Having grown up in the strict confines of the Academy, neither Jon nor Carbine had seen or experienced anything quite like the Underground. Jon felt heat rise in his cheeks, and he did his best to avoid stealing glances at the women and their bouncing breasts as they danced or walking by. Carbine, on the other hand, didn't even try.
"Oh my..." His words trailed off as one of the Underground’s human and more well-endowed workers spied him, smiled and waltzed over to him, her blond hair done big, piled high with curls as big around as her wrist. She wore nothing save a bikini bottom and a whisper-thin golden chain around her waist, which had even thinner metallic threads shooting up and down to a choker and anklets.
"See something you like stranger?" the blonde asked, her smile widening. Even from behind his friend, Jon could smell the woman's tropical and exotic scent and felt a wave of intoxicating dizziness strike him.
"Umm..." Carbine stammered. "Jon! What do I do?"
"He's with me, Raquel. We're on business, not pleasure," Lucy interrupted the scene before Jon could attempt to offer his advice.
"My bad, Lucy," Raquel said. "Let me know when you're done, though. This one is cute." She shot Carbine a wink that nearly made his knees buckle and then walked off, deliberately exaggerating the sway of her hips and causing her long hair to swing, pendulum-like, over the upside-down heart shape of her healthy behind.
Carbine watched her go for too long, nearly missing the look of disgust on Lucy's painted face.
She shook her head. "All men are pigs."
"No! I, uh... Uh. I am just amazed that so many people would want to work in a place like this," Carbine attempted to back-pedal.
"Want? Want?" Lucy wheeled on him. "These girls do this disgusting work because it's either service the likes of you or starve to death. Many of them have children, and this is the only way they can trade for food! You think they enjoy having to be treated like this? "
Carbine sucked his teeth and rocked on his heels. "Aaaannnd, I'm an idiot," he said.
Jon, on the other hand, had had just about enough. "You know what? I may have lived a sheltered life in the Zigg, but I don't think things are as black and white as you say they are," he defiantly defended his friend to the fuming Lucy.
"What?" she asked, raising a floral eyebrow.
"Dating and relations, family, all that, is forbidden to us, but even as ignorant as I am, that woman seemed to me to like Carbine. She said he was cute. Seemed interested." Lucy remained silent. "Seems to me that you just have a chip on your shoulder."
"You're lucky I swore an oath," was all Lucy said before turning to head to the bar.
"What are you doing?" Carbine asked Jon.
"I'm just tired of her sanctimonious bullshit, bud. If I wasn't convinced that she would kill us, I would say it's time we make a break for it."
"And then what?" Carbine shrugged his shoulders and showed Jon his empty hands. "I mean, we go back, we will hang for treason, or get our minds melted in the Ministry."
"Yeah," Jon said with a grimace, "there's still that. Come on, let's see where this leads. For now." He nodded towards Lucy and the bar.
"Yeah," Carbine agreed. "For now."
"Oi! Lucy-gurl! How you farein'?" Jon heard the bartender ask as he approached. The woman had just finished with another customer and was getting around to serving Lucy. She gave the bar before the warrior woman a quick wipe-down with a damp towel and placed a disk of cork down within Lucy's reach. "What can I getcha?" The dark woman was attractive, but she looked tired, her body still solid, yet showing signs of the years, or perhaps a lifetime’s worth of hard work and struggle. Her hair was bound in thick braids, some accentuated with various colored plastic and wooden beads. A touch of white frosted her otherwise black kinks and subtle wrinkles framed the corners of her brown eyes.
"Elena," Lucy said softly, "I'm eventually going to need to go downstairs. But first, I need to bring these two to my Lady's quarters."
"Sure ting, Lucy-gurl. Nao problema." Elena tossed the bar towel over her shoulder, turning to a shelf on the back wall where assorted bottles of liquor and elixir were stored. She plucked up one clear glass bottle that housed a green-hued liquid and looked over her shoulder to Lucy. "Tree?" she asked.
"Just two," Lucy said, holding up a pair of fingers.
