"The signal is intelligently processed. Therefore, I can do this.” The landscape responded to the Gelpie's touch by tilting until the view approached ground level. The moat adjacent to the raised drawbridge enlarged so much that Erik could count monster teeth.
As a description, “eel” fell short. While hiking in happier years, Erik had passed by the drawbridge and had a fair idea of its size. From this, he estimated the creatures to be four meters long. Their narrow, moray-like heads stretched almost a meter in height and their bodies tapered evenly toward the tails. The front teeth were finger-length, but so thin and sharp they could've been used as sewing needles. As he stared, an armored portal opened above the moat and an avalanche of meat, bone, and guts tumbled out, presumably splashing into the water although no splash was visible. Monsters swarmed the morsels. In seconds, not even a bone remained.
"Ideal timing!” Paat whispered. “That should dull the edge of their voraciousness."
"You honestly think I'll get past those things?” Erik recognized that his attachment to Liana was already too strong for him to back out. He knew why: their transformations had put them into a private club with two members. Without her, he'd feel utterly alone. But no part of him wanted any part of that moat.
"Gelpie scientists added catfish genes to your transformation. Examine your tails and you'll note that each has a subtle ridge running its length. When submerged, these are motion-detecting organs of exquisite sensitivity. The tails, in theory, will defend you. Now here,” Paat placed a finger on the display, “is your entrance."
"Got it."
"Dive in where the drawbridge is meant to descend, swim straight across but stay underwater. Work your way along the bottom to the left until you feel the opening."
"Then what?"
"Squeeze between the bars and you will enter a sub-basement. Swim directly away from the opening until you encounter a ramp. Ascend this ramp and exit the water. You will see a staircase. Ascend this silently although this is not the hour for wardens to patrol. The passageway ahead will lead you to an extensive basement lined with prison cells. Make certain you look in each. Move quietly and the prisoners should not awaken—Gregor has learned they are drugged at night."
"I'm confused. Are you saying the Queen has armies of, ah, repurposed people in there?"
"Only test subjects for various change drugs. It would not suffice for her to know if a given drug produces whatever transformation she desires; she must also determine any long-term undesirable consequences. According to reliable sources, these experiments are scheduled to end very soon. She will then quickly assemble her armies by applying the most successful change drugs to certain wardens and janissaries."
"So we have a deadline. Where's Liana? If she's still alive."
"Probably in one of those cells. Gregor's worked within Laoyu, but his security clearance never allowed him near our primary area of interest. Still, he has gleaned information from fellow soldiers permitted more access. He's learned that basement cells can be externally opened by a mechanical latch."
"If she's not in the basement?"
"Follow your intuition tempered by judgment."
In other words, Erik thought, good luck. “So everything we know about the basement is hearsay?"
Paat shifted her weight around. “Not entirely. In this matter, I may have overstepped my authority by a fraction. The Captains require their agents to minimize any . . . interference with events on individual levels and they limit the technology we may employ. We have only slight more flexibility when those events threaten to influence other levels."
"Just tell me."
"I sent an autonomous spying device into the basement."
"Then you can show me the interior?"
"Speak quieter. Alas, the Queen's mentor had prepared for an incursion by proxy. My machine did not survive beyond the staircase. Nor did the next five I dispatched."
"What happened to them?"
"Nothing you need fear, unless you are a miniature drone in disguise."
Erik eyed what he could see of the moat. “Fine. Hope I can swim a straight line underwater."
"I shall observe your progress.” She tilted the display screen. “If you veer off-course, I will hurl a pebble into the water indicating the proper direction. Be assured! Gelpies are accurate hurlers and your tails should guide you to where the pebbles hit."
It isn't inaccuracy that scares me, Erik thought. “Okay. I'm ducking behind that tree to pee, then I'll go swimming."
"By all means."
Urinating wasn't the problem Erik had expected; his penis unfurled automatically to do the job. This was a relief in more than one sense, but as a delaying tactic, it failed. No sense waiting for a shipment of courage, he told himself.
