"Let me check," Slick said. "A math prof, you said?" He fetched a cellular phone.
"I think. He's got to know all about the Mandelbrot set, and Julia sets, fractals, that sort of stuff, and be able to explain it to me. And he's got to be right. No guessing."
Slick placed a call. "Give me the prof," he said. "No, no name, sister. Just get him." There was a pause. Then: "You know who. I got a deal. You know the Manbrot—right, Mandelbrot—you can tell all about it? You can explain it to a teenager? Yeah, she's smart. Naming the parts? Okay, you satisfy her, and it's paid. Tomorrow. Day after?" Slick glanced at Colene, who nodded. "Okay. Day after. No, no catch; it's just something I want. I'll bring her to you. Noon." He ended the call.
"Just like that, a math prof?" Colene asked, impressed.
"He owes the syndicate. A lot of good citizens do. I'll have them cancel the balance. It's a good deal, for him."
"And what's the deal for me?" Colene asked, knowing that there would be a real price to pay, and that she would have to pay it. Slick might like her, but this was business.
"Good deal for you too. She's in the same city as the prof. Sis works for the university there." He turned a hard glance on her, and Colene felt a trill of fear. Slick was being nice, but he was a killer. "First, you don't tell anybody."
Colene ran her finger across her own throat. No talking. "Who's 'she'?"
"Second, you really have to try."
"Sure I'll try. But what? I don't want to get into—"
"No sex. No blood. Just find out something for me."
"But you're the one who finds things out!" Colene protested.
"Not this time. She's my niece—my sister's child. About your age. Maybe the one good thing in my life, only she isn't in my life; Sis won't let me near her. You know why. I think she's going to kill herself. I want to save her. You talk to her. Find out what's with her. Who's making her hurt. Give me that name."
And if that name had to be killed, it would happen, Colene realized. Slick was a professional; he thought in terms of killing problems. So the girl would have no more trouble.
"Slick, I've got to tell you, killing won't solve some problems. If she's suicidal—"
"You know about suicide," he said.
"Yes. But what I mean is, once a girl's been, say, raped, killing the man won't make that rape go away. I might find out something you don't want to know."
"Then find out how I can make it right for her. Anything. That girl's got to be set right. I'm dirty, but she's got to be clean."
"She may be dirty too," Colene said.
"No. She's clean. Like you."
"Listen, Slick, I'm dirty! I got had by four men, and I can't ever wash that filth out of me. It's not so much my body, it's my mind. They shit on my innocence."
"I know it. But you're a fighter. Esta's not. You talk to her, help her be clean. Tell me how. How I can fix things for her."
"This may be like fishing a snowball out of hell. I'm afraid of what I'll have to tell you."
"You want that Mandelbrot info?"
Colene sighed. "Well, I warned you. She may be as far into her situation as you are in yours. She may not even talk to me. All I can promise is to try."
"You try," he agreed. "That's the deal."
"That's the deal."
"You may need money," he said. He walked to the picture, pushed it aside, and worked the combination to the safe. Colene saw Provos watching. This was what she had remembered.
He gave Colene a wad of bills. "Save Esta," he said.
Colene stared at the wad, her eyes refusing to focus on the bills. It had to be more money than she had known existed. "Slick, what is this? You hardly know me, and—"
"I know you're the gutsiest little girl this side of hell," he said. "The money doesn't matter any more. Just do the job, and you can keep that roll or throw it away."
Colene shook her head. "There's got to be something I'm missing. You could hire an army of psychiatrists for this! You don't need me."
He gazed at her a moment, considering. "I'll level with you, kid. I don't have much time. I made a mistake, and there'll be a contract on me before long. I have to go far away. So I can't mess with others, and I can't stay here to watch my niece. I have to make it right for her now, while I can. Your showing up right now—it's almost like a message from God. Maybe He knows this is my only chance to do some good before I get blown to hell."
Blown to hell. He was not speaking figuratively. He expected to be killed, and to be in hell. His "mistake" must have been to kill a wrong person, maybe a ranking mobster. It might take the mobster's henchmen a while to figure out just which hired hit-man had done it; then they would act, and it wouldn't be pretty. So this really was Slick's last plane out, as far as helping his niece.
It was a motive Colene could trust. She knew about wrapping things up in this life, before leaving it.
"Let's go." Colene hoped that Provos would be able to help in this too, because it promised to be difficult. She knew just how tricky it could be to talk about suicide to a suicidal girl.
Slick took them back to his car and drove for an hour, to the city of Chickasha. "Take a hotel room for the night," he said. "Two nights. As long as you need. Bring her there, if you have to."
"But what about you? Does she know you? I mean—"
"Kid, I'm under court order not to see her. I love her, and I watch her, and I help her how I can. Her bike's broken, so she has to walk home from school, and no one mugs her.
They know. But if I get near her, she's in trouble, and I don't want that."
