29

Timbella woke Deeter up in a manner he was most unaccustomed to. But he couldn't complain much. Afterwards he asked if she always woke people up like that.

"Well, when we're sharing the same bed, why not." She stood up. "Shower," she said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Deeter sighed. He felt somehow wrong, and the only thing that he thought might help was more sex. So he followed her into the shower. Doing it standing up was a little tricky, but he persevered. Timbella didn't seem to mind too much, either, and afterwards she helped him soap up. Which sort of got him going once again.

"Damn, you really are young, aren't you?" she asked as they dried off.

He shrugged. "I suppose. I've never really had my stamina tested in this regard."

She giggled. "'In this regard.' Lord."

He didn't reply. Ever since finding out that he really was royalty, she'd gently mocked his way of speaking. He wasn't that bothered by it, but it was a bit tiresome.

They got dressed in relative silence, save for a quick smack to her bottom before her long pants were put on.

"So, what do you want to do today?"

"Breakfast would be favorite, to start. And then - well, what do you normally do on a daily basis?"

"I have class today, but I can skip it."

He frowned. "Are you really intending to come with me? Shouldn't you cancel the classes then?"

"Hmmm. Maybe so. I can make up some sob story and get incompletes."

"Well let's have breakfast by your classes, and then you can take care of the withdrawal."

She nodded, and they took their bags and left. On the way up to the train, Timbella said, "You know, maybe it isn't the best idea for you to come all the way to campus with me. I mean Mynog found where I live, he could find where I go to school."

"Hm. I don't think so, I think he just found where I traveled. As long as I don't do anything like that - unless you think the authorities are going to cooperate with him?"

"Ha! No, good point."

So they continued. Breakfast was quiet. Deeter wasn't sure what was going on. He didn't think Timbella should come with him for her sake, but for his sake he couldn't deny that he needed her help. And then there were the fringe benefits.

"So after I get everything canceled, I'll take you to the top of one of the tallest buildings," she was saying. He blinked, back to reality. "Sounds good?"

"Sounds fine," he smiled.

28

"What did he mean, 'not your religion'?" Timbella asked.

"Well, as I told you, the priests can't read the minds of the nobles. So there's no need for them in our services."

"What are the services?"

"Worship."

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't raised with a religion, so I don't really know what 'worship' consists of."

"Oh, well, it's just honoring the ancestors, for us. The priests try to say they have power and can intercede on the behalf of people, but really no one can influence our world but ourselves." He reflected for a moment. "And the witches, I suppose."

She nodded. "So Mynog is like, an expert on your world?"

"It would appear to be the case," he agreed.

"I almost wish we could talk to him now."

Deeter shuddered. "Whatever for?"

"To pick his brain!"

"That sounds unpleasant," he muttered.

"Oh, you just say that because he wants to take you back to your home."

"Well, yes! Our interests are not at all aligned! Quite the contrary!"

Timbella giggled. "I like how sarcastic you get when you're mad."

He scowled at her. "Can we please just go to sleep now?"

"Can we do other stuff first?" She stroked his upper thigh.

"Not in the mood."

"Morning?"

He shrugged. "We'll see."

"So pouty." She went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Deeter did likewise, alone, but she came out carrying two cups of steaming liquid. "I estimated a little less for you than me, since you've never taken any. It's really bitter so just drink it fast. I have a fruit drink for after, to get rid of the taste. And it'll kick in really fast, just so you know."

He did so. It was indeed bitter, so he gladly took the fruit drink. They kissed a little but before long he couldn't tell what he was doing. So they broke apart and just lay together in the bed while sleep stole over them.

27

"And the next time you saw him?" she asked.

Deeter sighed. The massage was over. "I really would like to just get to sleep, please."

"How can you sleep? Well, I mean, I've got that dope, we can use that later."

"What's dope?"

"A downer, I told you."

He shrugged, using both arms to indicate ignorance, smiling. Timbella rolled her eyes. "Do they have painkillers where you're from?"

"Yes, of course. Different plant tinctures do different things, a few of them kill pain."

"Well, on this planet, one of the painkillers also induces trances. The kind that are indistinguishable from dreams. You can't really move, and your brain works, but you're not quite awake. If you're already tired you can fall asleep pretty easily from that state."

He nodded. "Sort of like wine?"

"Except without the disorientation. I mean, I don't know about you, but if I drink so much I pass out, it's cos I'm super dizzy. But you mean wine only, don't you?"

"Ale doesn't get me as drunk."

"Distillation hasn't been invented where you're from?" At his blank look, she said "I guess not."

"My brother froze wine once to make it more potent. We felt pretty rotten after."

"How did he freeze - oh, you mean just outside."

He laughed. "Yes, not by use of magic. Or electricity."

"Anyway this stuff doesn't give you the headache the next day. Just a pleasant trip to dreamland. But first you have to tell me about - Mike?"

"Mynog."

~

After the first encounter, he was more cautious with the places he went. He still ran into Watchers, but only in the advanced civilizations. So he began to avoid them. Also, as Hypose had pointed out, his jewels went further in "backwards" places. Or, to Deeter, homelike places. He was still cautious and didn't stay anywhere more than three days.

He was getting ready for his second night in a small village. He had paid a farmer in jewels to stay in his barn, and for food. He finished speaking his diary entry, and blew out his candle, and the barn door blew open.

He jumped up. "Who's there?"

The farmer waved at him. "This is Father Fantal," he said apologetically.

Deeter could just make out the second figure. "Yes?"

"I need to speak with you about your immortal soul," the priest intoned.

Deeter sighed. Well, the man was built like a priest, so it was probably safe enough... "All right. Leave us."

The farmer complied, closing the barn door. Deeter sat back down. "Do you do this with every stranger to your village?"

"Not every one, but an angel told me to be aware of you. Or at least, a pale child with pale hair and pale eyes. Perhaps he did not mean you, but you are the only one I have seen in my lifetime."

Deeter frowned. "This angel didn't happen to resemble, say, a very very tall man, not quite as pale as I, with dark hair and dark glasses?"

Fantal gasped. "Yes! Save the glasses. He wore none in my vision."

"Really? What color are his eyes?"

"I - didn't notice. He is an angel, isn't he? Your guardian angel?"

"I don't think I would put it that way."

"No, you wouldn't. He seemed to want to find you, and you seem reluctant."

Deeter sighed. "I'm merely tired. Would you mind waiting till the morning?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied, and spoke an incantation that did not translate. The next thing Deeter knew, he was in a bed, tied up by torn bedclothes.

"What?" Fantal was sitting at a desk, writing with a quill. He turned to Deeter.

"I do apologize, but my instructions were quite clear. I cannot be detained by an unfaithful."

"You cast a drone spell on me? It's worn off." Deeter noticed his bag at the side of the bed. The spell obviously had not penetrated his mind deeply. A true drone would only take instructions literally, rather than interpret them, and he couldn't imagine a command to take his belongings.

"It was supposed to. Now just be patient. I have summoned the angel. You should try to get some sleep." Fantal turned back to his writing.

"Your god is not my god. I think you will be sorry for this."

He paused. "Quiet, please, or I'll cast a hush on you."

"Fine." Deeter had wriggled quite a bit while they spoke, and was quite loose. He didn't want to make any noise now, though, so he tried to simply relax.

It was not long before there was a knock at the door. "It is I, Mynog," said the voice that Deeter remembered all too well.

Fantal jumped up and let him in. "Your Grace," he said, bowing.

It was indeed the Watcher, wearing long white robes even more shapeless than the outfits of Akinal. And glasses-free. "Well done, faithful servant. Leave us for now."

"Yes, your Grace," he repeated, and ran outside, calling out "Be in the cellar!"

Mynog laughed. "Ah, priests. So gullible. Religion is truly a blight, isn't it?" He took the chair where Fantal sat.

"Not mine."

"No, not yours," he agreed. "But as usual, even on your world, the churches have perverted things, and only your people do without them."

"We attend church!"

"But not, I surmise, the same way the peasants do." He shook his head. "Damn, I really would love to have this conversation with you, but it will have to wait. We'll talk on the way back to Shringston, eh?"

"We will do no such thing," Deeter said in his most imperious tone, and pulled his arm out of the makeshift ropes. "I'm not going back."

Mynog groaned. "Not this again. What's wrong with you? Has the royal blood really been so diluted?"

Deeter pulled out his other arm and wriggled out of the now-slack knots. "Call it whatever you like. It interests me not at all." He stood up and picked up his bag.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"As if I would tell you!"

"Point," he conceded. "But you don't actually know either, do you?"

"A billion miles from you sounds good right now."

He snorted. "Good luck with that."

Deeter stared at Mynog, who stared back at him. Green, he noted; Mynog's eyes were green. With his eyes on his, he didn't worry about being seen digging in his bag. But he still felt he should talk. "So the peasants don't like your dark glasses here?"

"Well, they aren't really necessary."

Deeter carefully put one gem each in his hand, and hoisted the bag up. "This has been a delight, as usual, but I really must be going."

"In which case I will take the glasses out," he laughed. At the time Deeter was puzzled by this reaction, but he continued walking out. He didn't want him to see the portal, glasses or no glasses.

