Ellen Under The Stairs (4 page)

Yes. Like the last two times he'd
returned from Stil-de-grain, he needed a haircut -- the style of
the other place longer than the way he wore his hair
here.

He'd have to do what he did before:
get in the Mazda and hustle across the breadth of Kansas City to a
barber shop where he'd be unlikely to be recognized, in that way
prevent questions about how his hair had grown so long over just
one weekend.

His plans made, John thumped down the
stairs, returning to the living room to find Platinia still curled
up where he'd left her, her dark hair spilled about her
head.

Asleep, she looked like a pretty ...
child.

Suddenly, John was lonely. A feeling
he'd had since coming to Kansas City last summer. This time, as
lonesome as he'd been at the time of his parents
accident.

Somehow, looking down at the sleeping
Platinia made him feel even more depressed than usual, the girl
serving as a reminder of his insularity.

John had another thought. What was he
to do with Platinia once she woke up?

John had changed clothes. Something
Platinia couldn't do because she had nothing to wear except what
she had on.

The responsibilities John had
undertaken by bringing Platinia to his world were beginning to dawn
on him. He must have been out of his mind in that tower room in
Hero castle, to think he was in love with Platinia! To be convinced
that the only thing he could do was bring her to this
world!

Nothing was quite "right" about the
other place, of course. He'd known that. But nothing quite as wrong
as dragging the forlorn Platinia home with him.

No help for that now. He had brought
her here and he must do his best by her until he could get her back
to her own "reality."

First, he'd need to go clothes
shopping for Platinia. Buy her dresses ... sweaters ... blouses ...
socks and shoes. To say nothing of underwear
............

Damn! Bringing Platinia here was like
a boy dragging a piece of meat at the end of a string so that the
"lost puppy" would follow him home, kids never thinking of feeding
the dog and taking it for "walks."

John looked at his watch. Eight
o'clock.

A half-hour would take him to a barber
shop south of the river, forty-five minutes for a haircut, and
another half-hour to get back. Plenty of time after that to drive
to Metro North Mall in time for its ten o'clock opening.

Platinia was asleep. No sense waking
her. He'd leave her a note to tell her where he'd gone
....

Not a note.

Platinia couldn't read.

John shook his head. There was no
denying that he was stuck with her for now, needing to let time
pass to insure Platinia's safety when she "landed" in that tower
room in Hero Castle.

There was nothing else to do, then,
but wake the girl and tell her where he was going.

An explanation that wasn't going to be
easy. Without the "translation magic" of the other world's light --
Platinia knowing but a few words of English -- it would be even
more difficult to communicate with the silent girl here in John's
world. On the other hand, since Platinia didn't have much of a
vocabulary in her own tongue ..........

Standing, sidling between the coffee
table and the divan, John bent down to shake Platinia's shoulder,
getting a sleepy grunt from the girl. He shook harder, Platinia
opening her dark eyes, fluttered them in an effort to
focus.

Awake at last, she tried to sit up --
but failed.

Band Sickness. Affecting Platinia more
than "heavy gravity" John.

She tried to sit up again, making it
this time, that frightened look telling him she'd figured out where
she was.

"I've got to leave now," he said as
gently as he could. "To get you some clothes."

No response.

"I must leave, but I'll be back after
awhile."

"Lea-ve?" She knew the word; was just
having trouble making her tongue work.

"To get you some more clothes to wear.
Shoes." John pointed. "Do you have a favorite color?"

She shook her head.

"OK. I'll get you
something."

"Home," she said in her tiny voice,
looking as sad as she was small.

"I'll get you home. But it will be a
few days. To make sure you'll be safe there."

She nodded winsomely. Seemed to accept
that she must stay in John's world for some time..

First things first. Helping to get the
girl on her feet, half-carrying her up the stairs to second, he
showed her the bathroom; drew her a warm bath, the girl pulling
back in terror when he'd first turned on the water, then seemingly
fascinated to see water gush from the spout. He'd explained how to
let the water out after she was through. And with a couple of
embarrassing demonstrations, got the purpose of the stool across to
her. Also the use of toilet paper, people in her world using
sponges attached to a stick, the sponge part washed in a bucket of
water inside what passed for outhouses. How did you explain an "in
house" to a young girl who'd never seen one?

He'd showed her his bedroom. Told her
she could go there after her bath and get some more rest. Got his
robe for her to wear.

And that was the best he could do
before his shopping trip.

First the barber. Followed by a trip
to the vet's boarding place to retrieve one highly indignant
Persian cat named Cream.

The last task -- clothes shopping for
a girl he hardly knew -- the most daunting of all!

* * * * *

A sound and Platinia was awake. Lying
there, she did not know where she was. Only that it must be
up-light because she could see the room. The walls a color.
Blue.

Walls should be of stone, or of mud
and straw, or of wood. She had never seen colored walls ... except
in King Yarro's palace in Stil-de-grain. But this was not the
palace.

The air was warm but dry. There were
smells of ... she did not know the smells.

She was lying on a wide, deep bed.
Lying on fine-woven covers. She had slept ... but was ... so
tired.

Then, as if a curtain had been pulled
back inside her mind, she knew where she was, her heart racing! She
was in bed in the other-world house of the Mage, John-Lyon. On the
bed, for she had been too tired after washing to get beneath the
blankets.

Suddenly, she knew the sound she had
heard! It was the closing of the door. She had heard it once
before. When the Mage had left her. The same sound could only mean
the Mage, John-Lyon had returned!

