by Sue Perry
We stepped out of the water at the same time. Jenn asked, "Did that just happen?"
"Shazam," I said, being otherwise speechless.
"Hello, friends," hailed a being from the tree stone gatherers. "Might you assist? Maelstrom has our Frames under siege, so our crew is short today."
Jenn clapped like a toddler and called to the gatherers, "Yes! How do we get out there?"
I told her, "You go ahead, I've got library research to do," and I waved regrets to the gatherers and headed up the path.
The gatherers made a practiced throw with a sisal rope and it caught on a branch above Jenn's head. Two humanoid gatherers used the rope to do a sideways belay across the river to where she stood. They had Jenn in the center of the river by the time I climbed the bluff to the Halls of Shared Knowledge. I climbed with gusto, thanks to my ankle–dip in the river.
My goal at the Halls today was to find out how Maelstrom enslaved books. The grandmaters had mentioned a device. That implied –
"Welcome, book tamer." The bookcase hailed me with a new warmth.
Now that was a good nickname. "Hi there, it's good to be back. Don't spread that around though, about me and the books."
"Certainly not. These are not the Halls of Stupidity."
Another flare–up of my chronic condition, open–mouth–insert–foot disease. "Good line!" I forced a laugh and after a moment the bookcases joined me. "Joking aside, your support means the Frames to me and increases by a million times my chance of success." I ignored the cynical mathoid inside me who riffed on what you get when you multiply a million times zero.
"How may we help thee today?" The warm tones were back.
"I want to see everything about the beginning of the enslavement."
"Still exploring the beginning."
I'd like to think it was strategy and not ego that compelled me to pretend my investigation had progressed. "And. The latest. I'm here to see the oldest and the newest."
"An intriguing approach. Please step to a viewer."
The newest footage played immediately. The scene jumped across the viewer with black and gray gaps, piecemeal and patchwork. The viewer informed, "This scene has no ending, it is in progress."
I zoomed in. That was Anya! Wasn't it? And Kelly Joe? They appeared and then they were gone. Others appeared and vanished, too. The black and gray gaps shrank as events evolved. The action was taking place on Manhattan's Lower East Side—in the background was the entrance to Brooklyn Bridge—but in a Frame I'd never been, with sidewalk and street that flexed like trampolines, and buildings that shed glass with crashes like cymbals. The racket was mind–boggling and the Lobotomists who filled the streets looked ready to stampede.
There was nowhere safe for them to be. Anya, Kelly Joe, and other allies would burst in from another Frame, just long enough to shoot flamethrowers. Meanwhile, books rained text whenever the allies appeared, hitting nearby Lobotomists. Other Lobotomists tripped on the bouncing street and, when one fell, the others walked over them. Closer to the buildings, they were safe from text but got cut by falling glass. Through all this, the trainers kept calling, without inflection, "To the bridge. Continue or die."
The allies would vanish then appear somewhere new, blast flames and disappear again. A group of allies appeared with nets, netted a cluster of hovering books, then vanished with the captured books. The trainers screamed, "Fools. Preserve those books, they are fresh and can be retrained. With books we win."
The allies did not return.
"Zoom in on that crate," I instructed the viewer. Books that weren't flying sat in what looked like fireproof safes.
Yup and damn. That magenta dust cover with the pink script. It was a chick–lit bestseller. You know the kind, full of movie diseases and manipulation. When I'd bought my copies of Lose Twenty Pounds, that novel had the biggest display in the bookstore. I bring this up, not to disparage the reading tastes of the American public, but to note that this was a recently published book and the Lobotomist safe was full of them. Which meant that Maelstrom had resumed enslaving books. The allies diverted a trickle while Maelstrom readied a flood.
61. THE TROUBLE THAT HAPPENS
When I left the Halls, I still didn't know how Maelstrom enslaved books, yet I'd learned much that was important. During the time that Maelstrom was trapped by Frame collapse, the enslavement of additional books stopped. Many trained soldier books were loose in the Frames and a service subculture sprung up to exploit these powerful weapons. These books became mercenaries, killing for hire. Middlemen called librarians arose; the librarians recruited mercenaries and controlled them with special nets and flamethrowers.
