by M. L. Ryan
Ten miles and eighty minutes later, we returned. I was exhausted and drenched in sweat but the guys had only a glisten of perspiration and seemed like they could easily continue for another hour. Or two. To my delight, Myrjix met us in the courtyard with towels and tall glasses of juice that looked like apple but tasted like cranberry. The guards guzzled their drinks and waited for their replacements to arrive while I panted on a bench, vowing never to jog with members of the King’s Guard again. Damn Courso superhuman stamina.
“At Commander Kess’ instruction, I transferred your things to a different suite,” Myrjix stated as she refilled my empty tumbler.
“Why bother? If Deep Throat found me once, I’m sure she can figure out the new room assignment.”
“Deep Throat?”
“That’s just what I’m calling my uninvited guest.”
She frowned, obviously confused by the nickname. I was about to explain when someone cut me off.
“Isn’t that the title of a human, X-rated movie?” Ulut asked.
“I’m so happy to see you!” I exclaimed, rising to ruffle his thick, curly brown hair. The gesture was how I used to greet him when he was a dog, one that I still used occasionally now that he wasn’t. He woofed in response, and we laughed. Myrjix, not getting the joke, played along with a confused chuckle.
“Myrjix, this is my friend Ulut. He’s the one I told you about, the form-bender from Dekankara who can’t transform out of his dimension.”
“Oh! The cute dog you showed me a photo of.”
“At your service,” Ulut replied, bowing slightly.
Introductions complete, I turned to him and asked, “How is it you know all about hardcore porn films?”
He grinned. “Sebastian has quite a collection of classics from the early 1970s.”
“I’ll bet he does,” I mumbled. “Before you go thinking last night’s intrusion included something kinky, “Deep Throat” was the secret informant who gave information to the journalists who exposed the Watergate scandal. That happened in the 70s as well, but without the fellatio.”
“That’s comforting,” he said, laughing.
“I can’t believe you watched that,” I groused. “It’s not great cinema.”
“I suppose, but it was meant to be a parody, was it not?”
I’d seen the film at a college friend’s bachelorette party and hadn’t paid that close attention to the plot, but from what I could recall, it wasn’t a tongue in the female star’s cheek.
“So, I believe you were discussing a change in your accommodations before I interrupted,” Ulut continued, changing the subject.
Ah yes, the new suite. “So, why did Sebastian insist on moving me?”
“I believe his reasons were three-fold,” Myrjix replied. “The first was to protect you if some peculiarity about the original room allowed… uh… Deep Throat’s magical access.” She glanced from Ulut to me, and a slight flush blossomed across her cheeks. “He also disclosed the new section of the guest wing was more easily defensible because of its proximity to the main portion of the palace. The third reason was to ensure everyone’s comfort. Your new lodgings, across the hall from Commander Kess’, have three bedrooms.”
“Who else is moving in?” I wondered aloud. To myself I thought, God, I hope it isn’t Pixie.
“One room is for you, another for Ulut, and the third is for the princess. Swiplij already transferred her belongings.”
Dodged a bullet there. While relieved not to be stuck in the same suite as my PA, I’d been so wrapped up in my own issues, I’d completely forgotten about Tannis.
“Tannis is okay, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Myrjix confirmed, “I believe she is with her uncle at the moment. Commander Kess is just erring on the side of caution.”
I wondered if Sebastian was keeping things from me. Cautiousness was one thing—this seemed to border on paranoia. On the other hand, it might be kind of fun sharing a suite with Tannis and Ulut. Like living in the dorm in college, but bigger and with cleaner bathrooms.
The new digs overlooked a different inner courtyard and sprawled across a good portion of the fourth floor. Each bedroom had its own opulent, attached bath, and the spacious living area included a full kitchen, a dining table that seated eight, and a powder room. There was no chance of anyone going hungry or having to wait to pee.
While I was checking out the contents of the well-stocked refrigerator, Sebastian came by to give an update.
