Always expected to drown eventually, ran through a corner of her mind, even as her will doggedly forced her arms to lock in an effort she knew would be futile. The wave would take her overboard, and that would be the end.
Swindapa fell down the canted deck toward her, hair like a banner of yellow silk, shocking in the lightning-shot darkness. The younger woman's right arm clamped around her waist with desperate strength; the left was wound into a bight of line.
"Don't you leave me!" the Fiernan screamed in her ear. "Don't you dare!"
Wasn't planning on it, she thought, sucking in a last deep breath and holding it despite the salt spray that rasped at her lungs. And Christ, 'dapa, you'll get yourself killed too!
The wave struck, lifted them, slashed them backward and then smashed them down again against the decking with casual brutality. Alston let the last of her consciousness drain into her arms, locked around Swindapa and the rope.
Blackness.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
(May, Year 8 A.E.)
March, Year 9 A.E.
(May, Year 9A.E.)
"You know what your problem is, Alice?" William Walker said, leaning back on one elbow.
Picnics had gone over big with the locals. It was funny that way. Sometimes they loved notions from the twentieth, sometimes they were horrified, and sometimes just bewildered. Snacking out in the open air they liked. Maybe because they're so hot on hunting, he thought lazily.
Alice looked at him sullenly. "My problem, O Enabler? Well, if you want to get technical, my problem is that I'm psychotic-a clinical sadist with paranoid tendencies, borderline sociopath, possible disassociative elements. So sue me."
"No, no, that's your hobby. I asked you if you knew what your problem is."
The royal party were alone on a hilltop in the foothills of the mountains. Summer was a little cooler here, under tall oaks; the grass crushed under the blankets gave off spicy scents… very much like a spice rack crossed with a sachet, in fact-marjoram, thyme, lavender. There were a few bees buzzing around as well, and a lot of birds.
Always birds around, since the Event, he thought idly.
From here he could see downslope to the Eurotas valley, but a fold of the ground hid the restless growth of Walkeropolis. There was only the soft palette of the farmlands, green and dun-gold and reddish-brown, the low silver streak of the river itself broken with yellow sandbars, and the hills rising blue and dreaming on the other side.
A little further back, Harold and Althea and a bunch of his retainer's kids were throwing a Frisbee-boiled-leather variety-with a big, shaggy dog loping between them trying for a catch. Ekhnonpa and Eurykleia were standing under an umbrella pine, slowly fanning themselves and watching. Other parties were scattered around the hillside, and a little lower down was the business side of things-a company of his Guards, and the servants, slaves, and whatever with the horses and carriages.
"Okay, Fearless World Conqueror, what is my problem?" Alice said, picking apart a piece of bread.
"It's simple," he said, grinning widely, nibbling at a pastry and taking a sip of lemonade. "You need to stop and smell the flowers."
Unwillingly, Alice's mouth turned up. There were slight lines beside it now. She'd aged well. Good bones to begin with; none of her vices were bad for you in the physical sense, and like many doctors she was a bit of a hypochondriac, so she watched her diet and exercise. But if we had tobacco she'd be chain-smoking.
"Look, Alice, querida mia, you've gotten out of balance," he said. "Your chi isn't flowing properly."
"Hey, roundeye, you're giving me the Buddhist shit?"
He chuckled. "C'mon, Alice, we've been together a long time. Open up."
"Yeah." She paused, sipped from a flask of wine, sighed. "You know, I never really did much like getting drunk. Buzzed a bit, yes; drunk, no-opens too many cupboards, like dope. So, okay. Yeah, I've had this feeling recently that I'm… drifting away, somehow. I mean, this is great here, it's my dream setup, but there are times I feel… odd. Cold. Out of control." She rubbed her hands over her upper arms, and her voice took on a slightly shrill overtone.
Walker put a hand over and kneaded the stiff muscles of her neck. "All right, Lady of Pain. You feel like you're drowning, right?"
"Right." She gave him a glance, half mocking and half relieved. "You know, Will, for a cast-iron bastard, you can be almost human at times."
"Hey, that's the point, my little Madama Butterfly. You gotta let it flow. Indeed, he who has achieved satori may without sin steal the peasant's ox or take the last bowl of rice from a starving man; for he has become the eye that does not seek to see itself, the sword that does not seek to cut itself, the un-self-contemplating mind. Or to put it in American-chill, babe."
"You going moralistic on me, now that you're a responsible family man!" she said, with a hint of danger in her voice. It dissolved into mere irritation as he shouted laughter.
"Christ, Alice! There's something you haven't grasped yet."
"What's that, O guru?"
"Look, Alice, when it comes to the atrocity division, you're a piker compared to me. You're a little artisan, a back-to-the-land one-off maker of small, handcrafted gems. I'm mass-production assembly-line industry. Fuck, woman, I killed every third human being in Sicily.
We crucified two thousand slaves up in Macedonia after the revolt in the gold mines. And you know what? It didn't mean shit to me. Just part of the job, part of the game. And you're letting the edges of your personality fray because you flay one here or amputate a few organs there and it gets your rocks or female equivalent thereof off? Hell, and I thought you were tough, Alice."
"Why am I getting the feeling I'm missing something?"
Walker stretched out a hand, prisoning the woman's jaw. "You are, Alice. You see, we can do anything we fucking want to here."
"I know that!"
"No, you don't. We can torture and kill one day, and go roast marshmallows with the kiddies the next-just as we goddam well please. Relax, for Christ's sake, Alice! You don't have to look over your shoulder anymore, waiting for Big Daddy to come and take your toys away. You're making the rules now-after me, of course. You can take it or leave it. Whatever."
He held her eyes, until she heaved a sigh and relaxed. "Yeah, Will, I think I see what you're driving at. Yeah."
"Good. Wouldn't want the Avatar of Hekate to go dysfunctional on me."
Alice hesitated, then went on: "You know, Will, there's something… all these people, you know, the Agamemnon, that creepy daughter of his, Odikweos… you know, sometimes I feel a little weird being around them. You know, it's like there's this big mountain of fate hanging over them and I'm going to get caught in the avalanche."
Walker snorted. "Fate is what I arrange to happen to other people, babe," he said. Then his eyes narrowed. "Hey, that gives me an idea, though… yeah… oh, that would be fun. I am fate."
She shivered a little. "You know, Will, sometimes I think you are badder than I'll ever be."
His laughter lifted over the hillside, full-chested, and the children playing below looked up and waved, laughing themselves.
I hate this, Marian Alston thought.
Rousing from unconsciousness was not like getting up in the morning. You hurt. Pounding headache at least, litterbox taste in your mouth, nausea, and this time her entire body felt like one great bruise. I'm getting too old for this.