A mercenary's allegiance could shift suddenly. My guess about those shifts was that Maelstrom, trapped in his Frame collapse, held early editions of some books and sometimes he'd put one in his device, to change the allegiance of later editions. Which meant that back then, he'd kept the device with him.
When I got back to the bluff overlooking the Hudson, Jenn was still riding somebody's back in the middle of the river and seemed to have turned tree stone gathering into a game. Jenn was doing fine; I had time to make another visit to Marzipan in hopes of finishing my conversation with the proustel vendor.
This time I Traveled to Marzipan from Julian's front stoop, one hand on the doorknob behind me. If I Traveled into trouble, I would open the door and fall inside Julian while changing Frames.
The trouble I'm ready for is never the trouble that happens. When I got to Marzipan, the streets were deserted as far as I could see, which was not very far in the icy fog. I strained to hear in the dense silence. The silence that punctuates your 'hello' when your phone rings at 3 a.m. The silence before the pain when you run your hand through the table saw.
There was no sense that life had ever existed in Marzipan. But there was a presence. Something. Waiting. The lanyard gave me no warning. The lanyard was so heavy I couldn't inhale.
If I went to the corner I might see something. I lifted one foot, couldn't get it to step away from Julian's front door. My body had decided: leaving Julian had a bad risk to reward ratio.
Something rushed up the steps and slammed my shins, knocking me backwards. As I fell into Julian's foyer, I took a kick at the something, then realized it was orange and furry. Meanwhile, I Traveled away from Marzipan, so fast I was back to the Halls of Shared Knowledge before I hit the parquet floor of Julian's foyer. A vertigo headache imploded my eyeballs and when I clutched my eye sockets, I was surprised to find them still packed with my eyes.
The orange furry collider had Traveled beside me, and now shook his head a couple times as though to clear it. "Leon! I kicked you! I'm so sorry!"
I petted him and he purred, briefly but forcefully, which I took as reassurance he was fine. Apparently he had wanted me out of Marzipan, pronto.
Time to get Jenn and go home. Leon did his cockroach scurry beside me as I returned to the bluff overlooking the Hudson River.
Jenn spotted me immediately as though she had been watching for me. A pair of quadrupeds sideways–belayed her to the river bank while the rest of the crew called farewells. From the river shallows, she called up to me, "I need help getting up this mountain."
I ran down the path to join her. Up close I could see the slack in her muscles: Jenn looked exhausted. She kept her feet in the river until I arrived and when she stepped onto land, she staggered. I ducked down to toss her over my shoulder. I could carry her, but only as a sack of taters.
I have bony shoulders. Jenn shifted to get comfortable and spotted Leon behind me on the path. "That's the same cat from back home. There really are juju cats? Fuckin' A."
I got her back to Ma'Urth and helped her stretch out on my couch, then sank to the floor beside her. Traveling for two was like running on the bottom of a pool.
I awoke in a chilly dark, remembering a hot summer day of long ago.
In fourth grade, Jenn and I had a thing for soap bubbles and my hands have never been cleaner t
han they were that summer. All day every day we waved bubble wands, sudsing our backyards. One day we tried to adorn ourselves with bubbles, but our clothes were too rough for the delicate skins of the bubbles. So we stripped. It was Jenn's turn to plant bubbles all over me when her mother shrieked at us to get dressed. According to Jenn's mother's tone, she'd lifted her pillow and found slugs on her sheet. I grabbed for my clothes, but Jenn stood still and talked back, softly. "It's just our skin, mom."
She never let anyone shame her.
The things we remember and the times we remember them.
Jenn still slept and her breathing had no more hitches than usual. She didn't stir when I scribbled a note, donned my backpack, and grabbed the bags from my shopping excursion.
Lying there, Jenn looked about as tough as one of our soap bubbles. I didn't see Leon anywhere, but fortunately, Dizzy snoozed beside Jenn. "Keep her safe, Dizz."
