by A. L. Knorr
The ledge wasn’t wide, so bringing myself up to standing was a slow process. As I straightened, I found the blinking arrow. Wiping at my face—making sure not to stab myself with the spikes—I shuffled along the ledge toward it.
When I reached it, the swinging gameboard came to an end, and a platform was before me. An arch made of square-cut rocks spanned the width of the platform. The rocks making up the arch itself had wooden wedges between them, the plinths holding the curve together. Stepping off the narrow ledge and onto the platform after testing to see if it was solid with a tentative toe, I came to stand beneath the arch.
Along the wall nearest to where I stood, to halfway across the gym where it ended, sat a long rectangular pool filled with black water. The water was completely opaque. I had no idea if it was shallow or deep. Where the pool ended was another blinking arrow pointing down, into what, I had no idea, but clearly when I reached it, I’d find out.
I knelt at the edge of the pool and sniffed. There were no strange smells, it really did seem like water. But what if it was something less friendly? I was about to get on my knees and reach down when a low hum began behind me.
I squeaked with surprise as an unseen force grabbed both of my wrists and yanked me backward. It was so powerful it pulled me back through the arch. With loud clanks of metal on metal, both of my wrists slammed against something solid, pinning me with my hands up by my ears in a gesture of surrender.
Struggling to pull my hands away, I realize that I could still lift my head and bow my body away from the surface I was stuck to. Only my wrists were fastened tight.
It was a giant magnet, and my vambraces were the only metal things on me. But now I was stuck. I took a breath and detonated in my shoulders and back, trying to yank the cuffs away from the metal. They juddered and slid a little along the magnet’s surface, but didn’t come away. I tried something similar but moved more slowly, using slow-burn.
With a grimace of effort, I detached my right wrist, but the energy required to keep it away from the magnet drained me so quickly that I soon gave up. My wrist snapped back against the magnet.
Panting, I looked from one wrist to the other. I needed to get out of the vambraces, but the buckles were too far away for me to undo with my teeth. I’d have to melt my way out of them.
Stoking up enough heat to melt what I’d determined was iron, I sent it into my right wrist.
Liquid iron drooled onto the floor as I slid my wrist free. My right hand flew to undo the buckles of the gauntlet around my left wrist, and I stepped away from the magnet.
Immediately, the hum of the magnet ceased. The gauntlets dropped to the floor, one of them landing on my toe. I hopped briefly with my injured toe in the air, but forgot all about the pain when a loud crash made me whirl around, the whole platform shaking beneath my feet.
The stones making up the arch had fallen to the floor and landed in a heap amidst blackened wood and ash. I’d been sloppy with my heat pollution, allowing it to burn up the wood holding the arch together. Oops.
I hadn’t yet studied different woods, but whatever this was, it had burned easily and quickly. A stone had fallen into the black water, answering the question of depth.
Stepping over the pile of blocks, I came to stand at the edge of the pool. The square-cut rock sat in just six inches of black liquid, sitting proud of the surface by three inches, making a kind of square lily-pad large enough to step on.
Kneeling at the edge, I dipped a hand into what I hoped was water. It felt like water, cool and the same density, but I had never seen water so black before. In theory, I could walk across this pool, if it was all the same depth, but I had a feeling it wasn’t supposed to be that easy.
I went to pick up another of the square blocks and grunted when I couldn’t get it off the pile. It was impressively heavy. No wonder it had shaken the floor when the arch fell.
“What is this made of? Lead?”
With a grunt and a combination of detonations in my lower body and slow-burn in my upper, I lifted one up to standing. Even with the fire, this block was not easy to carry. It weighed a lot more than even Ryan’s dead-weight.
Staggering over to the pool with my burden and wondering if it might be compressing my spine permanently, I gathered my fire and stepped onto the block that had fallen into the water. Panting and with sweat pouring down my face, I let the stone drop into the black liquid just beyond the first one. Once I’d been relieved of my burden, I felt as light as a plastic bag floating on the wind.
