Tales from the Multiverse Read online

  Kook rolled out of bed and leaned on the bars. The serving team was just finishing the block, under the eagle eyes of a purple guard. He cleared his throat. Over the last two weeks he'd learned to speak politely to the guards. "Er, sir? I, umm, would like to call my brother-in-law."

  There was a faint stir down the aisle. Other prisoners wondering what he was up to, double that for his Team Leader, now breathing down his neck.

  The guard laughed. "Finally got scared enough to yell for help, eh? Figures."

  He walked away without saying anything, ushering the feeding crew out.

  "Kook? What are you doing?"

  Kook turned around and sagged back against the bars. The guards had shaved off their criminally dyed hair, and taken all their money as well as the (fortunately local manufacture) odds and ends in their pockets, thumped them around a bit then kicked them in here. They were filthy and stunk. High Oners every one of us.

  He could still feel the princess. Catch the info she sent. "Look, my big sister, I know she doesn't like me, us, but she married a Lord. And I know he thinks I'm worthless, but he won't let them . . . I'm sure of it. I'm calling him. He'll get me out of here, and I'll ask about you guys, too." He passed on the information as quickly as she sent it.

  Ugho, Acri and Olmo surrounded him, all frowning, no patience left. Lost. Over two very long dragging weeks.

  :: Because we're all from Ellaihaa. ::

  "Because we're all from Ellaiha." Kook parroted.

  A metallic rattle drew his attention. A weedy looking older guard.

  "So, someone wants to try something desperate? Call a brother-in-law, eh?"

  "Yes, sir."

  :: He's the Lord. Surely he'll bail us all. ::

  "He's the Lord. Surely he'll bail us all."

  "Oh, a country bumpkin lord. God save me from this. He'd better be close enough to get here before court, or nothing will save your goodies." An unpleasant chuckle. "And have lots of cash on hand."

  "He, he will." Kook just about melted as the man unlocked his cell and let him out. He followed humbly, went where he was told and finally sat down at a table with nothing on it but this . . . thing. It had wires running to and from it. He grabbed it, part fell off . . . Old vids came back to him, and he put the loose part to the side of his head. He looked at the dial and stuck his finger in the hole above the first number the princess had given him. Nothing happened.

  :: The clear circle rotates clockwise. Spin it until your finger hits the stop, jerk your finger out and do the next number. ::

  He fumbled his way through it.

  "Hello? Gene Lobo, general contractor."

  "Err, Gene, this is Klark."

  "Who?"

  Kook swallowed. He didn't have to pretend to be nervous. "Sophi's little brother?"

  "Oh. You. And what can I do for Sophi's stupid brother?"

  "Bail me out of jail?"

  Growl. "What did you do?"

  "Impersonated a Purp."

  "YOU WHAT!"

  Kook dropped the telephone at the bellow. Curses interspersed with descriptions of his intelligence and common sense were loud enough to not need a closer acquaintance with the phone.

  His guard grinned and sauntered over to scoop it up. "Sir? Your relative and his friends go before the judge later this morning . . . yes, three of them, going by the names of Hugo, Carl and Loois. Bond is three thousand. Each."

  There was a long silence.

  "Them. Son of a . . . " The voice was small and tinny from this distance. "Those idiots are going to earn it four times over or I'll turn them right back over to you. I'll be there."

  "With cash." The guard said.

  "Right. With cash. Twelve thousand! Son of a . . . " the voice ended with a crash.

  The guard grinned. "Looks like your lucky day, pretty boy."

  Kook shuddered. And shuffled reluctantly back to the cell.

  The bondsman was right outside the courtroom. Big safe behind him, a pair of accountants to the side. All the prisoners were brought out of the cells and lined up along the wall. One by one they were hauled through the door and into the courtroom. The door was too thick to hear the proceedings. Some of the prisoners returned with other people, who paid various sums to the bondsman, and then were either ushered off to the left or prodded to the right. In one case cold cocked and dragged.

  They were the last on the morning's docket, and were sent in together. Same fat son-of-a-bitch judge that had tossed them in the cell for two weeks—apparently the time allowed to find someone to pay their bond.

