The Python of Caspia

by Michael Green

  “What is it, Poll?” She answered demurely.

  “Ryle on the border! Brutox in the dozens!”

  She shrieked and exploded into a shooting column of smoke that burst out of the hall.

  Andy gulped, wishing someone had told him what kind of power Pythia had. Had he known, he might have kept silent.

  After a few moments of confused silence, the hall burst into panic.

  “Andy!” It was Letty, she was calling to him. He jumped from his seat and took the steps two at a time to get to her.

  “Stay back!” Someone tried to tackle him. Andy didn’t get a look at who it was, but he pushed them aside and down the stairs. He heard the crash of tables and chairs as they tumbled and sent silverware flying.

  “Letty! Do you recognize me?”

  She half stood and half sat at the table, unsure of what to do. “I do—I didn’t earlier, but when you told the story, I started to remember, and now I do! How do I wake up?”

  Andy stared at her desperate face, shocked by the question. He had stared too long, and was surprised by a sudden rush. A guard tackled him and knocked him sideways.

  “Tie him up! Now!” A pair of guards approached from each direction. Andy pulled the marble from his pocket and felt the blade flash into existence. He breathed heavily, furious, and the blade seemed to flutter and grow stronger, like a flame fed by a bellows, pumping in time with his heaving chest.

  The guards slammed him with the blunt ends of their weapons. But he sliced their spear hafts in two with a single stroke and, on the back-swing, punched one in the face with his free hand, causing the guard to stumble down the stairs.

  “Come on!” Andy pulled Letty out of her seat.

  He wanted to rake his blade across the last standing guard, but knew it would kill the man and relented.

  Instead he yelled, “Back away, or I’ll cut you in two!”

  The guard considered his spear haft and stepped carefully away.

  Andy and Letty raced for the hall doors, shouts from the others resounding chaotically. Letty had to hike her dress up to run.

  When they reached the outdoors, Letty stopped.

  “Come on!” Andy tugged at her.

  “Shut up for a second.” She ripped the train off her dress, using a dinner knife she had tucked up her sleeve, and made her dress into a jagged skirt. “Okay! Keep running!”

  Once they turned the corner Andy realized that he had no idea where they were in Caspia. The chiming bells in the ribs sounded violently from all around, making it hard to focus.

  “We came down a giant set of stairs!” Andy yelled. He spun, looking for the right way, but the tall, sprawling buildings confused his sense of direction.

  Glancing up, he saw the colors on the cavern ceiling. Wait! He thought back to Titus. The silver! Follow the silver back!

  Andy spotted the thinnest strand of silver thread pulsing away from the city.

  “That way!”

  “How do you know?” Letty asked.

  “Long story—involves mice!”

  A few minutes later, Andy slowed as they came to an intersection. He leaned around the corner of a tower and scanned for guards. There were none.

  He noticed an enclosed stairwell on the building they were leaning against. He was tired and expected that Letty was too.

  “Let’s take a minute to catch our breath,” he said, gesturing to the stairwell.

  Letty nodded and went ahead.

  They sat on the stairs, but Andy kept leaning forward to look onto the lane.

  Wiping sweat off her brow, she asked, “What was that you used on those guards? It was amazing!”

  Distracted, Andy was slow to answer, “I don’t know; I think something happened to me.”

  “Hey, pay attention,” she insisted. “What was that thing you were fighting with?”

  “I’m not really sure. It saved my life twice now. It’s called an Argument.” Andy held the marble out to Letty. “Be careful, it jolted Quill when he tried to touch it.”

  Letty reached out and took it.

  Nothing happened.

  She peered closely at its surface. “It swirls, as if it’s liquid inside.”

  “Try holding it out, and grasping it tightly,” Andy said.

  She did so.

  “But point it away from me,” he joked, pushing her arm aside.

  She tightened her fist and a glow appeared. After tightening it further, the blade flashed into existence.

  “All right!” she said with a smile on her face. “I’d like to see them mess with us now.”

  “Yeah. I’d let you keep it, but I need to give it back.”