The water didn't feel nearly as cold as it was, but it had a disgusting sliminess. Trying not to think of the moat as a giant-eel toilet, Erik forced himself underwater. Even with filtering from his gill-scales, his mouth and lungs filled with foulness. As expected, he couldn't see a thing. He could hear just fine, mostly the pounding of his heart.
Still, it wasn't his ears that warned him about monsters torpedoing his way. Perhaps his terror had melted some mental block, because he sensed their approach with his tails. A host of novel sensations provided him an almost visual perception of the danger. Then the teeth arrived and his tails reacted, moving too quickly for him to follow their actions. For a terrible moment, he was tugged around violently, but nothing bit him. The tugging stopped. Blood tainted the filthy water; he could taste it. Kinesthetic memories that weren't exactly his suggested that his tails had tightened themselves into spears and gone hunting. . . .
Hearing a plink from something small falling into the moat, he began swimming in that direction. Thanks to his new rapport, he felt his tails flatten into paddles, propelling him so fast he would've crashed into the far bank if the tails hadn't reached ahead to act as buffers.
He sent them a mental message: I admit it; you guys are damn useful. I officially welcome you to my, ah, rear end. Make yourselves at home.
Feeling along the bank close to the bottom, his scrabbling hands banged into a metal bar. Next to it, he found an opening and next to that another bar. With some jellyfishing, he squeezed through.
* * * *
When his chest bumped a ramp, he stood. Warm water sluiced from his scales and he breathed air without so much as a polite cough. He was relieved to escape the moat and see again, but felt infinitely far from safe.
The sub-basement appeared to extend for kilometers, its vastness fractured by load-bearing concrete pillars. Nearby pillars glowed red from his eye-lights, distant ones were ruby hints. He hadn't imagined the fortress would seem so big from the inside. His minuscule confidence in finding Liana shrank.
He found stairs and climbed them. The tails assisted his stealth by pressing downwards as he went, distributing his weight. A new foulness in the air battled the moat stench: the earthy, fecal odor of many animals crammed together. He came to the passageway Paat had mentioned and hesitated, daunted by an unsteady grumbling coming from ahead.
Moving with utmost care, he navigated the passageway and eased between another set of metal bars into another tremendous space. If anything, it appeared larger than the sub-basement due to its fewer, although thicker, supporting columns. Nine large cages, arranged in a rectangular array and separated by wide aisles, dominated the center of the room. More cages in single file lined a distant wall.
Not what I'd call cells, Erik thought, creeping toward the grouped cages. But for God's sake, don't wake the babies. He shivered from head to tails now, and it wasn't from feeling cold.
Every cage was occupied and none of the occupants wore clothing. Initially, Erik supposed the inhabitant of the first, a side-sleeper, was Larsen, the huge janissary with forehead spikes. Then he decided Larsen had to be an early prototype. This specimen's spikes covered more terrain including forearms, chest, and knees. His segmented back, however, appeare
d hard, smooth, and oily. The overall design seemed intended for crevice climbing.
The second cage contained something more like an ugly rug than anything human. It was long and wide but nearly flat, and Eric guessed it had hundreds of tiny legs, judging by those visible on one edge. The round, shiny feet seemed useless in terms of traction. A truly radical transformation and he couldn't imagine its purpose. Slithering along horizontal crevices? Not with those feet.
Cage three displayed a man covered in white fur too dense for Erik to see his face. This unfortunate had snowshoe feet and long furry tubes dangling from his neck. Built-in snorkels?
Erik felt sick from revulsion, fear, and a new presumption of failure. Nine cages right here and at least three times more against the wall. If the occupants were as varied as these first three, he had a problem. His memory was good, but not good enough to retain details of perhaps forty different changelings. He should've brought writing materials.
The next two rows eased one of his concerns; all prisoners were minor variations on those in the first row. The rugs varied most—one resembled a giant shag fungus. No Liana.