“Any made from chinchilla milk?” he teased, glancing over my shoulder at the seemingly endless varieties of cheese stacked in a bin.
The reference to Rachel’s and my previous occupation made me miss my best friend. “I wish Rachel were here.”
“As do I,” he agreed softly. For a moment, a wistful air clouded his grey eyes, but he shook it off almost as quickly as it appeared. “I informed Karttyx of the situation. As the Xyzok first in command, she is well suited to make subtle inquiries about the examination of Kyzal’s remains after the accident. If it was an accident,” he added gruffly.
I grabbed a hunk of something vaguely resembling cheddar and plopped into the soft upholstery of the sectional sofa. “Have you mentioned any of this to Alex or his family?”
He shook his head and joined me on the couch. “Not until I know more. If a comprehensive scan for arcane energy was not completed, the queen will have to decide if your informant’s information is compelling enough to warrant a more thorough analysis of his corporeal self.”
At least an exhumation wouldn’t be necessary if special analyses were required. Coursodon dead didn’t decompose, making burials more of a formality than a means to isolate rotting corpses. In Kyzal’s case, his body was enshrined in the family mausoleum, a six-story marble behemoth, each floor the size of a hockey rink. Alex took me in there once, and seeing all his ancestors laid out in their royal regalia on glass-covered, gilded catafalques made me hope the first time was my last. Unfortunately, the second Friday in July was a national holiday where Alenquaians lined up to view their deceased royals, led, of course, by the live ones. Apparently, it was much less morbid than I imagined, and everyone gathered after for picnics and merriment.
Taking a bite of the cheese, I asked, “If Tannis doesn’t know, what excuse did you give for moving her into more secure quarters?” My snack was nothing like the cheese it resembled, and I offered the rest of the sour, salty bit to Sebastian.
“No thank you. Chyderfitjal tastes like dirty feet,” he said, waving it away. “But, to answer your question, I told Tannis about your visitor, not the allegation her brother was murdered. She was more than willing to relocate.”
“So, now what?”
He stood and strode to the kitchen. “Now, my dear, I find some more palatable morsels and we wait.”
*****
Ulut and three guards accompanied me to my appointment at the tattoo parlor. Sebastian didn’t want me to go at all, but I missed not having any ink, and Uncle Fry assured us I’d be well protected. Besides, waiting for news was excruciating, and this was a perfect way to kill some time. Ulut suggested his likeness while in dog form as the design du jour, but I wanted some color. I decided on a small, new-age starflower in shades of turquoise, purple, orange, and lime placed below my left collarbone.
“No better client than a form-bender,” the artist pronounced while outlining the pattern. “You can’t beat the constant return business.” He glanced up from his work and grinned. “When you made another appointment right after the last tat, I figured you were one of those people who get off on the endorphin rush. The disappearing feather,” he noted, pointing the tattoo gun at my unmarred shoulder, “is a dead giveaway that you’re a shifter.”
My ability to transform wasn’t exactly a secret, but I stupidly hadn’t considered the absence of his earlier work would be like a big, neon sign flashing, Yterixa. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” I joked.
He shrugged. “Only if you turn into one.”
>
The tat came out better than I’d imagined: bright, playful, and placed enough to the side that it would remain hidden under the majority of my clothing options. The tattooist thanked me for my patronage as I handed him the payment plus a generous tip. Waving as we departed, he called out, “See you in a few days.”
I planned to leave Jjestri by then, but I didn’t mention my itinerary. Not that I worried he was any threat, but one could never be too careful. Also, for all I knew, I might form-bend tonight and end up going back tomorrow.
Sebastian was waiting in my suite when we returned, and his bleak expression told me all I needed to know. “They didn’t run a full scan, did they?
“No, my dear, they did not. They examined Kyzal for most of the more common signs of criminal magic, but not any a master assassin might utilize. I suppose because there were no indications of foul play, the government agents can be excused for their lack of thoroughness. However,” he sneered, “the Xyzok would never make such a mistake.”
