by CW Hawes
“Who is this ‘Indiana Jones’?” H’tha-dub asked.
Mostyn laughed. “A movie character. He would have loved being here.”
“What is a ‘movie’?”
Mostyn thought a moment before answering. “It’s something like a play, except it is preserved on something called film to be watched by people in an amphitheater.”
“What is ‘film’, Mostyn Pierce?”
“Good question. I’ll explain some other time. Now I want to see if this thing works.” He wiggled the torch and plunged the cloth end into the container of oil. “While that’s soaking, I need you to find out where Candy and DC are. We can’t leave without them.”
“I will send a couple slaves to find out, if they can. It is best if I’m not seen as being too interested in your people.”
Mostyn thought a moment, and then nodded.
H’tha-dub touched his cheek. “Your face tells me you are concerned about them. Your people.”
“Yes, I am. They’re good people. They don’t deserve this.”
“The ones called ‘Candy’ and ‘DC’, they seem to be enjoying themselves. At least that is what I’ve heard.”
“I’ve spoken with Candy. She wants to stay. DC? I don’t know. Maybe he does, too.”
He took a look at the torch, checking the cloth to see if it had absorbed enough of the oil. “I think it’s time to try this baby.” Remembering he had no matches, he said, “I’ll need some fire, or burning coals.”
H’tha-dub summoned the slave who cooked for her and told him what she wanted. The slave departed and in a few minutes returned with a burning piece of wood and a red-hot coal.
Mostyn tried the coal first. Touching the petroleum soaked cloth to it, in less than thirty seconds the fuel ignited and Mostyn had his torch.
H’tha-dub clapped her hands. “Oh, Mostyn Pierce, that is amazing! What a new experience!”
“If you think this is something, there’s a lot in my world that makes this nothing more amazing than a good night’s sleep.”
“I think I am going to like your world, Mostyn Pierce. So many new experiences!”
“Yeah, well, I need to put this somewhere so I can time how long it burns.”
H’tha-dub summoned a slave and ordered her to hold the torch. Mostyn noticed fear in the slaves eyes and sent his thoughts to reassure her. “You’ll be okay as long as you don’t touch the flame.”
While the torch was burning, Mostyn showed H’tha-dub how to make a torch and together they made the other eleven. Shortly after they finished their task, the torch the slave was holding flickered out. Mostyn guessed they’d most likely have a solid half-hour for each torch. They’d also need to carry with them something to light the first torch. A wet leather pouch holding a burning coal or two would do the trick. He’d read somewhere that was how ancient people transported fire before matches were invented. Flint and steel or friction methods being too slow and not overly reliable. Although tinderboxes had become pretty reliable by the time the first matches were invented. But Mostyn didn’t think he had time to try to make a tinderbox.
All that was yesterday. Over their breakfast this morning, Mostyn sought to get more information from H’tha-dub.
He asked, “How far is the temple where my team’s equipment is stored?”
“Not far. Less then the journey to the gate.”
Mostyn walked to one of the windows. He looked out at the city of Tsath. Nothing here revealed the cruelty and barbarity of the K’n-yanian civilization. All looked peaceful and orderly. And if one didn’t rock the boat, life here was nothing but one big party.
Slaves did the work and the freemen… Mostyn didn’t know what the freemen did, probably some kind of work. Certainly they made up a share of the military. But as for the K’n-yanians themselves, the master class, they did nothing. They lived a hedonistic lifestyle gratifying every whim. And yet they were bored. Ennui was pervasive. They had everything and life was perfect. This was indeed utopia. What the philosophers of his world had dreamed of achieving, and yet the K’n-yanians were killing themselves out of boredom.
H’tha-dub came to his side. “You are longing for escape,” she said in Spanish.
“Yes I am. What do the freemen do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do they work?”
H’tha-dub laughed. “Oh, no, Mostyn Pierce. No one works. There are a few administrative duties carried out by the Council of Executives and gn’agn, otherwise no one works. That’s what slaves are for.”
“What about the military? You said some of the military was made up of freemen.”
