-Chapter Eight-

There was no flattening heaviness waiting on the other side, and only one sun. Demonstrating the oddity of her circumstances, Karlene realized she was actually surprised to find she was still in the same world. The same city, even, based on the her surroundings. A man in a green waistcoat -waistcoat!- and purple jacket strode past her, a pair of cobalt blue-lensed glasses perched on his nose. His slicked pink-and-blue-and-purple hair looked like something she remembered sprouting from the rear end of one of her childhood little pony toys. She stared after him before a nudge from Rowe, who’d removed his hand, reminded her to keep her head down, literally.

Their group stepped down off of the platform they’d been transported to, just in time for another group arriving behind them in their own ashen vortex.

Outside the station, Karlene realized that if it was the same city, it was a very different part of the same city. The station behind her lacked the ornate mosaic of tiles on its domed roof, and the steps out front were not as clean swept as the first stations’ had been. The people around them, too, were less shiny and colorful, more like Sid and Nix and Rowe in clothing and demeanor.

“Not much longer,” he promised again. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and he looked back with a smile. Karlene looked at him with confusion. The longer she was with these men, the more confused she became.

She felt the beginnings of a new tightness in her chest, and some distant part of her mind realized she might be feeling the onset of a genuine panic attack. She could hardly be blamed; she’d just been transported at least cross-city, if not cross-continent, by something powered with blood. Blood like hers, if she had been putting the clues together. Obviously there was something about her, about her blood, that was required to make those runic circles do their relocation mojo. And apparently she wasn’t the only source, despite what she’d thought earlier that day in the great hall.

Karlene felt her hands trembling, and told herself it was just hunger. It had officially been at least twenty four hours since she’d eaten.

True to his word, at least, Rowe made them all stop at a street vendor selling split rolls of fluffy white bread stuffed with chopped sausages and what had to be onions, even if they were an odd purple-blue color. At least street food was street food, apparently no matter what world you walked on. The condiments were even properly red and yellow, though they tasted very little like the ketchup and mustard she suddenly craved.

Still, it was food, and hot, and actually very good. She ate as they walked, keeping her head down as much to preserve the pretense of docility as to hide how completely gross she was being about wolfing the wanna-be-hot-dog.

It was partially due to her dedication of keeping her head down that she saw it. The other part was because, while keeping her face hidden, she’d noticed the unnatural smoothness of the pavement and had found herself wondering what they used to pave their streets...

Then her foot landed right on a face she recognized.

She paused, blinking down at the poster stuck to the ground. It was odd not only because it was the only piece of trash she could see, but also because the face staring up at her was a perfect match to the dark-eyed youth she’d seen the day before. This version was smiling, well fed, and had teeth too damn straight and white for his own good, but it was definitely him. And goddamn if it didn’t have the look of a ‘wanted’ poster, even if she couldn’t read the strange writing.

“Hey!” She said, looking up sharply. For a wonder, her companions had kept going for a few steps. She pointed down at the poster. “Isn’t that-?”

Nix was in front of her in an instant, one hand shooting out to tangle in her hair and yank her forward, shoving her head down so hard her neck spasmed.

“Forget you saw that, if you value your tongue.” Nix released her as soon as he’d brought her back among them, Sid in front, Nix at her side and Rowe looming tangibly behind. By silent understanding, she kept her head down on her own. She’d seen Nix’s face the moment before Sid had reached her, and she was remembering now that these were not her buddies out for an alien planet stroll.

The knot of panic from earlier returned, this time paired with something hot and toxic; anger at herself. A few not-hostile smiles and a hot dog had apparently been enough to make her forget everything.

As they made their way back to the city’s main gates, she managed to sneak upward glances through her lashes and her hair, and now that she was looking for it, she saw the same poster on building walls and a few bulletin boards posted here and there. It was the man she’d seen bound to his horse the day before. She was sure of it.

When they were out of sight of the city guardhouse, Sid stepped away from her, but not before raising his hand and pinching his fingers together. Karlene’s wrists snapped together of their own accord. If his face looked regretful, she refused to see it. She’d forgotten, for a few moments, but then been reminded that she was here unwillingly. No matter what sort of fantastical place this was, she didn’t belong here and she intended to get home as soon as possible, any way she could, cuffs-oh-pain or no-cuffs-oh-pain.

Resolve renewed, Karlene didn’t fight them when they drew a circle and pulled her towards it. She hardly felt the knife when it reopened the sore knick on her wrist.

“Hold your breath,” Sid told her, a moment before she was dragged along into the smoke. She understood his instruction almost immediately, and was grateful her resentment hadn’t prevented her from listening. Water closed in all around her, not cold but comfortably cool after their sweaty hike through the wet greenery outside the Pyroxis. She peered through the dim water to see Sid and Row using those sticks again to etch another circle into the sandy bottom. A few moments later she was swimming into another grey cyclone.

“Much better,” Nix said to Sid when they emerged on the other side into clean, breathable air. “I half expected to end up in the bay again.”