I couldn’t fault Sebastian’s unbridled contempt for the Glyzimutitch Zolmere. As with law-making bodies in any dimension, members of GZ didn’t always focus on what was best, but what furthered their own political agendas. Unfortunately, Sebastian got caught up in their posturing when they’d tried to imprison him for transferring his spiritual essence into me. At first, finding out the GZ investigated Kyzal’s death surprised me; I assumed the Royal Guard took the lead. The more I thought about it, a non-royal entity checking into the untimely demise of a royal made sense.
“When will you tell the queen?” I didn’t envy the task of informing a mother that her child might have been murdered.
“Already done. I popped back while you were out and apprised her of the situation. She gave approval to conduct a more comprehensive scan for magical traces.”
“And Alex?”
“He and his father were present when I informed Rexa.”
A wave of guilt spread over me. “I know you said I should stay here through the time I’m scheduled to leave, but it’s only a few more days. I really think I should be with Alex right now.”
Sebastian laid his hand over mine. “Alexander is fine. At this juncture, there is only the word of a clearly criminal and possibly delusional woman. Until we have more information, we all need to behave as if last night’s intruder was merely an over-zealous fan hoping to meet you. In fact, the official inter-palace story is that it was a newly hired staff member who entered your rooms uninvited, to deflect any gossip about lax security.”
“Don’t you’d think I’d be safer in Alenquai? Nobody ever snuck into my room there.”
He arched a brow in response to my petulance. “I know it may seem that way. However, if your intruder’s allegations are genuine, you are better off here, with Ulut and me to watch over you, than in the place where the crime was committed.”
“Okay, okay,” I agreed, waving my hands in surrender. “No offense, but I’d still rather have Alex protecting me.”
“None taken, my dear, although you could not ask for a more effective protector than yours truly, or a more devoted one than Ulut.”
It was difficult to discern if he was simply stating the facts as he knew them, or was truly offended. To cover any possible transgression, I added, “I know, but I miss Alex.”
“Of course you do, as I miss my Rachel,” he said. Sebastian’s expression morphed from tender commiseration to roguish inquiry. “Speaking of which, did Alexander try out my experimental communication device?”
Any plans to feign ignorance to avoid sharing details of the courtyard TA come-fest dissolved when my cheeks turned the color of a sunburned flamingo.
Sebastian nodded smugly. “Ah, I see it was successful. One of my better inventions, yes?”
His self-satisfied smirk would have ticked me off had I not recalled the wellspring of satisfaction I received because of his genius. Warped genius, but genius nonetheless. “Best phone sex ever,” I admitted. “You could make millions.” Not that he needed it; the guy was already loaded.
“This was only the first step, but my primary goal is to achieve cross-dimensional transcendental arousal. It would make separations from my beloved much easier to manage.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I sighed, recalling just how managed I felt afterward. “But, it’s no substitute for the real deal.”
Sebastian pressed his lips together, head tilted in thought. “Particularly not for Rachel.”
The wait for results from the supernatural autopsy was excruciating, made more so because Pixie decided to join us. I did my best to ignore the agitated PA, but had Myrjix—at my insistence—not snuck him a dose of magical sedation, I might have throttled the little pissant.
Word finally came later in the afternoon; the Xyzok found no traces of arcane energy on Kyzal’s corpse. Relieved that Deep Throat had been mistaken, Tannis decided to embark on a celebratory shopping spree in the village, Ulut joined her to sightsee, and Pixie retired to his own room to, “replenish my emotional stores.” Everyone’s, including my own dour mood, vanished. Except Sebastian’s. If anything, he seemed more sullen.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, tired of watching him gaze forlornly from the balcony. “This is good news, right?”
He leaned against the windowsill and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Yes, but I cannot help wondering why the intruder would risk sneaking into the palace, into your suite, to impart spurious information?”