26

The hotel was not nearly as nice as Timbella's flat, but it took cash and asked no questions. Deeter was beginning to calm down, so he flopped down onto the bed, belly first. Timbella joined him, and began rubbing his shoulders. He made a happy little noise.

"So you met that guy before?"

"Mmmm, can we not talk about this?"

She stopped rubbing his shoulders. "Sure."

He sighed. "I'll talk if you keep on?"

"Start talking."

"My first few jumps were to planets more advanced than even this one. Ahhh. Mmmm. There I was often noticed quickly for what I was, and warned away. That's how I learned what I told you. But I didn't believe it at first, till I met Mynog.

"I had just replenished some supplies and was sitting in a small tree-lined area, on the ground, eating. He was dressed in what appeared to be local fashions, except more conservative, and wearing dark glasses. I remember being confused about that. He's quite tall, as you saw, and doesn't exactly blend in. So I noticed him from rather far away. I wasn't certain he was heading straight for me, but I had this feeling. I mean, I'll be honest, I thought he was simply another man I'd caught the eye of, so I just started to gather things up normally, and head towards more people."

"You get a lot of guys hitting on you?"

"Probably fewer than you would."

She laughed aloud. "Was that a compliment?"

It wasn't meant to be, but he said "It certainly sounded like one, didn't it?"

"So when did you figure it out?"

"Well, he must have seen me getting up, because he started to run, very fast, straight towards me. I still didn't understand then, and I stood extremely still with all my things at my feet. I managed to estimate his speed, and then right before he came upon me, I launched downward, as prone as I am now."

"Oh man. How many times have you made this guy fall down?"

"He didn't fall this time, just kept running, a little surprised. I went the other way towards a path, as I said, towards more people. But by then I had guessed that he was a Watcher. I still didn't really understand what that meant, though.

"He finally caught up with me, but I was in a crowd, and he simply talked to me as I walked quickly away.

"'You've already figured it out? Or did your father warn you as a child?'

"'You know my father?'

"'He sent me to bring you back. One missing son is enough.'

"'A pity I am not fit to take my brother's place.'

"'That's for him to decide, not me. I just do my job.'

"'A pity, then, that you have no free will or empathy.'

"This must have upset him, for he grabbed my hand. 'Don't you dare. I've lived over a century before you were born. I've wept tears for your people before your grandmother did. You're a child, even for a human.'

"His voice was soft, but a man dressed as he was, acting as he did, caught the attention of passers-by. A few people were gathered around staring, and he noticed, and he let go. 'Remember me. Mynog,' he said. 'The next time you're alone, I'll take you back.'"

"Creepy."

"Yes, I think people were staring more because he was speaking my own language, though. He didn't know about the translator, you see."

"Oh, that makes sense. He probably thought you wouldn't be able to cope anyway."

"Something like that. As soon as I could, I found a toilet enclosure and went to a new world."

"Did he follow you?"

"No, it was a different Watcher. The next time I saw him was on a world about forty million miles away. I think."

"Like four light-years?"

"Light year?"

"Oh man. Another physics lesson. Light doesn't travel instantaneously, just really really fast. Um, I think I learned it as a billion miles an hour."

"That seems quite fast. How can you tell the difference?"

"Oh there's lots of experiments and stuff. In school we timed it by using a gear with teeth set a certain distance apart from a beam of light at the other side of the school gymnasium. Since we knew all the distances we could calculate it. And of course you can use shadows from farther planets and stuff."

He almost thought he understood. "And a light-year is how far light travels in a year?"

"Yep. I never remember what it is though. Anyway. Nothing can go faster than light. At least not in this realm, I guess you are proof that there's another one."

He shrugged a bit. "You can stop if you like. It does seem the Watchers can go faster than light, if planets are light-years away from each other, and I've seen Mynog multiple times."

"I may have had it wrong. I'm pretty sure our nearest star is 5 light-years away, though."

"I've only been on the run ninety or so days."

She frowned. "I guess they can then. But still seems like they can't go that much faster. Wonder what the deal is."

25

Timbella was stroking Deeter's hair when there was a knock on the door. He pulled back and looked at her. She stared back, shrugged, then put her finger to her lips.

She crept to the door and looked. Whoever it was chose that moment to knock again, knocking firmer. She walked backwards to Deeter, and whispered, very softly, "Ready that taser."

He did so. Watcher? How would she know? At best, someone she didn't want coming in. At worst, someone she didn't know, and who else would it be, but a Watcher? He pulled out the taser and made sure it was switched ON.

She pulled him gently towards the door. It opened inwards, and she put him by the hinges. She stood where the door would open, put her finger on her lips again, and said, "Who is it?"

The knocking ceased. "Officer Mynog," came the reply. Deeter froze. A Watcher, and what's more, one he'd been captured by before. He hoped his look, and readying the taser, would be enough for her to understand.

"Officer? What are, crazy? This is Kwee City! I know my rights, you bastard."

"You're harboring a fugitive. You don't have many rights in this situation."

"A fugitive? Are you shitting me?"

"Cut the bullshit, woman. Open the door or I'll break it down."

She mouthed something too quietly for the translator to pick up, but he figured it meant "Get ready." He nodded at her, and she said "If that's what it takes," then unlocked the door. "Come on in."

He opened the door. "I hope you'll be reasonable about this." Deeter could only see the back of his head as he closed the door behind him without looking. He supposed it could have been another Watcher, but the voice, the significant height, and the dark greased-back hair all pointed to Mynog. "Where is he?"

"He must be in the kitchen," she said, and then Deeter pulled the trigger. The cartridge shot out and hit his locally-suitable suit jacket. He began convulsing and fell to the ground. Deeter turned off the gun, pulled the cartridge off Mynog's back, and hit the REWIND button. The cartridge wires wound back up, pulling the cartridge with it. It had taken less than a minute, and only after replacing the taser did he realize what had happened. He let out a shriek and almost collapsed, right next to Mynog.

"Crap! Deeter!" She slapped his face, albeit gently.

"I'm fine," he croaked. He took a deep breath. "Fine," he repeated in a more normal voice.

"I'm sure. We better get the hell out of here. If one can find you, another can."

He let out a weak chuckle. "Can't we tie him up and torture him a little first?"

"Sure, if you think that's more important."

"A joke. Grab some clothes and let's run."

"Although maybe tying him up isn't a bad idea." She went into the kitchen and came back with twine and scissors. "It's not much but it'll keep him occupied when he wakes up."

Deeter nodded. They split it up, him doing the ankles, her doing the wrists. Afterwards, she stood up and went to get a small bag. "It's already got a day's worth of clothing in it. Parents are demanding sometimes." She grabbed her purse and keys and led Deeter out of her apartment.

Once outside, she said softly, "We'll check into a hotel at the end of the train line, and then figure things out."

He nodded. He was still a bit faded from the attack. He couldn't believe that Mynog was still after him. Well, now he would be, certainly. Being knocked out could make one take things more personally...

24 - flashback ends

The place that Hypose took Deeter Zor to was not what he expected. He expected a shop like the map shop, with various types of empty books rather than... nothing. Not even some sort of "electrical" device that you could write on. Instead there were devices, slightly bigger than the bloodstones, which apparently you could talk into. Voice recorders. The one Hypose picked out for him was so small he didn't understand how it worked. And for once his translator failed him. The words were probably translated properly, but he still had no idea what they meant.

Hypose realized this, and tried to explain in a more basic manner. "Sound travels through air but also water and solid substances. The noise in your head when you speak is different than the noise everyone else hears. This will record that noise."

"But it has to be put in my head?" Apparently he had not misunderstood that part.

"Correct. Our surgeons are far more advanced than any physician you would ever have experienced, have no fear."

"I'm not afraid. What's to be afraid of, some perfect stranger cutting into my skull to implant some strange electric device," he muttered.

"You will be drugged and feel nothing. You can even be unconscious for the whole thing if you like."

Deeter considered. Was it worse to be awake or asleep, for this apparently routine procedure? This wasn't even a physician's office; merely someone who specialized in inserting these electronic journals. "Asleep, please."

Hypose told the specialist, and the man brought over a few small pills. "Take two," he said.

Deeter did so, and was then led to a back room. It was sparkling clean, and he lay on a white padded table in the center, face down. He began to feel relaxed, and more relieved and even happy. Floaty. "Oh, don't be alarmed if my blood is clear," he remembered to say before losing consciousness.

The next thing he knew, Hypose was forcing him to drink water. Or honeyed water. It was slightly sweet at least. He felt the back of his head. A small bandage was the only evidence. "Where is he?"

"He didn't believe you. I admit I wasn't sure if I should or not either."

"Believe what?"

"Your blood being transparent."

"Oh. That." He shrugged. "It runs in the family."

"That's amazing. You must not be fully human. There must have been some other race when your planet was seeded."

"I suppose. So was he so shocked he didn't perform the procedure?"

"He performed it all right. I reminded him that we paid in advance, and it would endanger his livelihood if he didn't."

Deeter groaned. "I still feel fuzzy-headed."

