World Enough, and Time

by James Kahn

  They rolled over and over, Bal’s teeth locked in Joshua’s throat. Josh was dimly aware of people scattering around their struggle, or whimpering, or simply frozen in panic. He put them all from his mind. With every fragment of strength he had left, he brought his knee up into Bal’s groin. Reflexively, from the pain, the Vampire’s grip loosened.

  In the same instant, Josh felt frail Human hands clawing at his back, trying to pull him apart from the bleeding Vampire. He threw the Human off against the wall with little effort, simultaneously pushing Bal’s weakening jaw away from him. The Vampire dug four mean talons into Joshua’s arm, but Josh no longer registered pain. He found a broken chair leg beside his hand, and hit Bal in the head, and hit him again, and again.

  Then suddenly it was all over. Josh sat up. Beside him on the carpet, Bal lay dead. The knife wound in the Vampire’s chest wasn’t bleeding anymore: there was no blood left in him, it was all on the floor.

  Joshua, on the other hand, was bleeding profusely from his neck bite. He applied pressure to the lacerations with a small pillow and crawled across the room to Dicey.

  She lay, semiconscious, still bleeding slowly from her own neck wounds. He took her, held her in his arms, encircled her with his trembling arms there on the floor. She remained limp. He pressed his face to her face, his neck to her neck: wound to wound, they bled into each other.

  He sat against the wall and laid her down in his lap. Her eyelids fluttered open. She gazed on his face as if it were an unexpected memory from a different life. Then she died.

  Josh could not understand the meaning of this moment. After all these months of chase and hardship, to come so far simply to watch his love die in his hands, under the bewildered gaze of an audience of slaves, in the middle of a city of Vampires on the edge of a jungle, on the edge of an ocean, on the edge of a desert—where was the meaning? What the lesson? He took several deep, bottomless breaths, but could not find enough air to fill his hollow chest. His head was a frenzy of random, high-speed thoughts and visions he felt he could not contain: felt his head must burst. Yet he sat. Completely motionless, he stared vacantly into space. He made an attempt, but could not even cry.

  He sat trying to compose himself as the terrified onlookers—Bal’s harem—continued gawking from the doorways. No one spoke, no one moved. All seemed to be in a state of shock. After some long moments, a little boy pushed his way through and walked tentatively up to Joshua.

  Josh looked up. His faced softened “Ollie?” he whispered. The little boy’s lip trembled. “Ollie,” Josh whispered again, and pulled the boy to him in a hug of desperation that all but crushed the child.

  Finally, Josh held him back at arm’s length. “Ollie, how are you?” he asked. “Are you all right? You’re safe now.” Josh was joyous. He had something to focus on. His brother was safe.

  Ollie smiled so broadly it was a grimace. He hugged Josh again. He nodded his head rapidly that he was all right. But he didn’t speak.

  Josh didn’t press it. He just kept hugging the boy, stroking the back of his head, saying, “There, there. You’re safe now.”

  At last Josh stood up and looked around at the hushed group. “You’re all safe now,” he said to them. “I’m taking you all with me. We’re getting out of here now.”

  They all looked to each other, uncertain what to do. Their master lay dead on the floor. They were free. They all began talking at once.

  Some were elated, some terrified, some indignant, many confused. Some had been born in Bal’s harem, and didn’t know what freedom meant. Some thought it meant they now belonged to this person who’d just killed Bal. A number had loved Bal, and wept over his body. Some had only been captured recently, ,and they immediately began scouring the house for possible weapons.

  Renfield, the old head servant, was one who simply assumed this to be a change of tenure. He efficiently sat Josh down in a chair, washed his wounds off with alcohol and neatly bandaged them. Ollie, still mute, held on to Joshua’s belt the entire time.

