by C. E. Murphy
Lorhen smiled at the ceiling, then back down at Ghean. "For you. For you, Ghean. You deserve it. Gods above, I had no idea he had a steel knife in there."
"Whose was it?"
"Ragar's. The Taurian scholar, do you re—"
"Taurian?"
"Oh, come on, you know that's what they'll be calling him. Taurus, Orion, Aquarius—"
"It's a crow's head, not a jug of water—!" Ghean flung her head back again, shouting with laughter. "But you're right, you're right. Oh, I can't believe it." As she had thousands of years ago, she flung herself at Lorhen, confident he'd catch her as readily as he'd often done in Atlantis. He did, laughing, making a small 'ooof' as she knocked him back a step.
"There's your proof," he said again, and thought, damned if you do, and kissed her. Don't get carried away, old man, he ordered himself, and still whispered, "You are so beautiful, Ghean. I'd forgotten how beautiful you are when you're happy."
Ghean's smile was slow and delighted as she curled her arms around Lorhen's neck. "I haven't been happy in a long time." She rolled her eyes at the door, and murmured, "Do you think they'll miss us?"
Lorhen shot a glance at the door, eyebrows rising. "Probably, but I think Michelle would stop them from looking right away. And maybe they won't miss us at all." He lowered his head, kissing her again, then rather dramatically swept her up in his arms. "Carrying brides over thresholds wasn't exactly an Atlantean tradition, but perhaps a little new with the old?"
Ghean laughed, kicking her feet. "My cabin's closer," she whispered into his neck. "That way." She pointed imperiously with her toes.
31
Michelle did an admirable job of looking like Lorhen had hardly been missed, when he returned a few hours later. "There you are. We've stored the paper in mylar sheets. It's very delicate, so we're going to get some stiffer supports for it as soon as we can, but no one expected us to find paper of any sort. It's a wonder we had any mylar around at all." She cleared his throat, trying very hard not to grin as she asked, "Where's Mary?"
Lorhen looked at her sideways and chuckled. "Showering and getting some dinner. Have you made any sense out of anything yet? Is any of it recognizable?"
Michelle turned to the neat stacks of mylar-encased paper. "They're pretty clearly in chronological order. It looks like a journal of some sort. We kept them in order. This," she said, touching the first pile, "was on the top. I don't know if it's the newest entry or the oldest. I'd guess the newest, and that they get older as they go deeper—they won't fit in the box anymore, I'm afraid—but until we figure out a dating system of some sort we won't know. You're the one Mary thought might be able to find some kind of basis in some other language to help us translate."
Lorhen leaned on the table, hands turned out. Michelle stared at the inside of his left wrist with interest. "That's like Mary's necklace."
I should have worn long sleeves. Lorhen turned his wrist up to look at the tattoo, rubbing his thumb over it. "We were going to be married," he said slowly. "A long time ago. I got the tattoo then. Her mother gave her the necklace."
"Mary doesn't strike me as the type you'd tattoo yourself for. Come to think of it, you don't seem like the sort who'd get one."
"I was a lot younger then," Lorhen said dryly. "People do strange things for love." He frowned at the papers, lifting the first one up by its mylar encasing. The date was ten years before Lorhen had come to Atlantis. He set it down again and went to the last pile, taking the last sheet or two out from the bottom. His own name leapt out at him, partway down the final page.
Lorhen has told me the most incredible story. I'm reluctant to even write it down, to keep his secret. He trusted me with it, not a choice he made easily, I think, and so I'm left to be circumspect even in my own journals. So many of our journals end up in the library, though, and I think Lorhen ought not be undone by my clumsiness.
I've been up most of the night thinking on the tale he told. I find I believe it, though I can't say exactly why. Perhaps because it's so outrageous that no one would bother making it up. He said Minyah knows the truth. I may talk to her about him. If it really is true, dear gods, the stories he could tell! No wonder he's so well-learned. I admit, I was jealous, when I first met him. He seemed so young, and knew so much. Now that I understand him a little more fully, I wonder at his ability to deal with pompous asses like myself.
"You look like you're reading it," Michelle observed. Lorhen looked up, blinking, and shook his head.
