Books of Barakhai - The Beasts of Barakhai Part 12

Korfius nodded. "Longer even."

"Good boy." Falima tousled the boy's hair.

Collins used the distraction to finish dressing quickly, glad they finally seemed to have moved beyond his genitalia. Now that they had all seen him, he felt like a great weight had lifted from him.

"My turn to nap," Vernon announced suddenly. "Got to get my human sleep time in before the switch."

Collins glanced at his watch. It now read 6:45 p.m., which meant Vernon had a little over five hours before the change; since, according to Vernon, he and Zylas switched at exactly the same time. Collins resisted the urge to ask for an explanation about sleeping. It seemed only right that they would need to do so in both forms.

Collins relished and dreaded the chance to spend some time alone with Falima, to finally explain, one-on-one, his mistake with Joetha. He could get her to understand that she and Ialin had misjudged him, that one error made in good faith, did not make him a monster. For reasons he could not rationalize or elucidate, he needed her to like him. Now, one of his companions slept, but they still had to contend with Korfius. By the time the dog/boy switched, Vernon might already have awakened. I can't catch a break.

Korfius and Collins took seats at the table while Vernon stretched out on the pallet. Falima searched the top drawer, then the middle, finally emerging triumphantly with an unwearable rag. She set to work, dusting the surface of the dresser.

Vernon tucked his arms behind his head. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning." Falima continued without a pause. "For what looks like the first time in years."

"Really," Collins said, trying to save their host's face as well as display the manners his mother hadtaught him. "I hadn't noticed." Now that Falima had drawn his attention, he saw cobwebs looped and hammocked along the ceiling, walls, and especially the corners. Dust peppered the floors, and food stained the wooden table.

"Of course, you hadn't noticed." Falima redoubled her efforts. "Filth is invisible to males."

The words struck staggeringly close to home. Collins recalled the times his father would pa.s.s his room as adequately straightened and let him watch television. His mother would poke in her head, shaking it and rolling her eyes.

"Not invisible." Vernon rolled to his side. "Just tolerable." Collins rose. "Toss me a rag. I'll help."

Sitting had become the most boring pastime in the universe. Though he had never considered himself much of a watcher, he missed television, movies, the internet, video games. It seemed so natural to flick on an electric light rather than search out dust bunnies in the dim flicker of a tiny flame. He suspected even finding a book here would prove nearly impossible. He would rather grade freshmen papers than sit twiddling his thumbs while Falima worked. "What do you people do with your free time?"

"Free time?" Falima repeated as she rummaged through the chest of drawers. "What do you mean by that?"

"Try the bottom," Vernon suggested. "Older stuff there."

Falima slammed the middle drawer shut and opened the bottom one. In a moment, she pulled out the torn remnants of a sleeve. "Here." She tossed it to Collins, who caught it in his right hand.

"Thanks." Collins returned to his question. "You know, free time. Like now. When you have nothing in particular that needs doing."

Falima tossed Collins' dirty clothes on the floor near the door. "I don't know, really. It almost never happens." She scrubbed at the dresser top. "I used to spend all night patrolling or guarding the prison.

During the day, I was carrying someone or something. When I wasn't doing either of those, I was sleeping or eating."

"Or searching for food," Vernon said. "Or fixing things that broke."

Korfius added his piece, "Or helping someone find something he lost. Or picking up the slack from someone who's sick or something."

"This situation." Falima made a grand gesture. "This waiting for someone, unable to go outside because someone else is hunting you-"

"Very unnatural," Vernon finished.

"Never happens." Falima dunked her rag into the washbasin and resumed working. "Normally."

Collins thought of all the things his new friends knew nothing about, did not even have the experience to miss: washing machines, dishwashers, music on demand, refrigerators and freezers, vacuum cleaners, cars, ovens, plastic raincoats. The list seemed endless, and he wondered when he had stopped appreciating any of it. No wonder Zylas and Vernon left Barakhai when they could. He suspected they had visited his world more times than they admitted; to have learned even as little as they had managed seemed miraculous. "Zylas brought a lighter back," Collins remembered.

Vernon's deep rumble of laughter surprised Collins. He had not realized he had spoken aloud. "You should have seen him struggle. Entertained me for an entire day. Still makes me laugh."