"Two it tis," Elena said and placed the bottle before Lucy, then two glasses next to it. "On da house." Elena smiled and returned to her duties.
"Thanks, Elena," Lucy said. "Okay boys, drink up."
Jon noticed Carbine grant Lucy his attention a moment before she caught him staring at the dancers. He watched as she poured the green stuff into the glasses. When she had topped them off, half the bottle remained. She slid a glass each to her left and right, respectively.
"So," Jon asked dryly, "this poison?"
"If I wanted you dead, pendejo, you would've never left that transport. Drink up."
"A test then?" Jon tried.
"Nope. Just a way to hide the key. Now drink." Jon frowned and then realized what she was talking about. At the bottom of the half-full bottle lay a small key.
"It's no stronger than wine, an herbal tonic my Lady concocted. She said for you to consume it before."
"Before? Before what?" Jon asked.
"Before you speak with her. You'll see. Drink."
Huh. Jon shrugged, thinking the whole thing a bit much, then leaned back to speak to Carbine. "Okay, bud. Bottoms up."
The vapors coming off the glass assaulted Jon's sinuses and threatened to make his nose hairs curl up.
No stronger than wine, my ass.
He hesitated for a second, then seeing Carbine's follow-through and not wanting to be outdone, closed his eyes, wrinkled his nose and downed the glass in one go. The drink was extremely bitter and tasted like what Jon thought a handful of tree leaves or grass might. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine and he grimaced, then coughed.
"That is the single most disgusting thing I've ever tasted," Jon managed after the coughing fit.
"Good, have another." Lucy poured the remains of the bottle in the two glasses. As the last of the foul brew left the bottle, Jon watched the key become dislodged and then slide down the inner curves of the bottle, falling free and then plunking in his glass, only to slowly sink to the bottom.
"Try not to swallow the key," Lucy instructed." I'd hate to have to cut it out of you."
Jon ignored the threat and the sadistic grin on the woman's face and raised his glass. "To victory," he announced.
"To victory," Carbine replied.
Lucy rolled her eyes.
Jon drained the second glass as swiftly as the first, trapping the key with his tongue, keeping it pressed against his teeth as he swallowed and shuddered. Then, slowly, he pursed his lips and deposited the key into his waiting palm.
"Perfect." Lucy pushed off the bar, standing up. "Now, boys, let's go get a room."
Carbine's eyes widened and a silly grin grew on his lips. When Lucy saw this, her face darkened.
"You are unreal, you know that? You sicken me. Let's just get this over with." Lucy shook her head and led the pair to a staircase that branched off from the right of the bar and made its way up to the second level of containers and so on, all the way up past layer after layer of dwellings and the inner courtyard spider web of walkways, decorations and nets, to the top.
There, a rope bridge led away from the ring of containers to the thickest web of ropes yet. In the center of the web, directly over the dancing stage twelve levels below was suspended a globe of finely carved wood with a porthole window embedded in it. Although completely different in shape, Jon could see that the globe was roughly the same size as his and Carbine's room had been back in the Zigg.
"Right this way," Lucy urged her prisoners to make their way down the tightly woven bridge to the pod-room. They did, and as Jon approached, he discerned the nearly invisible lines that together framed what could only be the entrance. As if sensing their presence,
a hatch popped and slowly began to open outward, right where Jon had spied the lines in the otherwise smooth and polished wood.
Not waiting to be told, Jon and Carbine stepped inside, ducking their heads as they did. The inside was cozy, sparsely decorated, open-floor, which was horizontal and flat, but featured squares with recessed handles: trap-doors, which Jon assumed allowed access to the wasted space between the flat floor he now walked on and the inside surface of the pod-room. There was a small shelf under the porthole window upon which sat three small potted plants. To the left of the window, a cupboard with drawers, to the right a bunk bed, each mattress nook cordoned off with rope and a privacy curtain. In the center of the floor, a small table grew like a toadstool and was surrounded by a ring of beanbag-like cushions.
Lucy came in behind them and pulled the hatch closed.
"What exactly are we doing here?" Jon asked, fluffing one of the cushions before plopping down onto it.
