“I can. Without difficulty.” She put as much certainty into her voice as she could muster. “I can guarantee you at least thirty minutes’ resistance to those energy weapons and almost indefinite resistance to Ruin-level weapons. But can I make a suggestion?”
“Certainly.”
“It would take a great deal of time to build up a shield around the castle and such a shield would be no more effective than if I were to alter the nature of the existing walls and windows of the wing containing the Feast Hall. It would be much easier and quicker for me to work with the existing materials to make them bomb-proof than to create something from scratch.”
“You would make sure that there was no point of entry for a missile?”
“Absolutely. Send me Architect or Engineer with the castle plans and I’ll start at once.”
“Well?” Lord Scanthax looked at Assassin.
Assassin shook his head. “It sounds like a precaution that will eliminate the danger. But . . . they showed some ingenuity and bravery in Ruin by the manner in which they got through the gate. My worry is that we are missing some data and underestimating them.” He gave Penelope an appraising look, and if she had been in her human body, she would have blushed with guilt. As it was, the princess met his gaze with equanimity.
“Very well. Shield that section of the castle for us, Princess.”
If she hadn’t been quivering with distress at how close her plans had come to being ruined, Penelope would have enjoyed the irony of the situation. Lord Scanthax was asking her to build a shield to protect his manifestations and that task was effectively the same one she had already completed as part of a strategy for imprisoning them.
Chapter 29
TH3*VQO3
Now that she had a good reason to be in the Feast Hall, Penelope almost skipped her way along the moonlit corridors. True, she still needed to be careful in leaving her bedroom, so as to avoid the scrutiny of Ambassador. But Lord Scanthax’s request that she make the walls of the building a shield against missiles and bombs was the perfect excuse to offer for her presence should she run into any of the manifestations.
The distribution ceremony was less than twelve hours away and the Feast Hall was ready. A solemn silence in which not even a mouse stirred—how could it, when she had ensured that the room was sealed?—filled the spaces between the exhibits. Penelope could picture how it would look later in the day: blazing with shafts of light descending from the high windows and glittering on the silverware and polished armor of the officers. But for now it was full of shadows.
Once again she examined the secret door at the fireplace. All it would take was a quick pass of her “glue gun” down the line opposite the hinge and it would be welded to the rock. That would probably be the crucial moment and Penelope could feel her human heart palpitate as she anticipated the scene. Perhaps Ambassador or some other manifestation would run over to her, wondering what she was doing. But surely no one would stop her from getting up from her seat and walking this far, especially if they were listening to one of the interminable, self-congratulatory speeches. Once the secret door had been integrated into the walls of the room, the trap would be closed. Then the negotiations would begin. And if Lord Scanthax refused to budge, she would kill her avatar, create a new one outside of the sealed room and script an alternative route to the control room. While she got on with her new life, he could simmer in impotent rage until he was ready to come to terms.
Feeling giddy about the prospect of freedom, Penelope eased the door open, only to be shocked by the sound of voices. There were manifestations in the control room! She had almost shut the secret door when she paused, having distinctly heard a peal of laughter. What was going on down there? Were they watching one of the human films? Indecision kept her poised at the partially opened door, listening intently but ready to run back toward her room. There were several voices, male and female, all sounding surprisingly young. It only took a few quiet, careful steps and Penelope was above the drop; from there she could make out what they were saying.
“Whoa, Athena, look at this. The entire first season of Matador . Tell me you can upload them all.”
“I can, of course.”
“Wait until we get home with these. Everyone will be amazed. And look—concert footage of the Sex Pistols. Classic. Get those, too.”
“Ghost. Shouldn’t you be searching for information that will help us, instead of trying to fill the gaps in Saga’s human film collection?”
“Of course, but don’t you think coming back with all these films—already having saved the world—would be so awesome?”
“You are such a lightweight at times. Hey, this looks interesting. Shhh, everyone.”
“To the lords and ladies of Edda. We are leaving our colony in the next few days, and we have taken the decision to leave Edda behind. For some years now the conditions on this planet have been worsening, and life support is taking up more and more of our resources. We have located a planet that looks far more suitable to our needs, and our ships are nearly ready for departure . . .
Standing above the ladder to the control room, Penelope felt giddy and wanted to reach out and lean against a wall, in case her lack of control over her shaking limbs sent her avatar falling. She took a step back. Strangers. It was the Saga tank crew. They had gotten inside the castle! All Lord Scanthax’s worst fears had been realized.
But how did she feel? Frightened? No. Then why was she trembling?
A thought that had been present since she first made out what these people were saying now blossomed in her mind like the sun rising over a mountaintop. Whether they were entities in their own right or avatars for humans, there were other people below her. Apart from variants of Lord Scanthax, these were the first people she had ever come across. And she was suddenly ashamed that she didn’t know what to say to them. They sounded so confident, so familiar with each other. It was not fear that had her shaking in the dark room, unable to approach the strangers; it was shyness.
