02. Riders of the Winds (7 page)

The woman kept smiling. "It is my function," she responded enigmatically, and left.

They were as good as their word and even seemed to have anticipated their arrival. Within just a few minutes a man wearing a sarong of sorts brought in a large tray full of small sandwiches, fruits, raw vegetables, and cakes, then another appeared pushing a small cart with two carafes of wine, a pitcher of dark beer, and another pitcher of fruit juice. Sam appreciated the juice touch; she had never really gotten used to a society where the kids drank wine with meals just like the adults, although it didn't seem to do them much harm.

The two girls mostly nibbled, though, as if their systems had become unused to food, and even Sam had a tough time, although the food wasn't at all bad. Even though they'd passed out for God knew how long on the rocks, none of them felt as if they had had any real sleep in weeks. She forced them to eat what they could by badgering, but it was clear that they were still very tired and still had borderline shock, both physical and mental, and she had little trouble pressing them both to go back and get in bed. They were out in minutes, and she stood there, again looking at them and feeling guilty. She liked them—most of the time—but she had no right to drag them through this. Not anymore, if this Duke could help at all.

She went back into her room and closed the door and sat down, trying to think. The transition had just been too sudden, too great. From that horrible night to fleeing across a scorched desert landscape to losing everything including the only ones
in this world that meant anything to her, and now, suddenly, this. She started nibbling again on the sandwiches and drinking some of the beer.

Maybe I'm in shock, too,
she told herself.
How would I know?
It must have been
something,
since she felt oddly drained, washed out, almost distant from herself and her circumstances. Maybe one day there would come a time when she could just unbottle it all and cry it out for two or three days, but not now. The less she wanted duty and responsibility and all that the more she seemed to get. All that time she had dreamed of Akahlar back home, and many of the dreams were scary, she had still loved it because it was distant; romantic because it was just something from her imagination. Now she was here, and it was real, and it wasn't very romantic at all. Powerful people were still trying to kill her, and every time she found something at least comfortable it had been snatched away. Now even Boday and Charley were out there someplace, separated from her. She hoped they were still alive, still okay, but if Medac couldn't find them or they didn't blunder in here, what then? She would be entirely on her own.

But if they were okay, how could they have missed that big stone monolith with the imperial seal on it? Boday could read the thing, and they'd be nuts not to head for here.

So she was on her own. Now what? This place should feel comfortable, but something about it felt threatening and she couldn't pin it down. If it were a threat of some kind, what could she do about it? There was no place to run, no place to hide.

It's growing-up time,
she thought nervously.
No magic demon, no Charley, no Boday. Nobody but me. And I'm not even sure who I really am or who or what I can be. Damn it, it's not fair!

She felt a little giddy all of a sudden. Without really realizing it, she'd been drinking the beer as she sat there, munching on the contents of the tray, and then she'd had some of the wine. It was only when she tried to pour a refill and nothing came out that she realized that it was all gone. There had been a considerable amount of food and drink there and she had gone through it all without even thinking. And, the fact was, the aches had subsided, the nausea she had been feeling had gone away, and although she felt very tired and a little bit drunk she felt, physically, far better. She made her way over to the bed, plopped down, grabbed a pillow, and was out like a light.

She was out cold, but only for a couple of hours; it was just getting dark outside when she awoke, feeling remarkably clearheaded and not half-bad. Usually booze had a terrible effect on her, and quickly. Maybe after all this time in Akahlar, where they drank mostly beer, ale, or wine with meals due to suspect water, and her added weight had increased her tolerance, she thought. Well, something good had come from it.

Much of what went in got processed fast, though, and she was on the toilet for a fairly long time. After, she felt oddly famished, and decided to check on the girls and maybe find out about dinner. She was surprised, but not yet worried, to find the girls' room empty. As far as she knew, they were guests here, refugees as it were, not prisoners. She went back into her room and to the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. The sun had certainly taken its toll; she was tanned about as dark as she could ever remember, but she kind of liked the effect. If you were gonna be fat you should look Italian or something like that.

Her hair was a rat's nest, but there was an advantage to keeping her hair short, even though she knew that fat faces tended to look better with long hair. All you needed was a comb and brush, which they'd provided, a part in the middle, and you looked socially presentable. She needed a bath, or maybe a couple of hours of hot soaking, but until she found out where it was and when it was available there was no sense in wishing for what she didn't have.

Only then did she notice that someone had been and gone while she slept. The remnants of that first meal, what little she'd left, were gone, and there were clean face cloths and other things on the small dresser. There were a couple of outfits, one beige and one cinnamon, made out of the stretch-type material that seemed very common in Akahlar. They were cling-type two-piece outfits that would do nothing to disguise or support her giant jugs or mask her spare tires and blimp ass, but they would fit and they would be reasonably comfortable and, unless you had custom tailors on the premises, were about the only choice when faced with someone with a less-than-average physique. There were also sandals of the extra-large and extra-wide variety and a pair of ankle-length soft skin boots with turn-down tops. She was familiar with the type; they looked decent and would spread for wide feet, but they didn't have much give and had little support inside. They were a bit long and not comfortable, but even though the sandals would feel better they'd look tacky. She had the distinct idea that this was more casual evening wear. She decided on the beige. Considering her tan, the cinnamon would just make her appear still naked.

There was also a small pack of cosmetics and some minimal jewelry that didn't look very expensive or fancy, but she passed on them. She'd never felt any particular need to use them in the past, except when trying to humor Charley back home, and she didn't really feel any need for them now. The right earrings might have helped set off her face a little, but the first and last time she'd had her ears pierced was when she was fourteen and she wasn't about to do it herself.

