It suddenly occurred to Collins that Zylas' speech had gone from halting and uncertain to grindingly clear since he had become rat. Though Collins knew it had to do with the magical stone rather than the transformation, the irony made him laugh.
Zylas' claws sank into Collins' flesh. "What's so funny?"
Collins went still, and the nails loosened. Resolved not to laugh or stumble again, to spare himself a gouging, he dismissed the thought. "Nothing important. So," he repeated his earlier, unanswered question. "What do we do now? Try the ruins again? Hope the guards have gone?"
"They're not gone," Zylas replied emphatically. His whiskers tickled Collins' ear.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure." Not a bit of hesitation entered Zylas' reply.
Collins frowned. "So we have to get past them."
"Can't." The grim certainty remained in Zylas' voice.
"So you're saying it's impossible?"
Zylas did not waver. "Yes."
It went against every self-esteem-building encouragement Collins had received since infancy. "But nothing is really impossible."
"For us," Zylas said, "this is."
Collins opened his mouth, but remembrance of Falima's tirade choked off his words. Is it not enough that we will probably die for saving a cold-blooded cannibal? Do you want more innocents to sacrifice their lives for you? He did not want to die, did not want any of his companions to lose their lives, either, especially not for him. "All right." He tried to keep disappointment from his tone, without success.
Zylas clearly read beyond the words. "The guards will not allow us near the ruins. They will patrol now." He shook his head. "You cannot escape through that portal."
That portal. Fresh hope flared. "Could we… could we maybe… find another portal?" Collins looked up, remembering his companions for the first time since he had asked about Falima's transformation. The buckskin grazed placidly at a patch of weeds, her golden coat glimmering in the patch of sunlight penetrating the forest canopy. Ialin was stuffing Falima's garments into the pack, and the dog lay curled on the ground at his feet.
Zylas paced a circle on Collins' shoulder, clearly vexed. His gaze played over the party as well, lingering longest on the dog. "I don't know of any other portals…"
Anticipating a "but," Collins remained silent.
"… I know someone who might…" Zylas went suddenly still. "But…" He fell into a long hush.
When Collins' patience ran out, he pressed. "But?"
Zylas skittered down Collins' side, stone in mouth, then leaped to the ground. He darted to Falima's lowered head, dropped the crystal, stepped on it, and commenced squeaking loudly.
The horse pranced backward, trumpeting out a whinny, then another.
Slower now, more thoughtfully, Zylas approached Ialin. Their conversation lasted no longer than the previous one. Finally, he returned to Collins.
Wanting to forgo more scratches, Collins crouched, anticipating Zylas' need. He scooped up the rat and replaced it on his shoulder. "So?"
Zylas spat out the translation stone. "Falima only has a partial overlap, so she's difficult to converse with in this form, Ialin… well, Ialin will come around." He made an abrupt motion, as if shaking water from his coat. "Come on."
Having no idea what direction Zylas meant, Collins raised his brows. "Where are we going?"
"We're going," Zylas said thoughtfully, "to visit a good friend of mine."
They rode Falima, Ialin leading from the ground, Collins astride, Zylas sitting in the V formed by his legs. The dog trotted obediently at the horse's heels, apparently used to walking in that particular position. A gentle rain pattered on the leaves overhead, occasional droplets winding through the foliage to land as cold pinpricks against Collins' skin. He did not pressure his companions. Quite literally, they held his life in their hands. Or rather, Collins corrected, in their claws, talons, and hooves.
Zylas explained as they rode, "Vernon's a good guy. A longtime friend. You and Falima will be safe with him while Ialin and I go… elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
"To see someone older. Wiser." Zylas shook his pointy-nosed head. "That's all I can tell you."
"Can't I go?"
"No." Even for a rat, Zylas sounded emphatic.
Feeling like a sulky child, Collins grumbled. "Why not?"
"Too dangerous."
Collins looked at the dog who still followed them, tail waving. "For me? Or the elder?"
"Both."