Colene considered. "Let me make sure I have this straight. You know her, she knows you, you never molested her—"
"I never touched any child," he said. "My business's my business, but I'm no pervert. That's why I was glad to see you get off last month. I couldn't interfere, because it was your challenge, and you showed you were savvy, but I kept thinking of Esta. But my sister—I can't blame her for not wanting her daughter to associate with the likes of me."
"Okay. But maybe Esta would be better off with you than what she's in now."
"Not with my business! She doesn't know about that, and I don't want her to. She thinks I live too far away to see her. And I do—but not in distance."
Colene was intrigued. She suspected she shouldn't push her luck, so she did. "You figure you're not good enough for your niece?"
"I know it," he said seriously.
"But suppose maybe, just maybe, you could, well, take over, and be her parent-figure, and she'd be like your daughter. You'd have to take her to the dentist and foot the bills for her braces and see that she got in from dates by eleven pee em or be grounded and go to PTA meetings and make her keep her grades up—all that dull stuff parents have to do—and finally she'd grow up and get married and move far away and you'd only get postcards from her any more, but her kids would call you Granddad when they visited. How'd you feel about that?"
He spread his hands on the wheel. "That would be heaven. I've never had a life like that, and never will. I'm locked into what I have. I'm good at it, but I don't enjoy it. I'd have quit long ago, if I could." He smiled grimly. "And now I will, only maybe not the way I wanted."
She was surprised. She had assumed that he did what he did because he liked it. Or at least because he liked the money it paid. Yet now it seemed that he envied ordinary people their routine lives. Somehow he had gotten trapped, and could only dream of change. That had been the case with her, before Darius came, and the Virtual Mode.
"Where can I reach you?"
Slick gave her his business card. It had no name or address, just the phone number. "Just say your name when you call," he said. "They'll put your message through."
Colene realized that any person who had to ask Slick's business wouldn't want his business. The man was a contract killer. Yet she liked him, and if she wasn't fooling herself, she was picking up his sincerity about Esta from his mind. Also, Provos was not protesting, which meant that
things would work out okay. In fact, Provos herself seemed to like him. People with what amounted to telepathy and precognition could walk safely through the most hazardous regions and relationships.
Then another thought made her nervous again. This was the science reality. Magic didn't work here. So how could Provos remember the future? How could Colene have telepathy? Were they fooling themselves?
But these things were working. She knew it. Provos had proved her ability, and Colene knew the difference between fancy and reality. Special abilities did not either work or not work in different realities; they might be partial or qualified. Seqiro's telepathy was reduced in range on Oria, but otherwise complete. Provos' future memory seemed to be constant no matter where she was, limited only by her time in a given reality. Darius had lost his sympathetic magic in the reality of the DoOon that they had escaped by freeing its anchor, but had retained some of his emotional transfer ability. On Oria he had lost the transfer and recovered his other magic. So it was different for each person in each reality. It just had to be tested. Magic didn't work here on Earth, but the more subtle things might.
The car stopped at a school yard. It was now early afternoon. "She gets out in ninety minutes," Slick said. "You can meet her when she walks home. Maybe she will think you're a new student, or one she hasn't met."
Colene glanced at Provos. "Will this work?" she asked.
The woman seemed to understand her question from her memory of the future. She nodded affirmatively.
Colene returned to Slick. "But if you figure it's this easy, what's this business about money for a hotel room?"
"You need a base. Where you can talk. Maybe not a hotel. I always take a room when I travel. Whatever you need."
Colene brought out the money, which she hadn't really looked at before. The top bill was a hundred dollars. Under it were more of the same denomination. There could be several thousand dollars here. That made her nervous for a new reason. She had never carried such an amount before.
Then she got a notion. "Provos, you carry it."
The woman's hand was already extended. She took the money and put it out of sight.
Colene's mind oriented on the next problem. "Maybe I can walk with her, but I can't just take her away with me. Her folks would miss her and give the alarm."
"Latchkey," Slick said. "She's alone for three hours."
"Then I can talk to her at her house."
"Maybe. Whatever works."
Colene nodded. She could make do. "How close is this hotel?"
"A mile."
She still wondered why he thought she needed a room for the night. But it seemed feasible. "Okay, let's get that room."
He started the car and drove them to the hotel. It was a fine modern building, surely expensive. The need for the money was becoming more credible.
Colene and Provos entered the lobby and proceeded to the desk. Now it was time for some business Darius wouldn't have liked. But Darius didn't know a lot about life in this reality.
Colene spoke to the clerk. "My aunt and I need a room. She's from another country; she doesn't speak English. She doesn't use banks either; just cash. You have any problem with that?"
The clerk took it in stride. He accepted hundred-dollar bills for the double room and gave them change. He did not protest when Colene guided Provos' hand for the signature on the bill. It occurred to Colene that some of the criminal types might use this hotel, so the personnel had learned to cope. Money was money.
The suite was beautiful. There were two big beds, a bathroom fit for a sultan, and a huge color TV set. A picture window looked out toward the school. "Gee, I hope we have reason to stay here the night!" Colene breathed.
