by Ginn Hale
“You’re the one who has power here, Laurie,” John said.
“But I’m not evil.” Laurie glared at her clay cup. A wisp of steam rose off it and John wondered whether the intensity of her emotion had caused it.
“I don’t think any of the Rifters were,” John replied soothingly.
Laurie turned her glare on him. “They tore apart whole kingdoms!”
“But I don’t think they did it on purpose. The Payshmura used them. They set them off somehow.”
“Like bombs?” Bill asked.
“Not literally. They didn’t explode,” John replied. “But two of the pictures I found showed the Rifters wounded and all of them looked scared.” John shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m piecing all this together from what I can read and some drawings. I could be completely wrong. But I thought you should know. You should be careful and not light any more fires or do anything else like that.”
Laurie and Bill shared a cagey glance that sent a thrill of alarm through John.
He said, “You haven’t been doing anything, have you?”
“No,” Laurie said quickly.
“Yes,” Bill admitted.
Laurie shot him a reproachful look and Bill shrugged.
“They’ve been practicing witchcraft,” Bill whispered, leaning in close. “Laurie, Lady Bousim, and Ohbi.”
“But nothing that would blow up the world,” Laurie insisted. “Just healing spells for Bill and small things like that.”
“At the foot of Rathal’pesha, you’re practicing witchcraft?” John shook his head in astonishment at their recklessness.
“We’re careful,” Laurie assured him.
“You’d better be. You know what they do to witches here?”
Laurie leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not as though Bill and I have been drifting along in dreamland while you are figuring everything out. There’s a chance that I could find a way home for us through my spells. Have you thought of that?”
“If you did, it would be great.” John wasn’t about to be drawn into an argument over what Laurie was or was not allowed to do. “Just don’t get yourself killed trying.”
“I won’t,” Laurie said flatly.
John nodded. He’d told her what she needed to know. He wasn’t going to get any further when it came to warning Laurie. She’d just think he was being highhanded and resist his advice. He knew her well enough to recognize that set expression she wore.
Living in Basawar had only made her resent being told what to do even more than she normally had. John couldn’t blame her. As a woman, the culture didn’t afford her much respect. Even with her relatively elevated status as Lady Bousim’s attendant, Laurie didn’t have the right to venture outside the Bousim grounds without a male escort. She couldn’t carry her own money and she couldn’t be out past six bells when the sun began to set.
John sipped his tea. It was a refined drink, like the best served in Rathal’pesha, and so didn’t have much taste at all. The same held true for most elite foods. He could hardly taste them. Rough taye and the game meats, considered the coarsest peasant fare, were the foods he liked best. They had the strongest flavors.
He drank a little more tea anyway, just to fill the time and allow Laurie to relax.
“How have things been with Rasho Tashtu?” John asked finally. The last time he’d spoken with Laurie and Bill they had been having problems with the commander of the rashan’im.
John only vaguely remembered Tashtu. His broken nose and black beard had dominated his face. His body had seemed heavy with both hard muscle and fat. Apparently, he had taken offense to the fact that Laurie had chosen to marry Bill, whom Tashtu deemed a sickly weakling, and decided that a course of harassment would convince her to take up with him instead.
John had spoken to Pivan about it, but there wasn’t much Pivan could do to curb the commander’s comments or leers. Though Pivan had assured John that he would never allow Tashtu to act on either.
“He’s been better lately,” Bill answered. “He’s still a huge asshole. But now that I can walk, he’s had to really cut back on calling me a worthless cripple.”
“I wanted to curse him but Lady Bousim thought it would be too obvious.” Laurie sighed. “I still think most of the women in this town would be relieved if the man fell off a cliff.”
“Most of the world would be relieved, but it’s not something you should get involved in,” Bill said. “Dropping the bastard off a cliff is a just something we have to hope the drunk fuck will do to himself. Maybe we could shove him a little, but no more than that. One little shove...maybe throw a rock down after him…but that is absolutely all.”
Laurie caught Bill’s hand and gently squeezed it. “You say the nicest things.”
“I just want to share your beautiful dream.”
John looked past them out the window as they kissed. He was glad that they had each other. It seemed to keep them both safe and sane, but moments like this brought his own solitude to the fore. It had been two years...no, even longer. Nearly three years since he’d been with anyone.
The little black goats were back, scampering across the busy street. John wondered if anyone owned them. Were they just feral things, like alley cats, being adopted or abandoned according to the whims of children and lonely old women?
Bill said, “Forget Tashtu. It’s that sweet talker, Fikiri, who I’m more worried about.”
Laurie laughed in that odd, silent way that Lady Bousim and her maids laughed. It was like seeing the image of pleasure without the sound.
John had only been half-listening, not quite sure if the words were meant for him or Laurie alone. But that name caught his attention.
“Fikiri?” John asked.
“Lady Bousim’s son,” Bill said, as if he would need to explain that to John.
“He has a little crush on me.” Laurie smiled. “It’s pretty harmless. He sneaks down from time to time to visit his mother. He always brings me a cookie or something.”
“Last time I taught him a couple dirty jokes to ease those lonely nights up on the mountain,” Bill added.
