The Nine Page 11

  But wasn’t this all out of the ordinary?

  All the windows were dark. Empty.

  Just in case, Perry stuck close to Abbas.

  “Whimsby seemed able to carry a decent conversation,” Perry noted as they walked. “Or have I just not known him long enough?”

  Abbas made a thoughtful noise. “Well. Whimsby is…unique.”

  “How unique?”

  “Well, for starters, he’s been around since the beginning, unlike the others.” Abbas frowned. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s learned to think for himself.”

  “Since the beginning of what?”

  Abbas looked at him. “Of everything. Of our world as we know it. The rise of the gods, dear boy.”

  “Whimsby is five hundred years old?”

  “Thereabouts,” Abbas replied, sounding bored with the subject.

  The concept boggled Perry’s mind. He thought of the conical windmills at the old farming freehold that he’d grown up in. They couldn’t keep that machinery running for more than five years without something breaking on them. And yet the paladins had created a mechanical man that had lasted five hundred years.

  The injustice of it all gnawed at him.

  My father knew these things. That’s why he sent me here. Don’t lose sight of that.

  Abbas didn’t stop to greet any of his servants, but strode right down their smiling ranks. The lead servant—a mech that looked like a lean, gray-haired man of about sixty years old—fell into step beside him, giving Perry a courtly bow before turning to address his master.

  “Lord Warden, was your trip comfortable?”

  “No, it wasn’t fucking comfortable, Venn,” Abbas griped. “I was riding in an open air skiff. My hands are chilled. Why didn’t you give me gloves when I departed? Didn’t you know how cold it was going to be?”

  “Dreadfully sorry, Lord Warden.” Venn hustled along with his head bent as though receiving a blow. “Shall I fetch them for you now?”

  “Well, they’re not going to do me much good now, you bag of bolts!” Abbas lifted one of his pudgy hands and batted at Venn’s face. “Stop fawning. And learn how to read a damned thermometer.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Abbas ascended the wide stone steps to the front door. Two of the female servants ran eagerly ahead to open the double doors. Abbas stopped on the top step and turned, holding his temples as though his head was suddenly in great pain.

  “You see what I mean about being the only thing here with a brain? These machines will drive me insane one day. Perhaps they already have. Here I am with you, young Perry. Making rash and irresponsible decisions.” He removed his fingers from his temples and skewered Perry with a look. “I hope I have not misplaced my trust.”

  Standing two steps below him, Perry tapped the butt of his longstaff on the ground, not sure how to take that, or what to say in response.

  Behind Abbas, the two female mechs waited patiently in ready postures, their hands on the doorknobs. Abbas ignored them.

  “Anyhow.” Abbas smacked his lips. “Venn, prepare me a tonic.” He raised his eyebrows to Perry. “Would you or your group require any refreshments? Lunch will be served in…” A flash of irritation. “Venn. What time is it?”

  Venn answered without looking at any timepiece. “A quarter of eleven, sir.”

  “Well, hurry up. I’m sure our guests are famished from their adventures. In the meantime, Perry, Stuber, Teran, Sagum, please don’t hesitate to make any request of my staff, and I will see you at lunch. I need to retire as this whole ordeal has—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Perry took the next step up, gripping his longstaff in both hands now. “You’re not gonna just leave.”

  Abbas looked put out. “I’ll accommodate you as much as possible, young Perry, but you won’t be telling me what I can and cannot do in my own house.”

  “No,” Perry insisted, glaring at the round man. “You need to tell us about the East Ruins. You need to tell us how to get there, and where we’re going, and what to expect.” Perry shook his head. “There’s no time for you to nap. We have work to do.”

  As Perry spoke, Abbas’s face fell into its bored languor again. He took a step down, now face to face with Perry. “And how, pray tell, do you intend to reach the East Ruins? Have you the appropriate transportation?”

  “I don’t know,” Perry bit back. “You haven’t told me how to get there. You only implied that we can’t reach it by buggy.”

  “You can’t. You’ll need a skiff.”

