The rations arrive, we pour the water into flasks and stuff the meal packs away at feverish speed, just as the weather funnel gets darker and darker overhead. At the same time, it appears to be coming down, losing altitude, so that the churning whirlpool of cloud mass is clearly visible.
And then, the audience screams, as a flash of lightning cracks the sky, followed by a clap of thunder like an explosion.
In the next instant, the weather funnel dispenses a crashing torrent of rain on the pyramid.
Chapter 62
It’s as if endless buckets of cool water are being emptied on top of us. I make an involuntary noise, and grab on to my hovering bag, because it’s suddenly hard to keep my footing. . . . In seconds, all surfaces of the pyramid blocks are slippery disasters waiting to happen.
“Go, go, go!” I exclaim to my teammates. “But be very careful!”
“Slippery hell!” Brie yells, moving directly ahead of me, as she tries to grab a hold of the next levitating block, and her fingers can’t find a solid grip.
Streams are pouring down from the upper stones, creating minor waterfalls that splash down from block to block, ricocheting in every direction, and the roar of water striking stone is deafening. At the same time, the ocean surface below has turned into a churning mess.
We hear yells of Contenders as they try to keep from slipping. By now, quite a few of them have figured out the equipment bag hovering trick, and are holding on to their bags for balance.
“We need to get back in the interior!” I exclaim, my voice barely heard over the roar. “The effects of the rain should be minimized there! Use your bags to hover, or you’ll fall!”
As if to illustrate my words, Lolu makes a sound and starts sliding down a stone block that’s levitating slightly ahead and below.
Before she goes crashing to her death, I sing a voice command to key her bag and keep it hovering. Lolu grabs the straps and hangs on, until the next moment Zaap gets to her and pulls her forward to the next block.
Somehow we manage to cross the slope of the pyramid facing the cliffs and turn the corner toward the area where our Safe Base is located. By then, everyone has finally listened to me and voice-keyed their bags. In this flood, it’s the only way to keep moving.
We struggle to see past the curtain of rain, looking for the soft rainbow glow that indicates the Safe Base beacon lights. Zaap is once again the first one to see it, and we hurry in its direction, entering deeper into the interior. Our feet and hands are slipping and sliding, and our hovering equipment bags are the only things keeping us upright.
So far, we’ve been lucky—no one has challenged our position, and the Safe Base is the same as we left it, unoccupied. I suspect it’s because of its odd location on the outskirts of the stone field. And now it doesn’t matter, because we’re back, and it’s ours once again.
I was right—the force of the downpour is significantly lessened here inside the stone field. The rain is still coming down and rivulets of water run down each surface, but they’re no longer angry streams. All those hundreds of blocks above us deflect the water enough to keep its impact bearable. It feels like we’re inside a damp cavern grotto near a waterfall. . . .
The stone slab floor of the Safe Base is soaking wet, which is inevitable. We sit down the best we can on the wet stones, huddling and chilled, and find whatever we can inside our bags to cover ourselves. I dig around in mine, remembering the rolled up ultra-thin shelter and blanket that Aeson packed for me.
“What is that?” Kokayi asks, flipping back his soggy braids, as I unpack the silvery waterproof fabric and begin unrolling it.
“Something to keep us less wet,” I say. “A blanket that can double as a shelter.”
The blanket turns out to be smaller than I imagined, only enough for one person, if zipped together.
“Oh, no,” I mutter. “I was hoping this would be the size of a decent tent. It’s more like a sleeping bag.”
Avaneh, settled near the surveillance smart board—which fortunately appears to be waterproof also, because it still works despite rivulets of rain pouring down the display screen—watches my movements with the blanket. “I have a similar one,” she says.
“Take yours out,” I say. “We might be able to attach them together. Anyone else have some kind of fabric shelter?”
“No,” Zaap says.
“I have a shield,” Tuar says. “But it’s not large in diameter.”