"That'll be the anaesthetic. We'll get some fresh air, and supper, that should help."

It did help. He felt better by the time they got to the restaurant, but he noticed Hypose was more stand-offish. So he continued to act fuzzy-headed, and Hypose stayed more formal. He did help him stand up, after they ate, but he left him at the door to the hotel, rather than his room. A kiss on the cheek, and he was gone.

His final words: "I'd like to see you again, but it's for the best if you are gone when I come back tomorrow."

23 - flashback continues

The city of Akinal was like nothing Deeter Zor had seen. He had seen all of the country his family ruled, but it couldn't have possibly prepared him for advanced civilization. Even something as simple as a map shop - something he'd seen before, in Shringston - overwhelmed him. He did his best to keep it hidden, and his years of diplomacy training helped.

Hypose paid for him, and when they left, Deeter spoke up. "I'm not destitute, you know."

"I know. You just don't have local currency, shall we say?"

In response Deeter pulled out a few of the crown's jewels that he had taken before fleeing. "These won't do, I suppose."

Hypose raised his thick bushy eyebrows. "Perhaps they will. But I must be honest with you. I know your secret."

Deeter stopped from sheer terror, dropping his jaw, but Hypose gently took his hand. "I know you are an alien," he said softly, "and if you aren't careful, the Watchers will find you."

This was not what he was expecting. "I - I don't think I understand," he said, taking back his hand.

Hypose explained about the Watchers. How they seeded many planets across the galaxy with humans. How they continued to interfere with them. "Some blasted 'prime' directive that says each planet must remain as it is, without interference. Their interference doesn't count, of course. I do not know how you managed to get here without alerting them, but I'm afraid you won't be safe for long."

At first he refused to believe him, although he was far too polite to say anything. "Then can you take me somewhere that I can get a bit of money? Just enough for today and tonight."

Hypose sighed but took him to a jeweler's. He took over the transaction, only selling a few of the jewels for more than Deeter thought reasonable. But then, perhaps jewels were relatively rare here. That would explain it, he thought at first, but they soon arrived at an inn. The price for one night was almost as much as the entire price of the jewels. He remained polite, however, until they got to the room.

"Are things truly so expensive here?"

Hypose laughed. "I suppose it seems so to you, doesn't it? This hotel is a cheaper one, actually."

"Incredible. Another good reason to leave."

He nodded. "If you can, find planets that are more like yours. Any kind of energy powering things beyond physical, the jewels you carry will not be worth much. Food at least is cheap here, relatively speaking at least. And you should get a bag, and a change of clothing."

All very practical notions. "I want a journal, as well," he said.

"Ah, now that's something else. You don't want one that could be stolen. I have just the thing. Wait here while I arrange it."

He waited. The hotel room was, like the rest of the city, unreal. White, white walls, an enormous, feather-soft bed, and huge windows of glass. Or perhaps not glass, as it sounded strange when he tapped it. There was a painting of a boy playing with some sort of animal. He supposed it was supposed to make visitors feel comforted.

It wasn't really that long before Hypose knocked on his door. The door flashed red, and showed a red Hypose on it, which was a bit startling. "Come in," he called out.

"You have to open it from the inside," came the reply.

Feeling like an idiot, he did so. "I didn't think I'd locked it."

"It locks automatically. You have the card?"

He held up the card that he had been given upon check-in. Hypose showed him to use it to open the door, and then they went to get his journal.

22

Deeter Zor was still panicked. He was feeling as if he'd just managed to escape from the Watchers again. He was beginning to calm down, but Timbella had inadvertently pulled out some issues that he wasn't able to cope with.

His life had been simple enough, a few months ago. He was the second son, and there was a place for him. He was little more than decoration, it seemed, and he was content with this. Anect bore the responsibilities, the title, the pressure. Nothing had pleased him more than to think about never being ruler. He could sit on a fur and stare at a fire and think about it for hours. Or walk in the woods, smiling and whistling a jaunty tune, thinking about not being the crown prince.

All that changed in short order. His only true friends, he knew, were Anect and Laerne, and they both seemed to disappear within a day of each other. He had found her immediately upon learning of Anect's disappearance, and she had told him that the searches that were sure to come would disrupt her life. The forest was her life, and too many people combing it for a lost prince would ruin it. So she left him and the forest, but not without the translator and hints of the other jewels.

It had been simple enough to find them. They looked like rubies on first glance, but there was something off about them. They sparkled too much. He was no gemologist, but he did have a little experience in precious stones, and these seemed like diamonds. That was enough for him, and he held one in each hand, and thought of Ariel. Ariel, who also ran away. Was it something in the family? She had born four children before leaving forever, he remembered thinking, just before the portal appeared.

The first time he saw the portal was only slightly more astounding than the other times. He felt incredible fear, and had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn't have stopped himself even if he wanted to. On the other side was a world like nothing he could have imagined. He wandered around in a bit of a daze, staring at the impossibly tall structures that gleamed in the sun like ivory.

A man took pity on him. He was old, almost as old as his father. Slender, almost his height, and balding grey hair. Like almost everyone else, he wore a simple tunic. Unlike everyone else, his was white and hung loose around his frame. His nose was enormous and his smile was sad. "You look lost," he said.

"I suppose I am at that." Deeter flashed a winsome grin at him, suspecting ulterior motives. "Could you possibly direct me to a shop where I can purchase a map and a diary?"

"Certainly. My name is Hypose." He gave a slight bow at this. Deeter returned the bow, stating his name, and they walked together to the store.

"Is this your first visit to Akinal?" Hypose asked politely.

"It's obvious, isn't it. I'd hoped to be less obvious, but it's too obvious."

He chuckled. "I'm afraid so."

"Yes, I'm really a rural character. This place is - well, it's more amazing than I'd imagined, in all honesty."

The shop was a map store. It sold maps of all manner and shapes. He bought a paper street map, except that it wasn't actually paper. Hypose kindly showed him how the flexible paper worked, by "scrolling" around using your finger.

He was slowly beginning to understand what had happened. Like all people of his world (or so he had supposed), he believed other planets existed - where else would you go after you died? - but it was shocking that they had people like him upon them. People who still appeared to be living, and who had advanced far beyond his culture. But some things never changed. He had learned how to politely divert the advances of both men and women - had to, since he was ten or so. If he didn't, or instead tattled, the person ended up beaten and imprisoned.

So he was genial to Hypose but not overly familiar. He would give him companionship but nothing else. He did need help, and would pay him back as much as he could, but that was all.

21

"You sure have a strange life."

Deeter Zor stared at Timbella. "Why, because I was raised as the second prince of Shringston, or because I travel the galaxy via portals created by gemstones?"

"Well, I was thinking of the former, actually. The traveling thing sounds super. I wish I could come with you."

Deeter hesitated. "I'm supposed to say that couldn't happen, but honestly it would make things much easier. Especially if we annoyed the Professor too much for us to use him."

"I don't think we did, but... are you serious?"

"Well, if I had a legitimate companion who could use her local identification and such, while I paid for things, we could do quite a bit better, than I could on my own."

Timbella was quiet for a few minutes. "Let's talk to the Professor one more time, he's coming over tomorrow, but just so we can use him to get contacts. I'm thinking we can rent a car and then use fake names at hotels and stuff. And if these Watchers come after you, we can make them sorry. Even if they just look human, they can probably be killed just the same."

"That's not exactly what I wanted to do..."

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were serious about not wanting to take the responsibility of the throne."

"I am serious." He bit his lip. "Ever since I was a child I had nightmares about .. that. My brother dying. I didn't just leave for - I can't... You don't understand... My whole life I was - I never was very happy, you see... But I could always say, It could be worse, I could be the crown prince... My father is still alive, I wouldn't be king for a while, that isn't it at all."

She put her arms around him. "Deeter, you're babbling. Shut up." Her hands felt hot against his shirt. He felt faint.

"I'm sorry. I just, I just wanted you to see, I know I didn't do anything admirable or honorable, I know I'm a coward, but I do know it, I know what terrifies me, and -"

He stopped talking because her lips were on his. "Shut. Up."

He tried to get into the kiss. It was difficult, his body was still reacting to that thought. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's ok. I was just trying to explain that killing a Watcher might be the only way to avoid that shit."

He shook his head. "I think that would just make it worse. There's clearly disagreement among them about me, but killing one would solidify their resolve. Perhaps they wouldn't even try to retrieve me, but simply would kill me in return and call it self-defense."

20

"A fucking prince," Timbella said again.

Deeter felt strange. He had never told anyone as much about himself before. He felt a sense of relief. But he was still shaking. "I was the second son. My path was to learn diplomacy. I didn't need much else."

"Yeah, throne insurance. We still have monarchy here but only a few countries give them any power. They mainly just have the inherited money from land grabs."

"Who has the power?"

"The people, technically. It's a little more complicated than that. Kwee City, for example, is supposed to be a democracy, but it's mainly run by a select elite. The same people whose ancestors created it, more or less."

He frowned. "I understand that my people are leaders because of the non-human parts. It's all legend but apparently it made us smarter and faster and stronger than the humans we conquered. I don't really know. I haven't really felt very smart or able since leaving home."