Down below, the final broadcast made by the humans who had left Edda continued. Penelope was furious with herself. Why was she hesitating? She had to go and talk to them. Wasn’t this what she had wanted for all these years? But the thought of entering the room and having them turn to look at her was paralyzing. How many people were down there? What would they think of her? How should she behave?
The film was nearly over.
“Come on, come on!” Penelope whispered to herself and lowered Princess into the hole, hanging carefully onto the ladder. It wouldn’t do to fall now.
By the flickering light of the film screen, she could make out four people whose full attention was fixed on the messenger speaking to them out of the past. Seated at the console was a young woman with long, curling dark hair and a curious pair of lenses balanced on her nose. Beside her, leaning on the back of the same chair, was a handsome man with very short blond hair, dressed in military clothes. Next to him was a dark-skinned girl whose brown hair was a complete mess, like it had been burned off. There was something about her pose—arms folded, shoulders relaxed—that radiated composure. On the other side of the seated woman was an extraordinarily beautiful red-haired woman wearing the most amazingly decorated leather armor and resting her hands on the pommels of a sword and a dirk that lay sheathed on either hip. The composition of the group was surprising enough, in that it contained a pirate or thief who seemed to be from Myth or Epic with three people who must have come from Saga. But it was their youth that was really unexpected. They were all teenagers, hardly older than Penelope herself.
“Hello.” Her voice was dry and timid. No one heard her over the final “farewell” of the broadcast.
“Hello.”
The blur of motion was astonishing. In an instant the red-haired woman drew her sword and the dark girl swung a rifle strap over her head to point the weapon at her.
“Hi,” said the long-haired young woman in the chair, swiveling around. “I’m Athena. Who are you?”
“Are you human or native?” asked the blond man, belatedly bringing his own rifle to bear.
“I’m human. I’m not armed, by the way.” At this everyone lowered their weapons slightly. “What about you? Are you human?”
“All humans take a step forward,” said Athena. She was smiling and Penelope wasn’t sure if she was supposed to take a step forward. It was the red-haired pirate and the blond soldier who did so.
“Hi,” said the pirate. “My name is Erik.”
“Erik?”
He must have detected the note of surprise in her voice. “Ha, yeah. It’s a long story, but I’m a male in charge of this female avatar, Cindella.”
“And I’m Gunnar.” Odd. The voice was that of a much older man than she would have expected from the avatar.
“And I’m Ghost. Us two are from Saga.”
Penelope nodded. “What are you doing here?”
Ghost shrugged. “I’m updating my old-school human film collection.”
Athena waved at her. “Be nice. This is serious. We’re here because you are about to invade Saga and we want to stop you.”
“Oh, that’s not me. That’s Lord Scanthax.”
“Lord Scanthax.” Erik spoke the name slowly, as if trying it out. “Just one person?” His avatar put her sword back in its sheath and took a seat. “Please, tell us all about Lord Scanthax.”
Hesitantly at first, trying to hide how nervous she was and how anxious to win their approval, Penelope began to explain the history of Edda. They were good listeners and seemed to be sympathetic to her situation. Although it was hard to judge what they were thinking from the expressions on their avatars, both humans did at least make some effort to nod at various points.
“So, even though you helped him in the past, you don’t want Lord Scanthax to attack Saga now?” Ghost looked at her with a penetrating stare.
“No. Of course not. He’ll just turn it into a massive factory or farm, like he is doing to all the other worlds.”
“But your life is in his hands? Your human life?” Ghost continued, as if mistrustful.
“Yes. Look!” Penelope went over to the workstation and called up the controls for her life support. “There, that’s me.”
“Bloody vengeance!”
“Lug-a-bug!”
“My dear girl!”
“What?” asked Penelope, suddenly ashamed and sorry she had switched on the monitor.
“You’re so thin,” said Athena. “Like a skeleton. You look like you are dying.”
“I know, I know. I’m going to work on that once I’m free of Lord Scanthax. I’m going to build up my strength.”
“But don’t you feel loyal to him?” Again it was Ghost who led the questions. “Seeing as he kept you alive from when you were a baby?”
“Not really. Of course, I did for a while. I suppose . . .” Penelope looked down. “I suppose when I was little I thought he was my father. He let me be a princess here and that seemed important when I was six or seven. But I’ve known for several years now that he doesn’t really care about me as a person at all. I’m just a useful resource that he keeps under control.”
“If we fight him, which side will you be on?”
“You won’t have to!” Penelope declared triumphantly, her head up again. “Tomorrow I’m going to trap him and all his manifestations in the room upstairs. I’ll make him agree not to attack Saga before I release him.”
“Really?” Erik sounded delighted.
“Oh yes. If all goes according to plan.”
“What’s your plan?” asked Athena and again they listened patiently as she explained about the redistribution ceremony and Penelope’s preparations to seal up the chamber.
“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Erik. “That’s perfect.”