“In other words, useless as an umbrella,” Brie says.
The others shake their heads.
And so Avaneh gets out her own blanket, and I attempt to connect the two pieces, eventually succeeding.
“This could work well as a free-standing roof.” Chihar looks at me meaningfully. “Use your voice and see what you can do to raise it.”
The way he says “voice” makes me pause and glance at him. Yes, Chihar definitely suspects something about the nature of my voice.
Why don’t you do it yourself, I feel like retorting, since it’s a basic voice command. Suddenly I’m a little uncomfortable using my voice in front of my teammates, especially now that they’re all staring at me like that, possibly expecting miracles. . . .
But Chihar has put me on the spot, and he’s watching me with undivided attention. . . . The others are too.
So I sing, rather self-consciously, a keying command directed at the blankets, but it’s no good. They appear to have no orichalcum content.
“Damn,” Brie says, staring at the motionless, inert fabric.
“Is there anything that can be used to suspend the fabric by the corners?” Kateb says, wiping the rainwater running down his face with the back of his hand.
Everyone looks inside their bags for small objects with sufficient orichalcum content.
I think for a while, considering what else is in my bag, such as the magnetized whip-cord weapon from Oalla Keigeri, the pieces of viatoios armor, a few other things—then I look down at my shoes.
And I begin unlacing my custom-made orichalcum shoelaces.
A few minutes later, I’ve pulled out my shoelaces, which happen to be long enough to serve as cords, thanks to Aeson’s specifications, and rigged together a strange contraption.
Each of two corners on the short side of the double-width blanket is tied with different ends of the same shoelace. Same thing with the other shoelace and the other two corners. Then the shoelaces themselves are stretched out taut in a straight line in order to pull apart the blanket corners as wide as possible. Next, the shoelaces are voice-keyed, and raised about three feet over our heads, so that they hover horizontally, and at a far enough distance from each other to unfold the blanket all the way.
Finally, a small object that I randomly pick from my bag (some kind of throw-disk) is voice-keyed and raised three-and-a-half feet over our heads, in the center and underneath the blanket contraption, to serve as a tent “pole.” It levitates upward and raises the fabric in the center high enough to keep the rainwater from pooling and making the fabric sag, so that the water runs down to the sides and cascades from the edges of our “roof.”
When I’m done “raising the tent,” this whole rectangle of fabric is big enough to cover our entire Safe Base.
“Let me guess,” Brie says with a snort. “This is why they call you Shoelace Girl.”
Now that we have a makeshift roof over our heads to keep out the rain, we settle back into our routine. Someone watches the surveillance screens at all times, while others rest and conserve energy.
Tuar seems glum as he looks up at the opaque tent overhead. “This thing is blocking our view of our immediate surroundings,” he grumbles. “I don’t like being blind like this. Someone can sneak up on us from the levels above, or from around the nearest stones that are even slightly elevated.”
“Agreed,” Kateb says. “Lack of visibility cuts down on our response time in case of an attack. Seconds that can make a difference.”
I nod. “I see what you mean. But we can’
t afford to stay wet indefinitely.”
“And it will only get colder at night, remember?” Kokayi adds. “Loss of body heat will make you very weak and eventually critical.”
“A tradeoff,” Avaneh muses. “One of us should be a lookout and stay outside the roof to watch the overhead stones.”
“No one wants to be wet.” Brie says.
“We toss for it,” Zaap says, reaching in his pocket for a set of small dice.
“I have a better idea,” Lolu interrupts. She searches inside her bag and takes out a tiny two-part gadget. “This is a surveillance mini-cam. You place this part wherever you want to observe—in our case, on top of the tent roof. The other plugs into a port on the main display down here. It will add a new feed to the surveillance, so we can watch whatever the roof portion transmits to the screen.”
Chihar nods. “This way no one has to sit outside the tent.”
“Great!” I say in relief. “Please set it up, Lolu.”