Falima looked up from her work. "Why didn't he just wait for the switch?"

Vernon propped up his head on one hand, rolling his gaze toward Korfius in a pointed gesture.

Though Falima had asked the question, he answered in broken English. "Only can go as animal. Not switch there."

Intrigued by the answer, Collins wrapped the cloth around his hand and casually released the translation stone. "You can't switch? Or choose not to?" "Can't."

"Interesting." Collins surmised that they had to obey the physical laws of his world once there. The Law of Conservation of Ma.s.s and Energy, perhaps? He hoped that did not mean he would become a shapeshifter while here, though the thought of soaring like an eagle, swinging through trees like a money, or running as wild and free as a cheetah intrigued him. With my luck, I'd probably turn into some plodding old tortoise.

Collins set to flicking at cobwebs with his rag while Korfius watched him from the table. The boy didnot seem to miss working at all, enjoying the opportunity to spend the entire day sitting, sleeping, and talking. And why shouldn't he? Collins refused to begrudge the seeming laziness. He probably doesn't get the chance to do absolutely nothing as often as once per year.

Though he would have preferred listening to Nirvana or Matchbox 20 slamming from a CD in the background, Collins enjoyed the slowed pace as well. For the first time since entering this odd and backward world, he felt almost safe.

Chapter 9.

AN hour and a half later, Vernon snored musically on the pallet, Korfius lay, in dog form, with his head on Collins' foot, and the cabin practically sparkled. Falima tossed herself into a chair across from Collins, regarding him in silence.

Feeling the need to speak first, but not wanting to launch into contentious subjects immediately, Collins simply said, "He's a good man, Vernon."

A forelock of black hair fell over Falima's forehead, between the strikingly blue eyes. Her long lashes swept downward, then up again. "Yes."

"Zylas, too."

"Yes."

"And Ialin . . . ?"

"Yes," Falima repeated, as if Collins had spoken the third name in the same tone as the others rather than in question.

Collins smiled. "What do I have to do to get you to use more than one syllable?"

Falima tapped her balled hands on the tablet op. "Try asking a question where the answer isn't obvious." She also smiled, apparently to show she meant no malice.

"All right." Collins leaned toward her and addressed his mood. "Are we really safe here?" Falima's grin broadened. "Yes."

As Falima returned to her ubiquitous monosyllable, Collins groaned. "All right, then. Let's put this in the form of an essay." He cleared his throat. "Do you believe we're really safe from Barakhain guards here? Why or why not?"

Though Falima could not have understood the reference, she laughed. It was a surprisingly loud sound, full of joie de vivre and mirth, nothing like the dainty bell-like twitters Marlys loosed when she deigned to enjoy one of his jokes. "As safe as we can be for the moment, I guess. Vernon has a web throughout the durithrin community. If the guards remained in or returned to the area, they would tell him."

That explained why Vernon spoke so freely in the forest as well as in his cabin.

Korfius smacked his jowls a few times, then sighed deeply.

Collins jerked his attention to the dog. "Do you think he understands any of this?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

Collins forced his attention from the dog to Falima. "Positive?"

"Yes."

Realizing he had cornered Falima into monosyllables yet again, Collins placed the onus on her. "How can you be so sure?"

Falima slouched. The candle struck red-and-purple highlights in hair otherwise dark as shadow."Horses are senior guards, dogs junior. I spent my last twelve years working over dogs. He's too young for much overlap, even if he had put most of his effort into it. But he's clearly ..." The last word, though apparently enunciated, did not translate.

Collins placed the rose quartz on the table, deliberately removing his hand. "Clearly what?"

"Lesariat," Falima repeated dutifully. She inclined her head toward the translation stone, and Collins placed his palm squarely over it. "Zylas really trusts you."

"He honors me more than I deserve."

Falima did not argue that point. "I knew him almost ten years before he let me use it." She turned Collins a telling look. "Now, thanks to you, it'll probably be another ten before he lets me touch it again.

If ever."

Collins felt his cheeks warm. "Sorry." He directed the conversation back to its previous point. "What is this lesar . . . lesar . . . rat?"