Sid snorted. “It helps when I have the right tools,” he said. “And know where I am.”

They stood, now, in the same central hall they’d departed from earlier. It was empty aside from themselves and Milly, who came -stomped- towards them, flanked by a pair of drudges who carried towels and cups. Karlene watched them apprehensively, remembering the last time these people had given her a blanket and a cup. If they came at her, she’d throw the cup at Milly. Neither of the drudges offered anything to Karlene, however, and after a moment of shivering and dripping she changed her mind and wished for a towel, at least.

“Did she behave? What did she do?” Milly demanded, walking up to Karlene and seizing her face. Karlene jerked free, scowling. Milly reached for her again, her expression promising unpleasant things.

“Leave her be, Milly,” Nix grunted. “She did fine.”

Karlene looked at him. Fine? She’d been as docile as the lamb Milly to call her.

Milly looked disappointed, then shot a glower at Karlene’s wrists. At the cuffs. One of her hands twitched, as if she’d been wishing badly for a reason to form one of those pain-inducing signs again.

What was wrong with this woman? With all of them? What was wrong with her, that she was mildly grateful to Nix for saying something?

“We’ll bring her to the kitchens in a minute, Milly,” Nix told the woman. Milly looked affronted, and reached as if to lay physical claim on Karlene. Karlene stepped back, and Milly’s expression shifted to something apocalyptic.

“Milly.” Nix used a tone that reminded Karlene of Diom, the winged freak. Milly abruptly spun on a heel and marched out of the hall.

Nix came to stand in front of Karlene, and handed her his damp towel, gesturing to her hair.

“Now that you’ve seen what you’ve seen, do you understand?” Nix asked.

“I told you, Nix, the world we were stuck in doesn’t have-”

“I was there, too, Sid,” Nix said coldly. “I know what her world did and didn’t have.” He didn’t take his gaze from Karlene. “Well? Do you understand?”

“Bits and pieces,” Karlene said truthfully. “Somehow you...you use…” God, was she really going to say this out loud, like it was real? “You use...blood to power some sort of magic cross world travel.” She looked back and forth between Nix and the others.

“What else.”

“I… I’m thinking that not just any blood works. You...somehow got stuck in my, uh, my world. That’s what you were talking about, when you kidnapped me.” She pinned her stare on Sid. “That’s why you wanted to work for me. You needed information.”

Sheepishly, Sid nodded.

“And...here, in your world, people like me, people whose blood does...what it does… You keep them cuffed? Owned?” She held out her own silver-ringed wrists as examples.

“Close enough,” Nix said. “See?” He said to the other two. “Told you she’d learn.”

Rowe came up beside her to take her arm, and she got the abrupt impression that this was it. The explanation, or as much of one as she was going to get.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Karlene said, and dug her heels into the flagstones as Rowe tried to haul her forward. “I have some questions, you assholes.”

“No doubt,” Nix replied over his shoulder as he left. “But it’s Milly’s job to train new Droplings, not ours.”

New Droplings?

“Then what the hell was this little questionnaire about?”

“Just wanted to make sure you understood your new place. If we have to watch you like we just did every time we went out, things would get unpleasant.”

Dumbfounded, Karlene found her vocabulary abruptly zeroed out as Rowe patted her on the shoulder, then led her to the kitchen.

Of course, Milly was waiting.

Karlene debated on ignoring the woman’s tapping foot and heading straight for her cellar. She opted to come to a halt just out of Milly’s reach, glaring murderously and expecting pain.

Milly just grunted and gestured to a long trestle table that ran the length of the wall to their left. Most of it was occupied with various food prep stations, but the end of it was left open, assumedly as a place for people to actually eat. There was a large pot of something steaming next to a platter of brown, burnt loaf ends. The wanna-be-hot-dog suddenly seemed forever ago. The hike out of the city and back to their rune-circle site had been long and hot.

Karlene went and sat at the table. She eyed Milly suspiciously, but the woman turned to bark an order for another drudge to keep an eye on her, then left.

Seeing no plates or bowls or even a spoon, Karlene reached for a loaf end and hollowed it out with effort; it was like trying to scrape sandpaper. She used the rock-hard crust to scoop up some of what was in the pot, using it like a cross between a shallow cup and an overgrown spoon to bring it to her mouth. She ate without pausing to look at it- that way led to squeamishness, and she was still too hungry to let her pickiness deprive her of a meal. It wasn’t until the third scooping of some sort of congealing gruel and bland vegetables that the crust softened enough to be eaten. The stuff actually wasn’t that bad, if she ignored the burnt bits.

Someone plopped down next to her, startling her badly enough she dropped her crust into the pot, with no fondue fork to be seen. She reached for another loaf end at the same time she looked at her new dining guest. She dropped her crust again.