At last she felt as ready as she could be—but for what?
All dressed up and no place to go,
she thought suddenly.
Well, when in doubt ring the bell.
She went over to the button just inside the door and pushed it. In about a minute there was a soft knock, and she opened it to find a tall, thin, middle-aged man there wearing the usual sarong. He didn't say anything, so she said, "I was told to ask for Avala."

He stared a moment, then pointed to his ears and his mouth. With a start, Sam realized he must be deaf. She looked up into his face and said, very exaggeratedly, "Ah-va-lah." He nodded, held up a hand that said, "Wait," and walked on down the corridor.

Lip reading must be real fun with a multitone language where how you said something was as important as what you said, she thought. For that matter, how had he heard the bell? She looked out and down the corridor and saw a small desk there, and then looked up at the outside of her own room and the other rooms on the hall. They all had lights over the doors and little switches like doorbells next to them. So that's all the "bell" did—flashed the light like a stewardess call button and kept flashing until he saw it and came and turned it out.

Avala came in another minute or two. She was still bare-breasted, but the patterned skirt she was wearing was much fancier, her long hair had been neatly combed and hung on both sides of her shoulders, she had sandals on, and wore a kind of lei around her neck made up of big, pretty pink and gold flowers with greenery linking them. Sam found the whole effect very attractive.

"Hello, how do you feel now?" the woman asked her, always with that cheery smile.

"Fine. You've been almost too good to me. I'm feeling hungry and I need a long bath, but I'll survive."

Avala gave a slight chuckle. "My Lord the Duke is very busy right now, but we can go to the staff dining room. Later on I will show you the public areas of the residence and you can bathe as long as you like. The springs that come out here are hot mineral springs, so we have many bathhouses that are much better than just tubs."

The staff dining room was a large area, nicely styled, that was basically a buffet. You got what you wanted, picked a seat along communal tables, and ate whatever you wanted and as much as you wanted. There were some areas that made special provisions for physical abnormalities, and while they weren't being used then Sam wasn't sure she wanted to see what would fit in those types of seats.

There weren't many in the dining room. While dinner was up now, the bulk of the staff ate at particular times on a schedule and the room tended to open early for "guests" like Sam and various senior staff members who did not fit the regular schedule.

"Where are the two girls that came in with me?" Sam asked as they gathered the food, which looked and smelled tremendous.

"They found you asleep when they awoke and rang for me much earlier," Avala told her. "We have a number of children here and children's facilities, and we also wanted them to be looked over by our treatment staff to make sure they had no ill effects from their exposure. You will be looked at as well, when you feel up to it."

"Any time after a bath," Sam told her, feeling somewhat at ease. The state of medicine in Akahlar wasn't all that good. There weren't any doctors as such, and a lot of trust was placed in alchemists, magicians, and a host of people who were nothing more than civilized and pretentious witch doctors— although some knew their specialties and some of their oddball charms, herbs, rituals, and potions really worked. The trick was, without real standards, finding the good from the charlatan. Still, these people had gone through a lot and seemed to be in decent health, at least as healthy as they could be considering the state of things.

She was amazed and a bit embarrassed by her appetite, and a bit disturbed that she was only partly aware of how much she was eating until it was done. She'd put on the fat herself in that year with Boday, but the demon in the Jewel of Omak had cursed her to keep it until she got to Boolean, but had assured her she would have whatever energy she required if needed. She considered that. She'd just been through several days with little or no food and had managed, in spite of her weight, to ride great distances, hike, climb rocks, swim, and in general do the sorts of things on a sustained basis that she might have expected one in far better shape to have managed. Now her body was demanding payment. The curse was insisting on being maintained.

That made it a little easier, really, since it removed the guilt.
What the hell, if I gotta be fat why not enjoy it?
she asked herself, and did not skip dessert.

The question of guilt settled, she turned her attention to why she felt leery about this place in spite of its wondrous appearance. The staff was one reason. They all seemed eternally cheery, even the ones with handicaps or disfigurements, yet from just listening in the dining room she found that they talked little among themselves and generally about inconsequential things or the events of the day. The problem was, how to get some information without seeming to.

She turned to her companion and guide. "Were you born here, Avala?"

To Sam's surprise, the young woman shrugged. "I am sorry, but I really do not know," the guide told her. "I have been here, on the household staff, doing various things as long as I can remember."

"And before? Your parents? Brothers and sisters?"

Avala shrugged. "I do not remember. They say I was found, long ago, wandering in the desert, unable to tell them anything. I do not even remember that. It does not trouble me. I am happy here and performing a useful function."

So even the "normal" humans around were actually wards. Still, the way the guide and hostess was so satisfied and apparently not even curious about her past enough to wonder about it bothered Sam. A spell, or potion, or even some Akahlarian therapy? It was impossible to say, but from the similarity of the staff it was probably one of the first two.

As Sam was shown around the palatial estate, some judicious questions brought out that Avala had no concept of the world beyond the canyon here, and no interest in it, either. She was interested only in what concerned her life here and totally uninterested in anything outside of this cloistered life. Either she was limited in her mental capacity, which didn't seem obvious or even likely, or the way she was was the way she was
supposed
to be or maybe
compelled
to be, although she was unaware of it. Of course, there was a possible innocent explanation as well, since she seemed neither overworked nor exploited in particular. Suppose she
had
been found wandering in the Wastes, and suppose she hadn't had amnesia but rather tremendous shock. Sam herself would never forget being tied down and gang raped, and she knew that the horrible scars she would have to live with inside were almost certainly magnified in Rani and Sheka no matter how they were hiding it now. Suppose that kind of fate, but sustained over a very long time until the mind just broke, had been Avala's? Suppose the choice was to leave her in a living mental hell or wipe out everything? It would fit the apparent philosophy of this place.