Platinia's body felt ... chained
down.

Her thoughts ... she did not know her
thoughts. And that was the most terrifying thing of all!

Trying to move caused her to remember
that she had Band Sickness.

As a test, she strained to lift her
hand, an unseen weight pushing her hand down again.

The first time she had Band Sickness,
she thought she was dying. But she was not. She had learned that
Band Sickness, though terrible, did not kill. With time, got
better.

As the door sound faded from her
sleepy mind, Platinia thought about all the things she did not
know. Starting with her childhood -- Platinia picking flowers under
the green sky of Malachite. She did have a sharp remembrance of the
robed priests of Stil-de-grain taking her away to be the sacrifice
of Tenebrae!

Platinia shuddered. What had always
been a terror in the night was being chained in the small, dark
room in Fulgur's temple. Locked away because she had been chosen to
be the sacrifice of Tenebrae, Lord of the dark. She had been made
his princess, to be tortured, eventually to be sacrificed to
strengthen Fulgur, Lord of light.

It was in that temple room, in the
dark, tortured, raped, chained up, that she had learned a secret --
though at that time she did not know the secret's name. That she
could use her mind to pick through another's thoughts to strengthen
those she wished. If someone in her presence was happy, she could
make them ... glad. If sad, make them feel more bad. Sometimes, she
could make a priest who wished to rape and torture her to choose
rape only, the lesser of the agonies.

Such a small defense. But all she had
against the terror.

Then, wonder of wonders, the soldiers
of King Yarro had come to Fulgur's temple to slaughter all the
priests and steal Platinia away! This was because King Yarro
suspected she was an etherial -- that was the name for her mind's
poor power -- Yarro wishing to control her to make her strengthen
his pleasures.

He had also raped her -- by herself --
and with others.

But had not hurt her as much as the
priests had hurt her.

Later, also learning of her power, the
old Mage of Stil-de-grain, Melcor, had come to Yarro's palace on
Xanthin island and stolen her away.

But the Mage had been killed by the
falling of a ceiling stone at the time of the coming to her world
of John-Lyon.

Materializing in the tower room like a
ghost that takes on flesh, finding the golden Mage-Crystal of the
newly crushed Melcor, putting on the Crystal, John-Lyon had become
the new Mage of Stil-de-grain, John-Lyon now owning
Platinia.

Platinia hated men! She hated the
priests who'd raped and tortured her! She hated King Yarro, the
king hurting her to make her serve him! She hated Melcor who broke
her to his well. And she hated John-Lyon! Hated any man who knew
she had the power of an etherial!

If she, alone, knew her secret, she
would be safe.

Lying there, caught between sleep and
wakefulness, Platinia heard another noise.

Soon, John-Lyon would climb the steps.
Finding her so weak, would this be the time he raped
her?

True, John-Lyon had not hurt her --
yet. But because all men of power had hurt her after learning of
her secret, she had tried to kill him many times, each time
failing. She had learned he could be hurt, though. She had also
learned that, if hurt enough, a Mage could die.

Melcor had died from a falling stone.
John-Lyon had almost died when she'd slipped into his room at night
to stab him!

Though the young Mage had not died,
all said he almost did. Golden had said it. Coluth had said it.
Everyone had said that.

No one knew she was the one who
stabbed John-Lyon.

She had set other traps for the Mage,
but he had escaped.

At last, something had happened to her
that had never happened before. Instead of fearing such a powerful
Mage, she found she felt ... warm ... and safe when he was in the
room. Felt sad and cold when he was not. She did not understand
these feelings and she did not understand them now. She had never
had such feelings for a man. Never! Men were dangerous. Men hurt
her to make her do any evil thing they wished!

Was this because she felt that
John-Lyon did not know her secret after all, that she was an
etherial; that she could make his pleasures strong?

Thinking and thinking, she could not
take the chance that John-Lyon did not know her secret, making him
dangerous enough for her to kill ... except she no longer wished to
kill him.

At the last, John-Lyon losing his
golden Crystal, the old Mage, Pfnaravin, had locked John-Lyon in a
strong iron cage.

Pfnaravin was an old and powerful Mage
who knew many things. For instance, he knew that Zwicia had Crystal
power.

Did Pfnaravin know Platinia was an
etherial? If so, she was in terrible danger! She could not have two
Mages controlling her. The only safe thing to do was kill them
both!

Since John-Lyon was in the cage --
helpless without his Crystal -- it was best that she kill him when
she could, Platinia bringing a cutting knife from the kitchen to
stab the Mage through the iron bars of his cage. But, slipping up
in the dark to do that, she had seen Coluth and his men take
John-Lyon from the cage.

Then, the men were running, John-Lyon
leading, one fire stone torch to show the way. Running to escape
Pfnaravin's soldiers.

Platinia knew where the Mage would go.
He would go to the tower room. He would go there so he could return
to his own world -- the frightening world where she was
now!

Knowing the castle better than
John-Lyon, she had reached the tower room before he and the other
men. Hiding in the shadows, she had seen the young Mage -- who,
without his magic Crystal, was a Mage no longer -- order the men to
block the hallway. Had seen the sailors hook a rope through the
roof so that all could climb.

Now that she was closer,
she recognized the men. One was Golden. Another was Coluth, captain
of the
Roamer
,
now the admiral. Others were Coluth's sailors from his
ship.

After the rest had climbed the rope,
John-Lyon had gone to the secret place within the wall. Had taken
something out. A strange something Platinia had never
seen.