“Here, let me help, you seem to be struggling,” said the newcomer with a grin, reaching past her to grab two loaf ends. Agile fingers made quick work of hollowing them, letting the dry crumbs pile up on the table. By the time Karlene had found her tongue again, he’d filled one hollowed loaf end with more porridge and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said automatically. Now that she was up close to him, she recognized the bound man from the day before, and realized his hair wasn’t the monotoned dark she’d thought. The topmost layers were dyed a deep indigo blue, while the longer bottom layers were black. The only other people she’d seen with hair of any color other than the natural tones had been the rainbow people in Pyroxis.

If her staring bothered him, he didn’t show it. He just finished hollowing out his own crust and tucked into the pot without restraint. She wondered if he’d been fed since his arrival. Even if he had, it obviously hadn’t been enough. Looking at him, she was surprised she’d recognized the man in the poster as being him.

And it was him, she thought, even now that she was comparing this thin, unshaven, unwashed, uncombed individual to the smiling white-toothed man in her memory of the poster. She’d always been good with faces, a talent honed by watching her mother study how best to take and give descriptions of uncaught criminals.

Slowly, an idea began to form. Now that she thought about it, it hadn’t looked like a ‘wanted’ poster, but a ‘missing’ poster. She had seen no other such postings on the buildings or poles, so someone important enough to have their image spread through a major city in the hopes of him being spotted would be important… Probably.

“Come here often?” She asked. Without anything else to go on, she’d defaulted to her usual way of getting to know strangers- discern their type of humor, or if they even had any sense of one.

He paused in the midst of chewing, arm extended to scoop out more colorless mush. He blinked at her, then the corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned.

“My first time, actually,” he responded. “The place was highly recommended. The actual food leaves something to be desired, though.” He brought another crust-full to his mouth.

Karlene made the mistake of actually looking at what she was eating as she glanced at the loaf heel he’d handed her. She grimaced, glad she’d managed to eat so much before seeing the suspicious lumps of grey and moldy green, then handed it back to him. He ate it without hesitation.

“It does seem a little low class,” she said, keeping the story going. “Especially for someone important enough to have so many people looking for him.”

He paused again, then sighed before finishing the few bites left in his hand. He brushed his fingers off on his already soiled shirt, then turned to face her. He gave a sort of half bow while seated.

“Well played,” he said. “A trade, then?”

She hesitated. She had the sudden impression he thought she knew more than she did. Oh, hell. With an effort, she kept her reply smooth. “A trade for what?”

“I know, for what you know. You’ve been in touch with civilization more recently than I, apparently.”

“Only by a day.”

“I was caught more than a month ago,” he said flatly. “The time required to travel would have been significant even if we had not been traveling in secrecy. I have not seen so much as a fishing village in weeks. I was kept blindfolded until we reached the gates.”

Caught? Was he one of those red-belted, ear-charmed drudges, one that had escaped?

“All right, then. I can help there. As for where we are, it’s a stone fort on a cliff overlooking a bay, facing the setting sun.”

“How many towers?”

“Uh, two? I think.”

He nodded. “Alochien Keep, probably.”

That meant nothing to Karlene, so she kept going. “As for the who, I was brought by the three men who seem to live to lick Diom’s boots. Nix, Sid, and Rowe. There’s an old cow named Milly that apparently was besties with someone named ‘Mynda’ who I’m supposedly somehow replacing. That covers what I know,” she said, thinking, which is next to nothing. “What about what you?”

“What I know is how a rescue would most likely be executed,” he said. Karlene took in the set of his mouth as he formed the words, and knew not to bother asking him to elaborate.

“If we work together,” he continued. “I can try to see you are taken out of here, put in a proper household. I might even be able to negotiate a contract to allow you to keep your Als’canil.”

Her heart pounding, she skipped over the things he’d said that made no sense -which was most of what he’d said- and gambled with what she did understand.

“A proper household? Like the Astix? Or the Izihal?” She hoped she’d recalled the travel-station woman’s pronunciation correctly.

The man stiffened, and he narrowed thickly lashed eyes at her. Karlene felt the urge to bolt, and instead grasped the edge of her bench seat her so hard her fingernails bit into the dry wood.

“So they are involved in this?” He said, half to himself. His finger tapping had gotten quicker, and now he was glancing around them, as if making sure there was no one near enough to overhear.

Karlene forced a casual shrug. Another breath passed between them, and the man let loose a quiet laugh.

“Well played, indeed. Very well. If I get you out of here, and into the best situation a dropling could hope for, you will tell me all you know about Astix and Izihal’s involvement.” There was something in his eyes, a glint of excitement that hadn’t been there before. “Agreed?”

Karlene licked her lips. One gamble had paid off, she thought. Why not try her hand at a second round? For the first time, she understood the lure of poker.

“There’s one more thing I need,” she said. Since she had no intention of being ‘placed’ anywhere other than her mom’s kitchen, she felt no guilt about demanding more.

The excitement in his eyes brightened, and he nodded tightly.

He liked games of chance, too, it seemed.

Karlene reached out and gripped his arm, the one resting on the table, her fingers digging in.

“I need,” she hissed, lowly so as not to be heard. “Someone to tell me what a damn dropling is!”