"So you really don't know what the non-human part of you is? Or even if you really are actually partly non-human?"

"Oh, I know that for sure. You have red blood, do you not?"

"Yeah..."

"We don't."

"No shit? What color is it?"

"Well, it depends." He shifted his legs underneath him. "I've only seen it during accidents, or when I was ill. Typically clear, but exposure to air and infections change it."

"Clear blood? Woah, no wonder you guys could conquer humans. I bet that would psyche people out, if they attacked you and couldn't really see the wounds," she exclaimed.

He shrugged. "I suppose. Our realms are rather peaceful at the moment. Anyway, there's a test that young royal children have to go through to prove they aren't, um, well, bastards. I'd forgotten about till you asked about the blood."

She raised her eyebrows. "They cut little kids?"

He nodded. "Simply a pinprick. The other part of the test involves the priests."

"I really am getting afraid now."

"It was somewhat frightening," he admitted. "I was only seven. I didn't understand what was going on. But they can read minds."

"Serious? Religious leaders can read minds? That sounds really frightening."

He smiled. "Not the minds of the royalty. Something about the non-human blood prevents them, and causes both the priest and the child great pain."

She pondered this. "That definitely explains a bit better why you guys are in charge, then."

19

Deeter Zor was trying to think. As usual, he did so aloud. "So perhaps my ancestor spilled blood by pure accident. Or perhaps she had to spill her blood in order to travel as I do."

"Yeah, you said the Watcher had no idea you used gems to travel, so there's no way she did," agreed Timbella. "Although, wasn't that like a hundred years ago?"

"I believe the Watchers are far longer-lived than we are."

"I guess. I still can't believe there are aliens trying to - to protect us. Ugh." She shivered.

"I agree with your sentiment. What gives them the right?"

"What do they look like?"

He shrugged. "The ones I've seen appear human, but I suspect that to be a mere facade. I once punched one in the - the privates and he didn't react as a human would. It did allow me to escape, but he didn't collapse or anything like that."

"Ha, that'd be something I'd like to see!" She grinned. "I guess they have ways of appearing human so they won't startle people."

"The one I told you about could even speak my native tongue."

"I wonder if he's gonna show up," she growled.

"Perhaps. I was foolish to use my stones again here. But cities like this are a bit safer. The more people, the better."

She nodded. "But they can track you? Do they have your like, genetic code or something?"

He frowned. "No, the heat signature? I think."

"He told you?"

He nodded. "He had glasses which could see heat instead of light."

"Oh, infrared. Higher frequency than red light."

"You mean lower?" That was what the prefix was supposed to mean, at least.

"Whatever. Light travels in waves that can be divided up into visible and invisible ones. Like the rainbow?"

"I don't think I'm going to get this," he told her.

"Whatever. So he can see your heat signature? That's kind of a weird way to do it."

He hesitated. "Well, it would be, except that there's something else I haven't told you."

"Oh, great." She sprawled across the couch. "You have some sort of incurable venereal disease that only magic can cure?"

"What? No, no, nothing like that. But my heat signature is lower than yours."

"Um, ok. Did he tell you that too?"

"Yes, it's lower than all humans'."

She sat up stark straight. "You aren't human? You lied to me about being human?"

"I'm part human! Ariel was human! Many of my ancestors were human!"

"Um, then what's the other part?"

He shrugged, frowning. "And the final thing I can tell you that I haven't yet: the royal families on my world all have this nonhuman blood."

She gaped at him again. "Royal? You said you were a diplomat!"

"I was... being diplomatic. I didn't think you would believe that I was a prince."

She shook her head. "A fucking prince! Is that why they're after you?"

"In a nutshell."

"Oh no, you aren't doing that again. Tell me straight up."

"Straight up?"

"The truth!"

He took a deep breath. "My older brother was the crown prince. He disappeared four months ago. As soon as I realized he wasn't returning, I ran."

18

Timbella hadn't said a word for several minutes. She used the toilet, and brought back a glass of water, but kept quiet. Deeter supposed she didn't want to believe the evidence of her eyes.

The telephone rang. She got up, almost automatically, and answered it. "Hello? Oh... Yeah. You, uh, you don't want to know. I know... I know... It was not my idea. We're both very sorry... ok, if you don't want to deal with him, that's fine. THAT'S FINE! .. OK. Right. Game on. Forget it happened. I sure am trying." She hung up the phone and resumed her silence.

Deeter hazarded a guess. "The Professor?"

"Gee, you think?" She seemed to snap out of it for real. "What the fuck were you fucking thinking, Deeter? You could have just taken me outside, or near the shop where we met, why the fuck did you bring me there?"

"I - I - wanted t-to tell him."

"The Professor isn't just some jackass! He's a fucking criminal! He doesn't take fucking kindly to people showing up unannounced in his private sanctuary, ok? He was gonna fucking shoot us before your stupid fucking gemstones could have brought us out, ok?" Tears began to roll down her face. "Oh, what am I saying, you don't even know what the fuck a gun is," she sniffled.

He shook his head. "Long range weapon?"

"Uh, yeah. Instant reload and attack. Kills men dead where they stand. It ain't magic, neither. That taser you bought is kiddie stuff compared to lead bullets."

He put his hand against his forehead. "And now he won't meet with us?"

"Oh, he doesn't really believe the story we gave, and we weren't gone long enough for me to be home and answer my phone, so he's intrigued to the point that he wants a real explanation. But instead of what we originally said, he's gonna come here tomorrow night and get a full explanation, then take us to the guys." She frowned. "Why the hell do you need smugglers if you can travel anywhere?"

"Well, clearly these things are not easily hidden. The portals, I mean. Anytime I make one, the Watchers can track me."

Her face lit up. "Oh! And you never tried traveling any other way?"

"No, I was mostly visiting older-tech worlds like my own. Only the first few, before I realized I couldn't really handle places like this, or more advanced."

"So you just ... tell them? Where you want to go?"

"I mainly try concentrating on the sort of place I would like to go," he explained. "But this last time, I was with a Watcher, so it was a bit rushed."

"Woah you got caught?"

"Not exactly," he said, and explained what had happened. "So he lulled me enough to get me to show him the gems, and... he figured out how they had been created."

"By 'magic'?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "He claimed that Ariel didn't perform magic, so I don't see how a blood ceremony would have worked." At her blank look, he added, "Ariel was my great-great-great-grandmother, who fled our realm. This is a fact, but what few know is that before fleeing, she created these jewels. At first I assumed that she created more than these, and fled with one pair, but..."

"Why would she create an extra pair to leave behind?"

"That's what I can't figure out," he admitted. "Or how she did it without magic."

"May I hold one?" Deeter gave her the one in his right hand, and they both stared at the gems. "Red from blood. How would this guy know she wasn't able to use magic?"

"I did not stay to find out. He simply said 'we thought you were like Ariel at first.'"

She toyed with the gem, admiring the way the light shone upon it. "Maybe she had a scientific way of doing it?"

"I don't think that's possible. Prosstig was nearly convinced I used 'magic' till he realized it was Ariel's blood. There must be something strange in her blood."

"Something strange? It let her travel through space and time!"

They gaped at each other.

17

Lunch was strange. First, she spoke into a "telephone" to order it. A kitchen on the other telephone prepared the meal, then a delivery person brought it to her house in exchange for money. He supposed in a place with high speed tranport, this made sense.

Then there was the food. A small grain, in great quantities. Small strips of meat and vegetables. That wasn't so strange, exactly, but the sauce tying everything together was like nothing Deeter had ever tasted. Sweet, sour, spicey, salty and bitter all at once, in a wonderfully marvelous combination.

"Look at you trying to put it away," Timbella laughed at one point.

He smiled and swallowed. "Unfortunately I am not often able to eat very much on my travels. My stomach is not very big, I will have to stop eating now."

"Your travels to escape the intergalactic police, huh?"

"Do I detect a tiny bit of skepticism?"

She shrugged, then began putting away the food. "You've admitted that you're totally low tech, so I don't get how you can escape these guys. I mean, I don't really believe they exist. I guess part of your story is reasonable, you do have that translator, and sure, I don't know every language on the planet, but none that I've heard sound anything like what you said without it."

"Doesn't it make more sense that I'm a low-tech person who only knows about the Watchers because I was told about them?

She came back from putting the food away. "Well, you could have just made them up. Maybe you're crazy and just found that thing randomly and made up a big story to support it."

"I haven't even told you where I got it."

She sat next to him again. "No, you just said it was magic, and yeah, I kinda stopped paying attention after that. I mean, magic doesn't exist here outside of myths and legends. I mean, you know, doesn't all the stuff we have here seem like magic to you?"

"Not really, because the kind of magic with which I'm familiar is very, um, nature-centered."

She pursed her lips. "Maybe magic only exists where you're from."

"If that were true, why would my translator work?"

"How does it work anyway!" she nearly shouted.

"Calm down."

She sighed. "Maybe it's a virus. Um, a life form too small to see without a microscope."

"Ah yes, that makes so much more sense," he said dryly. "I only showed you that because it was simpler than my other magical tool."