  “Huh?” Letty loosened her grip and the blade vanished. “Don’t be stupid, of course I’m not going to take it from you. If you find a spare, hold onto it for me.”

  Andy remembered Quill mentioning how rare they were. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  They were quiet for a moment as footsteps rushed past on the lane below.

  Letty handed Andy the marble.

  The sound of the runner faded.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me back there? When I found you, it was like you didn’t know me,” Andy asked.

  “They did something; I barely remember anything. Seeing you act like an idiot in the hall knocked some sense into me.”

  Andy tried to scowl, but it was half-hearted.

  “I was pretty stupid back there. Their Mistress is not happy with me.”

  Letty shuddered. “Good. I do not like her.”

  Andy nodded, and they were silent again.

  “Say, Andy. Why did you come all this way to find me?” Letty asked, too casually.

  Andy blinked. He knew why, but he couldn’t find the words. He looked at the ground and said, “Let’s go.”

  They peeked back onto the street and waited for another runner to pass before barreling out. Andy nearly tripped on a flagstone, as his attention was stuck to the skyline.

  “Pay attention!” Letty snapped, “I can’t carry you if you break your leg.”

  Andy finally saw the stairway up to the cliff. It was steeper than he recalled. He pointed. “That’s the way.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I wish I was.”

  “We can’t run up that!”

  Andy turned a corner and stopped short. There stood Pythia, her guards, a handful of armed brutox, and the purple-skinned ryle that called itself Dr. Ropt.

  “There they are!” Pythia said with a delighted voice. “And what a couple they make too—did you ruin your dress?”

  Chapter 11

  Drinks on the Wall

  Andy held out the crossbow and quiver. Slyn, the spider, stepped forward with a jittery gait and reached for his weapon.

  Andy grimaced, his fingers clenching. An armored lobster had given him the crossbow, quiver, and winch a few minutes ago, specifically for the ceremony. Andy recalled the guards hesitating at the order to arm him.

  Slyn leered with eight burning, faceted eyes.

  “How’s that bump on your head?” Andy asked before lunging forward in a mock attack.

  Slyn flinched, but then grabbed the crossbow, his low voice gurgling with frustration. Andy didn’t let go, instead, he leaned in and whispered to the beast, “Tell me the name of your Master, and I won’t humiliate you again.”

  Just as Andy was doubting its ability to speak, the creature clicked in a low guttural voice.

  Andy glanced up at the stands ringing the plaza. They were filled with pupils from the hall, and a handful of brutox, but the most alarming presence was the tentacled monster he had seen in the optometrist’s office.

  “Dr. Ropt?” Andy asked. “Is that his name?”

  Slyn glanced at the stands. He gulped, before nodding and tugging at the weapon.

  Andy released and watched Slyn raise the crossbow aloft, as if he hadn’t accepted it in an apology. The brutox rattled their weapons, but the Caspians were silent.

  “Don’t
you want these?” Andy asked, un-shouldering the quiver and holding up the winch.

  Slyn snatched them and, after a moment of glory, his eyes bulged with realization. He shuffled off to Ropt, who was sitting on a raised platform next to Pythia. Both Pythia and Ropt were surrounded by their guards. Andy sensed that Slyn was telling on him. The human audience grumbled confusedly.

  Andy expected one of the Masters to rise and give a speech on peace and cooperation, but both were distracted by Slyn.

  Tell the teacher—go on.

  The Ropt creature stood and leaned forward. Andy felt him staring.

  Annoyed at the rude, unbroken stare, Andy felt glib. “Don’t be confused, Doctor, we’ve spoken before,” he said.

  Ropt’s tentacles twisted for a moment. He raised a clawed arm, and the brutox surrounding the plaza leveled their weapons.

  My mouth will get me killed.

  Andy crouched and looked for an unguarded exit to the plaza.

  Pythia called out, “Stay, you monsters! The boy is safe here!”

  Her guards faced off against the brutox. It looked like fighting might break out.