"Most people staring intently at a piece of paper look like they're reading it. Wondering about the person who wrote it, I suppose." Not only do I remember you, Ragar, but if they manage to translate this, you'll become one of the most famous men in history. I hope that pleases you, my friend. You were a good man. You deserve to be remembered. Lorhen smiled, shaking his head. You weren't a pompous ass, he added silently. Far from it.
A chill ran through him as Ghean came down the hall. Lorhen lifted his head, waiting for the door to open, a little nervous. If she'd decided in the last half hour that making love had been an error, the next several days were going to be awkward.
She smiled as she came through the door, licking the last bites of dinner off her fingers. "Hello," she said cheerfully. "Have you translated everything yet?"
Lorhen grinned, relaxing a little. "Not yet," he said. "Give me another fifteen or twenty minutes."
Ghean laughed, coming to his side. Lorhen caught Michelle eyeing them surreptitiously and lifted his eyebrows at the mortal woman. Michelle smiled and shook her head, looking like the proverbial canary-catching cat. Ghean clucked her tongue. "You're getting lazy," she said to Lorhen. "Slipping. I mean, you were useful this morning, but if you haven't gotten the translations done, well, what have you done for me lately?"
She blinked as Michelle burst into laughter, then tried hopelessly not to grin. "What?" she demanded of Michelle. "What?" The grin got away from her, and she laughed as well.
Lorhen looked at both of them through his eyebrows, shaking his head and smiling. "Are you quite finished?" he asked without rancor, and Michelle dropped into a chair to laugh again.
"I'm sorry," the archaeologist eventually said, wiping at her eyes, "but you two make a really wonderful couple. You're so tall," she said to Lorhen, and laughed again.
"I'm not that tall," Lorhen protested. Not anymore, anyway.
"Next to Mary you are."
"Next to Mary, Napoleon was tall, Michelle."
Chortling, Michelle leaned forward in her chair, trying to get down to business. "Look, I know it's completely unreasonable to ask, but do you want to take a look at these and see if you can make heads or tails out of it? We probably won't go down for another three days, with all the loot we brought up today. Do you know that knife looks like it might really be steel? Can you imagine? Forty-five centuries ago someone had the ability to make steel? At any rate, we'll be doing photography and reports and tests and maybe we'll even get the press out here to admire us. My God," Michelle said, standing up, "has anyone called the University?"
"It's four in the morning there," Ghean said.
"Oh. Yes, of course. They're planning a party tomorrow night, you missed the talk about that."
"Why not tonight?" Lorhen asked.
Michelle shrugged, smiling apologetically. "Tonight the general consensus is studying the artifacts. Tomorrow we'll celebrate. Everyone's eating right now, but this place is going to fill up again. You'll have company, Logan, if you decide to work on these at all tonight."
Lorhen looked at the papers he still held. "I think I can do that," he agreed. "Put in a few hours' work, anyway. I'm not sure I have anything else to do." He looked sideways at Ghean, who elbowed him.
"Like I said, what have you done for me lately?" she asked, and tilted her head at Michelle. "Come on, let's let our boy wonder here get some work done."
"You're the boss," Michelle said. "Logan, that laptop over there is mine. Feel free to use it."
"Mmm,"
Lorhen said. "Thanks." He put the papers down and went to get the computer, setting up as the other pair left the room.
Michelle walked Ghean up to the deck, leaning on the railing. "I want to know what's going on," she said eventually.
She knows! the frightened one shrieked. She knows, she's found us out! We're caught, we'll die, Atlantis will never return!
Quiet, Ghean ordered sharply. "What?" she asked aloud.
"I want to know what the hell is going on," Michelle repeated, tipping her head toward where they'd Lorhen. "With you and Logan."
Ghean smiled slowly, lazily. "What do you think?"
"Not that." Michelle looked exasperated. "That's pretty obvious. No, I'm talking about that fight you had in the sub, Mary. That was no made-up kid's language. I've been thinking about it all day. There was structure to it, even to an ear that doesn't know it. Kids don't do that. I remember. What the hell was it?"