62. HIS MOTHER WAS A HERO
I needed to talk to a grandmater. They were connected beings so I only needed to talk to one to reach them all. I headed for West 48th Street, but when I got to the block with the grannies' safe house it felt wrong and my lanyard began to sting. I walked that block humming my mantra and poised to Travel to Frivolous Bedlam. I passed the safe house as though it were just another building, continued to Tenth Avenue, and glanced back. I might have seen Lobotomists exiting a building.
I hightailed it to Frivolous Bedlam, where the block was empty and vibe free and the lanyard had no warnings. I entered the safe house building and Traveled to the Frame where the grannies were hiding.
I fussed with the shower knobs for a lot longer than Anwyl had done, but eventually managed to open the secret panel. The hidden room was nearly empty, with no male models, and only eleven grandmaters still there. Didn't look like Hari!–Ya would need my help much, transporting grannies.
The grannies did not look up from their placement of food bits and napkin scraps. Their mandala had grown to occupy the back half of the room.
"I've got something for you," I announced. No one looked up. With an unappreciated flourish I upended my shopping bags. Long tubes and small jars rolled toward the grannies, flashing with millions of beads in a multitude of colors shapes sizes.
I had their attention. Rather, the beads did. They dropped the bits of napkins and food and from then on crafted the mandala with beads. They barely glanced at the containers as they worked, yet combined the colors and shapes in spectacular patterns, as though Kandinsky had designed time–lapse flowers.
Behind me, fabric rustled and I jumped. Hari!–Ya lowered her hands, which were above one shoulder and gripped a machete.
"When I saw that the panel was open –" She sounded apologetic as she sheathed the blade in a sling on her hip. "Welcome, friend. This mission is soon complete, well ahead of Anwyl's schedule."
"And not a minute too soon." I described the beings I'd seen, searching this block in other Frames.
"Yes, our foes approach. Grandmaters, pack what you would take. Very soon we must away." They ignored us, of course. She said to me, "Persuasion I deem one of your specialties."
"It's hard to persuade a being who doesn't want anything." We watched the grannies arrange beads. "I need to ask them some questions, but I can ask on the other end of our trip." Two grannies emptied containers to make a mountain of beads and the others took beads from that pile. This wasn't packing to go, it was settling in for a night of mandala–building.
My frustration must have showed. Hari!–Ya said, "They will cooperate when the moment so dictates, won't you, grandmaters?" No answer, of course. Hari!–Ya's leathery skin crackled when she smiled. "Ask questions as you can. In a thousand breaths we must away."
"Okay, but I can't count that high."
"I can." Her laugh was odd but great, like rain on a snare drum. She joined me kneeling beside the grannies. "Nica, I wish for you to know that mine is not an evil race. Misguided, rather. Our thoughts are easily poisoned."
"I believe you."
"I must show you something that not even Anwyl knows."
Of course I said yes—it seemed important to her and how could I resist knowing more than Anwyl? She took my hand and Traveled me to a Frame that was distant, given my nausea and headache. She jogged us upstairs to a third floor apartment where a Cobra woman nursed two infants. A Cobra man was in the kitchen, washing dishes.
"These are my comrades, Raff and Nada. Cobras who support the allies are hiding through the Frames. Nada holds her daughter," Hari!–Ya gestured to a leathery blob with a misshapen skull that could only be an infant Cobra person. Then she reached for the other baby, a perfect and adorable infant male model. Seeing him made me want to drop everything and become a mother. "And this is my son." Hari!–Ya stared at her baby as though to memorize him. She told the others, "Here is Nica. When I am killed or captured, she will come to you."
When not if Hari!–Ya was captured or killed. Her role in the conflict guaranteed a short life span.
I said my hellos to the others, then told Hari!–Ya, "You can count on me. I will let them know what befalls you and I will do whatever I can to keep them safe. And I will make sure your son knows that his mother was a hero."
Hari!–Ya returned focus to her son for nearly a minute, ignoring all else. He whimpered when she returned him to Nada. Raff set aside the dishes and took his daughter so that Nada could comfort the boy.
