had been in Lucifer Tower when I called her, but we arrived outside Lock 212 at the same moment.
I said.
We entered Lock 212 and closed the pressure door behind us. I told Medusa what Crow had told me. She listened thoughtfully.
Her tentacles swirled overhead, moved by the tide of her thoughts.
Medusa’s eyes gleamed when she saw it.
I remembered how Medusa had done it, and I had thought up a few permutations.
I studied the three new icons in my directory. The symbols were unfamiliar, yet I knew whom each one represented. Was this something like Birdie’s visual virus, downloading a new language into my brain? Was it some kind of racial memory?
Maybe neither, but it worked. When I activated the Gate, I used the ocean of information behind those icons to select a destination.
Between, I felt the presence of the southern gods. They watched me, but they had no comment as I passed through their realm.
I emerged in a section of Joe’s Salvage Yard we hadn’t seen on our way in. This one had narrower aisles, stranger apocrypha, and a sign that said JOE’S SPECIAL BINS. It seemed deserted, save for an automaton leaning in one corner, making muted mechanical sounds, as if it were talking to itself.
At the far end of the row, people and movers passed along the main drag. None of them were close enough to see the arrival of a form made of light, who unfolded her wings like a bird of prey and dropped a passenger from her claws, then went on her way to a former time, where Ahi’s younger self would find her.
See you later, Queenie, I thought. Or sooner.
Sheba stumbled a little as she got her bearings, but her recovery was quick (and downright admirable). She straightened her shoulders and set a resolute pace down the row toward the main aisle.
“Sheba, wait.”
She froze, then turned to see me near the bins. When she recognized me, her face twisted in contempt. “I have my invitation into the graveyard,” she said, her hand on the hilt of her knife. “Attend to your own expedition, young woman.”
I touched Timmy’s knife, but didn’t draw it. “I’m not that Oichi. I’m from the future.”
The contempt leaked out of her face. “I see.”
I was careful to maintain the same distance from her that she had kept between us in the yard of Misfit Toys. “You were right to shove me away,” I said.
“Of course I was,” said Sheba. “I don’t do anything for trivial reasons. When I catch up with the future, I expect to find that the Three have awakened—as they should.”
“Right,” I said. “About that…”
She frowned. “I don’t believe they ignored you. Your mere presence agitated them.”
“Yes, it did, but I wasn’t the only one in the graveyard, Sheba.”
She thought that over. “Young Ashur.”
“His interface is a lot safer. When all is said and done, we made the right deal with them.”
She might have agreed. Or she might have told me I was a fool. Before she could do either, she saw something flash past our row, a wheeled cart carrying passengers. Sheba was one of the passengers.
Suddenly she looked very tired. “I’ve missed my window of opportunity.”
“Yes, but there will be plenty of new opportunities to go around.”
Sheba lifted her chin. “You’ve figured that out, at least. Tell me your terms, Oichi. I have my own.”
Apparently we weren’t going to stand around reminiscing. That was probably for the best. “If you set foot on Olympia again,” I said, “you will die. Consequences be damned. Believe that.”
My warning made her more confident. “Do you think I won’t prosper, wherever I live?”
Prosper. That word generated echoes in my head.
“I think the opposite,” I said. “I expect you to be our partner on Graveyard.”
Give her credit—she wasn’t so surprised by that as you would expect her to be.
“A fine conundrum, wouldn’t you say?” Sheba’s smile was devoid of humor—or at least, the sort of mirth I wanted to understand. “Olympians think I crafted that wretched Music in Education initiative, and Titanians see me as their strength and inspiration. If you disavow any of that, you destroy your own credibility.”
“It’s not useful to disavow any of it,” I said. “The narrative works well the way it is.”
She understood me. If I’m going to be honest, the woman my mother had called the Iron Fist had more in common with me than anyone. Sheba is the person I could become if I don’t heed Baba Yaga’s warning about seeing the people I utilize. She blew Terry Charmayne’s mother out
an air lock. I held Ryan Charmayne while he suffocated. Sheba destroyed Titania, but that wasn’t personal. That was collateral damage. I killed twenty-seven members of one Executive family in one night—that was personal.
Seeing her in that state, so tired, so old, so sure that every murder and every ruthless move was the right thing to do, I remembered that Sheba loved music, too. She had favored one piece of music above all others: Pachelbel’s Canon in D, which she felt exemplified her existence. That music still plays inside my head every time I think of her.
Prosper! the Sentinel had cried. Then, Oichi, where is the cannon?
I had mistaken two sound-alike words. The ghost hadn’t meant cannon, as in tubular metal gizmo for firing big projectiles at things. She meant canon.
As in Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
“You’re not going to believe this,” I said, “but it really is for the best.”
Sheba gave me a grudging smile as I stepped back through my Gate.
* * *
Medusa waited for me on the other side.
she said.
It’s foolish that the idea hadn’t occurred to me.
I nodded.
She waited. I tried to muster something clever, and failed.
That would make one hell of a documentary.
I took a deep breath, even though I wouldn’t be speaking aloud.
Even at that point, I thought she might reject my offer. Or make another searingly objective observation.