  Perry turned and dramatically gestured to the skiff hovering above the lawn. “Oh! What a surprise! A skiff!”

  “Don’t be insolent. It’s unbecoming. Especially in someone so short.”

  Stuber stepped up to Perry’s side, unable to restrain himself any longer. “As much as I would adore watching you two midgets come to blows, Perry makes an excellent point. The day is early.” He loomed over Abbas. “I don’t want to waste it.”

  Abbas retreated a step. “Refreshing onesself is never a waste. But besides that, the skiff behind you won’t make the journey without a recharge. Which will take two hours. Which is ample time for me to take a break from dealing with you ruffians, and for us to have lunch. At which point I will tell you what you need to know, and you may depart with full bellies and ample supplies.”

  “You don’t have any other skiffs?” Perry pressed.

  “I have two other skiffs. Both of which are in the hands of my other two rangers. They’re not due back until this evening.” Abbas smiled triumphantly. “But you’re welcome to wait for those if you prefer them.”

  Stuber made a growl of disgust, but then turned to Perry. “Let the tiny fat man take his nap. Venn!” Stuber barked, as though he owned the mech.

  Venn straightened, his eyes flicking to Stuber, and then to his spaulders and chest plate. “Yes…master…legionnaire?”

  Stuber pointed a large finger at him. “Lunch. At twelve. That’s noon. No later.”

  If Abbas was offended by Stuber ordering his mechs around, he didn’t show it. “There. You see? Now everyone has what they want. I will see you all at noon. In the meantime, Venn will show you to your rooms where you may…” Abbas cast his eyes up and down Stuber’s dirty frame, his nose curling. “…bathe. Hopefully.”

  Abbas began to turn again, looking eager to depart, but Perry halted him.

  “Wait.”

  Abbas’s pudgy fists clenched. “Primus help me. What?”

  “We’re not getting split up. We’ll all be going to one room. I’m sure you have something big enough in this castle of yours.”

  Abbas shrugged. “Suit yourself. Venn. You heard the man.” He stepped up again, and the patiently awaiting female mechs were allowed to open the door for him. “Put them in one of the suites—I don’t care which one.” And then as a parting shot over his shoulder: “As long as it’s got plenty of hot water and soap. Lots of soap.”

  And with that, Abbas disappeared into the open doors, and the group of four were left on the front steps with Venn standing there, smiling vapidly at them.

  Stuber let out a low growl. “Charming piece of shit.”

  “Oh yes,” Venn agreed. “The Lord Warden is a most charming man. May I show you to your suite?”

  “Sure.”

  “Excellent. May I carry your weapons for you?”

  “Absolutely fucking not.” Stuber began to walk up the stairs. “But you can tell me what the whiskey situation is like here. Scratch that, I don’t care what it is, just bring me a bottle. Unopened.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Perry waited a few beats for Teran and Sagum to come abreast of him, and then, with the two of them on either side, he began to ascend the last steps. “You guys keep an eye open. You know what to look for.”

  They didn’t respond verbally. Only nodded as they walked through the doors.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GUESTS

  The entire place was ridiculous. Perry refused to
allow himself to be overcome with the grandeur of it. But it would be irresponsible not to look at everything he could get his eyes on. So he treated it like reconnaissance, and kept a careful expression of mild distaste on his face.

  Marble floors. Stone walls, a foot thick.

  Stuber thumped a knuckle on one of them as Venn led them up a spiraling staircase on the far side of the enormous entryway. “Good cover,” he observed. “No one’s shooting through that.”

  Perry wondered what a blast from his longstaff would do.

  As they took the stairs, Perry glanced behind him, noting Teran and Sagum close behind him, their eyes scouring over everything. All four of them were watchful. But they watched for different things.

  The castle was more than five stories tall, Perry realized. Or at least, more than five normal stories. Each level of the place had ceilings that vaulted at least a dozen feet, while Perry was used to low, practical ceilings that gave just enough head room for the average man.

  Everything was clean. Ridiculously clean. Perry was accustomed to mudbrick buildings that smelled of close habitation and dirty laundry and the scents of meals that lingered. He was accustomed to dirty saloons that smelled of yeast and ale and whiskey and drunken vomit.