A sizzling sound reached my ears and I looked down to see holes appearing in my fireproof pants from the splashes that had struck my legs. Even the hard neoprene boot encasing my left foot had taken a droplet and sustained a steaming dimple.
What kind of water didn’t hurt my skin but ate through fireproof clothing? But I didn’t have time to stand around contemplating the game-makers’ devices. I had work to do.
Stepping back onto the platform, I picked up another ridiculously heavy block and carried it, grunting and sweating, until I was standing on the last stone I’d dropped.
But I couldn’t just drop them or my clothing would be in ruins by the time I got to the blinking arrow. Squatting, I slowly lowered my burden into the pool.
Returning for the next block, my heart fell as I realized how much effort and how long this was going to take. There were enough stones to get across the liquid, of that I was certain. But by the time I was all the way across, I was going to be a quivering pool of jelly with red ringlets. This was a test of pure strength.
There was nothing else to do but get to work. I just hoped there was a huge glass of water waiting for me below that blinking arrow.
There wasn’t.
What was waiting for me was a long drop into darkness. My heart pounding from my exertions and my muscles throbbing, I stared down a straight square shaft. Presumably, it ended on the floor of the fire-gym, since I was currently somewhere up near the ceiling. But if I jumped without being able to calculate the distance to a landing, even the fire might not keep me from busting my legs.
I chewed my cheek and took deep, calming breaths, feeling mutinous about the cheerfully blinking arrow telling me that straight down was where I had to go next.
The shaft wasn’t very wide but it was about the right width to shimmy down like a sweating, deranged Santa Claus, bracing myself with my hands and the soles of my shoes.
I swung my legs out over the shaft and braced my weight with my hands. Fire lit along my limbs as I reached a foot to the other side and braced it well enough to take my weight.
Suspended over nothing, I began to shimmy my way down the shaft. It wasn’t so bad until my head got so far from the edge above that I could no longer reach it. My heart sped up and I fought off claustrophobia as the sides closed in and the top grew distant.
Down and down and down I shimmied. Some five minutes of shuffling and my muscles were aching with weariness. I’d just carried what felt like thousands of pounds across the pond, it was enough of a challenge after that just to carry my own weight.
A light came on below me, startling me badly enough that I almost let go. I’d gotten used to being a creature of the dark. I looked down and saw a smiley face painted on the floor of the gym. Now I could drop, and I did without hesitation because I worried that the lights would go off again.
Cushioning my landing with small detonations, I straightened and looked around. A corridor lay before me, going back under the pool, naturally, since the rest of the gym was taken up by the shifty-shifty floor.
At the end of the corridor was something that looked like it had been taken straight out of a submarine. I raked a forearm against my forehead and strode forward on wobbly legs to inspect it. A wheel protruded from the center of a dome-shaped brass door. I’d tried to spin the wheel, but it was locked. Of course.
Stepping back to look at the hatch from a distance, I studied the details. It was a handsome door, shining brass with silver dials and a gleami
ng black wheel, with black studs encircling the frame. It looked like something out of a steampunk comic.
To the right of the wheel were the rotating numbers of a combination lock, the kind you might find on a briefcase, only this combination wasn’t just three or four digits. I counted twenty dials. At the left side of the dials an alpha symbol had been engraved into the metal. At the right side was the omega symbol. So, start at the left and work to the right. Very helpful.
A set of bolts led straight up the wall from the center of the hatch-cover. My eye followed them, until it was drawn to something dangling from the ceiling. Something very small hung in the air by a wire or fishing line, some filament too thin to see.
I stood directly beneath this hanging thing and squinted at it. It was circular, about the size of a quarter, and had three little concentric rings of colors I could hardly make out, and a dot in the middle.
Good grief. It was the world’s smallest bullseye.
I looked around for a projectile but there was nothing but the submarine hatch-door itself. Fire was the only projectile I had. If I could throw a fireball straight up and hit that tiny bullseye, something else would happen, something that would help me crack the code and open the door.