When he tiptoed to the wall cages, he was glad he'd tiptoed. These all contained versions of the toothy monsters he'd met in the Wild. One charmer had rows of needles jutting from holes below its eyes.
Organic blowguns? Get moving, idiot, he cautioned himself. If that horror wakes, those darts could fly between bars, no problem.
But where should he go? He'd completed his cage tour and hadn't found his friend. Now, he felt pulled two ways. Possibly, he'd gotten the information needed to block the Queen's first invasions, and he felt a duty to brief Paat without delay. The stakes were monumental: lives and freedom. But he couldn't bear abandoning Liana. It dawned on him that if he did find her, they couldn't escape the way he'd come in. She wouldn't fit between the bars he'd squeezed through. Why hadn't he thought of that before? Why hadn't Paat?
Then again, should he retrace his route? Maybe someone on night patrol had noticed eel corpses and wardens were quietly setting up a trap for him. He knew this idea had “rationalization” written all over it, but it allowed him to follow his heart without feeling so guilty. He headed toward a stairwell he'd noticed and tried to pretend that his trembling had eased.
The first ground-level floor presented a maze of corridors with wooden doors on both sides; every door had a simple squeeze latch. Fortunately, no lights were on, which made running into trouble unlikely. The downside of the upside was that darkness made Erik's eye-glow obvious; if some night guard happened to enjoy sitting in the dark. . . .
That wasn't his main concern. From where he stood, he counted seven doors before the corridor curved beyond his sight. If this space had even half the square meters of those below, there could be hundreds of rooms on this floor alone. And Laoyu was, by far, the level's tallest structure, thirty high-ceilinged stories. In his heart, the chances of finding Liana fell from slim to emaciated.
One thing he'd learned about despair over this last year: you had to continue anyway. He started opening doors, working his way down the corridor. All rooms were unlocked and none contained prisoners. Most had cots but were otherwise unfurnished. He figured they'd soon be employed as quarters for the Queen's armies.
As he wandered farther from the stairwell, away from the snores below, he heard a faint sobbing. Moving in total silence to avoid masking the sound, he followed it. This proved a frustrating task. Repeatedly, whenever he drew close enough to the weeping to recognize the timbre of Liana's voice, a passageway would end and he'd have to double back and try a new route. Still, by Shiva, Liana was alive.
Finally his ears informed him he'd found the right door, but it wouldn't open. The oaken door had thick bands of metal reinforcing. And while it had the usual squeeze latch, it also had a metal lock worthy of securing the Queen's armory. Feeling as optimistic as Disy sounded, Erik looked around for a key and had the success he'd expected. He didn't scream in frustration, but wanted to.
He raised his hand to knock gently, hoping to let Liana know that a friend had arrived. But seeing his fingers, smoldering like fanned embers thanks to his incandescent eyes, inspired a different idea.
He'd noticed that whenever his body softened, his skin retained normal sensitivity. Could he jellyfish a finger into the lock, feel for the proper tumbler placements, then reform his finger into a key? He tried before common sense could tell him not to bother.
Even softened, his smallest finger wouldn't fit. But it came so tantalizingly close to fitting that he wondered if his tail could do the job. With that thought, one segment rose like a pinheaded cobra, stretched out and inserted itself in the keyhole. Perhaps the mechanism was simpler than Erik had expected. Almost instantly, the segment twisted and a hidden bolt clunked. The weeping stopped.
Erik opened the door but waited in the corridor, giving Liana time to see his glowing eyes. He didn't want her mistaking him for someone to attack. Then she was in his arms, hugging him so tight that he thought his scales might need to breathe for him. He didn't care.
She released him and whispered. “Thank you, I'd given up. What's the escape plan?"
"Wish I had one. The way I came in won't work unless you can squeeze through a—a fish flap. What about sneaking out the main door? Next floor up and to our left, I think. That'd put us a ways up but we could jump into the moat, and the monsters won't be a problem."
He could barely hear her sigh. “Forget it. When the drawbridge is raised, it seals the entrance and Gregor said they cut power to the winches from midnight to morning."