“Yes, the freemen are the officers and are our elite warriors. However, we have not fought a war for centuries and the use of the soldiers to capture you and your people is something we haven’t had to do for many centuries, as well. So, as you can see, Mostyn Pierce, even the freemen who have duties very rarely ever need to perform them.”
Mostyn’s brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, he spoke. “So practically speaking, there’s no difference between you and the freemen.”
“That is correct. There is no practical difference between us. Even the rule not to mingle is rarely enforced. When it is, it is done so usually on a whim and even then not very often.”
“I see.” Mostyn felt a little downcast at the clarification she’d provided of the difference’s between the two classes. If everyone was equal, then there was no chance of fomenting a class war. Escape from a well-ordered society was difficult. Escape from one in chaos was easier.
“We need to go to the temple and from the temple to the tunnel. I need to get a feel for how long it will take for us to get to the tunnel once we leave the city.”
“We will be using gyaa-yothn?”
“Yes. We’ll need them for speed and to carry the equipment.”
“How many will you need?”
“One for everyone to ride and two extra for the equipment. Ten total.”
“I have enough, Mostyn Pierce.”
Breakfast finished, they moved to the sofa and before they were seated heard a knock on the door.
“Maybe it’s our affection group!” H’tha-dub’s face lit up and all Mostyn could think of was a teenager looking forward to a Friday night party. “You are welcome to enter!” she called out.
Materializing before them wasn’t the affection group. It was none other than Ger-Hy’la-T’la.
“What the hell do you want?” Mostyn said in English.
In Mostyn’s mind came the message, “You are summoned. We have captured one of your people, the one known as ‘Jones’. He was attempting to force the one who calls herself ‘Candy’ to escape with him. Jones is to appear before the gn’agn shortly and they have summoned you.”
Mostyn shook his head. Of all the hair-brained stunts. Jones trying to rescue Slezak.
“What’s going to happen to him?” Mostyn asked in Spanish.
Ger-Hy’la-T’la replied by sending his thoughts, “The gn’agn will decide. However, since he’d tried to escape with the one who does not wish to leave, he will probably be condemned to the amphitheater.”
Mostyn shook his head and muttered in English, “Utopia. You’re goddamn right it is.”
17
Before the gn’agn stood Mostyn, DC Jones, Candy Slezak, and Ger-Hy’la-T’la. The conversation was conducted telepathically.
One of the tribunal ‘spoke’, “You who are called ‘DC Jones’ are accused of attempting to flee K’n-yan and, in the process of doing so, attempted to force the one known as ‘Candy Slezak’ to flee with you. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Jones replied out loud in English, and Mostyn translated telepathically, “I was not trying to leave. I merely wanted to talk with Candy. I saw her with her companion and wanted to speak with her.”
“Is this true, Candy Slezak?”
Slezak looked past Ger-Hy’la-T’la to Jones and Mostyn. She licked her lips and then ‘spoke’, “Uh, um,
I’m not sure what happened. I was pretty wasted.”
“What is ‘wasted’?” one of the tribunal asked.
“I, um, I was under the influence of zn’baa. All I know is DC wanted to talk to me and my escort and his escort were trying to keep us apart and I really don’t know what was going on.”
A tribune gave a hand signal and two K’n-yanians entered the chamber, a young-looking man who was introduced as Gll’-yaa-Thaa, and a young-looking woman who was introduced as B’ya-lub.
The tribune in the center of the row asked, “Gll’-yaa-Thaa, did the upper worlder say he wanted to leave K’n-yan with the one known as ‘Candy’?”
The man looked at Candy and then addressed the tribunal. “Yes. I was walking with Candy, when the upper worlder ran at us, pushed me aside, and took hold of Candy. I heard him say the word ‘escape’.”
The tribune looked at B’ya-lub. “Do you confirm the narrative of Gll’-yaa-Thaa?”