"Which is?"

"How I escaped from the Watchers."

She stared at him. "BUT WHAT IS IT."

He pulled the leather straps up to retrieve the jewel. "This. It's one of a pair that I use to travel."

"Oh. Of course, teleportation." She rolled her eyes.

He brought out the other one and put one in each of his hands. He concentrated on the Professor's flat, and the portal appeared.

"Holy fuck!"

"Come on," he said, extending his hand. She took it, very cautiously. They walked through, to the space between, and through another portal.

"Shit, we're back at the Professor's. Oh man, he's gonna be pissed."

"Timby?" called a voice.

"Yeah Prof, it's me and Deeter again. He thought he'd show off. Please don't shoot us."

The Professor came out from behind one of the screens. He was holding a rather large black metal device, with two tubes and a handle. He lowered it when he saw that they were indeed whom they said they were.

"How the fuck did you get in here?"

"Deeter showing off," she repeated. "He has mad lockpick skillz. It's partly my fault, I totally didn't think he could break your systems."

He nodded. "OK, I don't really believe this, but I'm gonna hit the toilet. You guys better be long gone with everything intact by the time I get back, got it?"

"Got it," she said. As soon as he turned his back, Timbella clutched Deeter's shoulder. "You fucking imbecile. He would have killed us."

Deeter swallowed, but kept quiet, and returned them back to her place.

16

"What do you know of the Watchers?"

"What watchers?"

"Intergalactic."

She stared at him. "Intergalactic?"

"Yes, people who make sure criminals don't leave other planets and get away with it."

"Hold on, excuse me. I'm kinda stuck on this whole thing. Intergalactic? You mean like, space aliens?"

"Correct."

"Are you still high?"

"No." He realized this wasn't going to be as simple as he thought. He reached into his bag and pulled out his map. "This is where I am from," he said, scrolling the screen around. Just for show, as he had his home planet saved. "The planet is Klammet." He zoomed out till the screen showed the entire galaxy. "This is the spiral galaxy."

Her mouth was open. "OK, I'm not saying I believe you, but that is fancy. If you're an alien how come you look human?"

He decided not to tell her that he wasn't exactly human. "These Watchers took humans all over the galaxy a few thousand years ago. Spread them out all over." At least, that's what he had been told. "There have been only two species to develop true sentience, and when ours came along, the first took responsibility for them. I think the forced immigration was halted over two thousand years ago or so, but they still feel a need to interfere at times."

"So, all that stuff you told me - you really are a diplomat, but to the stars?"

He laughed. "No, no, just local. Our world is quite rural, although a few highly placed people do know of these Watchers."

"And when you ran off, they called them in?"

"Precisely."

She chewed on her lip. "This doesn't make sense. I mean, if all that's true, if we had a common ancestor thousands of years ago - why can you speak my language?"

He removed his translator and showed it to her. "I can't. See? I need this." He replaced it. "It translates things."

"Wait, it translates your speech as you speak it? And my speech as you hear it?"

"Do you want to try it?"

"Ummm, let me clean it first." She walked off and came back with a small brown bottle and some loose gauze. Deeter handed it over and she cleaned it. It was still a bit orange, but now it gleamed.

"Just a reminder, I'm speaking now in my native language," he said before she inserted it. "Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now?"

"Wow, that really works. I can't believe it. Didn't you say you were from a low-tech society?"

He cracked a smile. "I've noticed that most higher-technological societies don't believe magic exists."

She groaned. "Oh great, space aliens, space cops, and now magic too? What the hell?"

"I suppose it's a great deal of new information to cope with. I think I should wait before telling you the rest."

"There's more?"

He nodded and put his arm around her. "I'll wait till you feel ready."

"I think I feel hungry." She squeezed his hand then moved it off her. "We've burned a lot of calories since lunch. I'll order in."

15

So, thought Deeter, that was what the fuss was about.

The drug had worn off by now. He felt light-headed and tired and somewhat foolish. He had had sex before, but not with a girl close to his own age. For once he was thankful for the strange teachings he had absorbed from his "physical education" mistress. It was part of life, even for the peasants where he grew up, to have an older man or woman deal with sixteen-year-olds for a summer. There was absolutely no romance to it, nothing like the stuttering dances and balls that came after. "Coming of age" indeed.

Timbella was bathing. Or "showering". Indoor plumbing continued to fascinate him. Not that he'd never had a shower before, but only during the trips of long hunting parties. After a week in the wilderness, you were glad to be sprayed down by the shower bags that had been warming in the sun. But servants squeezed the bags to rinse you off. He almost wanted to join her, but she had given him a frosty look before marching off. Unwarranted, he felt, considering the circumstances.

He supposed it would be best for him to shower as well, but part of the reason he didn't want to go it along was his ignorance. He almost went in to sneak a peek at the water, but she'd locked the door. He sighed and sat back on the sofa. "Futon," she'd called it. It folded out into a more bedlike shape, and they hadn't yet replaced it. He hadn't seen how she'd done that anyway.

It had been drilled into his head that one did not do what he just did, except with someone you planned to marry. The accidental pregnancy was the main reason. Any woman who conceived had a claim to you, no matter what. But they had used "protection" so he wasn't overly concerned. It was hard to shake off all that programming, anyway. Or he thought it would be. But with someone not brought up that way, in a culture where "protection" made sure any encounter ended without issue... She had made the first move. Or had he? It was impossible to be sure, even without the drug oddity.

Timbella came out, dressed, her curls weighed down by water. "You're beautiful," he said.

"Oh please, don't get started on that shit." She handed him a towel. "Go ahead."

He marched firmly to the bathroom and locked the door. Shower stall. Not a bath at all. The wetness gave him an indication of where to go. He closed the door behind him, and made the brilliant deduction to turn the knobs with "H" and "C" on them. He yelped as unbearably hot water sprayed him from high above. After a moment of fiddling, the water felt fine. Better than fine. He had not had a warm bath in a month, merely sponging himself down when he had the chance. "Shower gel" was squeezed into his hands, and worked into a lather all around his body and into his hair. Weeks of accumulated dirt came off. Before this he had thought he had been keeping clean enough, but clearly this was not the case. He felt slightly embarrassed and hoped Timbella hadn't minded too much.

The water began to get a bit cooler, so he shut it off. Luxuriating in an apparently endless supply - apparently it was not quite so endless. He used the towel to dry off, then wrapped it around himself and went back out. Timbella had replaced the futon and was drinking something.

"Tea?"

"In a moment," he said, fiddling in his bag for the other set of clothes he carried with him. He dressed himself in front of her, trying to ignore her gaze. Finally he was dressed and sat next to her. She gave him a cup and he sipped it. Warm and grassy tasting. But pleasant, like everything had been since he came to her place.

"OK, Deeter, I think I need to know some more about you."

He put the cup down and sighed.

note

Traveling, sorry for the missing post this week.

14

Deeter swallowed the substance, and listened to the music quietly. It was odd to him, intricate and overly rhythmic. He couldn't recognize a single instrument. He considered asking what it was, but he figured he wouldn't understand the answer. And then, the drug took hold.

It was not at all like being drunk on wine.

At first he didn't notice anything different. Then he felt cold. Extremely cold. He said he was cold, and Timbella rushed off, returning with a large stack of blankets. She wrapped him up in them, claiming that she felt too warm already.

He squeezed the blankets tightly and looked at the flower. The iris danced in time with the music. Dancing? He laughed, and then stared at the ceiling. Concentric multicolored circles bubbled upon it. He asked her about the art on the ceiling, which then made her laugh. He looked straight across at the art he'd been entranced with earlier, but it, too, was extra-colorful and bubbling. He watched it for a time. The simple figures began growing rainbow ferns, tendrils curling around each other...

He started to feel feverish but cold. He loosened up some of the blankets, and made the mistake of looking at Timbella. Her curly hair was growing and wrapping itself around her. He quickly looked back up at the ceiling, but the eye movement convinced him to just shut them.

He then saw the strangest thing. He was a fountain – a statue with many arms, made of marble, all spraying water. He was staring at the fountain at the same time he knew he was the fountain, and four naked women splashed and swam in his waters. He moaned and rubbed his crotch, and more women appeared in his vision. They began kissing and fondling each other, as well as the statue.

He gasped and opened his eyes, springing forward a bit. He swore and then sat back again. Timbella asked if he was having a good time. He replied that he thought he was. But he couldn't be sure of anything.

Surety? What was that concept, anyway? He was trapped any way he moved. If he stayed still, the plants would curl up and around him. If he stood up, the circles would bubble over him. He started laughing again...

He was still laughing when she asked if he was thirsty, or needed to use a toilet. He couldn't stop laughing so he just nodded. A glass was soon thrust into his hand. He drank greedily. He was then pulled to his feet and led to a small room. The toilet was pointed out to him, like a great chamber pot with water at the bottom. He lowered his pants and let loose a great stream. He remembered to cover the toilet before making his way back to the sofa.

“I don't feel quite as weird,” he said.

“Well yeah, it's been an hour,” she said. “The strongest part is done, especially since you peed. Why didn't you flush?”