I cocked an arm back, fueled up a fireball, and hurled it at the bullseye. It sailed past, missing by an inch, then plummeted back toward my head. I stepped to the side and let it splatter on the floor in an explosion of sparks. Watching the sparks bounce across the neoprene gave me an idea. Maybe I wouldn’t have to have perfect aim, if I just…
Cocking my arm back, I drew tight that fiery elastic within, and released a snapping fireball. I smiled as my ball exploded within range of the hanging bullseye.
A dark shape fell and I caught it. It was a little metal cylinder with a tiny hinge. Opening one end, a red button popped out, the kind I’d seen in movies about fighter jets.
Wincing and not sure what to expect, I depressed the button.
To my right, a panel dropped open and a tray of rounded handles slid forward. I approached, recognizing them as the pitch spindles we used in skills classes. Before my eyes, they lit up and began to glow with varying levels of brightness. I stood looking at them, baffled, until I noticed a small alpha symbol to the left of the row of spindles. The right side had the omega. My confusion parted like clouds moving away from the sun.
Grasping the first spindle, I closed my eyes and narrowed in on the temperature. Keeping it in my mind, I went over to the combination dials and flicked through the first four, putting the combination at 1292, the same temperature in Fahrenheit the spindle had given me.
I stepped back, wondering if I should be using Celsius instead. The answer would become clear as I worked, because what was four digits in Fahrenheit could be three in Celsius, resulting in a shorter code. If I got through several of the spindles and ran out of dials, I would have to start over.
Walking back and forth between the spindles and the dials, I worked my way down the line. Fahrenheit had been the right choice. As I put in the last number, my heart thudded with hope and my head and eyes throbbed with exhaustion.
I grasped the wheel. It spun easily under my hands. When it reached the end of its rotation, I pulled. The heavy door swung toward me. Stepping over the door’s threshold, I found myself in a hall that led to my left. It was lit by normal bare lightbulbs and ended some twenty feet before me at a plain wall. I began to walk, wondering what new obstacle might present itself.
“Footsteps,” said a disembodied voice. I froze.
The head of Zafer Guzelköy appeared from around a corner up ahead. He saw me and smiled. “Well done, Ms. Cagney.”
“Thank you.” I started to walk again. My throat was burning and my muscles were made of sod, but I was finished.
He looked at someone behind him I couldn’t see at said, “She’s out.”
When I rounded the corner, I saw Guzelköy and Davazlar along with Christy and Basil. The game-makers stood by a small folding table with steaming coffee cups in their hands.
“What did you think? Did you enjoy it?” Guzelköy asked in a rush, looking like he had a million more questions to pepper me with when I got through those two.
“Very … nice,” I croaked, feeling dazed and like stringing more than two words together was beyond me just then.
Davazlar admonished his partner. “Come, Zafer. She needs a rest, not an interrogation.”
Christy came forward and hugged me. “You look shattered. Come on.”
Basil looked like he wanted to hug me, too, but he was too appropriate for hugs so he shook my hand instead.
“How’d I do?” I rasped, desperate for some clue as to whether I’d been faster than those who’d gone before.
“Just fine, dear.” Christy said, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me away. “Just fine. Come on, let’s get you some water. Are you hungry?”
I nodded, disappointed in her answer but not surprised. I let her escort me in silence, feeling too tired to push for more details.
Fifteen
Commiseration
As Dr. Price escorted me to the professors’ lounge, I lifted my hands out in front of me, watching them tremble a little. My quads, calves and back were so tired they were burning. Christy carried my backpack and refused to hand it over when I’d tried to take it. I was grateful.
“May I shower before you take me to the lounge? I smell terrible.” I did stink of smoke, but even more than a shower, I wanted to be alone to relive what I’d just been through. My brain wanted to chew on it for a while before I could let it go.