“I do not, Honorable One. The one known as ‘DC Jones’ said, ‘There’s Candy. I need to talk to her.’ He then ran over to her. I ran after him and, because of the orders of the Council of Executives, I tried to separate the upper worlders, as did Gll’-yaa-Thaa. We were unable to do so until slaves were summoned and they overpowered DC Jones.”
“Did he utter the word ‘escape’?”
“Not to my knowledge, Honorable One.”
Mostyn said out loud in Spanish, “In what language did DC Jones supposedly say the word ‘escape’?”
Ger-Hy’la-T’la translated.
Gll’-yaa-Thaa answered, “K’n-yanian.”
Mostyn smiled. The K’n-yanian had fallen into his trap. He turned to Jones and asked in English, “Do you know any K’n-yanian?”
Jones chuckled. “Nothing for polite company.”
“So I can imagine,” Mostyn replied. In Spanish, he said, “DC Jones does not know K’n-yanian except for a few words that are not polite. He could not have spoken the word ‘escape’ in K’n-yanian.”
Again Ger-Hy’la-T’la translated.
Gll’-yaa-Thaa protested. “He thought the word. It was clearly in my mind.”
Mostyn sent out his thoughts, willing that everyone receive them. “Now he changes his story. Jones would have had to will his thoughts to Gll’-yaa-Thaa and, under the circumstances, I don’t think that would’ve been possible, because Jones was focused on Candy Slezak. Gll’-yaa-Thaa is saying this because he wants Candy to stay and DC Jones poses a threat to that, as do all of us surface dwellers.” Might as well get the real issue out in the open, he thought to himself.
Before Mostyn could confirm his assertion with Jones, B’ya-lub ‘spoke’. “DC Jones is not very good at sending his thoughts in normal situations. In such excitement, I don’t think he could have willed his thoughts to anyone. He is also not very good at learning our language. He has been teaching his affection group his language, called English. I do not think what Gll’-yaa-Thaa claims is possible for DC Jones to do.”
The head tribune announced the gn’agn would confer and return with a decision. They stood and departed, proceeding to the back of the chamber and going through a door that was there.
Jones whispered to Mostyn, “Do you know Oppish?”
“What?”
“The code language. Like Pig Latin only you add ‘op’ after the consonants.”
“No. Where did you learn it?”
“My nephew. I’ll go slow. I thopinopkop Slopezopakop isop gopnope.”
Mostyn sorted out the words and came up with, I think Slezak is gone. “Go on,” he said.
“Fopounopdop thope topunnopelop.”
Mostyn said under his breath, “Found the tunnel.” To Jones, he said, “Go on.”
“Bopya lopubop wopanoptopsop topo copomope wopithop usop.”
Just what we need, Mostyn thought to himself. “Nopo.”
Jones whispered, “Too late. Promised.”
“Goddamn it, Jones. Alright.” Mostyn had no idea how they were going to take both B’ya-lub and H’tha-dub with them to the surface. Nevertheless, Jones’s promise might prove useful.
The door at the end of the chamber opened and out filed the gn’agn. They took their seats and the head tribune sent his thoughts out to all present.
“No action will be taken against the one called ‘DC Jones’ because the narratives conflict. To avoid this happening in the future, Ger-Hy’la-T’la will establish a schedule so that no more than two upper worlders are outside their apartments at a time and they must be on opposite sides of the city from each other to ensure they will not meet. This is the decision of the gn’agn.”
Slezak and Gll’-yaa-Thaa left first. Then Ger-Hy’la-T’la and Mostyn, followed by Jones and B’ya-lub. In the entryway, Mostyn and Jones waited until Slezak and her watcher were out of sight. Then Jones and his watcher left. When they could no longer be seen, Ger-Hy’la-T’la escorted Mostyn back to H’tha-dub’s apartment.
The K’n-yanian knocked on the door. “Jones was fortunate today,” he informed Mostyn. “Next time, he will most likely be sent to the amphitheater to eliminate future disturbances.”
H’tha-dub opened the door.
“Over my dead body,” Mostyn replied in Spanish.
“That can be arranged,” the K’n-yanian thought back. “Peace to you.” And he departed.
18
Mostyn was furious.