"Lesariat." This time, the stone allowed the foreign word through without attempting translation. "It's a ... a ... state of mind . . . of being." Falima sighed, struggling. "The masuniat find their animal form an inconvenient interruption. Most don't bother to seek balance or overlap. They live from human time to human time. Some leave themselves notes to allow them to take up exactly where they left off. It's more common in Randoms. The Regular masuniat often take herbs at coming-of-age to shorten switch time."

Worried about getting hopelessly lost, Collins tried to clarify. "All right. So the masuniat try to spend less time as animals and more time as humans."

"Right. The Regular masuniat," Falima reminded. "The more successful the herbs, the more like Randoms they become, at least in terms of switch time. Fulfillment would mean they spend exactly half their time human, like Randoms."

"And you?" Collins looked pointedly at Falima, who lowered her head.

"You know, don't you?"

"Yeah, and I'm not quite sure why you lied to me." Worried that he'd never understand Korfius, he reluctantly dropped the matter. "But first, lesariat."

"Getting to that," Falima promised. "The herbs have side effects that limit their use. They can cause bellyaches, rashes, vomiting. Even coma or death. They also lessen overlap. So it's a balancing act."

"I'd say so." Collins could think of nothing short of cancer that would make him take anything so toxic.

"The winariat accept the change as a natural part of life. They tend to have the best overlap, though that partially depends on philosophy. Some truly believe it more innate to act as animal as possible in switch-form and as human as possible in human form."

Collins saw the direction Falima appeared to be taking. "So the lesariat must prefer . . . their animal form?"

"Exactly." Falima beamed at him. "Most have no interest at all in overlap, or they even reverse it. They may bring more habits from their switch-form to their human form. And they take herbs to lengthen their animal time."

Things started to come together. "So Korfius drools. And looks for food all the time."

Falima chuckled. "Exactly. It also helps that I smell the lesariat herb on him."

Collins had completely missed that. "What does it smell like?"

"It's . . . distinctive." Falima's lips twisted, then returned to normal. She shook her head. "Ever try to describe a smell?"

Collins bobbed his head and opened his hands in concession. Without a comparison, it could become almost impossible, like taste. For the first time, he realized why so many meats got compared to chicken.

It seemed simpler to whiff at their companion sometime after the switch. He studied Falima. The candlelight sparked from her golden skin, revealing smears of grime. Her pale eyes watched him back, striking in their color and depth. Though a bit large, her nose suited her, and the curtain of jet black hair gave her an air of foreign mystery. Though not cla.s.sically beautiful, she drew his gaze in a way he could not quite explain. He could enjoy staring at that face every morning over the breakfast table, even rumpled, coa.r.s.ened, and travel weary, for eternity.

Falima broke the spell. "Is it normal where you come from to gawk?"As usual, Collins groped for humor; but the words that left his mouth surprised even him. "Only when there's something this pretty to gawk at."

"Me?" Falima asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Collins said facetiously. "I meant the gorgeous woman standing behind you."

Falima tensed as if to glance around, then relaxed. "Thank you. But there's no need to lie. I know I'm not. . . attractive."

Stunned, Collins turned defensive. "Of course you're attractive. Where I come from, men would fight over you."

"They would?"

"Yes."

"In human form? Or horse?"

"Human," Collins replied, then added, "In horse form, the girls would fight over you."

Falima blinked several times, obviously confused. "The girls? Why?"

Collins considered briefly. "Because, where I come from, it's almost like a law. Pretty much all girls love horses at some point in their lives. Sometimes forever." He leaned toward Falima. "That's not to say boys and men don't like horses, too. Just not so ... almost universally."

"Love to . . ." Falima fidgeted, looking at her hands, ". . . eat them?"

"Horses?" Collins shook his head vigorously. "Yuck, never. We don't eat horses where I come from."

He had heard people in other countries did, but he saw no reason to get technical.

"But you eat animals."

"Not horses." Collins crinkled his face and shook his head again. He caught sight of Korfius at the corner of his vision. "Or dogs. Or mice, hummingbirds, rats ..." The latter made him think of the television show Survivor, but he did not voice it. There seemed no reason to complicate matters more than already necessary.

"What do you eat?"