"You see, we need the horse for physiology experiments and… "So far, the explanation sounded plausible, and Collins struggled to keep it that way. "… and I… well, I did the ordering. I certainly didn't expect them to deliver her to my home but" Collins battled through the sleepiness that dimmed his thoughts. " well, here she is. I jumped right out of bed and started making some calls, but it's hard to get anyone to answer this time of night."
Professor Terellin's expression softened immediately. "Any luck at all?"
Collins rubbed a hand along his other naked arm, a nervous gesture. "I found a stable that'll take her." He deliberately avoided saying where in case anyone checked the story. "I just have to get her there." He gestured to his backpack. "I was just getting ready for the trip."
"And dressing?" Terellin suggested.
Collins blushed. He wore boxers to bed rather than his usual briefs out of modesty, but it was still underwear. "Just getting to that, sir."
A bit of testiness returned to the professor's demeanor. "Well, hurry, please, Mr. Collins. I don't want to have to explain this to the board. Or to the next fifteen people who want to know why they can't keep a finch but I'll let you turn the quadrangle into a barn. What's next? Pigs?"
Collins tried a joke, though he was too nervous to make it a good one. "We've got some of the guinea variety at the lab."
"No, thank you." The philosophy professor turned on his heel. "Just get that horse out of here."
"Right away," Collins promised.
The professor glanced back over his shoulder. "Do you want me to let your department know you won't be in today?"
Collins considered, imagining the philosophy professor delivering his cockamamie story to his crusty biology preceptor. The explanations that followed would probably turn wilder, enveloping him in an inescapable twist of increasingly outrageous lies. Ultimately, he would have to come up with a logical experiment involving horses or lose his fellowship. "Thank you, sir, but I'll do it by e-mail."
"All right," Terellin said. "You just get that smelly animal out of here ASAP."
"Consider it done." This time, the professor crossed the room and exited into the hallway without looking back. When the door clicked shut, Collins sank down on the bed, feeling as tired as if he had jogged three miles. A furry muzzle jostled his hand, and he reached down to pet Korfius, only to realize the dog lay sleeping beside him. He opened his eyes to Zylas.
"You're quick with words," the rat said.
"A quick liar," Collins grumbled. "Something to write home about."
"So long as it's for the right reasons."
Collins simply shrugged. It was not the way his parents had raised him. The same parents who pretended to love one another throughout my childhood, then divorced and forgot all about me as soon as I left home. He realized they might not serve as stellar examples either.
Apparently sensing Collins' continued consternation, Zylas elaborated. "So long as you don't start equating whatever you want to 'right,' you don't have a problem."
Collins looked at the albino rat, who returned his stare, whiskers twitching earnestly. Deceive the philosophy professor, then talk philosophy with vermin. Mobilized, he rose, throwing up his hands at the whole ludicrous idea. "I'm getting dressed."
Collins pawed through his clothing, emerging with a green pocket tee, comfortable jeans, gym socks, and a clean pair of briefs. Turning his back to the window and Falima, he removed his sleeping boxers, then pulled on his briefs and last night's jeans. He shook out the T-shirt. "This warm enough for the weather there?" He did not worry about his packed clothing. Barring a sudden attack of insanity, he would not be staying in Barakhai long.
Zylas bobbed his head. "Though you might want something with sleeves in the woods. For protection."
"For protection?" Collins knew Zylas meant from weeds, branches, and bugs, but he could not help adding, "What I really need for protection is Kevlar."
"Kevlar?" Zylas repeated.
"Never mind." Collins finished dressing, then pulled on his running shoes without bothering to untie them. He tossed the backpack across his left shoulder. "Let's go."
Zylas sprang to Collins' shoulder. Falima whinnied, and Collins cringed. He whistled sharply. "Come on, Korfius."
The dog leaped to immediate attention, then sprang from the bed to caper merrily at Collins' feet. Usually, the dog did not get to accompany him in the morning, when he attended classes. Collins reached for the knob, then froze in mid-movement. "I'd better send that e-mail. And I'll need something to lead Falima with."
