Keepers of the Flame (16 page)

Incidentally,
Elizabeth learned other things. The Chevaliers she worked on were an
independent pair, which meant that they were poor and didn’t fly under anyone’s
banner, like Faucon’s people. The image of that man distracted her for a
moment, and she had to ask for elucidation of the lesson. The medicas were
waiving their fee because they were teaching her.

The
Chevaliers were pairbonded which meant marriage, and no stigma attached to
homosexuality in this culture, a very good thing.

And
the wounds were fearsome.

Elizabeth
had never seen anything like them and had to keep her breathing, her emotions
detached, her mind focused so she wouldn’t vomit.

She
learned from the medicas which “horrors” perpetrated each wound. Apparently the
Chevaliers had been unlucky enough to run into a combination of all three major
horrors.

The
long, deep and razor-thin slices were from “renders.” The easiest to mend with
Power. “Slayers” had duller claws but poisonous spines. Elizabeth helped flush
the poison from the Chevalier’s system, through the skin pores, which was gross
enough to remind her of her beginning days of med school. Little round bumps
left from “soul-suckers” showed a deadening of the skin around the wounds.
Physical life force had been drawn from that injury.

What
was even more incredible to Elizabeth was that sometimes the Chevaliers
wouldn’t get help if they felt the wounds weren’t severe enough.

Any
wound was dangerous in Elizabeth’s mind. The Lladranans had a different point
of view. A very, very tough people.

A
people who’d been at war for a long time.

B
ri woke from her
nap feeling restless. She tried to reach Elizabeth telepathically and was
reassured when she touched her twin’s sleeping mind. They’d be able to
communicate mentally, then. She wandered through the rooms, feeling like the
greatest fraud. This wasn’t her; usually she shared small rooms with other
women of her ilk. What would she do if she were in a new place on Earth? She’d
go out. Even if she was unsure of the language, she’d unpack then hit the
streets. Something was always going on outside if she didn’t want to stay in.

It
was a little melancholy to think that if she’d been back home in Denver, she’d
be tucked up in Elizabeth’s spare bedroom watching a favorite video. She’d
yearned for home, had made some life decisions and headed there, ready to put
her plans in action. How ironic that the moment she really wanted to be home,
she was here, in another new place.

Which
she didn’t know much about. Surely she’d understand more about the culture if
she went out and looked around. It was midafternoon and the sun had finally
come out, burning off wisps of mist and brightening pretty streets. Definitely
out.

What
did she want to carry with her? She had no money—zhiv, she’d learned that word;
her cell phone was useless. She wouldn’t get the feel of the people, couldn’t
interact well with her music player going. She had a fanny-pack for essentials
like tissue, chocolate, her Swiss Army knife. She’d have to be careful with the
chocolate, ration it if she was going to be here two months.

She
strode into the bedroom. A huge hamsterlike
thing
sat in the middle of
the bed. Worse, her cell, PDA, music player and digital camera were around him,
some in pieces.

She
shrieked and lunged for her electronic tools. The backs of her cell and her PDA
were off and various plastic and metallic guts spilled across the bed. Her
camera and music player looked untouched. She scooped up the PDA, camera and
music player and clutched them to her breast. Her PDA had lost its backup
battery and excess memory card. She stared at the creature. What was she going
to do?

To
her horror, the beastie snatched at the power source of her cell, put the
object in its mouth and
munched
it.
Hello
Brigid-who-likes-to-be-called-Bri. Your smell adds to the room.

Bri
staggered back to the wall, leaned against it, judged the distance to the door,
a few steps. She could run if she had to. Surely she could outdistance such an
animal. But it talked. Not simply an animal. “How do you know that?”

Because
I met your sister Elizabeth-who-dislikes-being-called-Beth and her name and
yours were in her mind.

Bri’s
mouth fell open but no more words came out. The…the…
being
…scrabbled
around in the heap of plastic and parts and picked out a memory chip. Bri
whimpered, but that didn’t stop it from showing four teeth and biting down hard
on the data storage, which disappeared into the enlarged hamster.

“What
are you?”

What
and who. I am a fey-coo-cu, a magical shapeshifter. I was once a hamster, brought
here by Marian, my companion
.

That
boggled the mind, Bri just couldn’t grasp it. She must be missing steps.
“What?”

Marian
brought me here and I ate some stuff
. With little digited plump paws it
indicated the remains of her electronics, eyed the ones she still held.

“Go
on,” she said, stuffing her electronics in her pockets. How glad she was now
that she hadn’t gotten an all-in-one PDA or phone!

No
, the being
said.

“No?”
she repeated faintly.

I
am very good at Exotique telepathy
. It preened and stroked its whiskers,
shifted to rub its fat belly and Bri noticed it was male. Did he have something
stashed in one of his cheek pouches?

None
of your data is gone. It is in me.
His mouth opened and rounded. “Hello,
twin, just informing you that all our plans went through. The trip for the
folks to Hawaii for Dad’s birthday is paid for and set. I bought a leather
carrier for the tickets to give him as a present.” Elizabeth’s voice projected
from the fey-coo-cu. A cheerful Elizabeth of several weeks ago, before her
breakup with the moron.

Bri
burst into tears.

The
hamster drooped.
Not again
.

Staggering
to the bed, she reached for her bag he’d rifled. At least he hadn’t taken any
of her food—probably only ate electronics. Pretty limited diet here. She
fumbled for a tissue, sobs still tearing from her throat. Sinking down on the
bed, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, avoiding the sight of the dead items
in the middle of the bed.