“Things did not go well for your DC Jones?” H’tha-dub was sitting on the sofa. Mostyn was pacing the floor in front of her.
“Oh, it all went just peachy.”
“Why, then, are you angry, Mostyn Pierce?”
He sat and told her about the proceedings and emphasized the movement restriction and B’ya-lub. When he was finished, H’tha-dub, her eyes focused on nothing in particular, had a thoughtful look on her face.
After a few moments, Mostyn said, “Well?”
“I do not know B’ya-lub well. My impression of her, however, is not good, Mostyn Pierce. I will try to speak with her and assess the truth of her words.”
“Do that. The sooner, the better. As for our little trip tomorrow…”
“You do not know when we can leave the apartment?”
“No. My understanding of how Ger-Hy’la-T’la operates, he’ll probably set up a fairly restrictive schedule. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.”
“I will go now and talk with B’ya-lub.”
“Be careful. If she is a spy, you don’t want to let her know what we’re planning.”
“You have no need to be concerned, Mostyn Pierce. I have no desire to end my days in the amphitheater.”
She kissed him and dematerialized.
Mostyn went to the drawer where he’d put the notes of the information he’d come across in the library. He stretched out on the couch and reviewed them.
Suddenly, he had a thought. If we’re restricted above ground, what’s to prevent us moving below ground?
He sat up and said out loud, “There has to be some kind of sewer system to carry away the wastewater. And if there is a sewer system, there has to be access to it in order to carry out repairs, check on problems, do inspections, and the like. If I can find a map of the sewer system, that could provide us with the best way to gather everyone together and at least get out of the city undetected.”
Mostyn stood and began pacing. He continued talking out loud. “Throughout history invaders have gained access to cities through sewers, or a river passing through the city, or work tunnels. People have escaped from cities the same way. A map of the sewer system and the nearest access point and we’re in business.”
He also realized that with the new restrictions in place, he was more dependent than ever on H’tha-dub. She was a beautiful woman. In some ways, very naïve and innocent. Mostyn smiled. “Don’t kid yourself,” he said out loud, as he continued pacing. “She isn’t a child. She’s over nine hundred years old. She’s seen and no doubt done things that would make your hair curl, pal.”
No, H’tha-dub was no innocent. What he was convinced of was that for some reason he couldn’t fully fathom, she’d fallen in love with him.
“All I can say is, she must’ve really fallen for Zamacona and then transferred all of that feeling to me,” Mostyn mused out loud. “Kind of like She and Kallikrates and Leo Vincey.” He paused, and then added, “And I fear I’m just as cursed as those two lovers.”
The air shimmered, and immediately H’tha-dub appeared.
She sighed. “My love. You cannot possibly know the sorrow I feel being apart from you.” She came to Mostyn, who’d stopped his pacing, put her arms around him, kissed his lips, and laid her head upon his shoulder.
If not for Dotty, Mostyn thought, I could love this woman.
H’tha-dub pulled away, kissed him, and sat on the sofa. “I did manage to find B’ya-lub, and in doing so found the apartment for DC Jones.”
“That’s good! What did you find out?”
“They were copulating.”
“Oh.”
“I will continue to try to talk to her.”
“I’m not sure we can afford the time.” Mostyn sat next to her. “Am I correct in assuming there is a sewer system underneath Tsath?”
“I have never thought about this, but the water for the city must come from somewhere and the used water must then go somewhere. Does it not?”
“It does indeed. Is there access to the system? In my world, there are holes in the ground covered by round, heavy metal plates. Do you have anything like that here?”
“I do not know, Mostyn Pierce.”
“How do people access the system for repairs?”
“I do not know. That is something slaves would do.”
Frustration showed on Mostyn’s face. “We need to get back to the library. I have to find a map of the sewer system under Tsath.”
“How do we do that, Mostyn Pierce?”
“Can you dematerialize both of us?”
“You are so devious, Mostyn Pierce! Another new experience! A lover who is devious and conniving. Oh, Mostyn Pierce…”
“Focus. Please.”