“There are showers in the professors’ lounge,” she said as we climbed the carpeted stairs to the third floor. “You must be starving. The caterers have just delivered a spread of curries. I hope that takes your fancy.”
I hardly ever came up here, in fact I hadn’t been on the top floor of the villa since chasing the thief. “Thai sounds great.”
“It smells more Indian to me, but what do I know? I grew up on leek and potato stew.”
“How are the others?” I asked, at real risk of not making it to the top of the stairs without having to use the banister. A muscle beside my right knee had begun to twitch and I desperately wanted to scratch an itch on the sole of my left foot.
“You’ll see for yourself in a second or two. Here we are.” She pushed through a swinging door with a brass label engraved with ‘Professors Lounge’ in a curly script.
“Wow!” I stopped dead, then lurched forward before the swinging door could hit me in the back.
Dr. Price gave me a tired smile. “You’ve never seen the profs’ lounge either? I guess it’s technically a library and a lounge in one.”
I shook my head, finding my legs as Dr. Price led me through the ornate library. Dark wooden shelves hand-carved with foliage, flowers and vines stood in neat rows on the parquet floor. The ceiling was high in the middle but fell steeply on either side. At the end of the library shelves was a collection of shiny wooden tables, each with a green, glass desk lamp dangling a golden chain. Six dormers, three on either side of the library, sheltered more tables, these were round and with thick hand-carved legs that matched the bookshelves. In the center sat a large model of the universe. In the next section was a huge golden globe suspended in an ornate wooden cradle. Along one wall, between bookshelves, sat a case containing what looked like samples of rocks, minerals and gems.
Passing the library, Dr. Price led me to a narrow, arched passageway at the far end of the room. The smell of Indian spices and fresh-baked naan bread boffed me in the face and made my mouth water and my stomach growl.
Harriet, Tomio, Brooke, Tagan and Peter were seated at a round table that was overlooked by a stained-glass window I’d often seen from the outside of the building. They were almost finished eating their dinner. A spread of takeout containers sat on top of a sideboard next to a coffee machine, a tall jug of steaming tea and a collection of canned soft drinks and juices. Harriet’s fork
paused halfway to her mouth and she straightened. She elbowed Felix, who looked like he was about to pick his plate up and lick it.
“Saxony’s finished.”
Christy handed me my pack. “Give her time to shower and eat before you bombard her with questions.” She directed me toward a closed door on the left. “Ladies’ showers are through there.”
I gave my teammates a tired smile and lifted a hand in greeting. A smile spread across Tomio’s face as he got up and came over, his arms opening to hug me.
I cringed away from him. “I smell like a barn fire.”
His smile never faltered as he walked in a little circle with his arms pumping comically as he headed back to his meal. “You do smell like a barn fire.”
I laughed and hitched my bag. “There’d better be some naan left when I get out.”
“No guarantees,” Peter called through a mouthful of food.
The ladies’ washroom was just as interesting as the rest of the lounge, with an air of old-fashioned shabby chic. A chaise lounge sat between a set of frosted glass doors, beyond that were three white ceramic pedestal sinks with golden swan’s heads for taps. The floor was a mosaic of tiny glass tiles in lavender, pink, and gray, matching the upholstery of the lounger. Three more doors, white and saloon style, hid the toilets.
Opening one of the glass doors I discovered a small changing area in front of the shower. Dropping my backpack on the lounger I dug out my toiletries and pajamas. I stared at the soft fabric of my sleep shorts and t-shirt. I wanted to fall into bed right after I ate, but no one else was wearing pajamas yet.
“Screw it,” I muttered, unearthing my bathrobe too.
I emerged fifteen minutes later with my wet hair turbaned up in a towel, wearing a robe and slippers. Shuffling over to the food, I fixed myself a plate. My teammates had broken up and left the table. I couldn’t see any of the guys and guessed they’d ducked into the library.
Harriet got herself a cold drink and joined me at the table while Brooke made herself some tea.