NOVEL NEXT WiWi 3, Chapter 5
Today's Earth date: June 5, 1992
We finally got to Bata. Why couldn't we have spent a few weeks here instead of in the desert?
The weather has been perfect every day. Not too hot, not too cold. Sunshine. Blue skies. Beaches with the perfect light breeze. I feel silly writing about the weather (what am I, 72?), but it's such a relief after so much suffering in Maliit.
There was something no one told us about Bata that really surprised me: Half the city is from the era of elves. It's so old that no one can put a number on it, and the architecture is still standing. Remember seeing a bunch of brass instruments sitting on the floor in the band room? Propped upright on whatever the big opening at the end of a trumpet or tuba is?
Elven architecture is like giant versions of that. I'm told it's an unknown crystal-like material–not brass–but that's how it looks, and it extends from the land out into the ocean. We've seen a lot of incredible things in this world, but this was the first time I didn't have a great Earth comparison. It's just so different.
-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin
"I assumed you would appreciate the opportunity to network," Kryss said, walking arm-in-arm with Vanilli down a Maliit street. "You begged for contacts when we first met."
The four of them–Kryss, Vanilli, Wayne, and Fergus–traveled through a nice neighborhood. The streets were clean and the facades of the homes and businesses look well-maintained. None of the colors were faded, and everything seemed to be in good repair.
"I don't think 'begged' is accurate," Wayne replied. "We're just tired of politics and don't want to be involved."
"Too bad. You're involved."
"Perhaps the wine will make this evening worthwhile," Fergus mused. "That's unlikely, but one can hope."
"Is this meeting about anything specific?" Wayne asked.
Kryss shook her head. "Purely a social occasion."
Wayne looked at the businesswoman skeptically.
"I wouldn't mislead a business partner." Kryss grinned and stopped in the street. "I believe this is the Mayor's residence."
Kryss knocked on the door, and a portly old man barely more than five feet tall answered the door. "Oh! Excellent! Come in, come in. Don't worry about taking off your shoes."
After several encounters with Lord Blackwell and his relatives, the casualness of that greeting surprised Wayne. He quite liked it.
The group followed the man through an over-decorated home. Every inch of exposed wall was covered with paintings and drawings, and every flat surface had at least three decorative objectives. For example, every end table in the living room they passed through had a lamp, a bowl of potpourri, and an animal figurine.
The dining room was similarly adorned. The centerpiece running down the middle of the table featured wide candelabras with elaborate nests of flowers at their base. Looking more closely, Wayne found that the flowers were fake, made from fabric.
"Sit! Sit!" the Mayor said. "Can I interest anyone in some wine?"
"Me, please!" Fergus said, raising his hand.
"Before you step away," Kryss said. "Vanilli brought you a gift."
Vanilli handed the mayor a sealed wooden box that was a foot wide and a foot tall.
Grinning, the Mayor set it on the table and opened the lid.
A powerful female voice sang from within the box: "Do you really want to love me forever? Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"What in the world…"
"This is a rare siren flower from the Forest of 10,000 Cuts," Kryss explained. "Usually, anyone who hears its songs wanders into the jungle and is never seen again. Vanilli's so talented, however, that he domesticated them."
"This is incredible! Truly, thank you for the kindness."
Vanilli dipped his head in return.
Still grinning, the Mayor said, "Now we definitely need that wine! I'll be right back."
The Mayor disappeared into a side room with the siren flower and returned with a handful of long-stem glasses and a bottle of red wine. He poured five glasses and passed them around the table.
"Dinner will be ready shortly," the Mayor added as he claimed the seat at the head of the table. "I hope you like what I've whipped up."
"You cooked the dinner yourself?" Wayne asked.
The Mayor nodded proudly. "I am an amateur chef, admittedly, but most people find my meals exceptionally tasty. Ah! This is lovely. An exceptional business mind, her horticulturally gifted lover, and of course two members of the infamous Zeroes!"
"Infamous?" Fergus looked over his wine glass quizzically.