Ghost was scowling. “What? We come all this way, through all those battles; Milan dies; and it all was for nothing, because this fairy-girl is going to stop us from being attacked?”
“But we didn’t know that. And now we can be on hand to help if something goes wrong.”
“Hopefully nothing will.” Penelope was thrilled that Erik was so pleased with her. “I’ve perfected a gun that will glue the secret door shut.”
“I want you to shut me in the hall with him,” muttered Ghost grimly.
“No. You’ll try to kill him, for vengeance,” said Erik.
“Too right I will.”
“Better if it were me or Gunnar, because it doesn’t matter if he kills us and we need to persuade him to reconsider his plans in light of the fact that everyone in Saga is sentient.”
Penelope shook her head. “He has no sympathy. You have to remember where he came from. The universe for him is an arena for struggle in which there can only be one victor. His whole existence has been one long race to build up his army and conquer all other life. He’s not going to change now. Not unless he is forced to.”
“What do you think?” Ghost was addressing Athena.
“No offense, Penelope”—Athena tipped her head to look at Penelope from over the top of her glasses—“but before we discuss this any further, I’d like to check whether what you are saying is true. We’ve met so many strange and dangerous people, I can’t just take your word on this. What if you just made all that up?”
“Including my body?” Penelope pointed at the screen.
“Everything. What if you’re a spy or one of the people planning to attack Saga?”
“But . . .”
“I’m not saying you are; I’m just explaining why I want you to take a test.”
“A test?”
“Erik, do you have that playing card? The one for truth?”
“Here. I had guessed where you were heading.”
Erik passed a large card to Athena.
“All right, now tell us about you and Lord Scanthax again.”
As Penelope went over her story once more, she watched Athena take the card and place it firmly on the counter, faceup. The image was of a slender human woman in white robes raising a bright orb high in her right hand; where the beams of light shone into the dark corners of the card, clouds parted, book pages fluttered, and scowling people flinched and held up their arms to block the light.
After Penelope finished speaking, the card flared bright white and the woman in the picture smiled. Then the light faded and the card disappeared.
“I guess that means she is telling the truth, right?” Athena looked at Erik.
“I think so.”
With a nod, Athena relaxed.
“Sorry about that. You can understand that we have to be sure, when our whole world is at stake.”
“I understand,” Penelope replied. And she did. It was a relief, too, that they all seemed to accept her now, to judge from their friendly expressions. “Was that card magic, then?”
“Yeah,” answered Athena. “Cindella here is packed full of magic.”
“Suppose your plan goes wrong . . .” Erik sounded as though he had been thinking about this while Penelope had been proving that she was telling the truth. “What if you aren’t able to close the secret door above? They’ll escape this way, right?”
“They might, yes.”
“And it doesn’t matter if we kill some of them?” he continued. “We won’t be murdering anyone? They are all aspects of one person?”
“Yes. I mean, some of them are very distinct, very different from the others. You’d hardly think Ambassador and Executioner were the same person, but they are.”
“And so long as even one manifestation lives, Lord Scanthax will live?”
“Right. All his processing power will flow to that manifestation.”
“Very well,” said Erik. “Then tomorrow, I’d like you to seal them all in, with me there, too.”
“And what about me?” said Ghost grimly. “I’m the queen of Saga. This is my responsibility.”
“Ghost. You’ve already said it. If you come face-to-face with the perso
n responsible for killing Milan, you won’t be able to stop yourself from destroying him in revenge.”
“Is that so bad?”
The blond-haired soldier stood up from his chair at this. “It would be morally equivalent to their deeds.”
“Not at all!” Athena sounded cross. “This guy is threatening to invade our world. If we kill him, that’s only because a: it is forced upon us and b: we are saving millions by killing one person.”
“But it’s not being forced upon us.” Erik spoke with a sigh. “Please, Ghost. We’ve come all this way with you; we’ve got exactly the same goal as you. Can’t you respect our commitment to non-violence and try it our way?”
Penelope watched, fascinated, as they argued. She had expected Lord Scanthax’s enemies to be like him: a cold, efficient military unit, with a clear chain of command. These people were, well, messy.
“All right. We’ll lock you in with him. But he’ll just kill Cindella, I’m sure. And if things go wrong with your plan, nothing will stop me from taking him down.”
“Thank you, Ghost.”
It was tempting to just stand and listen to them, to watch them interact with each other. She was learning all the time. But Penelope had a question and broke in to raise it.
“The way you are talking, you must be powerful, right? To have come so far and to take it for granted that you could defeat about two hundred manifestations, about half of them being soldiers of some sort. Are you really so sure of yourselves?”
“It depends on their equipment and tactics.” Cindella held out her hands. “Magic rings.” She pointed to her boots. “Magic boots.” She partly drew her swords. “Magic weapons. I’ve got protection against non-magical missiles, so bullets don’t harm me, and I’ve a Bag of Dimensions that holds all sorts of potions and other magical bits and pieces.”
Edda Page 31