Worldwielder, page 7
She could think of only one explanation, absurd though it was. But she had to find out for sure.
Dulce laughed. Dez snickered. “Not so smart a pleeska after all,” she said. “On thees world, you can only tell thee truth.”
Melissa frowned. “You mean I can't lie?”
“Thees eet, pleeska.”
She could see Dez wasn't lying to her, but she wasn't prepared to believe something so ridiculous, not without some kind of evidence.
Dulce snickered. “Thee pleeska don't believe. Go aheed, pleeska, try to lie.”
“Okay. I love… basketball.” The words came without any resistance. Lying was as effortless as ever.
Dulce beamed. “You see, pleeska? Notheeng but thee truth!”
If any suspicion had remained in Melissa’s mind, she now knew they couldn’t mind-sense. For a moment, she was tempted to explain that it wasn’t the truth, but she quickly reconsidered. Better they think she could only tell the truth, however deluded was their notion that a world could do that to people.
But maybe it wasn't so deluded.
The idea reminded her of the graying, during which no one but her and Luud had been able to see what was happening. Could it be that Dez and Dulce were right, and the world of Veritas made people tell the truth, but she was immune to its effect just as she'd been immune to the graying?
“What ees baskeetball?” Dulce asked after a minute.
“Who cares. Sometheeng pleeskas do on Prota.”
At the very end of the hallway, they came to a worn wooden door with a handwritten sign on it that said Earl Normanson: Chief Accidental Officer. It stood in sharp contrast to every other area of the base, which had been stylish and modern.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and mustiness. A pudgy man snored in a chair behind a desk. Dez kicked a leg of his chair and he awoke with a violent heave, mumbling something about “just one more glazed…” No doubt he was referring to the stack of half-eaten donuts on a plate on the desk.
He directed a stunned gaze at each of the room's new occupants, speaking only once he'd taken them in head to toe twice. “You, uh, must've taken a wrong turn. Rogue Rezeurs is up—”
“Thee pleeska ees an acceedental,” Dez said, her tone making it clear she wished they had taken a wrong turn.
The man perked up. “An accidental? Really? Wow. Here, uh, she can sit there.” He gestured to a chair in the center of the room, which Dez shoved Melissa into, forcing her to slip off her backpack and set it on the floor.
“Ees good to see you too, Earl,” Dez said, her voice dripping in sarcasm.
But it wasn't her voice that made Melissa jerk her head over to face the woman. It was the amber flicker in her mind—Dez's sarcasm was the same as a lie. A lie, on Veritas. Melissa didn't know what to make of that, so she said exactly what was on her mind, “You're lying.”
Dulce raised a pair of thin eyebrows and looked to her sister. “Thee pleeska ees clever for a pleeska.”
Dez sniffed. “Perheeps. Leetle good eet do her.”
Melissa's mouth was halfway open in query, her curiosity unsatisfied, when the nearby activity of Earl stopped her. He was rounding the desk in her direction, and in his hands was a frightening object. It was rectangular, black, about a foot square, and in its base was an opening. A head-shaped opening. If these facts alone hadn't served to give Melissa an instantaneous panic attack, there was the way he was lifting it, angling the opening towards her. She shrank back in the chair and tried, without much success, to protest whatever was about to happen.
Dez, meanwhile, was giving the object a bemused frown. “We already check, Earl. She ees not haveeng an aegis. Thee pull ees workeeng on her.”
For a moment, Melissa was so grateful she wanted to hug Dez. But only a moment, because Earl shrugged and said, “It's policy,” and Dez did nothing more to help.
Then, before Melissa could scramble aside, Earl shoved the black thing over her head. Air, light, and soundness of mind left her in the same instant. A cold, wet, gelatinous substance impelled her head upon all sides. She attempted to scream, but it only resulted in the interior of her mouth being included in the wet thing's mucilaginous embrace.
She thrashed about, choked, and realized she was about to suffocate.
NINE
Against all odds, Melissa didn't suffocate. In a few seconds, Earl yanked the black thing from her head, and she fell forward in the chair, coughing and spitting on the floor.
