Solatium (Emanations, an urban fantasy series Book 2) (18 page)

“Yeah. I heard. Lord Cordus asked me to come tell you more about the ice men.”

“Great! I’m so glad he told you that much. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to talk about it at all. But if you at least know where I’m going, that’s something.”

She nodded and then looked down.

I realized she was upset.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you worried? Don’t be. It’s a short trip — just two strata.”

“‘Just two strata’? Beth, I’ve never set foot in the S-Em. None of us have. ‘Just two strata’ doesn’t sound reassuring.”

“Well, yeah, I guess it does sound sort of weird. But it’ll be fine. Lord Cordus wouldn’t send me anywhere dangerous.”

“Really? He sends me dangerous places all the time, and that’s just in this world.”

Her face was very serious.

A tiny thread of doubt tickled the back of my mind. It was, weirdly enough, almost painful.

Then I remembered that Lord Cordus believed in me. If he was sure I could do this, then so was I.

“I know, Gwen. And that sucks. But this is different. I can do what he’s asking — no problem. And I’ll finally be able to help. I mean
really
help, not just be a back-up generator. Even if there’s some small risk, well, being able to help makes it worth it.”

Gwen studied me for several long seconds. Then a look of profound sadness passed over her face. She turned away and cleared her throat.

“Well, there’s no need to pack a suitcase. The staffers are putting your pack together. They’ll deliver it in the morning.”

“Oh.”

I looked around my room, a bit deflated.

“Can I bring a few things?”

“Just some practical stuff that the staff won’t have access to, like panties and bras. Don’t bring any clothes or books or anything.”

I sighed and dumped the suitcase out on the bed. She’d just identified ninety-nine percent of what was in it.

“So be it. Why don’t you tell me about the ice mothers while I put this stuff away?”

She nodded and began describing ice man society. It sounded pretty strange. The basics matched what Lord Cordus had said: the males were violent and competitive, whereas the females were comparatively sedate and oriented toward intellectual and artistic pursuits. The strange part was the society the ice men — maybe “ice people” would be fairer — had built atop those differences. The females were the diplomats, the thinkers, the writers, the artists. They were also the engineers, the scientists, the scholars, and the doctors. They were, in short, in charge of just about everything. The males were basically brute labor: they hunted; made weapons — following the females’ designs; and when necessary, fought battles — under the command of female generals.

“Wow,” I said. “It’s like some warped mirror-image of the way we used to look. No equality at all.”

Gwen grimaced. “Yeah, but more extreme. Even very patriarchal human societies have generally had a little wiggle room. The occasional warrior maiden or queen or whatever. There’s none of that with the ice men. The system is rigid. Totally.”

Maybe that’s why Bob didn’t live with his people — no space for a gentle, sensitive male.

“It sounds icky.”

Gwen eyed me. “What it is, is dangerous. I need to teach you some postures you can use to display submission to any younger males you encounter. They’re highly unstable, very aggressive. You should avoid them whenever possible, but contact might happen by accident. If it does, you have to defuse the situation pronto.”

My mouth felt dry.

Gwen’s right. This is scary.

Then Lord Cordus’s faith in me came to mind, warm and comforting.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, show me.”

Two hours later, Gwen had taught me four postures of submission. Each came with a symbolic gesture — stuff like miming gutting yourself or pretending to rip the skin and fur off your own leg. I practiced them over and over until Gwen was satisfied, all the while telling myself that the ice mothers would surely keep me separated from the males. Lord Cordus wouldn’t send me on a mission that posed a significant risk of disembowelment.

After I’d learned the postures and gestures, Gwen filled me in on where the ice men lived. They were a cold-weather species and had a presence in at least six S-Em strata where the summer temperatures maxed out in the fifties Fahrenheit. They were especially fond of ice-age strata.

“Not so many dinosaurs in those,” Gwen said.

Their homeland was in a stratum called Fur. That’s where I’d be going. It was of their own making, less than a million years old. She called up a map on her phone and showed me northeastern Canada. The stratum contained the same landmasses. She pointed out Baffin Island, which was the part closest to Greenland. The ice men’s great citadel was there.

The weather would be dangerous, even in the summer. I’d have to be careful. Frostbite and hypothermia would be ever-present dangers. Gwen spent quite a while talking about cold-weather safety — especially the risks of crossing glacial melt streams.

“They run fast and deep,” she said. “The water’s often opaque, and they’re very cold.”

I probably wouldn’t see any other humans while I was there. Occasionally, a diplomat, trader, or scholar visited the citadel, but that’s it. Most humanoid Seconds didn’t like the ice men, and the ice men returned the sentiment. There was little contact between the species.

Eventually, Gwen seemed to run out of things to tell me.

We sat there in silence for a minute. A feeling of awkwardness that I didn’t quite understand began stealing over me.

“So, any chance you’ll be on the team Lord Cordus is sending with me?”

Gwen shook her head. “I’m leaving for St. Louis in the morning. A kraken snuck into the Mississippi, somehow. Or was put there.”

“A
kraken
?”

“They’re not really monsters — just a very large species of octopus.”

“How large?”

“A hundred feet, or so.”

“Holy cow. Do they eat people?”