Suddenly
her lap was full of purring cat. She blinked, stared down at it, a long-haired
white Persian, perfectly groomed. Big blue eyes looked up at her, full of
sympathy. She found herself stroking the cat with one hand, even as she slid
the pockets of her robe behind her knees so the creature couldn’t get at them
or their contents.

I
am Tuckerinal. That is my mated name. My mate is a female fey-coo-cu native to
Amee. Her name is Sinafinal, and she is Alexa’s companion.

Something
the women
hadn’t
told the twins.

There
is much to say and talk and discuss when a new one of you comes
, Tuckerinal
chided in an arrogant cat-tone.

Bri
sniffed tears away, grabbed tissue and mopped up.

I
came to say hello to the other Exotique Medica, Bri-Brigid. Hello.
He smiled a
winning smile, revved the purr.

“Hello,
Tuckerinal,” she said thickly.

We
give our names only to the Exotiques and their mates.
He stood,
circled her lap, kneaded her thighs a little, then curled up again.
You may
call on us any time. Sinafinal likes to take more shapes than me.

Bri
found no reasonable, let alone brilliant, answer.

When
Marian gathered the magic to raise her Tower, she gave me excess and I grew and
became a fey-coo-cu. Before, my name was Tuck.
He butted her
hand and she rubbed behind his ears.

Marian.
Tuck. Hamster cheek pouches. It made sense.

Coughing,
she asked, “You really came to greet me?”

Elizabeth
was worried about you. She thought you might wander the streets.

Just
as she’d been about to do. She lifted her chin. “She didn’t say anything about
that to me.”

Tuckerinal
smiled a catlike smile, eyes twinkling.
I know English and Lladranan and
Exotiques and Lladranans and I like to explore. I can accompany you.

That
sounded…okay.

Then
he burped, sent a glance at her destroyed PDA and cell.

The
penny dropped. “You knew from Elizabeth that I had more good stuff than she
did.” Bri stood up and dumped the cat.

It
growled, sat, shot a leg up to groom in disdain.

“Oh,
yeah, that’s why you came.” She paced to the window, back to the bed, to the
window. People were out on the street, going about their business. She
had
to get out.

“You
owe me—” She turned and looked at the bed to find all the remnants of her
electronics gone and a miniature greyhound watching her.

Her
legs gave out. She grabbed the desk chair and sank into it. Rubbed her eyes.
“Oh, man.”

I
am not a man. I am a magical fey-coo-cu, and I do owe you
. A pink tongue
came out and swiped his muzzle.
Your nuts were most tasty. More wonderful
Songs.
He rippled out a few ringtones,
The Ride of the Valkyrie,
the
themes from James Bond and Harry Potter.

“Oh.
My. God.”

We
say, “By the Song.” I do owe you, and Elizabeth, too. She cried when Cassidy
said something.
Bri figured that Elizabeth had kept a voice message of Cassidy’s.

The
little greyhound was there at her feet, a paw stretching to touch her knee.

“I
want to go home,” she demanded.

Tuckerinal’s
paw withdrew.
You cannot. Not until the Snap
.

“Fulfilling
the task that brought us here.”

Curing
the sickness. Helping the Cities and Towns be a part of all Lladrana. I will
think on what I owe you, but tonight we will adventure together, yes?

Bri
studied the walls of the room, noticed that the trim was not a deep maroon but
more like another shade of purple. Yellow sunlight slanted through the wide
windows. There were people to watch, things to learn. Her feet itched.

She
stared hard at him. “I want your magical word of honor…” Did that sound crazy
or what? But the dog lifted a paw as if ready to vow. “That you will
not
touch my other nuts, um, electronics, my music player and my digital camera, in
any way!”

He
blinked.
They will die.

“No
they won’t.” She pointed to the pack. “That is solar powered—catches and
stores—”

I
know what solar powered is
.

“Don’t
you touch it!”

Giving
her a sidelong look, he sniffed at it, looked mournful.
This, too, would be
good to eat.

She
picked up her pack, took out the tissue, her coin purse, a pen and paper though
she usually used her PDA for notes. “You do not
touch
this, either.”

He
lifted his nose.
They will all die eventually
.

“That
may be, but you will not eat them.” She had no idea how long the batteries
would last. Months? Years? She was excellent at recharging them and had done so
the afternoon at Elizabeth’s. They’d been fully charged by the time she and
Elizabeth had left for Dad’s birthday party. She thought she’d taken only
twenty pictures or so.

She
didn’t know how long the solar panels that would charge the batteries would
last.

I
can show things.
He wriggled a little, motioned with the lifted paw and Bri saw a
three-dimensional hologram of Tower Bridge of London. Sort of. No road. No
river.

That
is Marian’s Circlet Tower
.

“Stop!”
Bri made the time-out sign. “Too Much Information. No more.”

The
dog panted.
Very well. Shall we go?

“You
didn’t promise. My electronics are very, very important to me, particularly my
digital camera. I don’t want you to touch them.”

He
sighed.
I will not.
Then his ears perked.
Though if you WANT to give
them to me before they die so I can keep the data, I will be happy to eat them
.

That
wrung a half-laugh from her. “Not going to happen.”

The
dog stood, shook himself.
Maybe. Maybe not.
There was a slyness in his
mind tone and his gaze slid away from hers. She remembered with a jolt and a
catch of her breath that this world was supposed to have prophecy.

Shall
we go? I will show you the Nom de Nom. It is a good place to start.

Bri
recognized the name, the place where Chevaliers hung out. “All right.” She
noticed something else—in all his forms, Tuckerinal was about a foot long.
Interesting factoid. “We’ll go. After you promise, you sneaky thing, you.”