The Technician quickly attaches the gadget to the top of the tent and activates the feed.
Tuar nods in satisfaction. “Much better.”
Meanwhile, the rain keeps coming down hard, and doesn’t let up.
All that water, it occurs to me, as I sit staring tiredly at the streams running down the edges of our roof. It can come in handy. . . .
“Chihar,” I say to the Scientist who’s lying nearby with his eyes closed. “Do you or anyone happen to know if this rainwater is safe to drink?”
Chihar raises his head and sits up, grunting. He appears thoughtful, then he reaches for his bag. “Normally the water that comes from weather funnels is neutral, intended to water crops,” he says, looking through his gadgets. “Should be biologically safe for animal consumption.”
“However, this is the Games,” Avaneh says. “Assume nothing.”
Brie nods. “True. The rain could be deadly poison.”
Chihar finds whatever he’s looking for. “This device will check the chemical content.”
He gets up and takes the stick gadget beyond the roof cover, letting the rainwater run over it for a few seconds, then looks at the readout. “Minimal atmospheric residue. It’s generally clean.”
“Excellent!” I say. “Now all we need to do is collect enough of it in various containers to last us the rest of Stage Two. We all have enough concentrated food rations. It’s the drinking water that’s in short supply. It’s the main reason we go out there every day when they serve the meals.”
“I see what you’re saying,” Kateb says. “If we can collect enough, we would have no reason to leave the Safe Base, except on our own business.”
Everyone seems to like this idea. We take out our half-empty flasks and leftover grails in which they served our water rations. Tuar takes out a buckler shield that can serve as a shallow bowl, and I find my own retractable shield. My teammates then find other ingenious items and ways to collect water, such as Kokayi’s waterproof spare socks, and Chihar’s armor helmet.
“Try not to use runoff,” I say, watching them set out their items around the nearby stones where the rain falls freely.
“What do you mean?” Brie stares at me.
I give her a tight-lipped smile. “I mean, considering that so many Contenders, including some of you, not to mention all those ancient construction workers, have likely used the stones all over this pyramid as their personal toilets, if you drink runoff water from the stones, then you are likely drinking all that—”
“Okay! Never mind,” Brie interrupts, rolling her eyes, “I get the picture.”
“A little more work, but worth it,” I say, then get up, with my shield and my flask and goblet, and make my way over a few neighboring stones in the general direction outside—it’s not too far, still well within sight of the Safe Base. Brie and eventually the others, follow me.
We find a few spots near the outer stones with open sky access, and set out our water-gathering equipment. As long as the rain stays steady, we should collect enough water to last us for the rest of this Games stage.
Meanwhile, we hurry to drink as much as possible.
It’s amazing what good hydration can do to improve both energy and one’s spirits. I gulp down whatever I’ve had in my flask and was saving so frugally. And then I refill it with the rainwater, and gulp that down too. The others are doing the same thing. . . .
Half an hour later, we’ve drunk our fill for the first time in two days, and managed to collect enough to refill all our containers. We carry them back to the Safe Base before the pyramid rearranges itself on the hour.
Throughout all this, the rain does not seem to want to stop. It has slowed down from a monsoon to a strong downpour, but it’s still coming down. And as the afternoon turns toward sunset, the dreary constant sound of rain is overpowering all else, so that we can barely hear the Games audience or announcers, as they sit comfortably beyond the weather funnel zone and watch us all get soaked inside the pyramid.
The feeds show us scenes of miserable Contenders huddled all around in the interior, even the celebrity teams choosing to stay in place, hiding under rocks and other custom shelters. Occasionally a lonely scream rises over the rain, as someone falls to their death on the slippery stones or is otherwise killed in a reluctant skirmish. But it happens so infrequently that I begin to wonder if the Games audience is getting their money’s worth watching us do nothing. . . .
Just after sunset, as the artificial pyramid lights emerge to dispel the twilight, the rain stops.
The sudden silence, more than anything is a shock.
