Wordscapist, The Myth
Chapter 17: Come to My Parlour

A dash of wilderness

A pinch of adventure

A hint of danger

And a measure of mystery

Stir well my friend

You have a weave-worthy tale

Slick

I sat and stared at the wall. It was night again, and I was in a little café on the outskirts of Glasgow, sitting at the corner table facing the wall. I was waiting for the telepathic missive from Dew that would tell me it was time to go.

Getting to the mainland from Skye proved to be a cinch, with a direct bus over the bridge connecting the island to the rest of Scotland. It was nice to take a bus ride with Dew. I had done most of my traveling alone, and it was a refreshing experience to have such pretty company. Dew was a hell of a lot more than pretty company, and I was definitely beginning to go soft on her. We had pretended like we were two regular youngsters on a trip together, and knew nothing about death or apocalyptic endings. We spoke about the little things, like our common dream of backpacking through Europe (which, in a strange way, we just might end up doing now) and how we were completely different in some ways (obsessive planner versus impulsive hitchhiker). We talked about things like family and friends.

There had been an uncomfortable moment when she had asked me about my real name. After considering lying for a moment, I came clean with her. It took her five attempts to get it right and say it all together, after which she burst out laughing. “I can see why you stick with Slick,” she said with a wink, and left it at that. Yeah, that was always awkward. But for that, the rest of the trip was lovely. We had reached mainland without incident. We did see a lot of cops around, but a gentle mental probe showed that they were looking for a thickset man with silver grey hair. Dew said that it sounded like the Silvus manhunt was still the focus of the CCC and the norm police. It was strange thinking of cops as the ‘norm police.’ I had crossed over to another world. It did feel quite weird.

But for better or for worse, the heat wasn’t on us yet. I couldn’t complain. I’d had enough heat for a lifetime, and didn’t mind spending a low-profile life for the rest of my tick-tocking days. If I did blow up, I wanted to blow up after a happy, fulfilling few weeks. I didn’t want to spend the last days of my life scrambling around desperately.

We split up on the mainland. The plan was that she would arrange for a car and I would meet her at the bus stop. I would wait at the café around the corner in the meanwhile. I didn’t like it but it was the only option. We couldn’t continue leaving a public transport trail.

I leaned back in the tiny café chair, trying to get comfortable. Harsh, bright lights and chrome furniture that was hard, cold and extremely uncomfortable. Not the best place to be in, but I had to lie low.

I sensed someone enter the café and turned to see who it was. A man had entered, and he didn’t really look like a local. He went to the waiter and started talking to him. In an instant, my spidey sense came alive. Whatever played the role of a spidey sense in my pseudo-superhero life that is; the power, the presence, the wormhole in my head. Call it what you will; it came alive. This man was trouble. I hadn’t ordered anything and didn’t need to pay so walked straight out. Even as I stepped out of the café, I sensed that the man had turned and was following me. Things were going to get exciting, again!

I walked in the direction of the bus stop I had come from. Dew would come there when the time was right. I had to lose my pursuer by then. Make that pursuers. There were two of them now. No, three. Oh God, there were four. They were converging from different directions, and the way they were moving, it was clear that they wanted to stop me, and not just follow me. For a second I considered running, and then I stopped. What the heck, I could do this.

I turned around, and saw the four guys slow down. They all looked official, like secret agents. Men in dark suits, if not actually black. I guess this was my first brush with the CCC. I knew they weren’t wordsmiths, but in some ways, they were supposed to be worse. They were scape resistant and what not. I wondered what to do. They had fanned out and were approaching me very cautiously. I was the dangerous one here. They definitely believed that. I just had to believe it myself.

My mind was strangely blank and no ideas came to me. I looked around for inspiration. A dark, isolated road with nothing around, the café I’d just left in the distance, and nothing behind me but a long walk to the bus stop. No inspiration.

One of the guys pulled out a short rod. The others did the same. They meant violence.

“Mr. Slick, we recommend you give yourself up without resistance. We promise you safe...”

I had a feeling they would act before the guy finished speaking. I saw all of them moving their thin rods in a specific pattern, and sensed something building. It was a trap. I didn’t let the guy finish speaking. I closed my eyes, and cleared my head even as the guy started speaking. I needed to stop them, not kill them. This should be easy.

From air and earth

From stone and steel

Rise to do my bidding

Bind but do not kill

Restrain and do not let go

I opened my eyes to see ragged ropes appearing out of nowhere, tough tendrils closing around the guys. The guy that was speaking had been gagged before he could complete his sentence. I saw their thin rods connected with some kind of an energy pulse. It was stuttering now as they were bound tightly, their hands unable to complete whatever moves they’d been trying. In a couple of moments, it was over. Four tightly wrapped packages lay on the road. I let them be and walked off.

I could control this, I kept telling myself. Everything depended on it. Everything!

I reached the bus stop and saw a Mustang parked there. Dew! She had found transportation after all. I wondered why she hadn’t called for me to come. Had I blocked her out when I had been weaving there? Had she figured I had been weaving again? Was she angry with me again? Only one way to replace out. I was impressed though. She had gone off with a vague promise to replace transportation, and had come back with a Mustang!