  If Letty wasn’t in the booth with Pythia and Ropt, Andy thought they might try to escape in the chaos of a skirmish.

  If I had only waited till now—there’s no way the guards will let me near her, not after our escape attempt.

  Andy bent, his limbs surged with the need to make a move. Pythia and the Ropt creature were arguing. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were in a heated debate.

  Andy flinched towards the booth, but the guards turned on him in a flash. He reached for the marble but saw that Pythia and Ropt had come to an agreement.

  The guards noticed as well, and both sides put up their arms.

  Pythia gave a silent command, and the crowd dispersed.

  “That’s it? Tell us, what you’ve decided!” Andy cried.

  Pythia waved at him with a bright smile. Letty wouldn’t meet his eye, and neither would the others.

  After a few minutes, the plaza was almost deserted. He noticed two armored Caspian guards and two brutox standing about thirty feet to his right and left respectively.

  Andy followed the crowd, and noticed that the guards trailed him, keeping a set distance.

  “Really? Come on,” Andy snapped, marching up to Pythia’s armored lobster guards. They reeled backwards as he approached. “Hey—you there! Don’t ignore me!” They kept moving. “What are your orders?”

  Andy cornered them against a wall and stared them down until one began talking, “We’re to keep an eye on you. You can’t leave Caspia, and you can’t bother Solstaci.”

  Not surprising.

  “But what about them?” He pointed to the Brutox.

  The guard shrugged. “The Mistress has made some arrangement with the ryle. You are free to wander the grounds, under watch, until your chambers are prepared.”

  “And then?”

  The guards shared a look. “And then you will go to bed, like a good lad, and not cause any further diplomatic incidents. Aye?”

  Andy didn’t like the sound of that. “What about tomorrow—what happens then?”

  The guards shrugged. “Just don’t try anything; they have orders to kill if you run.” He pointed at the Brutox, one of which was armed with a crossbow, while the other carried a glaive.

  They stood in awkward silence before one of the guards cleared his throat.

  “Say, that was something else, what you did with the silver blade, I mean.”

  “I can’t explain it. I can’t really explain anything,” Andy said, producing the marble for them to see. “Why do you work with them? The brutox and the ryle, I mean. I know what they do—they took Letty from her family.”

  “It’s poor company. The poorest. But believe me, Caspia is the best place for a human, particularly a Sensate.”

  The other guard nodded. “Those violet eyes are worse than a death sentence in most places, even the surface. I’d be more worried for yourself, come morning, than Solstaci; they’ve already made a deal for her.”

  Andy rounded on them. “Be clear! Are you saying Pythia bought Letty from the ryle?”

  They looked uncomfortable under their helmets.

  “Are the people here bought and sold?” Andy asked again.

  “Not as such,” the guard stammered, “deals are struck, but we’re free here. As free as free gets.”

  The other guard shook his head as he leaned on his spear. “It’s best to make peace. Get the Mistress to like you, if it’s not too late yet. I heard them talking. They say you came in here on your own, not captured. That changes things in their eyes; no one else has done that. And you’ve got Sensate blood, which makes you valuable to them both. The ryle is claiming you and so is she. They almost came to blows, but now we’re waiting to see who gets—er, who you go with.”

  They are trying to enslave me—like they did with Letty. Andy looked around at his armed guards. He felt thoroughly captured and then remembered the marble in his pocket. It was his only recourse, but could he bring himself to kill his four guards? He looked through the slits of the lobster helmets and saw clear, violet eyes.

  Andy shook his head, knowing he couldn’t murder these two. He sighed and let his mind wander.

  “Could I ask you guys a few questions?”

  The guards tilted in their armor and shared a glance.

  “What does the word Sensate mean?” Andy asked, before they could object.

  “That’s us. We with the odd eyes, who can see the ryle for what they are.”

  “Right, but I thought we were called Seers,” Andy replied.

  They shuffled nervously at that.

  “Around here, we use the word Sensate. It keeps everyone happy.”

  It must have something to do with Pythia.