Tell the truth, the patient one hissed. Parts of it. It will make the lie more plausible.
"It was my native language," Ghean answered. "What does it matter?" She reached for her ring to play with, only to remember she'd taken it off while Lorhen undressed her earlier. She tugged her necklace instead, the pendant in the palm of her hand.
"I've never heard anything like it. What is it?" Michelle frowned at Ghean as she played with the necklace. "He's got a tattoo of that necklace. He said he got it when you two were going to be married. When was that?"
"A long time ago," Ghean answered. "We were a lot younger then."
"He also said your mother gave it to you."
Ghean frowned. "She did. What's wrong, Michelle?"
"You told me you were adopted."
"I was." Ghean sighed. "So?"
"So you have a picture on your bookcase in Chicago. From your grandmother. Who looks exactly like you. And she's wearing that necklace. Which has bullets around the outside, just like those bull decorations we found."
Ghean closed her eyes momentarily, constructing a story, then, impatiently, said, "I found my birth mother. The picture of my grandmother was from when she was young, in the twenties. Mother gave it to me because we looked so much alike. Michelle, why are you grilling me like this?"
Good, the patient one whispered. Put her on the defensive. She's noticing too much.
Rather than answer, Michelle studied her face intently. "You're not wearing makeup now," she said after a moment. "You haven't gotten older, have you, Mary?"
"Michelle." Ghean opened her eyes, irked. "Everyone gets older. It's dark out, for goodness sake. The light's just kind to me right now."
"It's not your grandmother," Michelle continued, as if Ghean hadn't spoken. "It's you. It looks exactly like you. Exactly like you. And Logan Adams is just like you, isn't he? It's why you both know so much even when you don't look old enough to. How do you do it? What was that language?"
She knows, the frightened one gasped.
She's guessing, the patient one snapped.
Ghean pressed her eyes shut. "It was Atlantean," she said, forcing as much sarcasm into the words as she could. "Logan and I are both really five thousand years old and we were there when Atlantis sank. Is that the kind of story you want to hear, Michelle? I can make some more up if you want."
Don't tell her! the frightened one shrieked. The patient one was, for once, stunned into silence. Ghean opened her eyes to see Michelle staring down at her, shocked belief in her eyes.
"Gods of heaven and earth," Ghean said wearily, and stepped away from the railing. "I suppose you'd better come down to my room and hear the whole thing."
It took nearly three hours to tell Michelle an abbreviated version of the tale. Over the objections of the voices, she explained the artifacts, and the very different immortality that kept her alive. Through the entire telling, Michelle sat in numb silence, examining her face, as if she was trying to find the years Ghean had lived somewhere hidden in her eyes.
"So they're all lost?" she asked, when she finished. "The House artifacts?"
Ghean shook her head, picking up the lion's-head ring and tossing it to her. "This is one of them," she said. "I didn't even know it until a few days ago. I just thought it was something my mother had left me, a reminder of Atlantis. You can keep it, after I'm done with Lorhen. I won't need it then, and if I regain the Book, I should be able to learn how to make them. I'd make one for you anyway, but wouldn't it be more fun to have one of the originals? I think there are two more, still in Atlantis somewhere. We won't find one at the House we've found. It's the Bull's House, and they had the unicorns."
"Unicorns?" Michelle asked, incredulously.
For one brief moment Ghean understood how Lorhen felt, and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Unicorns. You believed the rest of this and you don't believe in unicorns?"
"Unicorns aren't real, Mary," Michelle said, as if she was talking to a small child. Ghean stared at her until she flushed, looking away. "All right," she mumbled uncomfortably. "Unicorns. Right."
"I think I should have told you a long time ago," Ghean said. "When I'm finished with Lorhen, and you have the ring, well, call it a repayment for the deception."
"Thank you," Michelle finally managed, handing the ring back to her. "After you're done with Lorhen?"
Ghean smiled, putting the ring down beside the bed before standing to pull her rapier down from above the bed. Despite the story she'd told, Michelle stood up, taking a step or two backwards.
"Christ Almighty, you actually use a sword?"