Earl, meanwhile, was examining a screen on the side of the device. “Huh. She's clear.” He turned and patted Melissa on the shoulder. “It's your lucky day.”
She paused her gagging long enough to shoot him a death glare. If it bothered him, he didn't show it.
Upon returning to his desk, he shoved a pair of glazed donuts into his mouth and chewed noisily. It was only then Melissa noticed the tick protruding from the skin just behind his right ear. But it wasn't a tick, was it? It was bigger than a tick, nastier than a tick. And it was exactly the same as the thing she'd seen on Luud's neck.
A sudden absurd suspicion overtook her, and her eyes darted to the commensurate location on Dez and Dulce's necks. They bore the same peculiarity. Perhaps the very peculiarity that had exempted Luud from the graying. Could this be what Dez had just called an aegis?
Melissa was torn from her thoughts as the door opened. The others in the room were just as surprised, though for different reasons. All three snapped to attention upon seeing the newcomer, Earl making a mess out of dropping his latest doughy delicacy in the process.
A stiff silence descended as the door-opener strode in and took stock of the place. He was a big man whose presence was even bigger, an indisputable authority oozing from him. Like Dez and Dulce, he wore leather armor, though his was emblazoned with gold epaulets and a slew of other decorations. His face, framed in a sharp gray beard, exhibited the gruff gaze of a man burdened with weighty responsibilities. Above all, there was something comfortingly normal about him.
Melissa liked him before he'd opened his mouth. She liked him even more after he'd opened his mouth.
“Abe Zusman. You must be Melissa?” he said, making a beeline for her and extending a burly hand. She nodded and took it. His grip was warm and firm.
“Nice to meet you. Welcome to Veritas.” Their introduction complete, he turned to Earl and leveled a finger on the rotund man. “Why aren't you typing? Unless I'm much mistaken, you've got a long report to fill out.”
This sent Earl into a frenzied scramble, rife with excuses and apologies.
Zusman silenced him with a gesture and turned to Dulce. “Get me some coffee. No accouterments. Just the mud. Black.”
Dulce was out the door in a blink. In the next moment, Dez, who'd been wearing a displeased frown from the moment Zusman had arrived, began to speak up. “Meester Zusman boss sir, why ees you here? There ees no need—”
“Dez, stay put and keep your mouth shut.” He spoke the words with such authority that Melissa couldn't help but stiffen in their presence.
Dez gulped and obeyed.
Zusman turned to the door. “Come on in, Zhang.”
A newcomer revealed himself, entering and taking up a lazy lean against the wall within. This man was much younger, though it was hard to tell his precise age or much at all of what he looked like, due to the unkempt, jet-black hair hanging over his face. He folded his arms and said nothing.
With an apologetic sigh, Zusman pulled up a chair opposite Melissa and planted himself in it. “I do apologize about that, Melissa. Now, we're gonna get this little misunderstanding cleared up quick as we can and send you on home. Sound like a plan?”
All she could do was nod. Her lingering discomfort from the black thing was by now entirely forgotten, as were any and all fears of what these people might do to her. Zusman's warm confidence had sent them scattering. Here was a man who could help her find Kyle. She was sure of it.
“I just need you to answer a few short questions. First of all, did Earl check you for an aegis?”
Earl paused his key-clacking long enough to interject. “I did!”
Melissa thought to scan Zusman's neck then. Sure enough, he too had a tick-like protrusion behind the ear. She frowned. “What's an aegis? Is it—?”
He barreled on as though oblivious to her words. “Melissa, I know you've been asked this question before, but I just need to verify. Is it correct that you have never, prior to today, visited the Gallery?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Good. Good.”
She thought she detected a tinge of relief coloring his mind then, as though the prospect of any other reply frightened him. More intriguing was the way he'd believed her without a trace of suspicion, just after checking to ensure she didn't have one of these aegis things. Now Melissa was quite certain of her theory. An aegis was some kind of protection… for the mind.