I shrugged. “Got me. I gave up trying to assign logic to the actions of nutcases. You can make yourself crazy trying to figure out the ‘why’.”
“Be that as it may,” he conceded, pushing away from the ledge. “My job here is far from finished. Your intruder’s claims distracted me from the original task of bringing Boklym to justice. It is time I found him.” Sebastian glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door. “Where you go, my dear, trouble seems to follow.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m incredibly unlucky.”
“Or…” he noted as he left, “a homing device for the unhinged.”
15
Sebastian’s misgivings aside, confirmation that Kyzal died from nothing more than his own foolishness ratcheted down my anxiety levels exponentially. Knowing I’d be returning in a few days to Alenquai—and Alex—helped as well; between being lured into an embarrassing public relations debacle, encountering a delusional crazy in my room, and having both miscreants unaccounted for, this “vacation” mostly sucked.
Despite the negatives, the trip to Jjestri wasn’t all bad. I discovered I could indulge in body art without having to live with my choices forever, and I experienced the thrill of long-distance TA. In addition, I gleefully anticipated the upcoming Klydilap festival, because, really, who wouldn’t look forward to a daylong party celebrating an animal with a huge schlong capable of grasping stuff?
As it turned out, both Tannis and Pixie underrated the allure of the festival. Revelers, most of who masqueraded as the male of the honored species, packed the town square, and while the quality of the costumes varied, they all shared a common characteristic—the over-sized dicks that made the creature famous. The most common getup was also the simplest: Groucho Marx-like glasses with a pendulous Klydilap phallus attached where a fake nose might have been. Some of these penile proboscises even mimicked the prehensile quality and doubled as a cup holder. An unassuming veneration, but somewhat disturbing when worn by infants. Sebastian bragged he’d been oft described as “hung like a Klydilap,” so I purchased a pair as a gag gift for Rachel, knowing the intended pun would not go unnoticed.
There was also no shortage of penis-shaped food items, and not just those naturally endowed with greater length than girth. In addition to popsicles, sausages, and pickles, vendors carved, shaped, or manipulated all manner of edibles into versions of the animal’s most famous attribute. My favorite was an anatomically correct, two-foot-long pastry made in a sort of magical waffle iron. Freshly cooked and dipped in a cr
eamy coconut sauce, they were messy but divine. Tannis, Ulut, and I each devoured two.
Of course, what eponymous festival would be complete without live specimens? Three Klydilap meandered around a grassy enclosure, using their stubby snouts to grab leaves off trees planted just for their grazing pleasure. Stout creatures, with brown and white dappled fur, they had the general body shape of a gigantic pig, splayed, four-toed feet like a rhinoceros, and proboscis that looked like an elephant with a nose bob. Not that I expected five-foot tall, six-hundred-pound beasts to acknowledge the throng of devotees pressed against the fence, but they seemed oblivious to everything but their leafy snacks. Just as well, because the uproar created when the male began to scratch the underside of his chest with his lengthy member might have startled them otherwise.
“It’s odd,” I mentioned to Tannis as we made our way from the enclosure to where the whittle-a-penis-out-of-an-enormous-radish contest was being held. “The Klydilap resembles the tapir in my dimension, but there, they aren’t found in this part of the world.”
“They haven’t lived in Jjestri for thousands of years. These,” she affirmed, pointing to the penned Klydilap, “were imported from Zylexai.”
I vaguely recalled Zylexai encompassed most of what was Southeast Asia back home, which cleared up my confusion about why an animal native to South America and Malaysia would roam in the equivalent of Northern Europe. It did nothing to explain why they had a festival for this non-native creature, so I asked.
“Throughout the early history of Jjestri,” Tannis explained, “Klydilap were a staple of the diet. The native species was furrier and better adapted to colder climates, but they were over hunted and ultimately wiped out.”
“So, it’s not just the penis thing?”
She grinned. “Well, it is their most unique characteristic, but no. It is the Jjestrian’s way of atoning for decimating their population.”