  This place didn’t even have a smell. That’s how clean it was.

  Near the top of the stairs, Perry paused, frowning. He looked around, trying to find the source of a strange, low hum that suddenly pressed at his ears. No one else seemed to make note of it, and it was so quiet that he wasn’t sure if it might not just be his ears popping, perhaps unused to the altitude, or perhaps just acting up after the gunfight in The Warrens.

  He shook his head and continued on before the others noticed him.

  The spiral stairs ended in another cathedral-like room. Strewn with plush furniture, with a massive fireplace on one end that roared with a fuel that was not wood. Perry imagined that such amenities were considered quite rustic in Abbas’s mind.

  “This is the lounge,” Venn announced cheerfully. “I will have Ina stationed here. Should you require anything, you have only to ask her.”

  Stuber clucked his tongue. “Is that right?”

  Venn nodded, not picking up the subtext. “Of course, sir. Your suite is this way.”

  “Makes a man wonder how realistic they make these things,” Stuber said as they followed Venn down a wide hall.

  Perry raised an eyebrow at the ex-legionnaire. “They’re machines, Stuber.”

  “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

  “Your suite will be the Granite Suite,” Venn continued. “It is here in the North Wing and is one of our finest rooms, offering an absolutely stunning view of the mountains to the east. You are permitted anywhere in the North and South wings of the second and third level. And of course, the lounge.”

  Venn didn’t say it, but Perry supposed it was implied: They were restricted to these areas. Which only made him curious as to what else the rest of this cavernous structure held. Was there something that Abbas didn’t want them to see?

  They turned a corner at the end of the hall and were met with a huge oak door, at which stood one of the female mechs, holding a silver tray. On it was a crystal pitcher of water and four glasses. And a bottle of what appeared to be whiskey.

  Venn stopped in front of the female mech. “This is Ina. Ina, these are our guests. You will await their commands in the lounge, should they have any further requirements.”

  Ina bowed her head. “Of course.”

  Stuber nudged Perry in the shoulder. “You’re thinking it now.”

  Ina was…how to put this…could you call a machine beautiful? He wasn’t sure how he felt about harboring sexual feelings towards a machine, but clearly Ina’s creators had known what they were doing when they made her.

  Perry managed a furtive glance at Teran, who he found watching him with a sardonic eyebrow raised. Dammit.

  The door to the room looked thick and heavy, but Venn swept it open with one arm, as though he were simply brushing a curtain out of the way. Another reminder that these were not human. That even though Venn looked old, he possessed the same strength that Whimsby had shown when he’d broken the cargo straps.

  These mechs might not be armed, but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.

  Venn stood to the side of the door as Perry and his group filed in. “The Granite Suite,” he said with a tone of melodious satisfaction.

  At this point, Perry’s ability to be impressed had been numbed. The suite was predictably spacious. Predictably well-appointed. He didn’t need to restrain himself from goggling now. He simply nodded as he strode in, straight to the massive bay of windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, and from one end of the suite to the other.

  If he hadn’t seen the view already from an open air skiff, it might’ve taken his breath away. A range of mountains, turning hazy blue in the distance, where they began to roll into hills. And beyond them? Perhaps flatter lands.

  Perhaps the East Ruins?

  He turned away from the windows. His group created a small square in the center of the room, which was arranged as a sitting area. Like a smaller version of the lounge, if you could call anything in this place small.

  Ina brought the tray over and set it on a table, and then straightened, smiling that same empty smile. If you didn’t know she was a mech, you might think that she was just a very mild personality. But since Perry knew, he saw it as vacant. Soulless.

  Stuber didn’t seem to mind.

  “May I be of any further service at this time?” Ina asked.

  Stuber raised a finger. “A massage sounds great.”

  “Excellent. I’ll send for Barry. He is wonderfully trained in various massage and relaxation techniques.”

  Stuber’s nose curled. “Barry sounds horrible. I’ll just drink the whiskey.”