"Not necessary," Zylas said in his ear. "We can ride her."
Without a saddle or bridle? Like that wouldn't raise any more suspicions. Collins snapped on the power-strip switch, then scanned the room for something ropelike while his Gateway EV70 and its accompanying paraphernalia ran through their opening sequence. "I know that. But no one's going to believe my story if I hop up on a strange horse without anything to control it and don't worry about getting bucked to China." As his gaze fell across the familiar sparse furnishings, he mentally discarded using electrical cords, rubber bands, and duct tape. His desk filled one corner of the room, most of its surface taken up by the computer with its screen, speakers, CPU, and his Hewlett-Packard LaserJet printer perched upon the familiar, black and white cow-spotted box that had contained the shipped computer. An empty coffee can held pens, pencils, and markers and his assorted hard rock tapes and CDs. On the shelf above sat the combination CD player/double tape deck/radio that played them. Beside the desk, the television offered him nothing. He considered twisting up the bed-sheets or rifling the dresser to find some clothing to sacrifice to the cause.
"Falima doesn't need to be led." Zylas' whiskers tickled Collins' ear. "She'll come along."
Focused on the rope hunt, Collins jumped at Zylas' voice. "True, but it'll look really weird if a horse follows me around like a puppy."
The speakers blared out the six beats of music that indicated the computer's readiness. Collins leaned over his chair, grasped the mouse, and clicked on the internet icon. The hourglass appeared, the icon darkened, and the globe whirled in the upper right-hand corner. Finally deciding he might have some rope in the kitchen junk drawer, Collins started to head back in that direction. A roll of speaker cord caught his eye as he moved, and he grabbed it instead.
The high-pitched dialing notes rang from the speakers, followed by the intermittent static and up-and-down resonances of the connection.
"What's wrong with looking weird?" Zylas stared at the computer.
Collins seized the coated wire, then returned to the keyboard. "Nothing, if you're a total geek, I guess. Mostly, I don't want people asking a bunch of questions. If I start blathering on about other worlds and animals who turn into people, I'll wind up locked in a loony bin like that first guy you lured to Barakhai." Dropping the coil into his pocket, he tapped out a quick, vague e-mail about a family emergency, clicked off-line, and initiated shutdown. "People already think I'm too tight with my dog. Imagine what they'll think if a horse just-" Abrupt realization bombarded him. "-or if I've got a rat hanging out on my shoulder!" He patted himself down for a suitable pocket and realized that the one in his T-shirt would prove way too flimsy and small and the ones in his jeans seemed equally unsuitable, mostly for anatomical reasons. Collins found himself wishing for the loose, coarse weave of Barakhain clothing. "You'll have to go in the pack."
"Great," Zylas muttered with a discontented sigh. Nevertheless, he did as Collins bade.
Only then, Collins thought to mention, "Hey, you're talking to me without your translation stone."
The pack muffled Zylas' reply. "I am."
Collins had believed the rest of the question was implied; hut, when Zylas did not go on, he asked, "How?"
"Prinivere."
The response confused Collins, but he did not press Zylas for more information now. He would have the opportunity to ask all of his questions when he no longer had to worry about g
etting a horse out of the quad before anyone else saw her.
When the monitor went blank, Collins flicked the power switch. Walking to the door of his apartment, he opened it and stepped into a hallway empty except for the other doors and Professor Terellin who waited with his arms folded impatiently over his chest.
"Sorry." Collins flushed. "Had to send that e-mail and pack a few things."
The professor bobbed his head without speaking.
Collins hurried down the hallway and out the back door into the quadrangle, and Korfius followed. The false dawn painted red shadows across the benches spotted randomly around the central garden. Pathways crisscrossed the courtyard, leading to a dormitory, the English Building, and the Student Union. Falima still stood peering into his window.
"Horse," Collins whispered, not wanting to use her name for fear of exposing his lies.
Falima's head jerked upward, then tipped sideways as she searched for him.
"Over here, Horse."
Falima found Collins with one eye, then trumpeted out a welcoming whinny.
Cringing, Collins took out the speaker wire and unwrapped a length.