"The key?" Lucy extended one of her palms to Jon. He frowned, not liking being ignored, but placed the key in her waiting hand.
She went over to the bunk beds, and, pushing the curtain aside, climbed halfway into the top unit to reach for something. A moment later, she climbed down, holding a small box in two of her hands. She placed the box on the table, scooting the only other thing on its surface, a candle, over to the side. Using the small key, Lucy unlocked the box and opened its lid. She pulled from within a small vial of milky white liquid, flecked with glittering stars.
"Weaver?" Jon asked incredulously.
"Only have the one dose. So, who's it going to be?" Lucy looked at her two captives, waiting for a response.
"You have to be joking," Jon began. "One hit of that stuff and you're addicted for life. The answer isn't no, it's hell no."
"You're protected, though I'm not sure why either of you are worth it."
"What do you mean?" Carbine asked. Jon just glared, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"The wine. It was brewed by my lady to block the neuro-receptors in your brain that are susceptible to Weaver addiction. But it'll only last for another hour or so. So somebody had better step up and take this, or I will pick, and we can do things my way."
Jon had images flash in his mind of Carbine being beaten to within an inch of his life, then held down and forced to take the Weaver. I have no doubt she would do it. To hell with all this!
"Alright. I'll do it." Jon unfolded his arms and put his hand out. Lucy stepped over and placed the small vial in his palm. "I don't see the point in all this. Why steal us away, just to give us the scenic tour of the Shanty, then give us Weaver, but first dose us with some home-brew so we don't get addicted? What does any of this have to do with rescuing Lily Sapphire? Or with your wild Harvester accusations?"
"My Lady has shaped a powerful Strange on this." Lucy's eyes flicked to the vial of Weaver in Jon's hand. "The visions you will see are not random like the unaltered drug. It's a pre-recorded message."
"Pre-recorded?" Jon asked.
"I told you my Lady wanted to be arrested. This was done the night before the concert. This is all part of her plan. I wish I could explain it better, but I don't know any more than that. I follow my orders. And," she pulled her coat back a bit, revealing her pistol as well as not one, but two of the neo-primitive war clubs, "so will you."
Jon gulped. "Climb up in the bunk, where you can have some privacy," Lucy instructed. "Pour the weaver in your eyes and lie back. You won't have to do anything else, the rest will happen by itself."
"Okay," Jon said and glanced over at Carbine, who gave him a nod. "Good luck," he said.
Jon did as he was bid, and drew the curtain closed behind him. He rearranged the pillows and blankets of the bunk and made himself comfortable, leaning back, yet propped up at a slight angle. Jon held the vial of Weaver up close to his face and studied the stuff, just as he had in the barn days before. There is something otherworldly about it. I hope that nasty wine did the trick, or I am lost. Just one dose...
He knew that if he gave it much thought or hesitated any longer, he would back out. So, in a leap of faith and desperation, Jon twisted the lid of the vial off, tilted his head back and poured the starry milk over the bridge of his nose and into his eyes.
The liquid was colder than he’d expected and felt slightly uncomfortable against his skin. Overflowing rivulets ran down his cheeks like snowmelt in the spring. Pools of the substance filled his eye sockets and slowly absorbed into the membranes of his eyes. The chill of the liquid then quickly turned to warmth, as if heated by a chemical reaction.
"It's getting hot!" Jon shouted from behind the curtain.
"Be quiet, stay still and relax. You'll be fine," Lucy instructed.
Jon tried to calm himself and ignored the growing heat in his eyes. They had learned basic calming techniques in the Academy, and Jon attempted to employ them here and now.
He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, carefully. Again, breathe in, let it out slow, repeat. His thoughts began to drift.
What am I doing? I should turn myself in.
But he shook the thoughts off as one would shake water from one’s hair, and returned his focus to his breath. In, out. In, out.
The growing heat seemed to reach its peak, and then his eyes and his face around them began to throb, as if vibrating at a low frequency. Forgetting his breath and leaving it to happen on its own, naturally, his focus moved to the vibrations, which, like the heat before them, was growing in intensity. Soon his thoughts became the vibrations. He went from feeling the oscillations with his face to feeling them ripple through his entire body. He could almost hear the 'wub wub wub' of the vibrations in his mind, and then he was overcome with a sensation of moving, or more accurately, flying.
