Bayrtith in the Temple of Oracles

Free Preview pp 40-42 At last, after years alone, she had to go out to the World. She stopped, still in love with Unreality, whereby her Determination acted for her. Body Crosser sped out to the world like an arrow. Bewildering blinding dazzles, booming noises and powerful squirmy feelings burst overwhelmingly upon her and obliterated her Flowers. Then old memories took her over and gave her back to Reality. # She lay on a cot, in a small, stinking, ill-lit room. To her left, two shadowy figures loomed. One was cursing gutturally. "You blackguard son of a 'ore, Solgor. You used old drug, to save a coin! You'll not put its loss on me. I think your Smash has rotted." He reached for a bottle that Solgor held and Solgor jerked it back. Steely scrapes sounded, making Bayrtith think of knives. Metal glints gleamed in their hands. It WAS knives! She knew knives! Knives cut. Knives killed. The guttural one was big. How weird, to see bodies again. He had a great round chest, black rumpled clothes, long black hair, flat crooked nose, and a jutting chin made bigger by black whiskers sprinkled gray. An ugly scar snaked up his face from out of his beard. Broad, his face, as he squinted angrily, piggy eyes in thin slits under black beetling brows. A face of evil, like that of the Bandit who once had tried to steal her. The one he called Solgor looked puny. Then she felt his Mind, and it was meaner. He was the man in her Mind. In Reality, he was uglier yet, with a narrow face, sharp nose, bony chin, bald head with thin scruffy hair around it, and shifty baggy eyes. As long as she lived, she never forgot those faces. Solgor spoke softly. "Easy does it, Dongay, old friend. No coin in a fight between us. We'll work out a deal." Bayrtith understood most of it, and felt his evil. How hard to separate what was said from the thoughts and feels of its speaker. Yet she knew Solgor was the deadlier. "It's an offer," Dongay said, fear leaking out of him not to fight this one. "I'll shuck my knife if you do yours." Warily, they sheathed knives and Dongay asked, "What can you do with a soulless one, 'cept drop her in the river?" Solgor shrugged. "I'll have to inquire." "No time," Dongay spat. "If we're caught with her, they'll flay us alive! This one's from a noble Family." SLAM! Bayrtith jerked, ears ringing, rigid with fear. Solgor had struck the table, chalky cheeks ablaze. "Damn you, Dongay, you know my rules!! Leave nobles alone and we’re safe. You're stupid to steal her, and a fool to bring her here!" "Go easy," Dongay said, shivering and sweating. "She's dropped on me by a noble hisself, to put her away. But the Gods said not to cut up a doll like this, when some as pay well for ‘em." "Well, there's none as buy 'em soulless," Solgor yelled, "so get her out. Cut her up and feed her to the fishes. You took the pay, so you take the risks and Yagoth damn you for risking me." Cut her up! Bayrtith turned cold. Even her child's mind pictured that, and so did her Unreal Mind. They meant to kill her. She saw but one way to escape. She must run away while they weren't looking! She cautiously sat up––and but flopped! Fear bit her. Belying all her memories, she had no control! Dongay drew his knife and snarled. "Hey! She moved! What kind of cheat are you playing, Solgor? She's not soulless!" Solgor eyed Dongay, as he backed away till over Bayrtith. Thence, he held his knife to her throat and SAID, his voice as hard as stone: "What's your name?" Trembling, yet Bayrtith NEGATED his COMMAND. Still, she had to give him an answer, lest he stab her dead. Her lips babbled, ere she found a word Topside could say. "Mama," she gurgled, "Mama." "Oh, sure," Solgor hissed. He faced Dongay. "Back off, Lad! Onz' forsake and Yagoth take, I swear I found no soul. Now she's got one, and I don't like it! Is she a Witchling? Tell me!" "Solgy, you know I can't rat clients. I'm Enchanted not to, and by a better Mage than you. There's witches in her Family, true, but she's a simple, no Magic, and they know by ten years old. Strike us two for old fools, do y' think I'd a got her, could she bewitch me?" Bayrtith rolled her eyes at him and he backed away. Solgor smirked. "Well, she's a simple now. As for witchery, I'll go back inside and see. Besides, with a soul again, we can sell her. But first, I got to see she's got no memories to hurt us." Dongay brightened and let Solgor put him out and bar the door. So, Bayrtith saw, a barred door is all the trust they have of each other! Solgor lay beside her and SAID his Word. Bayrtith hid below. She feared giving him Bayrtith-Above but had to, lest he kill her. She could only try a Trick. She kept Shield Crosser in the roots and let go of Bayrtith-above. The baby Butterfly crawled away over the broken flowers, too young for terror. Howl and Rush of Wind and Mama's face, and Bayrtith scryed from roots, senses raw for danger. Solgor groped as if blind, found the Butterfly and swore. "Gods! With a mind shaped so, you are a Witchling, true as sin. Still, you can't cast Spells on us, save you still have learning, whereby I mean to find out if you have any."