“Oh. Flush.” He started laughing maniacally again. “Indoor plumbing! What a concept!”

She started to giggle too. “Yeah, it's one of the many wonderful advantages of not living in a pre-industrial society. You should try it sometime!”

They both collapsed in paroxysms of giggles. When the giggles started to fade a bit, they were leaning against each other, their faces nearly touching. He thought he might like to kiss her, but that thought set him off again, this time lying on his back laughing.

“Man, I can't believe you've never done this before. A lot of people sometimes freak out, but you seem to be going with it really well.”

“That's me. I go with things.” He attempted to suppress his laughter by making a very serious face. This worked, but the sight made Timbella start laughing again.

And so on. Finally he managed to say, “I've been going with it for a few months now. This is stranger than most things I've experienced, though.”

“I bet!”

He remembered that he wanted to kiss her earlier, and this time managed to do so before the laughter took him. The kiss was soft, short and sweet.

“Oh?” she said after.

He shrugged. “And we come yet again to another thing I'm not very experienced with.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Are you only doing this because you're high?”

“I can't really tell,” he said. “Earlier it struck me like a beam of light. But I managed to keep from ravishing you.”

She giggled. “Hee hee, ravish. It's been too long since I've had a good ravishing.” She leaned back to him and kissed him, hard, long, and vicious.

“Would you settle for a mediocre ravishing?” he tried to say.

“Shut the hell up.”

13

Deeter inspected Timbella's studio flat with great interest. Apart from the Professor's minimalist space, he hadn't been in someone's home at all in his new life. It was completely different from any inn or tavern room, of course, but it was surprisingly similar to where he'd grown up. Aside from the screen to hide half. The furniture style was different, of course, but it was all old and matched after being bought, rather than as a set. The couch and three chairs shared the same shaggy yellow fabric, but that was all.

Besides too many chairs for the space, the art covered the wall without any respite or awareness of the possible wall beneath. Most were unframed sketches or watercolors, but there were a few key enormous pieces. Everything was stylized, no realism. He sat on the couch and stared across at the largest piece. It was overly stylized as well, but it appeared to depict a wolf hunt. At least, that was what it seemed to him. He didn't want to ask but Timbella sat next to him and began talking about it.

"Dad's first wife was an artist. She didn't title any of it so I have no idea what it's supposed to be. Maybe it was all about her disease and how she knew she was going to die."

Deeter frowned. "If you don't mind, I would appreciate you not make light of the dead."

"Oh, ok, I didn't know -"

"Yes, it's fine. Just letting you know."

She put her hand in his. "Your people have a big taboo about death, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that. Um. We believe that our ancestors ascend into a kind of heaven and become minor dieties, you could say. We pray to them rather than an all-powerful creator. But the common people have different beliefs."

She laughed. "Oh me, the common people! You really are a snob."

He decided to change the subject. "So where are these irises?"

"In the kitchen. I guess I can bring them out here." She got up and returned shortly with a potted iris. He was impressed with the translator, now. He would definitely have called that flower an iris if he'd seen it by himself.

"And that flower -"

"Causes hallucinations, yeah. You'll probably see the walls melting. I'm gonna put on some groovy music while I mix it up."

Hallucinations? Why would someone voluntarily want to see things that weren't there? Deeter felt terror, and decided he needed more information to calm down.

"When you say 'the walls melt'-"

"It's what it looks like," she called out. "Really you just find it hard to focus, and the edges of everything go wavy, people just like to say the walls melt." She came back with one tall and one short glass. "Since you're such a newbie, we'll just give you a half dose. It won't be as intense. It only lasts about two hours, unless you drink more. It just goes through your kidneys. Although don't ask me about the kid I knew who'd drink his own urine."

He felt a little better now. And besides, he knew he was going to be seeing things, so it didn't sound like true hallucinations. That was a good thing to keep in mind.

"Bottoms up!"

12

The Professor came back in. He looked up and down at Deeter and Timbella, and said, “I guess it’s a good thing you aren’t in a hurry.”

Deeter became alert. “Is there a problem?”

“Depends on your definition. No one is moving till the weekend, though.”

“Oh. The weekend. Which is…”

He tried very hard to hide a grin. “The day after tomorrow, is when they mean.”

“I see. Should we try to meet them first?”

The Professor shook his head. “I meant that they literally weren’t moving from their homes, not just out of the country. You stick with Timby and I’ll get in touch with her when the time comes.”

“I see then. Thank you very much. Do I owe you anything for this?”

“No, but if you wanted to buy a few things, I wouldn’t need my arm twisted.”

Timbella spoke up. “Actually yeah, now that you mention it, about three grams of dope and a little Fup would be nice.”

He nodded, and walked off. Deeter asked, “So what are we getting?”

“God, how sheltered are you? Dope is a downer,” she whispered, “and Flower Power is what you drink so irises work.”

“Why are we whispering?” he whispered.

“Because I don’t want him to think you’re a narc!”

“Doesn’t he think that anyway?” Not that he knew what “narc” meant. Someone who was ignorant of drugs?

“I hope not!”

The professor came back with a few small clear plastic bags. “OK, these are D and this small one is Fup. Remember, one part to a thousand with that one.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Can you get this, Deeter? I’ll pay you back.”

“Five hundred my man,” he said.

Deeter counted out five bills. “Here you are.”

“A pleasure doing business with you.”

~

Deeter and Timbella left and walked down the stairs. He was quiet till they got outside. “I still don’t quite understand what flowers have to do with anything.”

She frowned. “Maybe what we call irises aren’t what you call irises in your neck of the woods. But they give off a scent which only affects human if they’ve had some of that stuff.”

“One part to a thousand?”

“Yeah, you have to mix it with water, or fruit juice, or whatever, to dilute it.” They walked back to the train lift.

“So you drink it, and if you’re near these flowers, something weird happens?”

“Yeah. You get high. Really high.” She pressed the button for the lift.

He nodded. He was fairly ignorant of drugs but had occasionally overdone it on wine. Probably similar. “And what’s a narc?”

She stared at him so long they almost missed the lift. “Narcotics officer.”

“I see,” he said, although he didn’t. “Aren’t officers supposed to be not very obvious?”

“Ha! Good point.” They boarded the train, although he was still confused.

“Are we going back to your place?”

“Yeah, is that ok?”

“Certainly. Surprised you didn't ask that earlier."

"Earlier?"

"Why did you make me pay at the Professor’s?”

“Oh, well, first, I thought since you made me go over there, and ask him for something really weird, it was your place. Second, I thought you ought to try some. I’ll pay you back for whatever I keep.”

“That sounds more reasonable.” Deeter lapsed into silence. He was very curious now. How different from wine could it be? Timbella had said earlier that the professor created almost any kind of drug. He was aware that drugs existed, but they were not very common. As far as he knew, on Klammet, most were derived from plants, so naturally they were uncommon. People would rather spend time producing food than drugs. At least, this was what he assumed. It seemed to be very difficult to make plants grow. Farmers worked from sunup to sundown. He was unclear why this was the case on his world, and many others, but not on, for example, this one. Of course he rarely remained on planets this advanced, since they were more likely to be allies with Them, but now he wondered. Electronic oxen?

Deeter knew he didn’t understand electronics at all. He was comfortable with the explanation of, say, his new taser: it shot miniature lightning bolts at people to paralyze them. He just didn’t understand how the lightning, no matter how small, could stay in “batteries” the size of his finger. He figured it was magic, but people who used electronic devices found it highly insulting when that word was used. Perhaps he could return to the Professor and have him explain it. If he could create drugs alchemically, he probably knew quite a bit.

“Our stop’s next.”

He broke out of his reverie. “Ah. All right.”

11

Deeter sat by himself on an orange sofa in a penthouse in Kwee City. He was feeling oddly alive. As much as he liked meeting people, he'd only been able to do so on rather shallow terms the past few months. He was enjoying this Professor and Timbella. Unfortunately he would have to leave them. He didn't think she was so attracted to him that she would follow him wherever he had to go, after all.

He hadn't been thinking of himself as a criminal, but of course that was what he was. He had abandoned his responsibilities for no reason other than sheer terror. The fear he had of Them was merely that they would bring him back home. Which was Their job, of course. His family had probably paid them well for the privilege.

Timbella came back and sat next to him. Her eyes were red. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She forced a smile. "Prof's setting it up?"

"I suppose." He looked into her eyes. They were brown, with green flecks. "You know, I don't really have to leave today."

She turned her head. "Yeah, but you have to leave. Oh, this is stupid. I don't even know why I give a shit."

He chuckled. "Well, that certainly makes me feel better. I was hoping it was my magnetic charisma, and willingness to let you lead me everywhere."

She smiled, still looking away. "I guess that helps, yeah. Are you really a diplomat?"

"Do I look like a diplomat?"

"You're too young, but it somehow wouldn't surprise me much."

"Assuming everything I've told you is more or less the truth, what would you say my story is?"

She turned back to him. "Spoiled rich kid from old money, overprotected to a fault, when you got out of school Daddy wanted you to work for him, and you refused and ran. Daddy had enough money to get serious bodyguard types after you. You really don't give off any criminal vibes at all, otherwise I'd say something more sinister happened." She tapped her lips. "Maybe you got your sister pregnant."