  “Say, Lysander, there’s a good spot to watch the sea, not too far from here,” the guard spoke nervously, and rearranged his helmet straps. “Might be a nice sight before being—well, you know.”

  Andy nodded and let them lead the way. He looked over his shoulder and saw the brutox following along, not far behind. The one with the crossbow had his weapon aimed at Andy’s back. If he ran or became violent, he expected a bolt, and wondered how true a shot the brutox was.

  “I don’t get it. Why are you being friendly?” Andy asked.

  They were silent, but he sensed pity behind their apprehension.

  Maybe they’re talking because they don’t know what else to do.

  This side of Caspia was more ramshackle and cobbled together, and the buildings didn’t look like Arke’s designs. Fish bones and piles of clam shells filled alleys and empty lots. They passed the occasional Caspian, but these streets were mostly bare.

  Hoping to draw them out again Andy said, “I prefer to go by Andy, I hate it when people call me Lysander.”

  One of the guards grunted.

  “How about you guys?”

  The one who grunted grabbed Andy’s wrist for an awkward handshake. “Poll, they call me. Can’t rightly remember what I like to be called.” He slapped the other guard on the shoulder plate. “Caston here bet me ten shifts of watch duty that you would try something before the morning. Of course, you tried something at dinner.”

  A tinny laugh echoed from inside Caston’s helmet. He turned and shook Andy’s hand. “I can smell trouble, and whew, when I saw you at the stairs, what with that stolen crossbow.”

  Poll interrupted, “Right, right, but I didn’t know that he’d taken the thing off that brute. If I’d known—”

  “You aren’t getting out of this.” Caston clapped his friend heavily on the back. “Make it five shifts and we’re square.”

  “Five!”

  The bickering was disarming; Andy let his hand slip out of his pocket.

  “Did you choose your names?” Andy interjected.

  There was a pause.

  “Not as such,” Poll answered, “We’re named at birth. And, if
our Mistress has her way—you staying with us—she’ll give you a name too. Realistically, you see, the name comes from one’s character. So, in a way, we do choose our own names.”

  Caston spoke, “Listen to that drivel. What must be, will be. Though I say you gave us quite the licking earlier. I’m almost inclined to trip on a loose flagstone and give you a chance to visit our friends back there, with a few slices of that blade.”

  These two aren’t slavishly loyal to Pythia. How does she control them? Do they really believe there is nowhere better than here? Is it actually true?

  They walked in friendly silence up a set of well-worn stairs. At the top, Andy realized that they had mounted a wall that surrounded three sides of Caspia, the fourth being backed by the cliff. He could see a port on the other side of this wall and looked out onto a ketch tying off at the pier. Its crew was hauling in nets full of colorful fish.

  Great view up here.

  As if reading his mind, Poll said, “Best post in town, this wall.” He disappeared into a tower and returned with a pair of rickety chairs. He went back for a third chair and a clay jug. “Get the cups will you, Cas?”

  “Right, right.” Caston followed and found a few worn, tin cups. He paused at the stairwell, looking down on the brutox, who were standing awkwardly at the base of the stairs. “No worries, friends, we’re just having a few drinks. No need to come up.”

  Poll grunted as he took off his helmet and sat heavily onto the chair. Andy expected it to bend or break under his bulk; both Caston and Poll were far larger than he, but the chair was better made than the rickety driftwood implied.

  Andy took an offered cup and joined them in the third chair. The drink was syrupy and blue. He cringed at the consistency but saw that they liked it.

  He took a sip and was surprised to find it cool and only slightly sweet. The aftertaste reminded him of roses. “Not bad. Why are you—” he held out the drink questioningly. “Is this how you treat prisoners?”

  “I can’t say,” Caston answered. “It’s like she said, the ferocity. I like to see another fighter. It’s just Poll and me. Well, Staza could handle either one of us, and Quill is a fair enough fighter. Most of the others drudge through militia practice.” He shook his head.

  “Sensitive types,” Poll answered. “Always wailing about projects and seating assignments. No community here.”