The World of Tiers, Volume 2

by Philip José Farmer

  Enitharmon did not know that her son was being held prisoner or that he had become a monster. Los had told her that he had learned that Orc was safe in the world of Manathu Vorcyon. That ancient woman had adopted him, and he was continuing his education in her peaceful universe. Someday, Los would permit Enitharmon to visit Orc. That would have to be a long time from now, though. It would happen when the passionate hatred of Los and Orc had cooled down.

  Meanwhile, Los was keeping Enitharmon busy with raising children—with the help of many servants.

  Orc did not know if his father was telling the truth or not. It was possible that his mother was still imprisoned or had been murdered.

  Jim touched the ghostbrain again and was touched back.

  It definitely had become larger.

  He decided to stay with Orc for a while. He was fascinated with the study of the conjunction of man and snake. The first thing he noted was the connection of the circulatory systems of the two bodies. The reptile was warm-blooded, which meant that it was not really a reptile. Its body had been made in Los’s laboratory to meld with Orc’s, which required that the same kind of blood run through it. The serpent body had its own heart since the human heart alone could not have pumped nearly enough blood for the immense bulk.

  The front end merged with the human part just below Orc’s anus and his genitals. But he was spared the humiliation of having to excrete on the back of the serpent and befouling himself. The food he ate went through intestines in his stomach and then was shunted to the ophidian’s stomach. Part of his urine had to go through his own urinary canal; most of it went through the serpent part.

  To stay alive and healthy, he was forced to eat and drink huge quantities. If he tried to starve himself to death, he would suffer not only his own hunger pangs but the serpent’s.

  “Metaphorically, you’ve always been a snake,” Los had said. “Now, you’re metaphor and reality combined.”

  “A snake who can bite!” Orc had howled. “A serpent who can crush you!”

  His father had laughed. Then he had said, “When I catch Vala, I’ll make her into a fit mate for you. I look forward to watching you two coiled together while making snakish love. Trying to do it, anyway. That’ll be a sight never seen before!”

  Orc did not reply. He did not wish Los to know how much he longed for companionship, especially female, especially Vala’s.

  Escape seemed to be impossible. Trap-beset gates were just beyond the single door and the four windows. Los never entered the room, though he sometimes opened the door to jeer at his son. Usually, he talked to Orc from a TV wall-screen. He liked waking Orc up in the middle of the night. Orc did not become angry about this. The time of day or night meant little to him, and he welcomed the sound or sight of a human being, even of his father. Of course, he would not let Los know that.

  Three months after capture, Orc’s two bodies broke out in jewels.

  CHAPTER 29

  At first, Orc thought that he was suffering from a carbuncular infection. Hard nodes sprang up mushroom-swift on both bodies, though his face and neck were free of them. They itched intensely, and the thin skin over the hard swellings broke at the slightest scratch. A little blood but no pus flowed from the ruptures. The broken skin revealed a many-faceted substance that was rubbery in its initial stages. Then it became as hard as a gem. The growths could be of any color or shade.

  Orc realized that he was not infected with any ordinary disease. The Thoan were immune to pimples and boils or, in fact, any skin infection. Los must be responsible for the outbreak.

  In a week’s time, the swellings had grown larger. They were the size of a walnut and much harder than the shell. The skin over them stretched without breaking. After the first three days of growth, they had ceased to make the skin itch. Orc had quit scratching, and the cuts made by his nails had healed within five hours.

  Fortunately, the swellings had not appeared on the underside of the serpent body. It would have made movement across the smooth floor both painful and difficult. As it was, even its sidewinder method of locomotion did not prevent his ever-looping tail from slipping now and then.

  When Los came to the doorway or his face was videoed, he refused to answer Orc’s questions. He only said, “It is not a disease.”

  All the skin over the bumps broke in the same hour. Their contents fell onto the floor, clinking as they did. They looked like cut gems, and they twinkled in the light.