And then, from the ocean, the evening wind rises. It sweeps the pyramid, permeating all the spaces between the stones, and it sends a bone-chilling cold.
Freezing and wet, but at least no longer thirsty, we shiver in our places all around the pyramid.
To make it worse, now my bladder is so full, it’s ready to burst.
Brie looks at me, as I stand up, and she can tell. . . . “Just go around the corner, Lark,” she tells me.
I look at her, and the others. And then, dejected, I nod, because there’s just no way I can make it to the sewers side of the pyramid. . . .
And so, hating myself, I answer nature’s call right there, squatting over an ancient stone of the Great Pyramid of Giza, just out of sight of my teammates. At least, I tell myself, there might be more rain, and it will wash away the shameful result of my betrayal of ancient history.
The evening deepens into night, and the wind blows cruelly. We’ve taken down our hovering blanket roof contraption because of the powerful gusts that now make our flimsy shelter useless, as the fabric flaps violently overhead, and the blankets can rip apart at any moment. . . . The shoelaces are back on my shoes, laced up tight. And we’re taking turns using the blankets to wrap ourselves for warmth.
“M-m-maybe we need to get up and move to heat up. G-g-get the blood flowing,” Brie says through chattering teeth, while I stare mesmerized at a passing light orb that floats slowly through the Safe Base, casting the illusion of warmth on the surrounding stones.
Kokayi and Zaap and Lolu are already aerobic-exercising in place. Avaneh and Tuar have turned into meditating rocks as they do the opposite, sitting motionless and breathing shallow, to conserve body heat.
Chihar and Kateb, huddled in the two blankets, are taking their turn at the surveillance screens, watching many empty feeds and little action.
“We could try searching for symbols,” I say, blinking away the stupor, as the light orb disappears from view.
“Screw that, it’s too c-c-cold to go out there and risk slipping to death because of numb fingers,” Brie mutters. “I mean, just m-m-moving here.”
She gets up and does several brisk stretches, then starts moving through smooth Er-Du forms. I am guessing it’s what she spent a lot of time doing, when locked up in her prison cell at Correctional. Not a bad way to keep in shape when incarcerated.
I take a deep shuddering breath and let it out. My whole body
is going numb. I could get up and exercise, but it’s a short-term solution. There’s got to be another way to get warm.
“What I wouldn’t give for a nice space heater,” I say.
And then it occurs to me, I can make one.
Kateb immediately turns to look at me as I get up with a familiar expression of determination, and look around the Safe Base at the nearest stones surrounding us. “What? Do you have something?”
The entire pyramid has enough orichalcum content in every stone, else they wouldn’t be hovering. How, and why, I don’t know, and right now it doesn’t matter.
I’ve learned the advanced voice command to heat up orichalcum. Now I just need to pick a well-situated stone and warm it up.
“That one!” I point to the block levitating about two feet from the Safe Base.
I focus on the stone, visualizing each of its surfaces, and then I begin to sing.
At first my voice comes breathy and uneven from the cold, and I force my teeth to stop chattering as I sing the keying command, overriding whatever programing the stone currently has from the Games. There’s no Taboo Rule in doing that, so I take my chances. . . . At once the stone lurches slightly and then continues to hang in the air before me. There’s a different feel to it, and it’s now under my control.
Next, I sing the heating command sequence.
The others watch me curiously, having stopped whatever they were doing.
I expect, whatever orichalcum it has, that part of it will quickly change temperature now, deepening to coal-red then angry pink, then incandescent white. The reaction in the orichalcum should be enough to heat the entire stone and turn it into a heater sufficient for all of our Safe Base area.
I stare at the stone, and watch the nearest surface for a color change.
And in the next few moments, the stone responds.
I don’t know what I expected—a general surface coating maybe, or a few random veins running throughout. Instead, a strange intricate spiral grows on the surface facing me. It goes red, then pink, then finally burns white.
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