“How does that exactly help?” Laurie asked.
Bill shrugged.
There was no way Fikiri could just walk down from Rathal’pesha without being missed. The trip down lasted hours and getting back up took nearly a full day. He had to be moving through Gray Space, which meant he had been hiding that ability from Dayyid.
“He’s a nice kid,” Laurie went on. “He’s got a lot of potential.”
John just nodded. He saw nothing wrong with what Fikiri was doing. But if Dayyid discovered it, John imagined, he’d be furious.
“He can do incredible spells with water.” Laurie poured more tea for Bill and glanced to John’s cup.
“He’s practicing witchcraft with you?” John felt a rush of horror at the thought. He could see Fikiri creating a direct route for Dayyid to discover all of Laurie’s transgressions against Basawar law.
Laurie frowned at him. “Is there something wrong with that?”
“He’s a teenaged boy—” John began.
“It’s not like we’re corrupting him,” Laurie snapped. “What do you think we do, dance naked and hold orgies?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything like that,” John replied. “I was going to say that Fikiri might not be the most reliable confidant, if you want to keep all this secret. Boys like to brag, and they make mistakes. If he gets found out, then all of you could be discovered.”
“It was only once.” Laurie glared at him, as if expecting him to challenge her. Bill just shook his head weakly.
John’s cup was nearly empty. He drained the last of it and then shook his head. “I’m not saying anything right today. I just want you both to be safe.”
A week ago, he had been looking forward to seeing his friends. He’d thought of all the things they could talk about that none of them could mention to anyone else: washing machines, television shows, ba
nd aids, popcorn. He’d remembered earlier times, when they would all three laugh and joke together. They had been relaxed in each other’s company.
But that had been an entirely different world, and it had been years ago. Basawar had changed all three of them. With everything she was and everything she did being wrong here, Laurie had grown to expect condemnation and offhanded dismissal. She had become angrier than she ever would have been and more defensive.
Weakness and illness had drained Bill to a mere impression of the brash man he had once been.
It was harder for John to recognize the changes in himself, but he knew they were there—signified, or maybe even caused, by the nightmares that haunted him. He dreamed of the dark chambers high in the monastery, where doorways led nowhere. He saw a room full of mutilated bodies, skinned, but still struggling. Their slick bones writhed against bindings of red wire while they whispered threats into his sleep.
These certainly weren’t dreams he’d had before this.
Outside the town bells rang out low and loud. Five bells. It would be getting dark soon.
“I should get going soon,” John said at last. “I have an entire list of medicinal herbs to purchase for Hann’yu.”
“You just got here,” Bill said.
“I’m sorry, but—”
“Did he tell you where to buy the herbs?” Laurie asked.
“No,” John replied. He couldn’t imagine why it would matter.
“Dahl’ami sells the best herbs.” Laurie leaned forward slightly “She and her husband live close by. You could stay a little longer...”
“I would, but I have to find a place called Candle Alley as well. It might take me a while.”
“Bati’kohl knows the entire city. He could take you there.” Laurie refilled his cup.
“Candle Alley?” Bill raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
John didn’t know why, but he hesitated in answering the question. It wasn’t as if Bill or Laurie were going to inform Dayyid. “I promised Ravishan that I’d meet him there.”
“Now who’s taking chances?” Laurie asked.
John scowled at her. “It’s nothing like that. He has something he needs to tell me privately.”
“What do you think that’s going to be?” Laurie asked. Bill let out a weak snicker.
John said, “If I knew, I wouldn’t need to be meeting with him to find out, would I?”
“It’s going to be David Lewis all over again,” Laurie pronounced.
For several moments, John had no memory of anyone named David Lewis. Then, with sinking dread, he remembered. It amazed him that Laurie could so quickly recall an incident that had taken place in the third grade. He didn’t think that he would have remembered David Lewis without her prompting, and he’d been the one who had been caught kissing the boy.
“I’m serious,” Laurie went on. “Ravishan likes you way too much.”
“He’s just lonely,” John assured her.
“Lonely, handsome, and completely infatuated with you,” Laurie replied. “You’re a total sucker for that kind of thing.”
“I am not.” John felt his face flushing.
“You are,” Bill concurred.
Laurie pressed on. “What about that other guy... Anthony Salazar. That was the same thing.”
“Anthony Salazar?” John didn’t have to dredge the archives for that name. He had broken two bones in his right hand from punching Anthony Salazar in the mouth. Anthony had lost a tooth and sported a lip the color of an eggplant for a month.
“The one who got expelled for trying to burn down the school,” Laurie prompted.
“Hey, I remember him.” Bill narrowed his eyes at John. “You and him?”
“Are you kidding? No,” John said firmly. “He was getting girls pregnant in the fifth grade.”
“Maybe I’ve got the name wrong.” Laurie frowned. “But there was some kid that almost got you thrown out of school...”
“That was Anthony Salazar,” John said. “We were both suspended for fighting. We weren’t boyfriends.”
Laurie studied him intently over the edge of her cup. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“I don’t know if I believe you. There was always this weird tension between the two of you,” Laurie said.