  Shortly after that, Los opened the door. He stood there and laughed for a long time. Then, he said, “You’re a living treasure, Orc, your own gem mine and jewelsmith. You’ll be up to your ass, your human ass, in diamonds, emeralds, garnets, rubies, sapphires, amethysts, and chrysoberyls. You may even drown in them.

  “Thank me, my son. Your father has heaped riches upon you, though you deserve only ashes and dung. The tale of your unfortunate fortune and strange death will spread throughout the worlds—I’ll see to that—and you will become a legend to rival Shambarimem’s and Manathu Vorcyon’s.”

  For reply, Orc bent his body so that he was a few inches above the floor. He scooped up a handful of the still-wet gems, straightened back, and hurled them through the doorway. Los did not move except to make a slight step backward, then to resume his position.

  As the jewels shot through the doorway, they vanished.

  Orc had established that a gate was there.

  “You’ll see only my face on the wall from now on,” Los said. “You’ve no way to get rid of the gems. Drown in your sea of beauty!”

  He closed the door. Shortly thereafter, a small round ceiling panel slid aside. Through the hole dropped the gems, one by one, that he had cast at Los. Orc took these and the others and dropped them into the privy hole. Ten minutes later, all reappeared from the ceiling hole.

  Jim unmoored himself from Orc and returned to his room on Earth. Immediately, he began chanting. On his return to Orc, four Thoan months had passed. The Lord was taking plates piled with food from the revolving tray in the wall. He had been forced to eat and drink immense quantities to provide the energy to make the jewels. Almost all his time had been spent in ingestion and excretion. Because his hunger and thirst woke him up every two hours, he slept in spurts. If he had tried to cut down his intake to a normal diet, he would have dehydrated in less than a day and would have starved to death in three days.

  The jewels were three inches thick on the floor. When Orc tried to crawl over them, he slipped and slid and had much trouble getting from one place to another. However, he had tried a new technique of locomotion recently, and it worked. Instead of carrying his human body vertically, he put it in a straight line with his serpent body. Then he cleared the jewels ahead of him out of the way with his hands.

  Eventually, the gems would be piled so high that he would not be able to make a path.

  The question now was whether he would die of weakness or of suffocation first. The time would come when he would not be able to get to the food tray and the water faucet. The jewels would cover them too deeply.

  For the first time in Orc’s life, he despaired. Death seemed to be the only exit from this room. Jim felt just as hopeless and spiritless as Orc. Also, the ghostbrain seemed to be getting larger, though its menace would cease when Orc died. At the moment, it looked as if the solution to both problems could be that.

  After twelve trips, Jim entered Orc on the night that the Lord had to escape or die soon. The jewels were only several feet from the ceiling. To reach the food tray and the water faucet, Orc had to dig two wide and deep holes. These had been caving in soon after being made, thus forcing him to excavate every day. He had given up on trying to get to the privy hole. As a result, the room stank, reminding Jim of old man Dumski’s outhouse pit.

  The room was being monitored through wall screens and, perhaps, with other sensors. Los would be observing only occasionally unless he carried a small receiver with him. He might have stationed servants to observe the room on a twenty-four-hour basis
. Certainly, he would be instantly notified automatically by machine or by an operator if his prisoner did anything untoward. However, the wall panels up to several feet within the ceiling were now covered with the jewels. But disguised monitor screens would be on the ceiling.

  Orc thought of covering the exposed areas of the wall and the ceiling with his excrement. But, as soon as the monitors were blinded, Los would be called.

  He scooped a hole by the wall above the faucet. That would not alarm the monitors; they had seen him do this every time he wanted a drink of water. When he came to the faucet, he gripped it. It would, he hoped, not tear out from the wall from the stress he planned to put on it. Most of his serpentine body was stretched out across the room. Holding on to the metal faucet while he exchanged hands to maintain his grip, Orc rolled around and around.

  Observing this, the human watchers might believe that he was having a seizure of some sort. They might call Los. However, it would not look to them as if he were doing anything that could aid him to escape. And they would wait a while to see what, if anything, he was up to.