Falima ran to him with a speed that seemed unstoppable. Collins back-stepped and pressed against the building, but need not have worried. The horse came to an abrupt halt in front of him, prancing and snorting in greeting.
Collins wrapped the soft, pliable wire in a loop around Falima's neck, guiding her away from the quadrangle, around the graduate student housing building, to the main walkway through the campus. Surreptitiously, he looked for droppings and noticed none. He did not know whether doing so might insult his friends, but be could not afford to leave such an obvious telltale. He could imagine the students trying to puzzle out a huge animal flop appearing in the quadrangle in the middle of the night. At the least, they would be watching for a major prank; at the worse, it would spark the very protest about pets that Professor Terellin wanted to avoid. I can't have a gerbil, but you let someone walk their cow?
The cord proved as unnecessary as Zylas had claimed, but Collins continued the charade. The other professors and students already marveled at the close bond he shared with the dog who had run for help while he lay, seriously wounded, on the laboratory floor. Collins' sudden ability to speak every human language had confounded his doctors, who had plied him with CT scans and MRIs, none of which had revealed anything abnormal. Apparently, magic doesn't show up on X-ray. One more eccentricity would likely push him over the edge from a curiosity to an object of aversion. Students tended to tolerate diversity, so long as it had a logical and rational basis.
Collins continued through the dark toward Daubert Laboratories, willing the hulking buildings to pass by more swiftly. The walk seemed longer than usual, the sidewalk harder, the buildings less friendly. It all passed in a dim blur of light and shadow that little resembled the cheery, student-filled pathways of Algary's days and evenings. The clop of Falima's hooves echoed strangely between the buildings.
A security guard approached, gave a habitual cheery wave, then stopped short. He waited for Collins to reach him.
Though tempted to veer away, Collins kept to the concrete walkway. Anything else would appear suspicious. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning." The stout, dour-faced guard studied the horse. "Interesting companions you have there."
"It's a horse." Collins stated the obvious, so as not to appear to be hiding anything. As if I could stuff a horse under my shirt. He followed the security guard's gaze with his own, only to notice a red eye peering through the inky curtain of Falima's mane. Damn it, Zylas, I told you to stay in the pack. Suddenly, Collins realized the man had said companions, plural. Did he see Zylas? He tried to come up with a plausible explanation for a lab rat crawling freely over an unperturbed horse.
"Arid a dog," the guard added, as if in answer to Collins' concerns. His attention turned to the patchy hound, whose tail flopped back and forth like an overwound pendulum.
"The dog's mine. Name's Korfius."
The guard's gaze returned to the horse.
Glowering at Zylas, Collins answered the unspoken question. "I'm taking her to the lab." This time, he spoke the truth, though he made no attempt to avoid the implication that he intended to use her in experiments.
The guard grunted. "You wouldn't be planning some sort of practical joke, now, would you, kid?"
Collins gave the only answer anyone would, whether or not he intended such a thing. "No."
"Can I sec your ID?"
Collins didn't fight, seeing no reason to prolong the encounter with argument. Preferring the guard's focus to remain on him rather than the animals, he took his wallet from his pocket and presented his graduate student identification card.
The guard took it from him. '-'Collins," he murmured. "Benton Collins." He handed it back to Collins. "Now why does that sound familiar?"
Collins replaced the card and his wallet. "I'm the one who got heat up in the lab a year and a half ago at Thanksgiving."
The guard snapped his fingers. "Right. We took a lot of flak for that."
Collins said nothing. Surely, the man would not blame him for being the victim of an apparent assault.
Again, the man looked at Korfius. "So this must be the critter who saved you."
"Yes," Collins said. "He is." He let his brows inch upward. "May I please go now? I'd like to get this horse set up in time to grab some breakfast."
With obvious reluctance, the guard stepped aside. Collins continued down the pathway more quickly now, hoping to make it to the portal without running into anyone else. That realization brought an ironic smile to his lips. The portal What's my hurry? Do I really need to rush to a place where the people in power want me dead? The idea seemed insanity. He had never sought out as simple a thrill as bungee jumping, and he did not relish the thought of repeating his last encounter in Barakhai. The insanity is that I've even agreed to come this far.