  ". . . good is it to marry a lord if he won't help his family." The sharp voice belonged to a redheaded woman who looked like she was trying to look business-like in super-wrinkled faded jacket and blouse over pants so baggy they looked at first like a long skirt. Her eyes sought them out, a faint flick of thought and she dashed across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You blithering idiot! I hope your hair never grows back! You, you . . . " She flung her hands up in the air, turned and stomped away.

  The judge banged his gavel. "I understand someone is standing bond for them?"

  "Yes, your honor." A big ugly Purple stood up. "Gene Lobo, sir, your Honor."

  "Keep them in line or you'll be bailing yourself out."

  "Yes, your honor."

  "Stick your finger in there."

  Kook recognized the box. Some sort of test for "true purple." Possibly magical detection of the purple gene. They'd all flunked it, of course. The light flickered green. This guy passed. Who was he? Or should he say, where had the Princess found him.

  "Get outta my courtroom, worthless pretenders. I'm almost sorry someone claimed you." The judge got up and waddled away.

  The guard pointed them back out, and they stood there while the bondsman had his accountants count the cash Gene Lobo handed over, and he filled out papers.

  "Nobody else had so many papers." Ugho growled under his breath.

  The bondsman's eye slid his direction. "They weren't accused of felony impersonation. You are being indentured and will be marked to prevent a reoccurrence."

  "Marked?" Carl's voice was a bit high.

  The Bondsman ignored him. Accepted the last paper from "Gene Lobo" and a slip from the accountant. He clipped them together and tossed the sheaf in a bin. He signed four pieces of paper, then crunched them in some sort of stamping device. He handed them to Lobo. "Right. That's it then. Take them through the door to get burned. Want them cut at the same time? Saves bother all around."

  Kook choked.

  Lobo looked back at them, his eyes lingered on Ugho. Then he shook his head. "Nah. I'll keep that as a threat."

  "What do you mean, burned?"

  Lobo actually had to lean down a bit to look Ugho right in the eyes. "You are too stupid for words, just shut up and be glad you're getting out of here indentured instead of enslaved, and, at least for now, your balls will stay where they belong." The big Purp grabbed Ugho by the arm, and when Ugho tried to shrug him off, twisted his arm up behind his back and shoved him ungently through the door.

  Burned was a euphemism for branded. After a brief, painful, interlude, all four of them had a neat little x on their right cheek. Kook had eyed the other equipment there, and the fresh blood stains, and had tried hard to not flinch.

  Lobo looked them over, then down at Olmo, Loois, rather, out cold on the floor. "Hugo, Carl, pick him up. Let's get you out of here. We're going to get a few things straight, right away." He turned and walked off through another door.

  Ugho, Hugo, looked like he was looking for the right spot to slide a dagger in.

  The redhead, Sophi, scampered after him, she paused to look back. "He can have the man finish the job you idiots let yourself in for. Or you can grab your friend and get out of here."

  Kook grabbed Loois' feet. Hugo scowled, bent and grabbed an arm. Carl grabbed the other and they heaved him mostly off the ground and dragged him out.

  Lobo led them to a truck, an authentic vers
ion of the common work vehicles they'd copied. I wonder where everyone else is, and how we're going to find them?

  Chapter Two

  Rael eyed the man driving the truck. Purple or not, she could read that little dimple. "Don't smirk, or I'll keep up the nag imitation. Good grief, every woman there needed to have some manners and cunning slapped into her." The three hours of waiting in the courtroom had been . . . educational.

  "Sorry, why on . . . for the One's sake did Ajki search for the most arrogant assholes to send here?"

  Rael giggled. "Actually, yes. We've analyzed the Purps on Embassy, thought they were representative."

  Xen shook his head. "Yeah, about as representative as the Oner delegation is of the whole of your society. What a disastrous combination. Snotty Oners probably realized that they were seeing an elite, and of course jumped right in to be the elite."

  Hugo hunched forward and glared through the open window. "Why not? Look at Endi Dewulf, he was the coach for the President's daughter."

  Lobo started laughing. Rael punched his shoulder.