Deeter gaped at her, and she laughed. "Wow, I can't tell if that's the 'on the money' face or the 'how dare you' face."

He blinked, and recomposed himself. "The latter. I don't even have a sister. I don't think."

"Well OK. I just guessed that 'cos you seem too gormless to have hurt anyone. Unless that's all part of the charming psychopath act."

He rolled his eyes. "I'd tell you but I'd have to kill you. No, honestly you've got a pretty good handle on it, I suppose I let a bit more slip than I thought."

"You didn't let that much slip through. I still can't figure out what country you're from. I mean I could narrow it down 'cos you're white but brown hair doesn't help. But your accent is totally weird."

"What about you?"

"Me? I'm a spoiled rich kid too, but in that new money way. My dad grew up on a farm, first in his family to go to college, and he married his high school sweetheart after that. But she had some genetic disease and died before the first kid was born. Very sad. He married my mom about ten years later, I'm still not sure why. They really don't seem to like each other very much. I mean, I guess she was a trophy wife or whatever. Now she's too old for that role, so he does whatever the hell he wants. As a result of this, I'm completely insane."

"I had inferred that bit," he said, smiling at her.

10

Deeter Zor was a bit disappointed when Timbella announced, "We're here," in front of an old building in poor condition.

"Does that sign say CONDEMNED?" he asked her.

"Oh come on, that's totally a ruse. He pays off people every month to keep that sign there." She pushed a button near the door. A distorted voice said, "Yes?"

"It's me," she replied. A buzzer sounded and she pulled open the door. "See, it's all in working condition. Except the lift. We'll take the stairs."

The building wasn't very tall, but they still had to climb six flights of stairs. She was a little out of breath when they reached the top. "He's in the penthouse."

"You mean other people live here?"

She shrugged. "Probably not, but he likes the view." She knocked on the stairwell door, and they heard a lock disengage. She opened the door.

The professor's apartment was, indeed, the entire floor. If there had been other apartments on this floor, they were no longer. The space was enormous, vertically as well as horizontally. Deeter wondered if there had been a seventh floor once as well. There were simple floor screens dividing the space, allowing for some privacy. A giant flower garden took up most of the space by one of the walls, which was an entire window, letting in a great deal of natural light.

"Just a minute," called a male voice from behind one of the many screens. He walked out a moment later. He was slightly above average height, with a well trimmed brown beard, hair not much longer, slightly recending and going to grey. He wore lightweight wool black pants, a simple black short sleeve shirt that said "dead" over "square", with the latter in red type. His boots looked like he'd been actually walking in the soil with his plants. Small glasses covered his brown eyes. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Deeter.

"Hey, this is my friend Deeter, he's new in town and needs some help. Deeter, this is the Professor."

"Nice to meet you," said the Professor. He looked at Timbella. "New in town?"

"So I'm a sucker sometimes. Sue me." She walked over behind one of the screens. Deeter followed her. She had sat on a large plush orange sofa. He sat next to her.

The Professor followed them and sat on a stool nearby. "I don't have any problems helping people but I just - you just met this guy today, though he was worth helping, huh?"

Deeter spoke up. "I admit I may have presumed a bit much, but it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. I have some money, and I need to hide. I understand this city isn't a bad place to do so, but further underground for a time would please me more."

The Professor stared at him. "Where are you from?"

"Nowhere you've heard of."

"You understand I'm not gonna help you just 'cos Timbey got some hair up her ass. I'm a criminal in this country, but I have standards. I have to deal with unsavory characters, merely because the government thinks people shouldn't be allowed to put harmless substances in their own bodies."

Realization dawned. "You make - make drug potions?"

"Ha! So he's not just a pretty face!"

Deeter and Timbella both blushed. "Actually I'm a diplomat. From a small country you've never heard of."

"And this small country has the resources to find you? In Kwee City?"

"I don't know. Frankly I'd prefer not to find out."

"Are you really that important?" he asked.

"I was nearly captured a few times, so I have to assume so."

He nodded. "You have money I assume."

Deeter counted out a thousand units. "How's that for a start?"

"Not bad." He scratched his beard. "But I'm not sure who I know that can help in this situation."

"This situation? I only need to be smuggled on a ship or train of some sort. I just want to not have to reveal who I am to any sort of authority figure."

"I need to use the lavatory," announced Timbella suddenly, and she ran across the room to one of the only visible doors.

Deeter looked after her strangely. The Professor chuckled. "You do know she won't be glad to see you go."

"I admit," he said quietly, "I am using her a bit. It seemed a safer option than looking for smugglers myself. Should I -" he hesitated.

"She'll be upset either way, but sleeping with her might make her like you more. Dunno if it'll help her let go. Might make her more attached. Your call. Anyway, you stay put, I need to talk to some sketchballs."

Deeter nodded, conflicted about all sorts of things.

nine

Deeter Zor followed Timbella to a park. They sat on benches and shared their lunch, simple sandwiches heated in ovens. As the last meal he'd had was that tavern stew, he found it utterly delightful. As was being with a lovely curly-haired woman.

He couldn't believe his luck. This planet - or this city, at least - seemed to have more equal gender roles, so the woman had no fear asking him to spend time with her. But her manner suggested she was behaving recklessly on purpose, so he'd toyed with her a bit. She now seemed to think he really was a smuggler, or a thief, or something more dangerous than she really wanted. At least, the change in her demeanor seemed to indicate this.

He decided to try to put her at ease. "I'm honestly not a smuggler. I just had rich parents and got sick of it." That was enough of the truth for now.

She frowned. "My parents are assholes too, but I kinda think the money makes sticking around easier."

"Oh, my parents are perfectly reasonable people. Well, no, that's a bit of a lie," he chuckled. "Their expectations are not reasonable, let's say."

"Oh, ok, yeah. Mine are a lot cooler I guess. They just want me to be happy with whatever I want to do. Which is drink and screw around mostly."

"If it makes you happy," he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm in school. I mean only part time, but hell."

"I just wanted to be a scholar too, but, well, let's just say my parents are old-fashioned."

"Let me guess: dad wanted you to take over the family business?"

"Close enough," he conceded. He didn't really want to get too in-depth, and he couldn't discuss Anect with a stranger.

They finished their meal in short order. "Well, I guess we should go to the Professor's to figure stuff out. I'll give him a beep." She pulled out some sort of device and pushed buttons. "He's one of the bigger Flower Power guys around here." At Deeter's blank stare she added, "You know, the stuff that makes lilies work."

Deeter tried not to look any more confused. "Is he really a professor?"

"Who knows. He can make just about any chemical you want, and can get the rest." The device in her hand beeped. She looked at it. "He's free, let's head over. Do you mind taking the train?"

He shrugged. "It's not too expensive, is it?"

"Nah, like, tune. Two units," she clarified.

"That's fine then."

"Cool. Nearest station is about five blocks." They walked the five blocks to the "station." It was just a man in a small glass building selling tickets, which they then used to get into the lift. The train was elevated quite high above the city, higher than all but the tallest buildings. It ran on a small metallic road with a groove in the center.

They exited the lift onto a platform where other people stood waiting. A large electronic sign proclaimed "Next Train 4:10", to which Timbella nodded and said "Good, should be just a minute." And indeed within a minute it arrived. The train itself looked like the auto-carts he'd seen before, but sleeker, with more windows, and painted to resemble the sky. They waited for everyone to exit before getting on. They stood next to each other, holding on to support poles attached to chairs.

Deeter kept looking back and forth at everyone. He had been in cities before, but not for very long. The diversity was amazing. Every color of skin and hair he'd seen in his travels - and a few hair colors he hadn't - old people, young people, professional people, students, laborers, everything. He didn't have long to marvel before the train began to move.

This was altogether a new sensation. He'd never moved faster than a gallop, and carriages certainly rarely went faster than a trot. It was new, different, and exciting, just what he craved. He wondered if the smuggler idea was unnecessary, if this was all it took to travel around the world.

But, no, only local travel would not ask for identification of some sort. There had been hotels that didn't ask for it, but worlds that used plastic wanted plastic - cards instead of cash. He sighed, knowing he needed more information. Perhaps this "Professor" could help. Hopefully he would be the type that was more interested in imparting knowledge than zeroing in on his student's eccentricities.

eight nine ten

8 - shift

Timbella Vissel walked into the pawn shop. Her dad had given her and her mom more jewelry, and while it placated her mother, Timby just wanted cash. She stopped short when she entered, staring at the young man checking out at the register. Tall, dark, and handsome. Dark-haired, at least. Brown, probably. Whatever, he was hot.

She walked up to him. "Hey Mole," she said to the guy behind the counter.

"Hey Miss Vis," he replied. "Daddy have another fling?"

"Of course." She dropped the necklace and matching earrings on the counter. Then she turned to the new crush and smiled. "Daddy thinks he can buy his way out of his mistakes. I'm Timbella, by the way."

He blinked. "Deeter," he said.