"Whoa," Jon murmured aloud, unaware that he had spoken.
Then, abruptly, the flying sensation changed to one of falling, of being sucked into something below or behind him. Pulling him. His body was hot, burning up; the boundaries of his flesh seemed to melt away until he lost himself, no longer able to tell where he ended and the world beyond began. All was a sea of warmth, and of light, growing like an incipient fire out of the darkness of the void behind his eyelids.
Falling, falling, and then the light exploded like a blossoming star. All was white, blinding. He gasped.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing on a cliff overlooking a sea of turquoise.
I've never seen the ocean before. It's beautiful.
Waves of blue, fading from bright on the surface to dark deeper down, like a liquefied glacier, crashed on a white sand beach. The beach stretched all along the base of the bluff that ran in both directions as far as Jon could see. The sky nearly reflected the sea below, a brilliant cerulean blue, its vastness minutely broken up by a handful of puffy white islands, slowly sailing towards the horizon. Everything that Jon looked at directly seemed more bright and vivid and sharp than anything he had ever seen before in his life. However, whatever part of the scene-scape lay on the periphery of his focus was blurred, out of focus, dream-like.
He felt a strong wind blow across his face and arms, could feel his standard-issue cargo pants and poncho ripple over his body. Yet the wind was silent and brought no change in temperature. He was buoyant, neutral. Neither hot nor cold. He felt cocooned and safe somehow, smothered in a womb-like, cradled feeling that he had been denied in pre-birth and had never experienced. He scanned the waters and the beach, his eyes dilating as they adjusted to the surreal sharpness and brightness of the colors.
Where am I?
"You are in the dream world, Jon," a tiny female voice announced in crystal clarity. "The Wayak' Lu'um."
Jon spun around in search of the speaker. Behind him, a field of green rolled away towards distant trees. The expanse was dotted with white stone buildings of the most primitive sort here and there, as well as dozens of large, cat-sized lizards sunbathing on rocks.
Directly before him stood Lily Sapphire
. She smiled when he met her gaze. She was wearing a simple garment of white cloth, decorated in a peculiar fashion, the motif on her chest being alien to Jon. She wore a narrow headband of colored beads that kept her silky straight black hair out of her face, accentuating her high and round cheekbones. Her bronze skin glowed in the astral sunlight.
"This is the place where our naguals, the part of our spirit not bound to our flesh, can wander and explore. To learn, and to share." The wind that moved Jon's clothes yet bore no chill did not ruffle Lily's dress at all, giving her presence a ghostly quality.
"Lily Sapphire!" Jon exclaimed, then frowned at himself, unsure as to why he was surprised.
"Please, call me Maya." She smiled again and dipped into a curtsy.
"Okay... Maya," Jon stuttered, more awestruck now by her otherworldly beauty than he had been at the concert. He nevertheless managed to compose himself and collect his thoughts. "Wait a sec. How can we be having this conversation? I mean, wasn't this message from you, this altered dose of Weaver, recorded days ago? Pre-recorded?"
Maya giggled, covering her mouth with her small hand as she did, then as politely as possible offered, "The rules of Strange are not as... mmm, linear, as the rules of your science. Yes, this is pre-recorded, but not in the way you think. You are speaking to me, but not the real me. The real me, if everything worked out the way I planned, is in a Ministry jail cell right now. I am a fork, an impression. I'm just like the real me, except I have been here, waiting since the real me put me here the night before we met. I know and feel everything the real me does, up to the point I was made. It's complicated. It's... well, strange. But enough about that, I have much to show you, and there isn't a lot of time." She held out her hand, almost child-sized compared to his, and nodded, imploring him to take it. But Jon hesitated.
"So, it's true? You’re a sorceress? An... esoterrorist?" She smiled a third time and gently shook her head from side to side, then looked him straight in the eyes as she stepped forward and took his hand with both of hers.
The Goddess Gambit Page 17