  Ina bowed her head again. “As you wish, Master Legionnaire.” She raised her eyes—ocular sensors?—to the others, and waited for a few beats, and when no one said anything else, she turned and left, her heels clicking on the stone floors.

  “If you have no further requests,” Venn said, his hand on the doorknob. “Then I shall leave you to refresh yourselves, and lunch will be served promptly at twelve. Ina will show you the way to the dining hall.”

  Venn bowed his way out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  No one moved. Everyone listening for the sound of a bolt clacking home, locking them in. But it never came.

  Stuber stalked to the door and experimentally opened it. He peered down the empty hall beyond. Venn and Ina had already disappeared from view. Then he shrugged and closed it again.

  Perry turned to Sagum. “You ready?”

  Sagum nodded, and dove into his tinkerer’s bag. He withdrew a palm-sized device of obvious rudimentary construction. “So, I can’t promise that this will detect everything. I made it from a magnetic transponder in the head of that mech you sliced up. It uses a small charge to—”

  “Just do the best you can,” Perry interrupted, before Sagum could really get going into some techno-babble.

  Sagum sighed. “Alright then.”

  They all fell silent. Sagum began to make a slow, deliberate circuit of the suite, checking the corners, the grout lines, and the furniture. He pawed at cushions and lifted table legs. He stared at miniscule abnormalities in the wood, or on the face of the stone walls, passing his little homemade device over them. He climbed his dusty boots rudely atop polished tabletops and spotless upholstery.

  Stuber doffed his Roq-11 and set it on a chair, as though it needed a seat all its own. He took up the bottle of whiskey and read the label, frowning. “Single malt. The fuck’s that mean?”

  “Something tells me that the paladins don’t drink millet whiskey,” Teran pointed out, choosing to pour herself a glass of water from the pitcher. She hesitated in bringing it to her lips. Smelled it. Then seemed to come to the same conclusion they’d come to when Whims
by had offered them water: You had to make the leap of faith at some point.

  Stuber grumbled to himself as he tore at a wax seal on the head of the bottle, and then uncorked it. He didn’t bother with a smell test. He appeared satisfied that it was sealed. He put the bottle to his lips and took a hearty pull.

  Perry watched him curiously, as Sagum scuttled by on hands and knees, scouring the corner of the floor along the windows.

  Stuber finished his taste test and smacked his lips, looking at the bottle like it held some indefinable characteristic. “It’s dreadful,” Stuber announced. “You can barely taste the alcohol. How are you supposed to know if it’s getting you drunk if it doesn’t burn the fuck out of your throat?” Then he took another long chug from the bottle, eyes coursing over the room around them.

  “Even the water is sweeter,” Teran said, looking at her glass as though it had insulted her. “Abbas talks like this place is a punishment. Wonder what he’d think if we took him out to the Old Section of Karapalida?”

  Stuber offered the bottle to Perry, who took it and drank a nip. It was buttery. Smooth. Sweet. He’d never tasted anything like it. He hated it.

  He handed it back. “Don’t get shitty. We need to stay sharp.”

  “Pff.” Stuber waved him away. “Please. Five bottles of this shit wouldn’t make me shitty.”

  Teran sat on one of the chairs near the table. Cautiously. As though there might be needles in the cushion. She ran her dirty hands over the fabric. Then made a face and deliberately rubbed some dirt into the upholstery. “Everything’s so clean. It’s a wonder they didn’t hose us down outside. Wouldn’t want us getting our peasant filth all over their godly furniture.”

  Perry sat down on the couch, across from Teran. “This is why we’re here. Just keep reminding yourself of that.”

  Stuber took a slow stroll around the sitting area, nursing the bottle, and never straying too far from his rifle. No one else spoke. They waited in silence for Sagum to finish his rounds, which took another ten minutes.

  He reappeared, coming out of what looked like a bathroom large enough to hold Perry’s entire childhood house. He rubbed his hands together, looking eager, but cautious. “Alright. Again, I make no promises. They could be watching or listening to everything we say and do, with technology I can’t detect.”