Wayne was happy Fergus didn't ask for clarification of who the lover was. He assumed that was Vanilli and preferred to know as little about the demon's sex life as was possible.
"I don't mean that negatively, of course. My colleagues in Iomallach had varying opinions of your exploits in their city. They live up each other's asses, though, so I don't put a lot of stock into what they say. I'm surprised to see all of you in human form, or will that change as the night grows deeper?"
"We escaped the were-affliction," Fergus explained.
"Shame. That would have made for an interesting dinner."
A small bell tinged somewhere else in the house. "I'll be right back!"
The Mayor hurried out of the room. The guests managed only a few skeptical glances to one another before he returned. He set a plate of grilled chicken and a big bowl of steamed broccoli in the middle of the table before disappearing again.
This time, he carried a non-descript cooking pot and a wooden spatula. He leaned over the table, which was a bit of an effort given his stature, and tilted the pot. Gooey white cheese poured out.
When the broccoli had been thoroughly soaked, he moved onto the chicken. Just when the plate seemed in danger of overflowing from all of the cheese, he put the pot back over the broccoli and spent the better part of the next few minutes scraping cheese out with his spatula. He stopped occasionally to look in the pot and then went back to scraping.
Wayne smiled. For the first time in a long while, he thought about his mother. This reminded him of the meals she used to make when he was a kid.
The Mayor handed the bowl of broccoli and cheese to Kryss. "Take what you want and pass it down," he said, happily.
As Kryss ladled cheese with specs of green onto her plate, Wayne wondered at what point the dish was technically a kind of soup but kept the musing to himself. Fergus would have strong opinions about such a definition, and they'd be here all night debating it if Wayne mentioned it.
"I understand that you all are planning an expedition into the desert," the Mayor said between sips of wine. "Pretty bold plan with all of the orcs out there."
"We don't mean to bring you any trouble," Fergus replied. "Our intention is to avoid the orcs."
The Mayor chased a long string of cheese with an open mouth before speaking. "Won't be any trouble at all."
"We were led to understand that Maliit had a treaty of sorts with the orcs and that our trip into their territory would upset them."
Nodding, the Mayor said, "It will assuredly upset them. Very much so. We already informed them of your intentions and made it clear that your expedition does not have the blessing or endorsement of Maliit."
Wayne cocked his head. "Did you say you informed them?"
The Mayor had cheese on his chin. "Of course."
"How does that work?"
"Are you familiar with the idea of messages in bottles?" the Mayor asked.
"Out at sea, sure."
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"Same idea. A citizen of our town is obsessed with trebuchets. If we need to warn the orcs of something, we borrow one and launch messages into the desert. It's not so common anymore, but treasure hunters come through here regularly. We tried stopping them from going into the desert, but you can imagine how well that worked."
"Aren't you worried that a warning like that puts treasure hunters in danger?"
The Mayor shrugged. "No system is perfect, but speaking of treasures, I do have a gift for the Zero Hero. One moment."
When the Mayor returned, he set a glossy, tattered page in front of Wayne. The side of the page facing up was solid black with only a few thinner areas revealing that images lie beneath. What those images were, Wayne hadn't the faintest. Hockey players, maybe?
The other side had a few dribbles of ink but was in otherwise good condition. It featured a full-page ad for a PlayStation game called Akuji: The Heartless. A shirtless man wearing a multi-jawed tribal mask stared angrily at the camera, one side of his lip curled to show his teeth. The caption under his face read:
Here lies the amber cinder of your voodoo.
Resource Values.
GamePro Issue 123 December 1998 Page (Poor), Average Value of 1,533 gold coins.
Like the Oddworld page Wayne acquired in Iomallach, this too appeared to be from a full page advertisement. It was the right side, judging by the tear. As for what Akuji entailed in terms of gameplay, Wayne had no recollection of that game whatsoever.
"Wow," Wayne said, admiring the page.
"That's yours to keep," the Mayor said as he reclaimed his seat at the head of the table. "My pa-pa passed that down to me, and I think he'd want someone from your world to have a memento from home, especially someone who helps ordinary folk so much."