  Finally Josh stood. “Okay, listen everybody,” he raised his voice. The cacophony immediately ceased. “Now we’re all going to leave this city. Secretly, through the sewers. After we’ve escaped, you’re all free to do whatever you want. You can come with me if you like, or you can go your own way.” Renfield whispered for a long time in Joshua’s ear. When he was done, Josh nodded and spoke again to the assembled group. “If you feel you must be in someone’s harem, we’re going now to meet with an exceptionally kind Vampire, named Lon, who is helping us out of here, and who will be happy to take you on, I’m sure.” Relief was obvious on many faces. Josh continued. “Now we’re going to climb down the ladder inside the trash bin over here, down to the sewers. I’ll go first, with Ollie here. You’ll follow one at a time. Bring only what you can carry easily. You, with the knives, space yourselves out among the others to see that things are going along okay. Renfield, you bring up the rear. Close the lid over you.”

  A wave of excitement filled the room, and everyone began talking again, running here and there. Josh forced himself to sling Dicey’s body over his shoulder, and with it made his descent back into the tunnels. Ollie was right behind him.

  When Josh got to the bottom, he laid his love’s lifeless form in the fast water of a crossing tunnel. It floated quickly out of sight. “To the sea,” whispered Josh. He then went directly back to the shaft from Bal’s house and stayed there until the entire group was reassembled. When he was satisfied they were all safe and sound, he had them all hold hands; and led them, single file, back toward the rendezvous point with Lon.

  It was a frightened, reluctant string of escapees that made its way through the tortuous dark maze. If it hadn’t been for Joshua’s constant pulling and Renfield’s patient, nudging encouragement, the group would certainly not have lasted fifty steps. There was a continuous drone of whimpers, shshs, and gasps along the way, and one young man even became briefly hysterical until Renfield put him right.

  But they arrived without mishap.

  Lon had replaced the light at the intersection with a bulb from another tunnel, so Josh—with great relief—saw him immediately. He looked much better; his color was back and his belly wound was clotted shut. They exchanged a look of shared triumph.

  The dead Minotaur still commanded one tunnel. As people began to filter into the area, they had to pass the corpse. Some stared in fascination; others looked away.

  The whole motley party was soon clustered expectantly around Lon and Josh. “I’m going to leave you now,” Josh told the crowd softly. Ollie gripped his leg in wild fear. Josh picked the boy up, reassuring. “I’ll be back,” he continued. “I still have to get one more person out of there. Lon will take you all now. You’ll be safe with him.”

  Josh gave Lon back the map to the cliff face, but kept the map to the castle. They agreed to meet here at the intersection as soon as they’d each completed their respective missions.

  “Take care of Ollie,” whispered Josh. “I mean, if anything happens …”

  “Like my own son,” answered the Vampire.

  The group formed a single file once more, and Lon led them down the dark trail home.

  Josh moved quickly in the opposite direction, toward the Final Decontamination Lab, and Rose.

  Beauty stepped soberly up the left-hand fork. Once the river had entered the tunnels beneath the castle, the water had become shallow, easy to traverse. He felt safer, now, as well; rid of the city’s ruthless eyes on his vulnerable back. Yet he was greatly worried.

  The map had said that upon entering the tunnels from the east, there was a fork to the right, and then one to the left, and that marked the shaft leading to the Throne Room. But Beauty had come to two turnings before he found a right-hand fork; and three cross tunnels before any fork to the left. He stood tentatively now, at the vertical shaft that may or may not have been the Queen’s, and wondered what to do.

  He could wait. He could retrace his steps and begin again. He
could explore further—he still had fifty yards of coiled vine to play with. He could call out to see if Joshua heard him.

  In the dark, hostile tunnel, now, none of these alternatives seemed entirely satisfactory.

  He silently cursed. Well. He’d taken the right and the left fork, and the unlabeled turnings be damned.

  He waited.

  Jasmine climbed the last rung up the shaft. She lifted the lid half a centimeter, and through the crack peered at the room beyond.

  It was a large, high-ceilinged place. The two walls she could see had great consoles along them, filled with switches, lights, and knobs. Only two Neuromans were visible. One sat in a swivel chair in front of the left wall console, the other walked here and there, checking settings. In the background, the hum of turbines masked any noises that might have otherwise been evident, such as voices in other rooms. Perhaps it was simply a small night crew.