"Oh." Collins considered that answer for several moments in a silence broken only by the swish and crackle of branches, the song of the drizzle on the canopy. "How so?"
"Vernon's a good guy," Zylas repeated, and Collins knew he would get no reply to his previous question. "A longtime friend."
Collins dropped the subject. They rode onward, brushing through wet foliage that left streaks of water across his tunic, jeans, and sneakers. Zylas wandered the length of Falima, pausing to guide her with whispered commands in her ear or to exchange a conversation with Ialin. Collins' watch read ten minutes to nine when Zylas called a halt. He spoke soothingly to Falima; and she slowed, snorting and pawing divots from the ground. Ialin stopped, patting her neck reassuringly. Collins slid from her back. He offered his hands to Zylas, who clambered aboard, little feet warm against Collins' palms. Images of his guinea pig rose to mind, its brown-and-white fur soft as down, its enormous black eyes studying him, and its loud "week, week, week," when it heard his mother making salad. He had named the animal George, which had become Georgie-girl several years later, when he learned how to differentiate gender.
Zylas leaped to Collins' shoulder. Falima dipped her head, nosing for grass amid tiny trees and mulch. Ialin turned his back, perhaps surveying the forest, more likely relieving himself. Three hours bouncing around on horseback had given Collins a similar urge. Working around the rough material of a tunic now as soiled as his jeans, he urinated on a mushy pile of leaves.
"He's getting smaller." Zylas' sudden voice in his ear startled Collins, who jumped. Then, he sounded out the words and grew even more alarmed.
"Wha-what?" Collins stammered, stashing his manhood safely behind his zipper.
"Ialin," Zylas explained. "He's getting smaller. Switching."
Collins whirled to see, finding only an empty pile of clothing which the puppy snuffled eagerly.
Zylas continued, "You'll have to pack his things."
Collins nodded dully, now the only human. With a shock, he realized nearly twenty-four hours had passed since his aborted hanging. Then, too, all his companions had taken animal form, working together to rescue him from death. Approaching the shed clothing, he bent. Zylas scampered down his arm to the ground. Collins gathered the crudely sewn garments, approached Falima, and stuffed them into her saddlebags. He turned to find the pup crouched with its front legs extended, bottom high, and tail wagging cautiously as it urged Zylas to play. Realization glided into his mind. When Ialin appeared as a human, the dog was already in switch-form. Now, Ialin had become a bird again, but the dog remained a dog. "Zylas?"
The rat disengaged from the dog and approached.
"Shouldn't our… um… unexpected companion have become human by now?"
Zylas twisted his head to look over one shoulder at the puppy. "Not necessarily. Regulars spend more time in animal form than Randoms." He turned back to Collins. "If he just entered switch-form when he found us, I could even change before he does."
"Really," Collins said thoughtfully.
"We need to get going again." Zylas headed toward Falima. "I only stopped to give Ialin some dignity during his switch."
Collins trotted after his companion.
Zylas stopped by the grazing horse. "A boost, please? I can climb, but it makes her nervous."
Glad to help, Collins hefted Zylas to Falima's back, then mounted himself. Falima's head rose with obvious reluctance. Zylas clambered along her mane and thrust his muzzle into her ear. Falima snorted but res
umed her walk through the forest.
Collins recalled that he had set his watch for noon about the time Zylas had become human, and Zylas had switched to rat form around midnight. Falima had turned into a horse at six in the morning and a human at six at night. Ialin changed at nine. That understanding brought a realization: Falima had lied. Aware his companions could and had exchanged information he could not understand, he prodded with utmost caution. "Regulars, like the pup, spend more time in animal form?"
Zylas returned to his steadiest position, planted between Collins' thighs. "That's right. And, on average, gain overlap at a younger age."
"Overlap meaning shared understanding and memory between forms."
"Right."
"Hmmm."
"What?"
Collins studied the white rat, suddenly feeling insane. If any of his colleagues had caught him talking to a laboratory animal like this, they would deem him certifiable. Thirty-six hours in Barakhai, less than a day with animal companions, and it already feels natural to converse with a rat. "It's just that you seem to have an exceptional amount of overlap."