"Thank you. That's very kind of you."
Some time later, to break the silence, Kryss said, "This food is wonderful."
Wayne knew she was lying.
Vanilli, meanwhile, was on his second helping. Cheese had been a bit of a revelation for the demon, so Wayne wasn't surprised to see him enjoying this meal. If Wayne was honest, it wasn't bad. It just wasn't sophisticated.
"Thank you, Miss Kryss," the Mayor said, smiling. "If you all survive the orcs, we should do this again."
Kryss chuckled softly. "We'll be fine. The Zeroes are capable fighters."
"Though we would prefer it did not come to that," Fergus added. "Could we perhaps use your messaging system to negotiate peaceful passage?"
"The orcs never reply," the Mayor said bluntly and returned his focus to cutting up a piece of cheesy chicken.
"If that is so, how do you know the messages you send actually reach the orcs?"
"They have not attacked our town since we started. That's proof enough for me. I do have a request for you all, if I could be so forward."
Wayne and Kryss both gestured for the Mayor to continue.
"I would ask that you not bring the Rebuilder with you." The Mayor looked at Vanilli. "You have won the hearts of our people for your generosity, and your skill is too important to be lost in a fight with some orcs. Your generous gift has also endeared you to me."
"Am I the Rebuilder?" Vanilli asked.
The Mayor laughed. "He's funny too! Yes. You rebuild people's bodies. It's remarkable from everything I've heard."
"I did not know I was given that name."
"It's a compliment," Kryss said, patting Vanilli's leg.
"Thank you," Vanilli said to the Mayor, lowering his head slightly.
Fergus frowned. "We are not bringing our full team with us, so Vanilli will not be in danger. I have to say, though, that your assumption of our demise is troubling."
"If the orcs don't get you, the Black Alchemist or the heat will. Or snakes. Scorpions too. Very poisonous."
"Venomous," Fergus corrected.
"I beg your pardon?"
Wayne kicked Fergus under the table.
"It's nothing," the old scholar said. "Why give us a gift if you expect us to die?"
The Mayor stared back like that was a dumb question. "Gifts should not be given based on what the future holds. They should meet the moment of the present."
"That's a beautiful thought. And the Black Alchemist is only a story, is it not?"
"My pa-pa saw him with his own eyes. Folks around here will tell you it was the dehydration, but pa-pa always had his wits about him. If he says the Black Alchemist is real, then he is."
Kryss patted her mouth with a napkin. "I'd like to hear that story."
The rest of the table nodded their agreement.
"Pa-pa made our family's fortune by searching for desert glass. If lightning hits the sand, it melts it into incredible shapes and designs. Sometimes, desert glass is enchanted with the element of air. In either case, it's highly valuable. Bata merchants paid good money for desert glass, once upon a time. It's a shame we can't get it now, really.
"So pa-pa was in the desert by himself, as he often was, and a sudden sandstorm enveloped him. When I say sudden, I mean sudden." The mayor snapped his fingers. "Just like that, the day went from windless and calm to a raging ocean of sand. He couldn't see anything. All he could do was cover his head and curl up on the ground to wait it out. Then the wind stopped, which was odd because he could still very much hear the storm around him, but the wind that lashed at his back was gone.
"Tentatively, he lifted his head. A wall of sand swirled around him, but no wind touched him. He was inside of a perfectly calm sort of bubble. Then a giant man wrapped in black robes emerged from the chaos. He was eight feet tall, and any place where his body should have been visible, like his hands or his face, shadows flickered and morphed like dark smoke. He stepped toward my pa-pa and then he said…"
The Mayor paused to take a drink and then spoke with a deep, menacing voice:
"'Fire angels fell. They were sure of the rolling thunder, and they burned the orcs.' My pa-pa freely admitted he was scared out of his wits by this thing in front of him, so he's frozen. Can't move. Can't speak. Then the Black Alchemist steps toward him and bends over. They're face to face, but all pa-pa sees is black smoke. He looks at pa-pa for a minute, and then he speaks again.