  "Endi Dewulf started his infiltration as a horseboy for the daughter of the governor of Britain, to pick up gossip. He worked his way up from shoveling horse shit to being a professional rider, and by pure chance fell into his high position. Two months later he was under arrest. If it hadn't been for the assassination attempt, and all the heroics, they'd have just shot him. Well, they'd have tried.

  “You lot need to think about the advantages of being invisible. I've been spot checking this society, with a thin cover. We'll see if the cover can stretch to include you lot and your absent buddies." He shook his head. "What I do to keep the peace."

  Hugo growled. "Who the hell are you? I ought to know all the directorate agents . . . "

  "Disco. Don't sprain your brain over it. There are five Exile worlds that we know of, most of them have some peacock genes floating around, and that's why this is my assignment."

  "Disco!"

  They all turned their eyes toward Rael. She smiled sweetly. "Presidential Directorate. Rael Withione. You will call me Sophi, while I'm here."

  Kook slowly shut his mouth. Everyone knew who Princess Rael was. He eyed the Purp. Endi Dewulfe, Xen Wolfson . . . Gene Lobo? One! This may be interesting enough to be worth the brand. Which immediately resumed hurting. He managed a tiny, careful, healing spell, and then a pain killer. Then he leaned back limply and tried not to think of his stomach.

  The truck slowed, turned and stopped. Sophi opened her door.

  "Nuh uh. Let the boys get the door. They're working for us now."

  Kook pried himself out of his slump and took a look. They'd stopped at an old wooden barn. Peeling white paint, falling down fences to either side, but not very far. The barn had been engulfed by civilization, marooned in what looked like an area of low class shops, homes and small factories. He slid down from the back of the truck and walked around to open the door. It slid, suspended from a rusty rail overhead. The truck drove past him and shuddered to a stop.

  "Shut the door, boy."

  Kook had a nasty suspicion that "boy" was an insult in this society.

  Carl steadied Loois and Hugo stalked around to confront Lobo.

  "I am Exploration Team Leader Ugho. Neither I nor my team take orders from Disco."

  "Then I suggest you take some strongly worded suggestions, because you have made some very basic errors. Why don't we start with some food and then showers, y'all look almost as bad as you smell." Lobo turned and walked away.

  Rael—Sophi—climbed down from the truck cab. "I enlisted some knowledgeable assistance when we didn't get a message back from any of you. Do you have a rendezvous spot where we might manage to find the rest of your team? Twelve men, right?"

  Hugo nodded. "So we'd have two compasses, if we needed to raise some serious power. Hopefully they haven't given up. It may feel like a year, but it's only been two weeks since we were arrested."

  The soup was the finest meal he'd ever had. The shower was heaven. The spell Rael laid on the brand was delicate and powerful. It stopped hurting immediately.

  "Is it going to scar?" Loois was back on his feet, but looking like he could faint again at any second.

  "Yes." Lobo waved a few sheets of paper at them. "On the upside, you now have actual, legal identities. People will look at that brand and never remember what you looked like otherwise. Now, my thin cover involves me being a general contractor. It means that I build and repair homes. I suggest that we snag your other people, get the dye off of them before they wind up in need of rescue themselves, and treat the business like a business."

  He skimmed the papers over to them. "The Ellaiha that we had you say was your home is an abandoned mining town. I will take you there, and you can make a going concern of it, so you have a remote base to run for, if you want. I recommend you consider your peoples' individual talents, and open other businesses, keep it small and simple. Learn to fit into the culture. At some point in the future, when you've got the feel of the place, talk to the Comet Fall people. They can stick a peacock gene into your chromosome eighteen insertion packet, and you'll turn purplish naturally. And they can remove it, when you're done."

  "Why do you call it the peacock gene? They call it the purple gene." Kook eyed the man. How much did he know, and how much would he tell?

  "The old stories say the gene complex is from a peacock. And the gene just codes for a protein, that other processes turn into several different things, one of them a blue pigment. The actual skin and hair color depends on the sum total of all the pigments. I've heard the Comet Fall Gods say that the artificial gene for dominant red hair was often chosen to go with the peacock gene, so the hair would be purple, rather than blue. So both genes are commonly found together, here.

  Hugo growled faintly under his breath, but didn't argue further.