The oblong shape of Daubert Laboratories came into view, and Collins loosed a pent up breath. He raced for the most obscure side entrance, the horse trotting happily along behind him. Farthest from the main rooms and experiments, it would provide fewer opportunities for chance encounters with students or professors. Only as he hurried up the concrete stairs to the peeling, green-painted door did he remember that, for this way in, he needed a key. He fumbled at his waist, hoping he had left his jumble of keys clipped to a belt loop by habit. As usual, his beeper pinched the fabric at his left hip, the keys just in front of his right. He unfastened the metal clip, found the biggest key by feel and inserted it into the lock. It snapped to the open position. He twisted the knob and shouldered the panel inward. The mingled odors of mustiness, animal dander, cleaners, and wood chips filled his nose.
Falima whickered, apparently recognizing the scent as the pathway home, and Zylas scrabbled back to Collins' shoulder. "We're here?"
"We'd better be." Collins stepped inside and held the door open for Falima and Korfius. "Otherwise, you just earned me a one-way ticket to Bellevue."
The limitations of the translation spells kicked in. "What?"
Collins shook his head. "Never mind." He closed the door behind the animals, out of habit listening for the click of its locking.
Zylas squeaked into Collins' ear, "We didn't need a key to get out."
"You wouldn't have." Collins watched Falima continue forward, hooves clattering against tile. She moved easily despite the odd sounds, which surprised him. He had spent an anxious half hour urging her across the castle drawbridge in Barakhai and now had to guess that embedded formica had a more solid sound or feel than overair planking. "The main door's never locked. I brought us in a different way."
Korfius raised his nose, sniffing wildly, then running to Collins.
Accepting Collins' explanation, Zylas turned to some-tiling he understood. "Korfius associates the smell of this place with you."
Now that Zylas had spoken it aloud, the dog's behavior seemed obvious.
"Not surprising. I practically live here." It seemed unlikely they would find anyone in the building this time of the morning, but Collins could not discount the possibility of a cleaning crew. He hurried his animal companions down the hallway to the class-turned-storage room that led to Barakhai.
Sparse light funneled in the doorway to reveal the jumbled desks, chairs, and boxes Collins remembered from his last visit to Barakhai. Then, sunlight swimming through dust motes had given the appearance of smoke; but the current hour just made it seem ghostly dark. The strange equations remained, white figures dancing across the chalkboard, and Collins could just discern the purple chalk pentagram scrawled across the tile.
Zylas scrambled to the floor. "Let's go."
Collins studied Falima doubtfully. Her solid, golden body had to weigh at least half a ton, and her head towered over his own 5'll".
Zylas followed Collins' gaze and divined his question. "She made it in; she can make it out." He flitted beneath a desk.
Collins shrugged. The rat/man had a seemingly undeniable point, but Collins knew the loophole. He could leave his world for Barakhai through the portal, but no one in human form had ever passed from there to here. If the magic could make such seemingly impossible and random distinctions, perhaps it could make the path in more difficult than the one out of Barakhai. Deciding the pain of watching a friend struggle outweighed curiosity, he followed his albino companion.
Worried about the effect of mixing technology with the active magic of the portal, Collins did not attempt to use his mag light as they crawled through dark debris for what seemed like an hour. At first, Collins' backpack banged against the stacked furniture, and he heard an avalanche of cardboard boxes. Falima gave an occasional snort but otherwise handled the low scramble well. Soon, he heard her steady hoofbeats behind him, no longer moving at an unnatural shuffle, and he realized she could stand. Last time, he had assumed himself still amid the debris and had crawled much longer than necessary. This time, he rose, though he found himself keeping one hand hovering at the level of his forehead, guarding against the imagined junk that had last filled his vision. Barely needing to dip his head at any point, Korfius padded along beside him. Zylas continued to lead the way effortlessly, his white fur the only thing visible in the otherwise blinding gloom. Anything that could inconvenience a rat would surely thwart any of his companions.
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