Zusman turned to Dez. “The locutor.” This in hand, he returned his attention to Melissa and held the object out in front of him. “I know you must be confused about a few things, and I assure you we'll explain everything in due time, but right now it is imperative you tell me exactly how you used this device.”
“I just… put my hand in it.”
He gave her a questioning frown.
“It was an accident,” she stammered, not sure what else to say.
Zusman nodded. “And where did you find this device?”
Melissa paused with her mouth half open, weighing carefully her next words. He'd believe them, she knew, whether or not they were the truth. “I stole it,” she said.
Zusman's mind went green and he recoiled a fractional amount. In another second, he'd recovered his composure, but the shadow of surprise still hung about him. When he spoke again, his voice had taken on a cold edge. “Did you steal it from him?” He jerked his head in the direction of Zhang, who remained in repose against the wall.
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“A man named Luud.”
“Luud. Huh.” Zusman chewed on the name a moment, turning to Earl. “Earl. The list.”
Earl scurried into action, tearing drawers free of his desk and upending stacks of papers on the floor until, from the midst of them, he extracted one and offered it to Zusman, who in turn held it out to Melissa.
“I want you to look at these pictures carefully and tell me if any of them bears any resemblance to the man you stole the locutor from, okay?”
She took the paper. Atop it, in large letters, were the words WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE. The rest of the page was taken up by a grid of mugshots, a few lines of text beneath each. Vit Slavomir was wanted for interworld smuggling of illicit objects, Sakura Rikuto for attempting to enter a halok world, Ugo Mari for assault of a G and locutor theft, Mali Intara for desertion and crossworld contamination. And at the very top of the page, in larger letters that drew Melissa's eyes, was a man by the name of Ringo Slade. He was middle-aged, dark-skinned, and had the weariest face Melissa had ever seen. He was wanted for the murder of six Gs.
“What are Gs?” she asked, looking to Zusman.
He tapped the paper. “Finish the list.”
She scanned the remainder of the mugshots, at last handing the paper back to Zusman. “None of those are Luud.”
He stared at her a handful of uncomfortable seconds before speaking. “Ringo here, he's been on the run from us a long time. Killed six of our own. We almost caught him once, but he got away.” A pained expression cracked his features, his mind turning the indigo of regret. “He had his arm torn off. Got it reattached I expect, but the scar would be a beauty.” With a finger, he traced a wide circle around his shoulder.
Melissa shivered. “Why are you—?”
“Because he may have modified his appearance. He might not look like the picture.” His question, unspoken, hung in the air. Melissa didn't need to see his mind to read the anticipation he felt. She knew what answer he wanted.
But she had to shake her head. “I didn't see Luud's shoulder.”
Zusman emitted a frustrated sigh, the paper crumpling in his coiled fist. He tossed it upon the floor and snapped his head in the direction of Dez. “Go find your sister and my damn coffee. Now.”
Mind faintly green, she scurried out of the room. Zusman rubbed his eyes and aimed a weary gaze at Melissa. “Congratulations Melissa, you've complicated things. Going to be a slight delay on that getting-you-home business. Now, why don't you tell me why you stole the locutor from Luud.”
Melissa hesitated again. Zusman's irritation played a part in it, but she also had the absurdity of her story to thank, what with its invisible messages and kidnapped boys and attempted murders at knifepoint and gray minds. Would it sound as ridiculous to him as she feared?
Zusman grew impatient. “Well, come on then. Out with it.”
He'll believe you, however ridiculous it sounds. He has to. He thinks you can't lie.
So, she took a deep breath and spoke. She told him everything, leaving out only the grayings and anything to do with her mind-sensing. Above all, she tried to make it abundantly clear how important it was that she find Kyle, though she worried her pleas would be no more effective than those of the babbling man she'd seen led into Rogue Rezeurs earlier. As she spoke, she found herself opening her backpack and taking out Luud's book. It was, after all, some evidence of the truth of what she said. Zusman took it from her.
“You… won't be able to see the message. Only I can see it,” she finished.
Neither Zusman's blank expression nor his colorless mind revealed what he thought of the story as he flipped through the book in silence. Melissa was left to clutch the chair with racing heart and shallow breath.