  As he rolled, the jewels around his human body fell in and covered him. The snake body was also soon buried, though it was closer to the surface than the human part. He then groped around with the tip of the tail until he felt one of the upright tempered-vanadium bars making a frame in front of a window. Extended a few feet more, the tail coiled around the bar.

  If the frame had been welded to the metal wall, it would resist his mightiest efforts. As it was, he did not have his full strength. But, after he strained until sweat slicked his body and stung his eyes and the veins swelled to the size of tiny serpents, the frame popped out. It screeched, a sound the monitors would detect.

  Though of very thick and hard metal, the faucet had bent sideways.

  Now, he came up and out of the hard but loose pile over him. His fore part forming a straight line with the serpentine part, he clawed at the jewels before him while the tail sidewound frantically. He got to the window quickly. Then, he pushed himself along the wall for several feet. After he stopped, he began to hammer his tail against the window. At first, the mineralline growths under the skin softened the pain from the blows. The only hurt he suffered, and it was almost too much, was from the skin breaking over the immature jewels. But these were ripped out and off after twenty or so impacts. This caused him a greater pain. And the unbuffered slamming of the tail made him clench his teeth with agony. Blood smeared the window.

  Just when he thought that he could no longer continue his weakening blows, the window fell out. Immediately, the jewels by it cascaded outwards. He writhed to the opening and stuck his tail out and above the opening. It groped around along the wall above the window until it found something upright and standing in a niche. He curved his tail around its base as an anchor. Then he extended his head and shoulders through the opening.

  The only illumination was moonlight, but he could see that the object his tail had gripped was a metal statue. Now he knew exactly where he was in this huge and complex palace-city. He was on the north side of one of the first buildings erected on the lowest level. It was over two thousand years old, and his parents had been talking for a long time about tearing it down and building a new one. Its too ornate rococo style was no longer to their taste.

  The palace lights came on. He saw no sign of life. The TV watchers were probably the only tenants left, the others having gone to Golgonooza. Los, of course, would have been awakened. He may already have gated through to this building or one nearby.

  He tightened the tail’s grip around the legs of the statue and slithered out of the window. For a moment, he was hanging face down to the full length of his two bodies. Then his mighty ophidian muscles raised him, and he twisted the snake body until he faced the wall. He rose until he could grasp the shoulders of the statue. He uncoiled his tail from the base of the statue. Almost, his fingers gave way under the weight of the momentarily dragging tail. Then he raised the latter part and coiled a length around the statue above. Thus progressing from statue to statue, he got to the roof.

  As he had expected, several flying craft of various types and sizes were hangared in one corner. When he got to them, he chose an all-white craft of the Steed II class. This was large enough to accommodate his huge bulk. Getting into the pilot’s front seat so that he could operate the Steed was not easy. He had to jam the front part of the serpent through the space between the two seats. Then, he had to curve it so that his human part would be able to reach the controls. Since he lacked feet, he had to operate the pedals with his hands. That made for awkward flying when the craft was not on automatic, but he could do it safely if he was careful during certain maneuvers.

  He hoped that the vocal code which started the engine had not been changed. It had not. But that did not mean that the concealed self-destruction device would not explode. It could be set for automatic activation or by a radio signal from Los. Also, there could be an override which would take control from the unauthorized pilot. Then Los could direct it to land wherever he chose.

  Orc was going to take his chances. He had no other choice.

  None of the craft was armed or had hand weapons aboard.

  Light beams sprang out from each side. They were about ten feet long and fan-shaped. Under Orc’s control, they began flapping up and down as swiftly as a hummingbird’s wings. The craft rose slowly, the light flashes of the Sethi engine becoming a blur. Orc turned on the radar, infrared, and headlights. The bright flashes from the side were going to be seen by anyone in his path so he might as well have a good view ahead of him.