  Jasmine could just barely read some of the nearer switches: SECOND FLOOR WEST; LUNARIUM; AUX LABS. This seemed to be the place. It was the forth shaft she’d come up. The first three were variously interesting, but not what she wanted. This was what she wanted. At least it bore further investigation.

  She got as comfortable as possible and settled down to spy for an extended period.

  Isis sat, Sphinxlike, on the outer ledge of a window-slit four stories up the castle’s facade. She was content. She would know when it was time to move.

  Below her, the lights of the city gradually winked out. It was getting late. The city was preparing for sleep. She brought her paw to her mouth and bit at an itch between two footpads.

  So satisfying. She closed her eyes with the ecstasy of feeling her own slender corner tooth dig closer and closer to the recess where the itch crackled, trying to drive her mad—but it would not! because—ahhh—she had it now, there, she bit it again and again, annihilating the focus, destroying the itch in one long, divine, orgasmic—

  Something happened. She didn’t know what, but she knew it was something. Something to do with Joshua. Moreover: Joshua was in the castle.

  Leisurely, she rose, walked through the thick stone window frame, jumped to the floor, and padded up the hall.

  Lon turned left down a half-lit tunnel. There was an arrow on the wall here, and he couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Sum-Thin’s mark. He held on to Ollie’s hand, who held on to the woman behind him, on and on down the line.

  There was a cross tunnel here with a cold wind blowing through it, making a scary moaning sound, like an animal in misery. It frightened two young girls—sisters—about ten people back along the line. They broke rank and bolted up another cross tunnel.

  “Stay! Don’t run!” shouted Renfield, but the patter of their feet receded up the black hole.

  Lon ran back. Renfield told him what had happened. “We must get them,” said Renfield.

  Lon shook his head sadly. “If I search for them, I’ll never find my way back to you. They are lost.

  Keep moving,” he lowered his voice under the weight of a great sadness, and went back to the head of the line. “Join hands and keep moving,” he repeated, and resumed his steady pace.

  Isis came to the end of a windowless corridor. Obviously a dead end. She sat, licking her paw, wondering why she’d come here, when there was clearly nothing happening. In the middle of a lick she stopped, though, and sat without moving, staring at her paw for several seconds. Then she looked up.

  Six feet above her, in the wall, was an air vent: a one-foot-square hole in the wall, covered by a thin wire screen. Of course, thought Isis: the special halls they’ve built for me to get around.

  In a single jump she made it up to the vent, hooked her nails into the screen covering, and hung there by her foreclaws, simultaneously battering the bottom of the mesh with her hind legs. In a few moments the screen, the flimsy brads holding it in place, and the Cat all tumbled ignominiously to the floor. Isis picked herself up immediately, leapt up into the now accessible vent, and began quickly walking down the narrow, dark ventilation duct.

  Now this is the correct size, she thought as she padded her way easily down the invisibly black, foot-square tunnel. The ducts twisted and turned, blind as a maze; but somehow Isis never missed a step. She seemed to know intuitively which tunnels to take, which ones to avoid. The choices did not faze her. She stopped, once, to kill a rat, but didn’t even spend much time playing with it. I have better things to do, Foultooth, she said to the rat as it lay dying, and resumed her tunnel-walk.

  Somehow, she knew, through smell or Cat-sense, her beloved Joshua was waiting at the end of one of the turnings.

  Silently Josh raised the lid of his shaft: the room above was empty, so up he went.

  It was a big place, with dozens of tables and benches. Long tubes of deep violet light ran the ceiling from end to end, making Josh feel this to be yet once more a strange spell through which he was perambulating. Flasks of broth bubbled softly on several surfaces, heated by orange-red coils. A wire cage in one corner bore a sign: HIGH VOLTAGE: DANGER.

  He examined everything, he understood little. There were two doors. One said OPERATING SUITE, the other was unmarked. He opened the labeled door and walked in. This room was smaller, but also void of life. Two great lamps hung down from the ceiling over two large steel tables. On a counter by one wall were rows of instruments: scalpels like those Jasmine had stolen, scissors, needles, strange things Joshua didn’t recognize. A large glass vat stood in the corner. Josh peered into it in the dense blue light. It was filled with clear liquid. At various depths, Human bodies floated. Josh held his breath and walked away.