Finally, he set the tome aside and spoke. “I see. Any idea why only you can see this message?”
She froze. She'd been hoping to avoid that question. For the same reasons she'd never told anyone else about her mind-sensing since that disastrous first attempt at the age of four, revealing it to Zusman now seemed a bad, bad idea.
When his mind flickered yellow, she knew she'd made a grave mistake. It wouldn't matter what answer she gave him now.
Then he burst into laughter.
It was a deep, scornful laugh, a laugh that boomed out of his belly in excruciating salvos. Melissa winced and retreated as far as the chair would let her.
When Zusman had finished, he turned to Zhang. “Hey Zhang, take a look at this! Melissa says there's a message in this book. That's a new one!” Zhang looked at the book, but his reaction was impossible to see due to all the hair.
Just then, Dez and Dulce made their return, bursting through the door huffing and puffing. Dez handed Zusman a cup of coffee. “We ees sorry, Meester Zusman, but thee base ees very large and—”
He cut her off, chuckling again. “Dez, Dulce, look at this! Melissa says she sees an invisible message in this book!”
The sisters were taken aback a moment, clearly expecting a scolding, but when their surprise faded, a pair of sick grins made way on their faces. Mocking grins. Grins like serrated knives.
Melissa stared at the floor, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from having a total breakdown. And though she sensed any further attempt to convince Zusman would be futile, she wasn't too cynical not to try just once more. “But it's the truth. I can't lie here, right?”
Zusman patted her on the knee. “Of course you think it's the truth, Melissa. That's the problem with the pull on Veritas. You can't say anything you don't believe is true, but we both know that what we believe isn't always strictly… accurate. Especially if you're afflicted with one of a variety of mental illnesses causing hallucinations or delusional thinking. I am sorry. If it makes you feel any better, we'll be telling stories about this for years. And here I thought today would be another dull one!”
Then he laughed again. They all did. It was awful. Never had Melissa heard a more abhorrent sound. She pulled her knees to her chest and clamped her eyes shut, screaming chess openings in her mind in an attempt to forget the outside world completely. But it was a futile attempt. Try as she might, Zusman's voice still reached her.
He was conversing in hushed tones with Dez and Dulce near the door. “A couple weeks might work, but why mess around? Serious cases like this, it couldn't hurt to go all the way. Wipe the slate clean. Erase it all.”
The words of Dez, words Melissa hadn't paid any attention to at the time, returned to her now: Leetle good it do her. She end up just thee same as all thee others.
Now she knew what Dez meant. They were going to wipe her memory.
TEN
A short while later, Dez and Dulce dragged Melissa from the room in Accidental Alightings and deposited her in a cell elsewhere in the base, though she was too enveloped in paranoid fantasy to pay much attention to what was happening around her. All she could think about was the big wipe. The deep clean. The total annihilation of all her memories.
She wished they'd just get it over with now. Instead, she had to sit here and dread it. She had to wonder how they were going to do it, if it would hurt, what life would be like after, and other such sordid details. Most of all, though, she wondered why she'd ever thought her plan to rescue Kyle would end in anything but a cataclysmic debacle. She'd been utterly unprepared for… anything, really.
This is why I stay in my room, away from people, and play chess, she thought. Play chess, that's what I'll do.
Mercifully, they'd left her backpack with her, and she now withdrew her board and assembled it with trembling hands. She practiced whatever came to mind—pawn formations, sacrifices, mates—anything to forget that she was about to be made to forget everything. But even chess couldn't distract her for long, and soon enough, her thoughts drifted to Kyle. She wondered what he was doing right now. He's probably in a cell, just like me…
Knowing full well it was likely to make her feel worse, she fished around in her backpack and withdrew the picture of him she'd brought with her. In truth, it was a picture of both of them, sitting on opposite sides of a chessboard in Melissa’s front yard. It hadn't been taken the last day, but it may as well have been. He was wearing the same white shorts and green shirt, looking at her the same way—as though there was nothing else in the world.