"Damn. Okay, let's think. Windows here are barred, but the fortress is old and humid and mortar doesn't last forever. Maybe some bars have loosened enough to pry out."
"Erik, you can get out, and you should."
"What about you?"
"I'll find a hiding place and blend in real good."
He shook his head. “Not leaving without you and we can't stay here. I may have the info Paat wanted."
She managed to smile and look exasperated at the same time. “You drive a vicious bargain. Guess we'll start checking windows, but we'll probably need a prying tool."
As she stepped away from him, he got a clear look at her and was puzzled by the dark markings on her naked body; as camouflage they seemed useless.
"Should've seen me a few hours ago,” she murmured. “This skin heals real quick."
Then he understood. The marks were welts, bruises, and burns. Her breasts and inner thighs in particular had been scorched with something like a poker. A white blaze of anger washed through him.
"They tortured you."
She reached up to place her hands on his shoulders. “Wasn't as bad as it looks. Part of my skin control includes the nerves. So I numbed myself and they didn't get one word out of me."
Something fast buzzed past Erik's ear and a tail segment snapped at it but missed.
Liana heard it too. “What was that?"
"Don't know, but we better get moving. See any windows on this floor when they brought you here?"
"Yeah. We should turn—"
The overhead lights went on.
* * * *
Blinking away tears from the dazzle, Erik grabbed Liana's hand and pulled her toward the stairwell he'd used earlier. Distant footsteps echoed from another direction, their cadence implying another set of stairs. A few phrases carried to their ears. Someone said, “If this is another drill, I'm gonna—” and a deeper voice mentioned “the Queen's useless hornet."
The buzzing returned and the tail snapped again. Erik felt and heard it connect with something small and hard, which smashed against a wall, bounced off, and landed near Erik's feet, motionless. The ex-buzzer was larger than any hornet and its rotary wings were bent. Killer of Paat's drones, Erik guessed, and a flying sentry. He stomped on it in passing, just in case. His bare foot didn't enjoy the experience but some pains are worthwhile.
The higher voice cried. “Hear those bangs? Shi
t, not a false alarm for once. Let's move it."
Judging from the pounding thuds, wardens were running and more were joining the chase. Comments bounced down the corridor, mostly protests and commands for everyone else to shut up. Then a harsh and authoritarian command did shut everyone up.
In a way, Erik appreciated the relative quiet. He'd been afraid a separate squadron was descending the stairs he planned to take, but only snores from the basement issued from ahead. The changelings reached the stairwell well ahead of the pack, and Erik headed upwards. Liana hurried to catch up with him.
"You're going the wrong way,” she hissed.
"Told you. We're both escaping."
The issue became academic. Their pursuers reached the stairwell and the officious voice deployed his troops in both directions. Erik and Liana practically flew up the staircase, widening their lead with every step. Erik's tails acted as extra legs for the first ten floors. Then they gave up.
"Lifts!” he said, conserving his breath.
"Too bad for us."
They understood each other because they shared the same fear. Even Bateson House, shortest of the Kin mansions, had elevators. If Captain Bossy's brain was functional, a contingent of guards would be waiting for them on some higher floor. If he'd been in radio contact with a dispatcher, guards had to be closing in right now.
"Try for . . . a lift ourselves?” Erik panted.
"If we knew . . . where to look. And if it would . . . carry intruders."
"Another stairwell, then?"
"We can't go . . . hunting."
Seeing nothing but bad choices, they continued upwards. By now, Erik was dead tired. These stairs were steep and the risers too tall for him. Still, he ordered his tails to keep resting. He had an idea, more concept than strategy, and if his scheme panned out, he'd need the tails recharged.
By the thirtieth floor, only desperation moved his legs. The interminable climb would've been far less exhausting if he hadn't constantly expected murderous company to appear. Yet the way ahead remained warden free.
"Now what?” Liana groaned as the stairwell ended and they staggered out onto the fortieth and highest floor.
Analog SFF, May 2011 Page 6