"He's new in town, maybe you should show him around?" He rang up the jewelry and counted out some money for her.

"Sure thing," she said, snatching the money with one hand and Deeter's left hand with her other. "Come on, let's see some sights."

"All right," he stammered, and let her drag him out.

"So, what brings you to Kwee City?" she asked as they strolled down the street.

He seemed to relax. "Well, I can't really tell you, it's kind of a secret." His accent was hard to place.

"Oh, yeah, you killed someone?" Kwee City was well-known for its lax law enforcement, in addition to lack of extradition.

"Kill someone? I wish! No, nothing so crass."

She raised her eyebrows. "Smuggling?"

He wrinkled his forehead. "I can't really tell you," he repeated. "You wouldn't - Do you know any smugglers?"

"Not exactly, but I know a guy who might know a guy."

He nodded. "Well, enough about that. I'd like to get some cash, if you don't mind."

She released his hand and stared at him. "Are you gonna mug someone?"

"What? Oh, no, just wanted to sell some things."

"Weren't we just IN the pawn shop?"

He seemed taken aback. "Were we? I meant that," he said, pointing to a jewelry store.

"Oh. You shoulda sold them back there, though, Mole gives decent rates." Although the main reason she used Mole had to do with her father; at least she knew he wouldn't be caught dead in there.

Deeter ignored her and walked to the jeweler's. Sure enough, in the window was the exact set her father had bought her. She almost stayed outside but her curiousity won out.

She pretended to be looking in a display case, but stayed close enough to the transaction to figure it out. Apparently he had a bunch of rubies and whatnot that he was selling. A lot of them. Just loose stones. No wonder he wanted a reputable place. Mole was good, but he couldn't buy that much hot stuff at once.

The jeweler didn't seem to care; Deeter had given some sob story about his mother dying as the reason. He just looked at every piece with that wacky little scope of his, then wrote Deeter a fat check and gave it to him. They thanked each other, Deeter smiled at Timbella, and they walked out the store.

"Is that why you're here?"

"One of the reasons. Although I only took them for practical reasons."

"So you just stole them on your way out of the country?" They grinned at each other.

"The draft is drawn on 'First City National.' Do you know where that is?"

"Yeah, there's a branch 'round the corner. They're my bank too. How much is that check for?"

"Ten thousand units."

"Damn! You want to cash that whole thing?"

He nodded. "I suspect these smugglers you don't yet know would prefer cash."

"Oh. Yeah, you're right."

So they cashed the check. In large bills it wasn't a huge problem, although he left one in smaller bills on her advice. "Food?" he suggested.

"Yeah, sure," she said, idly wondering if this could totally rank in her top three stupidest things ever done. For a guy, probably.

seven eight nine

seven

Deeter Zor looked around again. Still no one in sight. He continued recording his diary. "I escaped him relatively blindly. I think I wanted a place I could travel not on foot. I've never tried that before. I've never been in a, a small ship? A shuttle? I think that's what they're called. Well, first I plan to fix my hair, then get moving about somehow."

He strode uneasily into the street. The walkway. The street in plastic-age civilizations was for the shuttles, not people. Although he did occasionally see people crossing it. It was morning, and people walked across the street in fixed manners. They all wore dark sober clothing and ignored everything but their destinations.

He didn't understand how the translation device made him literate, but it seemed to. So he read the signs of the buildings all pressed together on the street, between the impossibly tall ones, till he found a jewelry store. Unfortunately it wasn't open, and he couldn't figure out what time standard this place adhered to. With a brilliant flash of insight, he stopped the next passerby he saw.

"Excuse me, ma'am, do you have the time?"

"Three o'clock," she said.

"Thank you," he said, but she was already out of hearing.

So, like his home planet, it seemed they counted from sunup or so. The jewelry store would be open in an hour. He decided to see if there were any other places on the block that he could simply browse in the meantime.

Only one store seemed to be open, despite the bars on the window. He walked in and looked around. He couldn't really tell what anything was - except for the knives in the glass case. They seemed old and ill-used, but a weapon wouldn't be the worst thing to have.

"I can see y'know your shit," said a voice that nearly made Deeter jump. He turned to the proprietor, a short pale bald man with a blond goatee. "Those guys haven't been taken care of, but a bit'a spit'n'polish'll show their true beauty."

"To be honest, I'm more looking for something practical than ... attractive."

"Then y'don't want one of those. Unless yer stronger than y'look." At Deeter's blush, he said, "Y'want a taser, is what y'want."

"Taser?" he repeated.

"Yeah, y'know, electric shock. No permanent damage, only about one percent as strong as lightning, but usually knocks'em out cold." He guided him to another case. "See."

The tasers were simple rectangles, either black metal or plastic. Nothing remarkable about them at all. "I've never seen one. And I don't actually have local currency yet..."

"Yeah, thought yer accent was funny. I'll let y'have the cheapest high-power one then. Decent exchange rate, too." He unlocked the case.

"What powers them?"

"Batteries." He slid a piece of the taser open and pulled out a small flat white block. "Y'just buy new ones after every fifty shots."

"Fifty shots?" There was a lot about this electricity he truly didn't understand.

"Yep." He replaced the battery. "Lithium ion, or something. I ain't no scientist, but I know what works. I've knocked out giant herding dogs with this."

It was strange, indeed, what the translator did. "Giant herding dogs" was clearly a mangle of a local idiom, but "lithium ion"? He shrugged and pulled out a few diamonds. "How many?"

"Hoo boy, really ain't from 'round here, are ya?"

"Well, I was going to sell them, but the nearest jeweler isn't open yet."

The man raised his eyebrows. "Wouldn't get a fair price there neither. See what I can do then." He walked around the store for a minute before settling on something. A giant lens with a metal rim and handle. "This'll hafta do." He took one of the diamonds from Deeter's hand, then held it up to the light, examining it. "I'm no gemologist but this is one fine lookin' specimen. You got another?"

Deeter held it up, and was handed the taser in return. "Let me just write you up a bill of sale and we're all set."

six seven eight

six

Deeter Zor looked at the man - no, he wasn't a man, was he, but one of Them - across from him. Prosstig had claimed he wanted to help, but he'd helped enough. He showed him how They could track him. It had not taken a genius to find the only tavern near his arrival spot, but it did take something special to find the room he'd lodged in. "Infrared."

Prosstig was past that explanation, however. "Those leather straps? That's how you do it? I mean, obviously we've figured it was a spell of some kind, but you insist you have no knowledge of magic. You're no fool, or you wouldn't have evaded us this long, but you really have no idea how what you do works."

"Does anyone really know how magic works?" He hesitated. It was hard to trust Prosstig, but he was the first person he'd spoken to at length since he left. Would it really make a difference if They knew? Slowly he unravelled one of the straps, then held out his palm. "I can tell you what I do know."

Prosstig stared. A few small gems sparkled in the light. "Rubies? No, the refractive index is too great. Red diamonds?"

He nodded, rewrapping the leather around them. "They were turned red in a blood ceremony to infuse them with power."

"You know, the study of magic is the one thing Watchers aren't very good at. I wonder if that's why we're so involved with humans." He was still staring at the gems, or would have been had they been visible.

"Oh, is that why you're so involved with humans," Deeter said drily.

He snapped out of it. "I wouldn't say we're so involved. When you travel by magic to other worlds, that's the only time we get involved. Or if -"

"Exceptions abound, I'm sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to use magic to try to get away from you Watchers."

Suddenly Prosstig laughed. It was a shocking sound, only partly because of the high-pitch. It could have passed as a normal human laugh, but Deeter wondered what was so funny. Not seriously enough to stop his preparations. He put on his shoes and grabbed his pack.

"A blood ceremony! Red blood! Ha ha!"

Deeter gave him an incredulous stare before squeezing his fists. Prosstig's infrared glasses seemed to ignore the great gaping holes in reality - the tesseract, as he'd referred to it - but as Deeter stepped through he just barely heard him say, "Ariel! Of course!"

With those words Deeter gasped and ran forward to the opening into a new world. He would never have given that away, but They obviously knew of Ariel already. More than he did. All he knew was that she was the commoner his great-grandfather had married, who tired of her husband and escaped. Stories varied, but since he began his life as a fugitive, he had assumed she must have done what he had done.

Going with the established facts, that she had first had children and waited till they were more grown before creating the diamonds then fleeing, made sense. Witches were made, not born, and only someone with a powerful reason could become one after maturity. It took years of study, either from an elder witch, or from the forest itself. Not that he knew very much about witches, but at least he had known one.

Laerne herself had learned her craft from the forest. She had run away even younger than he had, twelve or so, and lived in the forest near his home since. She was the one who told him about the rubies that were not rubies at all. He thought it a pretty story, like most of the stories told of Ariel, but as it turned out, quite glad it had not been fiction after all.

Deeter looked up. As usual, he was in an alley. It was early morning in this place, and the buildings were steel and glass and plastic. He sat next to a large garbage container and spoke quietly. "Day ninety-seven. I was woken by one of Them, but he just wanted to talk. I revealed too much and so did he. What did he mean, Ariel wasn't a witch? What else would explain it?"

five six seven