  It took six minutes of savage acceleration to put one hundred and fifty miles behind him. The lights of Golgonooza brightened swiftly as he decelerated. By now, Los must have gated to the palace, learned what had happened, including the theft of the Steed, and gated back to Golgonooza. Or he was just about to do so. He would guess correctly that his son would not fly elsewhere to take refuge while he was still part serpent.

  Whether Los had gone to the palace and returned or had never gone, he was now in his new city. Orc angled the vessel steeply downward toward his landing place, the plaza by the swirl-domed towering residence of Los. As he did so, he saw his father. He was running, staggering rather, across the plaza. He was clad only in a short kilt, and he wore a belt holding a holster that contained a beamer. One hand was clasped to his side as if it hurt.

  Ahead of him, her white and gauzy night robe flapping behind her, ran his mother. Enitharmon’s slim legs were pumping swiftly, and she looked desperate. Although Los could have stunned or killed her with his beamer, he was so furious and, possibly, so injured that he had forgotten about the weapon. Or he did not want to use it unless he was forced to do so.

  As Orc brought the Steed around in a curve to get behind Los, he saw that the hilt and part of the blade of a dagger stuck out between Los’s fingers. Evidently, Enitharmon had stabbed him between the ribs, though not deeply. That meant that she had not been imprisoned in one section of the palace or had been released from it. Or his father had been lying about locking her up. In any event, his mother had found out what he had done to their son. She had intercepted him before he could take effective action against Orc. There had been a struggle, and she had slipped the blade into his side. Then, she had fled.

  The Sethi wings made no noise. Los had not seen their flashing or was too intent on catching his wife for the lights to register. Orc took the craft down to about six feet above the multicolored luminescent pavement and shot it toward Los’s back. Enitharmon had stumbled and fallen on one knee. That was long enough for Los, screaming, to overtake her. He clutched her by the throat with both hands as she tried to get up. She was now on both knees, her body bent backward as she clutched Los’s wrists.

  Before the bow of Orc’s craft rammed into a point between Los’s shoulders, Enitharmon had released her right hand and jerked the dagger loose from his body. He cried out with the pain. She started to plunge it int
o Los’s belly, but he was knocked forward by the aircraft’s prow, and her dagger struck his breastbone at an angle. Then his body carried her to the floor. The dagger lay close to her hand on the ground. But the impact of the bow against Los was not as violent as Orc could have made it. Even though rage filled him, it had not taken over all his wits. He did not wish to injure his mother by driving Los too hard against her. And he did not want to kill Los. Not yet.

  Even so, she sprawled beneath Los. He lay heavily facedown upon her, his arms outflung. He was stunned or unconscious. Enitharmon was not trying to roll him over and away from her. She must have been stunned when the back of her head struck the pavement.

  Orc raised the canopy of the aircraft. He crawled out of the vessel and to his parents. Enitharmon, looking up and past Los’s shoulder, screamed. Even if Los had told her what he had done to Orc, the sight of him far exceeded the shock of the mental image. And the blood covering Orc must have added to the horror caused by his monstrous body.

  “It is I, Mother!” he croaked.

  He bent down and picked up the dagger from the pavement. She was silent now and staring with eyes as wide open as possible. Orc rolled the still-unmoving body of his father over and slid off his kilt and loincloth. A few seconds later, Enitharmon screamed again and did not stop for some time.

  Orc had cut off Los’s testicles. Then, straightening up to a vertical position, he slipped the two balls from the sac and popped them into his mouth. Cheeks bulging, he began chewing.

  Rage and the legends that the ancient Lords had done this to their enemies had inspired him to do this deed. And it was possible that the serpentine part of him overrode the human revulsion at the act. Orc had become half animal in more than his conjoining of flesh with a snake.

  Whatever had driven Orc to this act, it was too much for Jim Grimson. He did not have to chant to release himself from the Lord. The shock and disgust cut the mental cord, and he was back in his room. He was shaking and felt as if he had to vomit.