“No, just fish. But they like to build underwater structures to concentrate prey. This one has caused two shipping accidents, and one of its structures is showing up a bit on Google Earth. The humans don’t know what the heck’s going on with their shipping channels. It’s a problem.”

“I bet.”

I wondered if the Octoworld isolate I’d visited had any kraken.

“Lord Cordus is coming with me,” Gwen said.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

The powers who held territory in the F-Em didn’t do their own dirty work. Nolanders did that stuff. That way, if the one law got broken, a Nolander would pay the price.

“If he’s willing to get personally involved, things must really be a mess.”

Gwen nodded. “I don’t know exactly how many of his people remained loyal, but it’s not a lot. He’s going to have to reestablish control over his territory, get a handle on stuff like the kraken, and then deal with the defectors.”

“Deal with them?”

She gave me a don’t-be-naive look.

I shivered. Then I felt a rush of gratitude that he didn’t treat me as badly as he treated the others. Then I felt horribly guilty for feeling that way.

Gwen was watching me. She didn’t say anything.

I began to feel uncomfortable again.

It was weird. Gwen never made me uncomfortable. Even before she’d gotten to know me and had seemed very reserved, she’d been a calming presence. I couldn’t figure out what was setting me off. She wasn’t shutting me out. In fact, she was being quite forthcoming about Lord Cordus’s position — usually she was more circumspect. But something still felt wrong.

It bothered me. I had a headache coming on.

“Is it okay if people come by tonight?” Gwen said. “You know. To say goodbye?”

“Yeah, of course. Definitely. I really want to see everyone.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

“Okay,” Gwen said. “After dinner?”

I nodded.

“I’ll pass the word.”

She stood. For a horrible moment, I thought she was going to cry. But she just nodded and turned away.

“See you later, Beth.”

After she’d left, I sat there for a few minutes, trying to understand why Gwen wasn’t happy for me. I’d finally gotten what I wanted most: someone who believed in me — Lord Cordus, no less — and a chance to really help. Why was she acting like it was some kind of disaster?

“What’re you going to tell Tiffany?” Kara said.

“Um … I don’t … shit.”

“You didn’t think of calling her? You’re going to be gone for months. Jesus, Beth. That’s not like you.”

“Sanchez,” Gwen said, her voice flat.

Kara crossed her arms and sank back into the couch, swearing under her breath.

I looked around at my other friends.

They’d all come — Gwen and Theo were sitting to either side of Kara. Andy was beside me, an arm draped around my shoulders. Even Zion was there, squeezed into the narrow space between the arm of my green sofa and the suspicious stain on its cushion.

They looked like they were at a funeral. Even Andy was weirdly silent.

They were pretty obviously just as concerned as Gwen had been earlier in the day.

I’d tried to get into their point of view. My friends were smart and experienced. I knew they cared about me. If they thought this mission was a bad idea, I should try to understand. But I couldn’t. Every which way I looked at it, it just seemed like they weren’t getting how great this was for me, how it was the answer to all my dreams, how Lord Cordus’s belief in me made me feel.

Their lack of understanding made me angry.

At the same time, my inability to even grasp their point of view disturbed me. It was weird. Not agreeing with someone is one thing. Having no flippin’ idea why they think what they think — that’s something else. It didn’t usually happen to me. I had plenty of weaknesses, but I’d always been reasonably good at empathy.

Gwen cut into my thoughts. “Theo, why don’t you call Tiffany tomorrow and let her know? It’ll be less … disruptive.”

Theo nodded and looked down.

Andy cleared his throat. “Maybe it would be, you know, good for Beth to make that call herself? Now?”

Gwen gave him a hard look. “What’s good for Beth is not the only consideration, here.”

Andy’s expression darkened. “Excuse me, but I’m a damn sight more worried about her than I am about me right now.”

“Thank-fucking-you,” Kara growled.

I looked from one of them to the other.

What the hell are they talking about?

“No,” Zion said. “Gwen’s right. This isn’t something we can undo. All we can do is temporarily mess it up — very temporarily. There’s no point. We’d be risking ourselves for nothing.”

“Like hell,” Kara said. “For once, he needs us. If he kills us, who’s he going to use to get a handle on things, here?”

“I don’t know,” Zion said acidly. “A whole bunch of super-powerful lackeys from the S-Em?”

“Enough,” Gwen said, sinking a lot of I’m-in-charge into her voice. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation. Not anywhere, and especially not here. We’ve gotten used to running things pretty much on our own, used to speaking freely. That needs to stop. Things are as they are. We are who we are.” She looked around at each of them. “This could be any of us. For all we know, it has been one of us — or all of us. Who’s to say?”

Andy opened his mouth to speak.

Gwen just looked at him, shaking her head.

He sighed and leaned his head back on the top of the couch.

A heavy air of defeat settled across the room.

I looked around, mystified.

“Come on, bro,” Theo said.

He stood and gave Andy a hand up off the couch. The two stood there for a second, some silent communication passing between them. Then Andy nodded and headed for the door, his head low.

“Bye, Beth,” Theo said. “Stay safe over there.”

He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. It wasn’t perfect, like when Lord Cordus had done it. Theo had a little beer on his lips, and I felt his nose push into my hair. Then he followed Andy out.

“We should probably all get going,” Gwen said, rising. “Beth has an early day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” said Zion.

She stood, dusting off her pants.