Ironically, only the babies weren't crying when we left.
As Hari!–Ya Traveled us back to the grannies, she boomeranged from doubt to anger to doubt. "My son might have been safe from persecution at home, because even though he is a seeder, my family has long birthed seeders that evolved to grandmaters. We are respected despite the shame of our babies. Yet in these days when hatreds burn so hot –" Her voice broke. "I know not whether I chose rightly."
"That's assuming there is a right choice."
She stopped down the hall from the grannies' hidden room. I got the sense she wanted a moment to compose herself and get back in warrior mode. "Tell of your Frame. Do you know prejudice there?"
"Oh, yeah, we got that. You know. If I were a mom I would have done like you. Got my kid the hell out."
Which left her needing more time to compose.
The beads had revolutionized the grannies' mandala construction. The floor was now as colorful as a field of wildflowers.
"Take up the belongings you wish to take, we must away, grandmaters," Hari!–Ya greeted them. For once, the grannies listened. They grabbed empty bead tubes and refilled them by scooping them into the mountains of unused beads. They returned filled tubes to the bag.
There's no feeling like it—the satisfaction of buying somebody the perfect gift.
I knelt beside a bead mountain. "Grandmaters, I have an important question." They scooped beads. "You told me that Maelstrom uses a device to enslave books." The air shifted; they might be listening. "Where is that device?"
They scooped beads. I shrugged and stood, disappointed but not surprised. Had they heard me? Understood me? Were they completely incorrigible? About the time I mentioned having a question, two of them had uncorked some tubes and resumed work on the mandala.
Hari!–Ya touched my arm as though I were about to step into a sinkhole. "Tread carefully in that quest. You are important to our fight."
"Shit," I responded. Outside the building, synchronized marching sounded way too much like the Entourage. Below us, the building door smashed opened. Hari!–Ya pulled on the panel to the secret room and it slid shut, closing us in and buying a bit more time.
"Grab hands and away," Hari!–Ya ordered. The grannies stuffed bead tubes in their bosoms then stood and cooperated, perhaps because I had confiscated the bags of beads. If you want the beads, come with us. Quick but calm, Hari!–Ya arranged us, holding hands, and before she Traveled us out of Frame, I spotted the newest mandala section, where the grannies had just added beads.
Their mandalas always reminded me of the Conn
ector map and this section was a part of the Connector map that I recognized. It included the area of Frame collapse where Maelstrom had been imprisoned. They had just poured black beads on top of the Frame collapse area. Could this be their answer to my question about the location of Maelstrom's device? How? They had started pouring black beads before I asked them where the device was.
When we reached a Frame that Hari!–Ya deemed safe, she wanted to leave a pair of grandmaters in that Frame. They wanted to stay together as eleven musketeers. Finally, I snapped. "Your resistance delays us and risks all our lives." This had no effect on the grannies.
Frustrated, I shook the bag of beads. A tube flew out and I stepped on it, crushing the beads. "Too bad you won't cooperate, really a waste!"
I hate it when outta control is the solution. A pair of grannies dropped hands and stepped away from the others. They would stay in this Frame. I held open the bag and the departing grannies selected 2/11ths of the beads and dropped down to begin a mandala.
As Hari!–Ya Traveled the rest of us to yet another Frame, I called to the pair we were leaving behind, "Find shelter. Protect yourselves. I'll bring more beads."
We had just deposited the third pair of grannies in a third Frame when I felt a rat gnawing inside my skull, a sensation that meant someone nearby was snooping in my thoughts. I went blank and stayed that way, so I lost track of which or how many Frames we visited.
We were down to the final three grannies when Hari!–Ya said, "We must continue separately. We have hunters behind us but they follow my trace, not yours. Take these to Next Vast. They are expected."
"I'm so sorry. I'm not skilled enough to Travel with three other living beings."
"You will succeed. The grandmaters have a lightness of being."
Hari!–Ya called to me as she disappeared out of Frame, "Farewell, my friend. I thank you for your promise."
It twisted my gut, wondering whether I'd see her again.