I opened the passenger door and got in.

“Good choice,” I said, as I turned to face her.

“I’m glad you approve,” the reply came back, the voice unfamiliar.

I looked into the eyes of a short, handsome woman with thick eyebrows. Before I could say a word or even think, she jammed a rod into my throat. I tried blocking the blow, but she was just too fast for me. For one searing moment I felt intense pain as a bolt from the rod wracked my throat. And then, everything blacked out.

Amra

I had the bastard. Not Kermit, not anyone else. Me! I’d caught him fair and square. And the girl too! The other CCC agents had been a good distraction. I would have to send word for them to be released. I’d seen what he had done. He was good, he was fast. I was just better, faster. Wordscapist indeed! 72 hours and he was down!

I checked him for a pulse. He was alive. I had hit him right in the throat, taking him out before he could weave up anything. Now, with his vocal chords gone and his face paralysed, he was harmless as a new born babe. I would use the fine old blend of torture and telepathy, and get all the information I needed. The Lirii missive had been useful, and helped me prepare for this better. The other freak, De Vorto, was still out there. He’d be trickier to catch, being in some kind of weird semi-corporeal state. Well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

I flattened out the seat and pushed him back to join the girl. She was knocked out too, similarly debilitated. I leaned over and put standard restrainers on the both of them. They wouldn’t be waking any time soon, but I liked to ensure everything was doubly safe. Once that was done, I started the car. Time for the fun part.

We weren’t far from the local CCC bureau, and I drove fast. Once there, I would start on these two and figure out exactly what had been happening all along. In a port-safe cell, with a Corps Interrogator on hand, even the toughest would talk. Once I had wrapped this one up, I would go and get Silvus. He had already been spotted, and couldn’t be far away. There had been reports of the Free Word congregating nearby too. This boy was drawing them all like flies. Might as well catch the whole lot. With a whole load of wordsmith riffraff eliminated, life would get a whole lot more pleasant very soon. And with the Lirii happy, I could look forward to some kind of a move up the career ladder as well. I might even make it to Yen sometime in the future.

With these pleasant thoughts keeping me busy, I reached the bureau in no time. I asked for the two to be transferred to a cell. I needed to ensure that they could not port out. Once that was done, I could leisurely work on getting all the information I needed to close the case.

While the CCC team saw to their transfer, I took the opportunity to go take a long shower and change into clean clothes. I had been skipping around the world, looking for this freak. I needed to catch up on sleep too, but that could wait. I had seen what the local teams were capable of when left to themselves. I would have to close this one myself.

I looked at myself in the mirror as I got dressed. I looked stressed and haggard. I had dark circles and some fresh grey strands. Work was getting too stressful. I needed to close the loose ends and move onto bigger things. The wordsmiths on this plane didn’t rate very high on the overall Continuum hazard scale. But while they continued to pose problems, I would be stuck here cleaning up after them. The boy was the latest addition to a long list of aggravations. I had had enough, and would start cleaning up, beginning with him.

I picked up the intercom and called the helpdesk, “Amra here. I am heading to the detention cell. Number 26. Please send one of the Interrogators there. Do check if the Yaqui has arrived. Thank you.”

I picked up my quirt, checked the charge on it, and then headed for the cell. I was ready to deal with the two brats now. I was going to make up for all the times the kids’ parents had spared the rod.

Slick

I came to my senses in a haze of pain. My throat was on fire, and I could not move an inch, my head, arms, legs, all held tightly by metal bands. I realised that I was lying on my back on a table of some kind, with bands that prevented any movement. I saw the bright fluorescent light right overhead, and knew that I was either in an operating room of some sort or a modern torture chamber. I tried speaking, but could not. My entire face was numb. They had injected something into my face! This was crazy! But then I saw the logic behind it. I could not weave a scape now, unless I tried one of my thoughtscapes. I decided to wait for a while before I did that.

From the corner of my eye, I could make out another form similarly stretched out. I could not make out who it was. I probed telepathically, and realised that the other person was unconscious. But I could recognise that mind anywhere and in any condition. It was Dew. She had been caught too.

I had to wake her up. I started sending her tiny thought probes, in an erratic random pattern with different strengths and feels to them. It worked. Presently, I saw her move, her mind slowly coming awake.

“Slick?” the question came at once along the mental link I had opened up.

“Right here.”

“You are tied too?”

“Yes. Plus that funny stuff in the face. Can’t move a muscle.”

“Oh shit! Do you know who?”

“Little woman with a strong face and beetle like eyebrows.”

“Amra!” the word came bouncing along the link, a mental gasp.

“Who?” I asked.

“She’s a CCC officer, one of the worst!”

“Uh oh!”

“Yes. We’re in deep shit.”

“I could try something,” I offered.

“Slick, no weaving. Please! We might be able to get out of this, but if you lose control, that’ll be the end of everything.”