  He breathed again. Two smaller vats stood beside the first, but these were empty. A green metal ball sat humming in the center of a table, which Joshua decided not to go near. There were no other doors in the room, so he went back out again.

  In the first room he now noticed a box full of electrical devices. He sorted through them, but they were indecipherable. On the wall was a large diagram labeled HUMAN NERVOUS SYSTEM, depicting a brain and the root-system of nerves it trailed. Beneath it on a desk lay a giant book: Atlas of the Human Brain. Josh leafed through it, but it was beyond him. He went up to the unmarked door in the other wall and opened it.

  Beyond was a short hall, and two more doors. He tried the first door; it was locked. The second bore a sign: CRYOGENIC HUMAN STORAGE. He opened the door.

  On the other side was a small bare anteroom, suffused with purplish light like all the others. In its far wall were yet three more doors, each carrying its own lettered sign. One said LIMBO; the next said NIRVANA;THE LAST, COMMUNION. Josh opened the left-hand door, the one marked LIMBO.

  He stopped short, sucked air. Before him in a room the size of a barn were hundreds of glass coffins, spread out row after row; and in each coffin lay a Human body. Slowly, Josh walked forward.

  They looked morbid in the surreal light: bluish, frozen, still. There was scattered frosting on the inside of each glass covering; there were tubes connecting each container to conduits on the floor. Josh moved as if in a trance, up one row, down the next, staring deeply into each motionless face. Each appeared peacefully asleep, each was young. Josh studied them all. He recognized no one.

  He went back out into the anteroom and approached the middle door: NIRVANA. He entered.

  It was identical to the other, row upon row of iced Humans under glass. He began his deliberate funereal march down the first aisle, searching each face with increasing fear, diminishing hope.

  He thought he recognized the sixth body down the line—it looked like Lewis, the fat boy from the Bookery in Ma’gas’, the one who’d had spells just like his own.

  Josh halted abruptly. The run on the glass obscured the head somewhat, so he bent closer, stared intensely. It was Lewis. Blue-white, his entire body, and inflexibly smooth. Like a marble statue. Joshua’s heart beat faster. He looked more closely still, and what he saw made his heart almost stop: the top of Lewis’ head was gone, had been nea
tly sawed off at the forehead; and he was brainless. His brain was gone. Had been removed. Taken elsewhere. Stolen.

  Joshua’s eyes widened in speechless rage. He quickly ran to the next glass casing and the next and the next: every body here had the top of its head cleaved off, its brain removed. He ran back to Lewis, put his hands on the glass. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out. He beat on the glass until his fists were sore, but it didn’t crack; he tried to tip it over, but it wouldn’t budge. Lewis continued to lay there, eternally calm, unperturbed; without a brain.

  Joshua went a bit mad.

  He rushed back into the first large room on a rampage. He overturned tables, threw beakers against the wall, tore books, broke machinery; spun in circles until he fell in a pile on the floor. For a few minutes, he sat there, nearly catatonic.

  Dicey was dead. Dicey was dead. Ollie would live the rest of his life in the shadow of a nightmare. Lewis was … Lewis was …

  Rose. He must find Rose. He could not let these insane images and demented machinations stay him. He would find Rose, at least, and take her from this castle of horrors.

  He re-entered NIRVANA.

  Thoroughly, he examined every glass coffin, breathing deeply through his mouth to avoid vomiting. He recognized no one else.

  The door to the third room—labeled COMMUNION—was locked; but with two almost inhumanly strong blows, Josh kicked it open. It left a small bone in his foot broken, but he was beyond caring about such things. There were matters of greater moment to confront.

  Bodies filled this room, too. But unlike the others, these were not under glass. They were laid out side by side on huge feather mattresses that stretched from one end of the room to the other. Most were motionless, though occasionally one would twitch, or shift a little. With trepidation, Josh walked forward into the dimly illuminated chamber.