Differential Damsel
Page 9
They keep to themselves, tending their gardens and tiny plots of land, trading with each other for their meager needs, even preferring to marry within their own families. Many take daily journeys into the marsh to hunt or gather firewood, and more than a few actually live there. In turn, they are avoided by the villagers, who tell strange stories about these "marsh folk", which tend to discourage idle curiosity. This suits the marsh folk just fine, who would prefer never to see an unfamiliar face.
Greenwood Cemetery lies at the border of the eastern and central quarters of Tamarack, but the intersection of Elmwood and Charles lies well inside the marsh quarter, and there is no other way of getting to it except through the quarter itself. It took us a half an hour to negotiate the twisting streets, which were badly in need of repair. The houses were all dark. In the beams of my headlights they appeared skull white, with windows black like huge, empty sockets. They looked as if they had been rotted by the acidic soil of that drained bog-land. Occasionally we saw shadows scuttling away from our lights. Like the homes, they appeared tattered and ancient, crippled in form, but swift in their movements. I wondered if the soil could do to people what it did to the buildings. Or maybe it wasn't the soil. There, at night, it seemed easy to believe the stories told by the villagers, that the marsh was filled with a necrosis that saturated soil and atmosphere, putrefying both the homes and their occupants until they bore only the slightest resemblance to the modern town.
At last we spotted the gates of the cemetery. They stood open, though their quantity of rust suggested that they had not been used in over a hundred years. Beyond them, a thick mist shrouded the graveyard. My headlights bounced off the cloud, making it look like a solid, whitewashed wall; we couldn't even see the nearest headstones. Pulling off to the side of the road, I parked, but left the motor idling. I turned the headlights off so that we could look for our customer, and blackness descended, as if a blanket had been thrown over the jeep.
After a moment, our eyes adjusted to the change, though little more than the gate and the nearer houses could be seen. Unfortunately, there appeared to be no one around to greet us and neither Michele nor I wanted to get out and start knocking on doors. Yet we were not willing to immediately leave. So we simply sat there, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
From "Dribble & Maggot in the Land of Dreams"
Sir Differel Van Helsing strolled into the recovery room of the infirmary in her manor. Lady Margaret was awake, and she tried to make herself comfortable in the hospital-style bed. She pulled up a chair and sat beside her.
"How do you feel?"
She rubbed her stomach. "Like I was put through a wringer. Just what the hell did that crackbrain do to me!?"
The 'crackbrain' was Dr. Mabuse, the Caerleon Order's resident mad scientist. "She's developed a whole technology based on the Schrodinger wave function. You remember what that is?"
"Barely."
"Never mind. In essence, she used a device that sped up your pregnancy, so you came to term in a few hours instead of nine months."
"And that was better than an abortion how?"
"The baby is alive, and will be adopted by a loving childless couple, anonymously. While you avoided the embarrassment, inconvenience, discomfort, and maternal bonding. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but I didn't expect it to hurt so bloody much!"
She smirked. "Think of it as payback, for being a selfish slag."
Margaret scowled. "You're all heart, Dribble."
She returned a grin. "What are frenemies for, Maggot?"
"So what happens now?"
"Mabuse says you should rest for a day, but I have a better idea. How would you like a fifteen week vacation? On me?"
She made a sour face. "The way I feel, I'd rather sleep for that long."
Differel chuckled. "Funny you should say that."
Margaret flashed a puzzled look. "Besides, I don't have the time."
She stood up. "Neither do I. Meet me in my bedroom after supper. We leave tonight." She ignored her look of alarmed confusion and hurried out.
"Hey! What about something to eat?"
Differel had already changed into a nightshirt when Margaret arrived. She glanced at Vlad Drakulya standing at the foot of the bed, but ignored the Vampire and came over to her.
"All right, what's going on? This had better not be some kind of sick joke."
She handed her a nightshirt. "Change into this, and I'll explain."
Margaret gave her a dirty look, but started to unbutton her blouse when she glanced at Vlad again. He flashed a predatory leer, and she retreated into the bathroom.
Differel leaned against the doorway and watched her change. "For ten years now I've been going to an alternative universe every night in my sleep."