Instead, she hugged me.
We stayed that way for a long time. I said,
Did you meet an entity named Dagger? she had said. And did he ask you about a price?
I thought about that for a long time. Finally I said,
EPILOGUE
Fate favors the prepared mind. That explains how a worm like me can manage to make the right decisions—by accident.
One of my best decisions was not an accident. I gave my pain to Dagger and the southern gods, so they could understand the suffering of we who have limitations. In return, we got the Gates. I may not be a genius at negotiating trade, but I think we came out ahead on that one.
Olympia is near the end of her journey, and I have my own equilibrium to pursue. Our new situation involves ambassadors and semi-mythical crones, Belters and Woovs, Bomarigala and all the rest. Commander Lana has started negotiations by pitching us a curve ball.
“We have heard you intended to establish orbit around Graveyard, but there is a halfway point in between, a world called Almost. There are mining colonies on the surface, and the people live partly underground, with big domes over their habitats.”
She said all that as if it were a wonderful endorsement. “There were intelligent races who lived there long ago,” she continued, when I failed to look enthusiastic. “Mysterious beings. Some say they may still be there, but that’s not the reason you would want to establish orbit around Almost. Right now, there’s a space station orbiting that world, but it’s not very big. Olympia could become a hub on that trade route. A very prosperous hub. If you settle around Graveyard, you’ll still have a lot to sell, but your location won’t be as advantageous, for any of us.”
As Kitten likes to put it, “Location, location, location.” That matters a lot in the Charon system. It matters so much, I’m glad I won’t have to make that decision by myself. I’m happy to share that with the leaders in the House of Clans.
Olympia is no longer a microcosm. We have exited the Children’s Caverns, and those of us who survived must remember how we suffered and profited from the deaths of our kin. I have to tell you, it sounds like a lot of work—but no rest for the wicked, right? Even if she means well. Especially if she does.
I do. We’ll see what comes of it.
I’m a bit concerned that all the loose ends haven’t been tied up. Will Bomarigala’s clone ever emerge from the graveyard? Will I have cause to use the knife Crow passed along to me?
If Baba Yaga is really one of the Titans, is she the only one still surviving?
I received a letter from her, shortly after my talk with Commander Lana. Like all her communications, it began abruptly:
You should accept the Belters’ offer and park your ship around Almost. You’ll find it has more to offer than just commerce. I’ve done some investigation on my own, and I believe those dead races that lived here are not so dead. Not that I’ve spoken to them—but you might, Oichi Angelis. They could become exceptional allies.
Notice she said exceptional. Not wonderful. That’s probably no accident.
Regardless, you’ll see me again. Maybe Timmy, as well. You and she have something in common. You could learn from each other. I don’t promise you’ll learn anything from me, but we may find ways to help each other. Perhaps my greatest fears will not come true, after all.
Be careful of Bomarigala, and of Gennady. Trust Argus Fabricus, and those Merliners. Keep the door open with the Ancient Races, too.
Speaking of Gennady, you might consider marrying him. It would be an advantageous match for both of you. You would have to watch your back, but so would he.
See you soon, Oichi. Probably when you least expect it. Don’t take that personally.
—B.Y.
Marriage to Gennady? Which Greek tragedy would that be? Would I become Medea, after all?
No—I think I’ll stick to Elektra, and her three-pronged weapons. What did Dragonette call them? Sai.
I have a feeling they’re going to come in handy.
TOR BOOKS BY
EMILY DEVENPORT
Medusa Uploaded
Medusa in the Graveyard
About the Author
EMILY DEVENPORT’s short stories have been featured in various esteemed publications such as Asimov’s Science Fiction, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, the Full Spectrum 5 anthology, The Mammoth Book of Kaiju, Uncanny, Cicada, Science Fiction World, Clarkesworld, and Aboriginal Science Fiction, whose readers voted her a Boomerang Award. She currently studies geology and works as a volunteer at the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
Tom Doherty Associates ebook.
To r
eceive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Prologue
Part One. Watch Out—They Bite
1. Establishing Normal
2. Itzpapa-whozit
3. The Long Game
4. Crow
Part Two. Politicians and Ambassadors
5. The Kitten Cam
6. Chocolate, Anyone?
7. I’ll Ride the God Machine If You’ll Be the Chorus
8. Operational Evil
9. Finding Nemo (Sort Of)
10. Micro Changes in Air Density, My Ass!
11. Aloha
Part Three. Now Is the Hour
12. Concerns, Prosaic and Otherwise
13. Should I Be Dancing, Too?
14. Werewolves and Their Lawyers
15. The Si Clan
Part Four. A Plague of Scarecrows
16. Whistling Past the Graveyard
17. Unsorted Apocrypha
18. The Dragonfly
19. Follow Them and See
20. Ghosts and Avatars
21. The Evernight Incident
Part Five. The Southern Gods
22. There’s No People Like Show People
23. Dagger
24. Down in Birdie Land
25. The Alliance of (Semi-)Ancient Races
26. It’s All Downhill from Here
Epilogue
Tor Books by Emily Devenport
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.