“I’d rather die at my own hand than let this Amra woman kill me!”

“Don’t! Let’s figure out what she wants to do with us first. We might get an opportunity later.” I could see traces of colour in the thought. Dew was trying to sound reassuring, weaving confidence she did not feel into the thought. “And moreover, I don’t want to die yet!”

“Dew, we are probably in a CCC cell. You did mention some horror stories about these guys. They do not slip up. There won’t be any chances.”

There was silence. I could feel the despair in the mental link. I could feel the emotion sympathetically welling up inside me. I quickly quelled it and sent a positive surge.

“We can do this, Dew.”

“Slick, I will not have you killing yourself. Not while we have a chance!”

I knew my chances of weaving safely and not making a mistake were getting leaner with every time I tried something new. But right then, I was busy being inordinately pleased at how concerned Dew was for my safety. Every instance where I discovered that Dew cared was a small victory for me. Apart from these precious few moments, Dew was consistently sarcastic and condescending in generous measures.

I stayed silent for a couple of minutes. In the meanwhile, I quietly put a shield on the mental link, faking drugged somnolence.

“Slumber

An illusion

Till I say the word

Do not wake up

To my wakefulness”

It worked!

“Sleep for now, Slick. Let them tell us what they intend doing with us. We will have a chance. We will break out somehow.”

I saw her withdrawing herself, apparently letting me drift into sleep. I felt mean and small, cheating her in this way. But I could not bear the thought of CCC goons torturing Dew, or even me for that matter. I was going to get us out of here.

I quickly slipped into thoughtlessness, becoming one with my body. Time to weave in my head. First, I had to heal myself. I quickly detected the inflammation in my throat, the tissue charred and numbed by Amra’s attack. I drew up positive energy and directed it in a continuous flow to my throat. I was shocked to see the amount of energy my throat drew. That woman had done a lot of damage. I felt anger rising in me and quickly pushed it down, sharply drawing my focus back to thoughtlessness. Emotions were lethal, and would pretty much ensure that I would lose control. I couldn’t afford to do that. I returned to the cold, neutral state I needed and kept up the energy flow, adding the words to accelerate the process.

“Rebuild and knit

Let the lifeblood flow

And make right what’s been torn

Undo what’s been wreaked

Heal on

Till all hurt recedes

And all’s well”

Slowly, the damaged area recovered, and I could feel the pain fade away. In a couple of minutes, my throat was back to normal.

I then slowly sent a thought probe to the muscles in my face, trying to figure out what was wrong there. Once again, a surge of anger rose in me as I saw that the damage was meant to be permanent. What got my blood boiling was the fact that they had done the same to Dew. I had to fight the emotion again to return to thoughtlessness. I could not afford to screw up. Not now. I had to pay these CCC guys back for what they did.

Slowly, I started thinking up a scape that would counter the damage, intuitively picking words that would undo the paralysis. I tied the scape to a few words in my head. I would have to repeat it for Dew and would need to quickly summon it with a few words. This was the technique I had planned to use with Sliverette whenever I’d need her again. I had a feeling it would be very soon.

Slowly, the numbness was replaced with a tingling sensation. It was working. I blocked out all thought and worked hard at weaving the scape, the words coming to me in that mindless flow that I thrived on. Soon, I felt the tingling go away. Feeling returned to my face. The drug had been neutralised. I completed weaving the scape into a few spell words. I tied them to Dew’s aura, and released the words in my mind, still not daring to speak. At the same time, I sent out a thought to Dew, “Don’t speak, no matter what happens.”

“Slick! What are you doing? You…”

“Yes, I have managed to counter the drug. I am weaving it around you right now. Lie back and let it complete its work. In the meanwhile, I am going to weave up something that can get rid of these restraints.”

“But they have sound detectors all over the place! They will know the moment you say a word!”

“Who’s saying anything?”

“Slick! Don’t!”

“Dew, for once, please trust me. I would never ever do anything that could harm you. I know I can do this. I have managed to cure us of the paralysis. Now I will weave something up for the restraints. We cannot talk or they will know in an instant. Don’t even try muttering or showing an expression on your face, just in case they are monitoring us. Just let me do this. Please?”

Dew was silent for a while. Then I felt her send a mental nod to me. I sent a smile in return. It is difficult to explain how nods and smiles traverse telepathically, but they do!

It took another minute to think up a neat little spell that converted all our restraints to sugar icing that merely looked like metal bands.

“Hold thy form

But soften thy soul

To something sweeter

A candy well-wrought

In marzipan and floss”

I sent Dew a thought, warning her against moving her limbs. The slightest movement would shatter the confectionary.

I was ready now. I would wait now for that little bitch who had tried to turn us both dumb for life. De Vorto had been right after all. It was time to get people to fear me. I was not going for any more cheap tricks. Amra would remember me and fear me for as long as she lived. The CCC would sit up and take notice. I had been waiting for an opportunity to vent at these smug buggers and this was the best time to do so. I relaxed and went into a meditative trance, summoning energy for all the fireworks to come…