That made her think of Darius. How she would have loved to get him into a room like this, all sumptuous and private, and tempt him until he just couldn't stand it any more. Of course if she succeeded in seducing him, she would lose, because it wasn't sex she wanted, but love. Yet she had to keep skirting that thin edge, risking what she feared. It was her nature. So she would have fought to make him get sexual, and been happy in her frustration when she failed.
But the notion of his getting sexual with any other woman was another matter. There was no temporizing there, no confusion of feelings: she didn't want it. That Nona was too damned pretty! But at least her boyfriend Stave was there, and Stave was a sort of handsome, sort of decent hunk of young man. So Colene didn't need to worry about that. And if there were demons in that underworld they were going to, well, demons were ugly creatures. Maybe in fantasy a demoness was luscious and seductive, but she was pretty sure that wouldn't be the case in real life. And even if the demoness was sexy, what would she want with an ordinary mortal man? So Darius would not be facing any temptation there. He might get cut to pieces and eaten for supper, but not seduced. That was a relief.
A relief? What was she thinking of? Darius had had women galore in his home reality before he met Colene. She loved him anyway. She'd certainly rather have him seduced than dead! She knew he loved her, and that was what counted. She could survive her own jealousy and frustration, but she couldn't survive his loss. All the same, she hoped there were no luscious creatures down inside that world.
Provos was already stripping her clothes. "But we have to go see Esta!" Colene protested. "We've used up most of our free time—"
The woman ignored her. Then Colene realized that this was her answer: they would be here for the night, and she would go alone to meet Esta. Provos really had no business on that excursion.
"Okay. I'll see you later," Colene said. "I guess you know how to turn on the TV. And you know not to go outside this room."
She heard the water of the shower running. Provos was handling Earth okay.
Colene went back out to Slick. "Okay, we're set. I'm ready for Esta."
Slick nodded and started the car.
CHAPTER 12
DUEL
NONA stared at the multitude of the rabble. Directly before her was the one who was emulating her, still distressingly naked. Beside that one was the imitation Darius, looking so exactly like the original that without the help of the horse's mind-magic she would not have known the difference. Indeed, she had not known, until it became apparent that the imitations could not talk in the manner of the originals. Beyond these was a massive throng of people in brown cloaks, male, female, and animal. Some of the animals were horselike, and some were doglike, but others were unlike anything seen on the surface. What were the true forms of the human rabble? Were they like those animals?
One thing was clear: a physical escape was impossible, unless certain conditions were met. If the rabble chose to let them through, or if Seqiro penetrated their minds and changed their wills, or if Darius conjured them out, or if Nona used her magic to float them over the heads of the rabble and away. But it was best not to reveal the nature of the assorted powers of the group. Not until it was a last resort.
Keli came out. "We have tried to make you want to breed with us," she said. "It is better if you want it. But you must do it regardless. Please do it with me now, because you would not like it as much if we have to make you do it."
"But surely they can't make us breed against our will," Nona said. Yet she feared that something like this was in the mind of the rabble, for attempts had been made to seduce each of the four of them.
Stave glanced at her. "The despots do."
"But even with the despots, a person has to agree, or suffer privation," she argued.
"They can make us suffer privation," he pointed out. "They are many and we are few, and they possess the food."
Nona realized that it was true. If they lacked the resources to escape without showing their powers, they also lacked the resources to maintain their independence. They would indeed be subject to the will of the rabble, in much the way they were subject to the will of the despots on the surface. The rabble did not possess superior magic, but did control the nether geography.
Still she argued against
it. "A thousand breedings—I do not want even one! If I did, it would be with Stave, not with any of these creatures."
"Thank you," Stave said, and there was a surge of joy from him that showed how strongly he desired such a union. "But I fear they are about to use force."
Seqiro must have translated that thought for Keli, because she responded to it. "Yes, we shall make you do it now. You must breed."
"You will starve us until we agree?" Nona asked. It would be a while before they grew hungry, during which time they could plan their escape. In fact, she could make food for them out of hairs or fingernails; anything organic would do, to make anything else organic. But if the rabble discovered that, they would take other steps, and those could be less comfortable. The despots, too, had ways and ways, and could break most peons to their will in time without even using magic, if they chose.
Keli looked at her as if she were naive. So, disturbingly, did both Stave and Darius.
"What am I missing?" she asked, alarmed.
Both men turned away.
"You, Seqiro," she said. "Tell me."
Colene could tell you, the horse thought.
"But Colene is not here. You must tell me, so that I know what we face." She did not like the mood here.
A picture formed in her mind: Seqiro was sending her the memory of an image. In it was a woman, a girl, garbed in clothing unlike that of Oria: not a red tunic, but a two-part outfit with blouse and skirt. The concepts came to her from the memory, though she had never worn such items. Then there was a man too, closing the door to the chamber. There was a bed; this seemed to be a sleeping chamber.
The girl had no clear image. Nona realized that this was because it was Colene's memory of herself. She did not see herself from outside, but from inside; she was aware of what she wore, but could not see her own face unless she gazed in a mirror. But apart from that, she was somewhat fuzzy in the mind. What could account for that?