  Lobo grinned. "And if you boys are tired, there's some blankets and straw up in the loft. I'm going to go chat up some of the folk around here, see how business is shaping up."

  ***

  Rael scowled at the wall. Xen had put an illusion over the gate. Either that, or he'd moved it. She couldn't see it . . . she looked over at the raggedy team. They looked beat, mentally and physically.

  :: Ugho, can you hear me? ::

  Nothing.

  "Well, until the local version of methalformaline wears off, I recommend R&R. Any of you up for more food?"

  Head shakes all around, a couple of glances toward the bedrooms.

  "I think you'd better stay strictly in your role, until you've got your footing. Team Leader? I am the rescue squad, I'll be leaving in a few weeks at the most. I outrank you, but you are still in charge of your team and the mission. We'll milk Lobo for all the information we can, and play nice until he's gone. I recommend that as you learn the ropes, you leave this place, and avoid his Ellaiha like the plague."

  Ugho straightened with an obvious effort. "Thank you, Princess. That's good advice, and from you, we'll take it. Lobo . . . "

  "He is not one of us. His motives are his own, and Disco's. Always keep that in mind. Act like you trust him. Use him and his position here." She was glad to see the man pulling himself together. Loois and Carl were nodding too. The youngster, Kook, or Klark, poor sod wasn't going to be able to shed his nickname, looked like he was thinking. Which could be good or bad.

  But Ugho was making a mental comeback and getting back in the saddle, as all her horse mad friends would say.

  "Well boys, let's check out the accommodations for the indentured servants, eh?"

  Rael left them to it, stepping outside to look around "her husband's" property. Figures a Comet Fall wizard would like a barn. It was a nice big barn, and the decrepit fence railed off a few meters of tall weeds to either side of it, and maybe ten meters behind. The Team had three trucks. We'll have to park a couple of them back here. Or maybe put one in this Ellaiha place. If Loois and Carl don't perk up, they may need to be out there for awhile. Or I may need
to ask Xen to take them back to Embassy. We don't need trauma and post stress reactions all over the place.

  A shabby wall of rusty metal panels overlapped half the back property line. Rael tromped cautiously through the tall grass to take a closer look. Through a hole she could see rows of rusty dented and demolished vehicles. The metal panels ended in a high wire mesh fence. Two big heavy mastiff type dogs rushed out, barking and leaping on the fence. Rael retreated, splitting her attention between the ground and the dogs. They seemed to be safely fenced in.

  "Muddy?" There was Xen looking down into the weeds.

  "I was wondering about snakes and bugs and rusty metal trash."

  "No trash allowed. I fetch a horse occasionally, to munch the grass down a bit. The boys are snoozing, probably having nightmares. Rumor is, these herbs they stick in the prisoners' meals suppresses magic, but also causes nervous reactions and suggestibility, not to mention being mildly addictive. What you're seeing is half withdrawal symptoms, half side effects, half reaction to the sudden rescue and whatever. I wouldn't worry too much about them. I think your 'brother' lost his appetite, and Loois ate to try and get his mind off the predicament. Give them a few days and they'll be fine."

  "Was I that obvious?"

  "No, but they sure were. If Hugo's up to it, I'd like to try and contact the others tonight. They're probably settled somewhere. So maybe they can stay there. Or come here. Whatever."

  She eyed him, and felt a faint touch from one of the Team. Ugho, Hugo. She let him in, just enough to hear the conversation, but not hear her thoughts. "Can you do the genetic engineering? Add the, what did you call it? The peacock gene."

  "I've got a potion for it, I guess it's a simple thing, well known. Although I ought to make you lot ask Disco officially. Honey trap." He shook his head, and Rael hoped Hugo couldn't see the laughter in his eyes. "If the other group has established themselves, gotten away with it, I'll offer them the real thing. One of the problems with being a Purp, is that there aren't all that many of them. Twelve of them, with nobody knowing any of them? Very unlikely, although I suppose I could fix up the ghost town. It's about a nine hour drive from here, not a bad location, soil's a bit poor, water a bit scarce, but I've put in a reliable water well for the few buildings I've fixed up so far."