"It would take a very long time to remove someone's head with a Swiss Army knife, Michelle." Despite that, Ghean put the rapier back where it belonged and drew her heartstrike knife from the small of her back. "We use these, too, though."
Prove it to her, the patient one said dourly. Like Lorhen did for us. Then she'll believe.
Don't! She knows too much already! Don't show her anything else, the frightened one begged.
"For what?"
"We take power from one another when we kill each other. It only works if there's been a heartstrike first, though. I could take Lorhen's head—"
"Lorhen?"
"Logan," Ghean said after a moment. "It's the name I knew him by, in Atlantis." She leveled the heartstrike knife across her hand, then folded her fingers around it, drawing the blade sideways. She winced as skin and flesh separated, feeling skin and flesh separating, and released the blade, turning her hand up to show Michelle the gashes. Horror warped the other woman' features, slowly turning to amazement as the wounds healed before her eyes.
That, Ghean thought, must have been what I looked like when Lorhen showed me this, the first time. "I am Timeless," she said softly, and cleaned the blood off the blade, replacing it in its sheathe at the small of her back. "And I'm going to take Logan's head, and his power. He heals the same way you just saw me do. The ring is my buffer. In fair combat, I'd never beat him. He's got too much experience, and a reach I can't possibly match." Ghean gestured briefly, indicating her height. "The ring will counter it. If I can't be hurt, eventually I'll be able to take his head."
"You really only die if someone takes your head," Michelle breathed.
Ghean nodded. "Anything short of that and I'll survive. I can be killed, but unless my head leaves my shoulders, within a few minutes I'll be back on my feet again."
Michelle asked, uncertainly, "You have to kill him?"
Ghean glanced up at the sword again as she regained her seat on the bed. "He's less use to me now that you know the truth," she said. "You can have your share of epiphanies about the site now. I'll tell you what we're dealing with. I think we should stick with the House findings for several dives, before going back to the city and the temple. We've obviously found a site worthy of excavating. It would look strange to go back to the temple right now. Lorhen would wonder why you agreed to it."
"I thought you were lovers," Michelle said slowly. "And you'd still kill him?"
Ghean shrugged. "We were, and we are again. He's still
in love with me, even after all this time, and since that's the case, I thought I might as well enjoy myself while he was useful to me. I have you, now, though, and I'd rather work with you than him. I imagine Logan will meet with a fatal accident in the next few days."
She hesitated, watching Michelle's face. "Understand, Michelle," she said quietly. "Even if this wasn't personal, my kind have a need to fight one another. It's something in the power that heals us and keeps us alive. I won't lie to you. I'm motivated by revenge. But you lose a certain sentimentality as you get older, and you learn to do what you must to survive. With Logan's power combined with my own years, I should be undefeatable." She lifted the golden leonine ring between two fingers. "And as soon as I'm done with this, you'll gain immortality, Michelle. Wouldn't it be a pity to lose me now?"
Michelle glanced at the ring, then at Ghean before speaking slowly. "I suppose you're the old hand at this. It's just a little much to take in all at once."
"I know," Ghean said wryly. "You're doing better than I did. It'll get easier, in a few days. Just try to stay steady until then. It's probably best if Logan doesn't find out you know the truth." She lifted her head as a chill shuddered through her, and stood. "Speaking of which, here he comes. It's about bedtime anyway, hm?"
Michelle's eyebrows lifted. "It's been quite a day," she said in agreement.
Ghean nodded. "I'll take a look at the papers and tell you what they say, tomorrow. For now, good night, Michelle." She opened the door as Lorhen was about to knock and smiled up at the tall immortal. "There you are," she said. "Michelle was keeping me company. Any luck?"
"Conjecture," Lorhen said, rubbing his eyes. "Frequently repeated words that could be articles, theorized letter-to-letter translations. I just came by to say good night, Mary." He smiled tiredly. "And Michelle," he added, as Michelle stepped past him out the door and opened her own door just down the hall. As Michelle's door closed, Lorhen smiled down at Ghean. "These beds are too small for two people to actually sleep in."
"Sleep?" Ghean asked. "Who said anything about sleep?" She caught his hand, drawing him into the room. "You can go back to your own room later."