"I do. Nearly perfect, in fact."
"Why is that?"
Zylas turned a circle, then settled against Collins. "First, I'm older than the others. I apparently have a natural talent for it. And I practice. A lot."
"Practice?" It seemed ludicrous. Practice what?
"Rats don't eat much, and any old garbage serves me fine in this form. I pay attention. I have no job. I'm not married. No… children." The last word emerged in a pained squeak, and he paused. He turned away for a moment, curling his hairless pink tail around his legs, then regained his composure and continued without missing a beat. "I've concentrated most of my life on enhancing my overlap, with good success." He added, "And it doesn't hurt that I spent my childhood in a similar enough form that I could use most of that training at adolescence rather than starting over. More like a Regular without the disadvantages."
Collins recalled that, until coming-of-age, children had the same switch-form as their mothers. "So your original switch-form…?"
Zylas obliged. "A mouse. My father was a blue jay."
Collins laughed, earning a glare from Zylas.
"What's funny?"
Collins did not lie. "It's an odd combination."
The rat's mouth stretched into a grimace that Collins interpreted as a weary grin. "Not in human form." He anticipated a question Collins had not even thought to ask. "And, yes, they were both albino."
Startled into silence, Collins took several moments to craft a coherent question. "Is… is… it common in… in your world?"
"Albinism?"
"Yes."
"No."
"No?"
"I only know of two others." Zylas licked at his fur. "I think that's what brought my parents together. Something in common other than the usual shared switch-form."
"Hmmm." The white mouse came easily to Collins' imagination, the jay with more difficulty, though he had actually seen one at Algary's science museum. He glanced at the passing scenery, mostly leaves and needles, trying to appear casual. The rain had stopped, but droplets still plopped irregularly from higher branches. "What about Falima's parents?"
Zylas continued cleaning himself. "A milk goat and a squirrel, I believe."
A Random. Collins had suspected as much from the start. When he learned Regulars kept switch-form longer, it had seemed nearly certain. He wondered why Falima had tried to deceive him. "And Ialin?"
"Owl and shrew."
That combination did not surprise Collins at all. It seemed to fit the hostile, flighty young man. "So, you're all Randoms?"
Zylas stopped grooming. "Who told you about Randoms?"
"Falima."
Zylas shuddered his fur back into place. "Yes. We're all Randoms. Except the pup. Once she came of age as a horse, Falima got fostered to guards."
That seemed odd, though no more so than most of the other things Collins had learned here. "Why?"
"All horses are guards."
"Oh." Collins asked the logical follow-up. "And all rats?"
"We're vermin."
It sounded shocking from the mouth of a human rat. "Well, yes, but… I meant what job do rats do?"
"Vermin were always discouraged from breeding, especially as Regulars. The only ones left come out of Random unions."
"So your… mouse… mother…?"
"Also a Random, yes. My father, too." Though Zylas did not seem uncomfortable discussing these matters, as Falima had, he did change the subject. "So, tell me about your world. I've seen many things that confuse me. Like why do you keep your white rats in cages while the brown ones run free?"
Chapter 7
BY the time they reached Vernon's ramshackle cabin in the 'woods, Collins suspected he had raised more questions than he'd satisfied, which seemed only fair. He felt the same way about Barakhai. Falima grazed the clearing. Zylas pulled clothing over his pale human body. The dog romped around all of them, alternately begging pets from Collins and exploring every inch of their new surroundings. Collins did not see Ialin but suspected the hummingbird buzzed nearby, more cautious since being mistaken for an insect and clouted across the forest. Within moments, the door banged open and a man, apparently Vernon, appeared, britches hastily tied over thick legs, still pulling a coarse linen shirt over his broad, brown shoulders. Though Collins had seen dark-skinned people in this world before, Vernon was the first who closely resembled an African-American in his own world. He sported close-cropped curls, full lips, and shrewd eyes nearly as dark as the pupils. Tall, well-muscled, and bull-necked, he made a startling contrast to the slight albino, who disappeared into his welcoming embrace.