"He says, 'I see what you do not believe. Boats burn. Oh, Ryan and I watched the sea glitter in the night near the tan house gate. All those lost memories. All the tears and all the pain.' Then he walks back into the sandstorm. A second later, the storm ends. All at once. It was like the sand stopped where it was and fell to the ground. And the Black Alchemist was gone."
"Peculiar words," Kryss said.
Fergus nodded. "Sounds nonsensical."
Wayne transcribed the words into his HUD notes and then stared at his plate. The cryptic words of the Black Alchemist didn't make sense to him either, but familiarity nagged at the back of his mind. "Do you know who he meant by Ryan?"
"Not a clue," the Mayor replied. "But that's what he said, word for word. Pa-pa had a perfect memory, so I know the Black Alchemist is out there. Maliit wants nothing but peace when it comes to him or the orcs."
"Again, we have no intention of disturbing any peace," Fergus said. "Orcs nor alchemists."
"It's no matter. Our peace won't be affected by your actions. Though I am sad that we won't get to do this again."
"Have we been such terrible guests?"
"Not at all!" the Mayor said, shaking his head emphatically. "You'll just be dead by then."
"In the interest of wringing all we can from what life we have left," Fergus began, "would you happen to know anyone else with similar pages?"
"Certainly do. There's a collector in Gitna. I sold the other two pages I had to him."
"Two, did you say?"
"I know, I know. How could I sell off such treasured family heirlooms? I got in a bit of a financial pinch, so I didn't have much of a choice."
"How long ago was this?" Fergus asked.
"A year. Maybe less."
"That's a promising lead," the old scholar said via Voice.
Where Wayne had already betrayed his excitement. Fergus remained stoic. "We would be very grateful to know the name of this person, in case they're interested in selling."
"Name's Berry. His family owns two of the three inns in Gitna. They make a killing off of travelers coming out of the Gentle Forest. The prices are outrageous, but folks are so desperate for some comforts by then that they pay anyway. Helps that most of them are well off to begin with."
The meal wore on, eventually transitioning to dessert, a cheesecake so rich that Wayne could scarcely manage more than a bite. At one point, Fergus sent him a chat message asking if he was okay.
Wayne was fine, but he was distracted, and not by the prospect of acquiring more pages. He had his HUD notes open, and he read and re-read the Black Alchemist's words:
I see what you do not believe. Boats burn. Oh, Ryan and I watched the sea glitter in the night near the tan house gate. All those lost memories. All the tears and all the pain.
Those words continued to poke at his brain, teasingly, chiding him for not being able to complete his thought. Wayne felt that sensation more and more often in this world. As memories of his first life aged, they became harder to recall. He would think of someone he knew but not remember their name. He knew he knew it, though, like it was right there but out of reach.
Fergus cracked the door to his train cabin and stuck his head out.
"Oh good, you're not asleep," Wayne said. "I figured it out."
"Perhaps we could reconvene in a few hours?" Fergus asked.
"It's Bladerunner. The motherfucking Black Alchemist quoted Bladerunner."
"What is a blade runner, exactly?"
"It's a story from my world. One of the ending quotes is pretty famous, which is even wilder when you learn that it was improvised by the actor. It goes-" Wayne attempted to embody the character of replicant Roy Batty and spoke dramatically. "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time... like tears in rain…"
Wayne looked into the distance, as if looking pensively off camera, and held the pose for dramatic effect.
Fergus poked his head farther out to see what Wayne was looking at.
When Wayne saw Fergus' perplexed expression, he wilted. "It was a bad ass moment in the movie."
"I'm sure."
"How does the Black Alchemist know a quote from my world?"
"Could be a coincidence. Your version is quite different from the one we heard."
"I don't think so."
Fergus nodded. "Welp, thank you for telling me. I'll see you tomorrow."
"What's going on?" Wayne said, craning his neck to look through the cracked door and into Fergus' cabin. He immediately wished he hadn't. "Is that the anteater from Iomallach?"
Fergus slammed the door shut.