“That was seething hatred, utterly free of homoerotic underpinnings.”
Laurie scowled, though not with any real anger. John could see that she was enjoying needling him. “Yeah, but what about David Lewis?”
“What about him?” John said.
“You totally got caught.” Laurie jabbed a delicate finger at him. The silver chains on her rings tinkled against each other. “Full on, sucking face with David Lewis in the tunnel slide.”
“Yes. All right, I admit that I got caught with David Lewis.” How could this incident still embarrass him almost two decades later?
Laurie grinned.
“Wait.” Bill suddenly straightened up. “That wasn’t the same David Lewis from high school, was it? The guy who stuffed me in my locker?”
“Yeah, that was him.”
“Talk about overcompensating,” Bill said. “He didn’t even have a neck. Tell me he had a neck when you kissed him.”
John laughed. “In third grade he had a neck.”
“Good. I mean, it’s none of my business, but I’d hate to think of anyone I knew dating no-necks.”
“Have no fear,” John assured him. “I have no intentions of dating the neck-less.”
“No, you’re going to end up dating teen-priest.” Laurie smiled and threw back her tea like it was a shot of whiskey. John imagined that she rarely had an occasion to tease anyone anymore.
“So, how old is Ravishan now?” Laurie asked. “Sixteen, seventeen?”
“Nineteen,” John supplied flatly.
“Nineteen,” Laurie repeated. She looked meaningfully at Bill. Lewd jokes were normally his specialty, but this time he passed.
Bill said, “I know this is off topic, but when we get back home, what are we going to tell everyone? I mean, we’ve been gone two years now.”
“I don’t know.” John hadn’t dared to think that far ahead.
“Alien abduction,” Laurie whispered. “We could make millions on talk shows.”
Bill smiled. “Hey, yeah, we could sell the rights to HBO or some place and have one of those cheesy docudramas made about us. I’m kinda seeing myself, played by a buff male model, running in slow motion. Then a silver-suited ninja-alien leaps out. We fight. More ninja-aliens materialize all around me. I go into this super-powered spinning kick and knock off all of their heads. As their decapitated bodies slump to the ground, I growl, ‘Probe my ass, will ya?!’”
John just stared at Bill for a few, stunned seconds. Then he said, “You really have a rich fantasy life, don’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
“Do you think I could be played by a Black woman?” Laurie asked.
It was the kind of question he would have expected from the Laurie he had known two years ago: simple and at the same time utterly inexplicable.
“I think the writers would give me more sassy lines if I were Black,” Laurie explained.
“Like, ‘Probe my ass, will ya?’” John asked, deadpan.
“Hey, my line is plenty sassy,” Bill protested.
“It would definitely get you a date with David Lewis.” John allowed a note of snarkiness into his voice.
“Laugh all you want,” Bill continued. “Just wait until it’s splashed all over McDonald’s collectable toys and cups. Children, women, and men all around the world will be asking for the ‘Probe My Ass, Will Ya’ special.”
“I can just see the relish with which employees will ask, ‘Can I supersize that for you?’” John replied.
Laurie laughed out loud and then clapped her hands over her mouth. John smiled. It was good to hear her really laugh, even for a few seconds.
Bill went on, building larger and more absurd fantasies on
the theme of their disappearance and return home. None of the stories touched on the ugliness of their real lives. Laurie’s repression, Bill’s illness, and John’s isolation were all outside the realm of their new fantastic adventures.
Instead, they were played by beautiful movie stars, made millions, and received Nobel peace prizes. They took over several tropical islands, were inducted into a secret ninja clan, learned to fly and to communicate with dolphins. Laurie became a goddess with millions of followers. Bill usurped leadership of the ninja clan, and John had a brief but beautiful relationship with a brave super-intelligent dolphin.
When six bells rang out across the city, it all came to an end. Reality washed back in over them. The sky was going dark, and John couldn’t stay any longer. He drank the last of his tea, glad he hadn’t left earlier and disappointed that he had to leave now.
When he stood, Laurie hugged him fiercely.
“Be careful,” Bill said quickly.
John nodded. “You too. Take care of each other.”
He hated saying goodbye, and he hated leaving. It always felt like it could be forever.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rough stone walls pressed close and rose up over John’s head. He could only see a thin strip of night sky directly above him. Everything else was compressed into a jumble of dark shadows that briefly burned away before John’s lamp, then closed in behind him.
Within the tight confines of the winding alley, his senses narrowed to the feel of old thatching beneath his feet and the smells of urine and soured human sweat that emanated from the humid alcoves. When his lamp revealed the half-naked forms of couples, John averted his gaze and hurried past.
Bati’kohl had given him directions to Candle Alley but refused to go there himself. It wasn’t the kind of place a young boy from a good house went.
A lone girl looked up at him as his lamplight fell across her. Her black hair hung in strings over her emaciated arms and small, bare breasts. With a listless wave, she beckoned him to enter the dank alcove where she lay. John could see dark stains on the blanket beneath her. The girl’s head dropped back to the ground. She seemed hardly awake as she mumbled, “Come on in.”
She spread her legs.