Zylas and Vernon exchanged words briefly. Then, Vernon's gaze shifted across Collins to settle alternately on Falima and the wagging-tailed dog. He shook his head and addressed Zylas with a challenging tone.
Collins recognized "Falima" in a reply otherwise gibberish to him.
Vernon nodded thoughtfully as he laced his shirt. He turned his attention fully on the dog and grunted something.
Zylas merely shrugged.
Collins looked at Falima. By the time he glanced back, Zylas was heading toward him.
"It's settled," Zylas explained, drawing his hat down to shade his forehead. "You and Falima remain here with Vernon. Ialin and I should be back tomorrow."
Collins' gaze rolled to the dog. "What about him?"
Zylas did not bother to follow Collins' gesture. "The dog stays with you. Do what you must to keep us safe."
Collins froze, hoping those words did not mean what he thought they did. He would not murder again, especially a child. He opened his mouth to say so, only to find Zylas watching him with distinct discomfort.
The rat/man held out his hand, fingers clenched to a bloodless fist. Collins watched each finger winch open, finally revealing the rose quartz stone. "You'll need this."
Collins stared at the translation stone. It made sense that he should carry it, as the others could all understand one another, at least in human form. Without reaching for it, he looked at Zylas.
The rat/man's lips pursed to lines as white as his flesh, and he dodged Collins' gaze. His fingers quivered, as if he battled the urge to close them safely around the stone again.
"This is hard for you, isn't it?"
Zylas nodded. "I've rarely let anyone use it, and then only in my presence." He glanced at the stone, and it held his stare. "It's unique and irreplaceable." He finally managed to tear his gaze free, to turn a worried look toward Collins. "It's also illegal."
Collins' brow furrowed. "Illegal?"
"Magic of any kind. The royals hate it."
The words shocked Collins. Shunning such a powerful tool seemed as absurd as locking away the secrets that science revealed. Yet, he realized, his world had done just that for many years now known as the Dark Ages. Despite himself, he found some logic in the realization that technology had brought the atomic
bomb as well as computers, pollution along with transportation, thalidomide in addition to penicillin. With the good came the bad, and common sense could dictate none as easily as both. "But, you're all magic-"
"Except the royals," Zylas reminded. "They don't switch forms."
"Right." Collins recalled his companion telling him that, though it seemed ages ago. "Well…" Running out of things to say, he reached for the translation stone. "… I'll take good care of it. I promise." It seemed ridiculous to vow to protect a rock when he could not keep his own life safe, but he knew Zylas needed the words. "One way or another, no matter what happens, I'll get it back to you."
"Thank you." The lines dropped from Zylas' face, and he managed a slight smile. "I'm sure you will."
Collins took the stone, oddly warmed by Zylas' trust. He wondered if he could ever win it from his other companions.
Zylas made a broad wave toward Vernon, who returned it with a grudging movement of his hand that looked more dismissive than friendly. Ialin zipped out of nowhere to hover at Zylas' left shoulder, then the two headed into the woods. Collins watched them until they disappeared among the trees. When he finally turned back, he saw Vernon leading Falima toward the cottage, the dog trotting at her hooves.
Certain Vernon's cottage would lack indoor plumbing, Collins thought it best to relieve himself before getting to know Zylas' friend. He dropped the rose quartz into a pocket of his jeans. As he walked to a secluded spot, he allowed his thoughts free rein. His limbs felt heavy, world-weary, and uncertain. He went through the motions of preparing to urinate, thoughts caught up in the realization that he had stumbled into something quite impossible. It amazed him how quickly he accepted companions who spent half or more of their lives as animals, his own transformation from mild-mannered graduate student to hunted fugitive under sentence of death, his need to find some magical doorway back to the world he had once thought alone in the universe. It seemed unbelievable that people spent their lives searching for creatures from other planets when a whole other world existed through a storage room in Daubert Labs.
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