She paused and gave her a look like she was moony.
"I'm serious. It's called the Dreamlands, and I propose to take you there on an extended stay, to give you a chance to relax and recover."
She slipped the shirt over her head. "Are you saying we'll be asleep for fifteen weeks?"
"No, just fifteen hours. Time is different there. For every hour that passes here, a week goes by there. Your body can get the rest it needs while you mentally get to take four months off from the social and political rat race."
She retreated further into her bedroom as Margaret followed. "So how does this work?"
She sat on her bed. "I can do it automatically, but you'll have to take a drug, a potion if you will. It will put you out for fifteen hours, but also alter your brain chemistry so you can enter the other universe. However, it will keep you asleep until it wears off. I have to take it too, otherwise I could wake up before you do." She sidled across the mattress to give her room to get into bed.
"You mean we won't be able to wake up for all that time? Won't that make us vulnerable?"
"Vlad will watch over us," she said as Margaret crawled in beside her. "And I have my household guard."
"Indeed," he rumbled. "You will be as safe as babes in my arms." He spared them a wolfish grin.
"Behave yourself Thrall. So, are you ready or not?"
She flashed a worried look. "Not, but I'm intrigued. Let's do this."
Differel held up one hand and revealed a pair of small perfume bottles. "Drink this all down." She handed one to her, then pulled the stopper on her own. They downed their contents simultaneously.
Margaret licked her lips. "Mmmm, that was great! Tasted like honey."
Differel handed her bottle to her, and she placed both on the night table. "It's derived from mead. Now, lay down; it takes effect quickly, and you won't even realize it."
They maneuvered to stretch out supine, and she crossed her hands over her diaphragm.
"So, what is this place?" Her voice already sounded drowsy.
"Sort of a sword and sorcery fantasyland," she murmured as she felt herself drift. If Margaret replied, she missed it as she dropped into slumber.
Differel opened her eyes, feeling refreshed and energized. She sat up as Margaret did and they both got out bed.
"What went wrong?"
"Nothing. We're both Dreaming." She headed out of her bedroom; Vlad gave no indication he could see them.
Margaret fell in beside her. "This isn't like any dream I remember."
"No, 'Dreaming', with a capital 'D'. Mabuse believes it's an altered state of consciousness, one that can penetrate dimensional barriers and allow us to travel to the Dreamlands. We're not in the house anymore, or rather our bodies still are but our minds are already roaming. This is a staging area that allows us access to the Lands; like a hallway with many doors in it leading to other universes."
They made their way through the manor to the ground floor, then out into the back garden. Though they encountered servants and guards, none acknowledged their presence, or responded when Margaret tried to talk with them.
"Think of Dickens; 'they are but shadows'. Though I suppose we're really the shadows."
"You always di
d think too much, Dribble."
At the far end of the garden, before they reached the surrounding security fence, a path that shouldn't have been there led to an opening in the ground surrounded by rose bushes. Steps carved from living rock descended into the earth.
"These are the Seventy Steps to Lighter Slumber. They lead into the Dreamlands, by way of the Cavern of Flame."
"The what?"
"Think of it as a security checkpoint. You need to be cleared before you can enter. I doubt you'll have a problem, but I need to warn you. It's an idiosyncrasy of the Cavern that, even though we'll descend together, each of us will go through it alone. You'll be naked, but it's more like a bared soul. You'll encounter the guardians, but they won't harm you, so don't panic and attack them. If they let you pass, they can answer any question you might have. We'll meet up in the Dreamlands proper after descending the Seven Hundred Steps of Deeper Slumber. Understood?"
"Yeah, sure; let's get this over with."
"After you, Maggot."
"As it should be, Dribble."
Margaret started down and she followed. Darkness closed in around them, and though only a couple of feet away, she soon lost sight of her frenemy. In typical dream distortion fashion, it seemed to take forever to reach the bottom, but when she did it felt like no time had passed. The cavern had at one time been natural, but it had long since been smoothed over and covered with colorful bas-reliefs. There were no furnishings or lamps, but inside an exit at the back of the cave stood a