The voice spoke, “Oh, you could be one of them. But I’ve never seen you before. And yet, you have the form of power. But something is different on the inside—in there you look nothing like them.” On that remark, the shadow leaned forward to reveal its full form: a massive green and yellow cylinder formed of several interconnecting rings, stacked one on top of the other. At its head was a black globe that displayed a thin mouth and eyes, much as Blip’s shell revealed his features. But the face signaled one thing to her. It was not a dumb bot. Although that was a surprise as well. She had seen this type before on her side. This was a sewer maintainer. They came up from time-to-time for self-repair and cleaning. They smelled, but more of stale air and water, not the pungent, decrepit smell wafting off of this one. They were certainly dumb bots. No personality, no motivation besides its duty. She and Blip had steered clear of them because of their single-mindedness. They removed build-up and gunk and garbage and forced the sewers to move freely. They were mammoth in size, resembling massive worms. Their appearance from the lower levels was always announced by the grinding of their carapace.
“Who are you?” Syn asked. She was talking to a sewer-bot. There was a first for everything.
The giant yellow bot bent its shiny black head down. Its eyes still stayed narrowed. It spoke, “I’m the Barlgharel.” The name had come out like someone speaking gibberish.
“Excuse me?”
“The Barlgharel.” The second uttering didn’t help her understanding of it any more than the first.
“I’m Syn,” she said. “Where are we? Did you see my friend?” The Barlgharel had to have seen Blip and the three captors. There was nowhere else for them to have run.
It shook its head. “No. I saw you. And that is all I saw. I stand watch, though. That’s my function.”
“For what?”
“For spies. For enemies. For eyes.”
“But you didn’t see the three who just ran through here?”
“You’re the only one who has ran through here. I’ve been here for a day, and you are the first.”
Maybe they had ducked somewhere else. Maybe there was somewhere else to turn off a bit before this. She turned and looked down the corridor. It seemed like a straight shot. She couldn’t imagine where else they would’ve gone.
“Fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Why are you watching?” She wanted to find Blip, but she was also enjoying finding a friendly face, even if the face wasn’t friendly.
“We assemble tonight. All of the insurg—” It leaned closer. “You seem quite familiar. Can I trust you? Or are you a liar?”
Syn held her hands up, palms out, in a placating gesture. “Friend. I’m safe. I’m not lying.”
“Where do you come from? From the Desert of Nod?”
So there was a desert here. A desert and a jungle? No, she thought, she shouldn’t keep expecting parallels. Nothing good would come from that. This Disc was altogether new.
The Barlgharel leaned in. “Or perhaps from the conclave below? Do you know of the dirt-diggers? The hiders in muck? No? What of those between the corn rows? Those who have fled to the fields?” The image on its shiny black head changed. There was no longer the familiar face. There was only a single eye in the center. It moved its dark eye a short distance from her. “Or from Zondon Almighty?”
It stayed there, staring, daring her to speak for what seemed to be forever. Finally, she croaked, “I’m not from any of those places.”
“Then where? Are you a phant? No. Too tiny to be one of those beasts. And you’re not a bot.”
Syn’s mind raced. She didn’t want to reveal where she had come from. If others were trying to get to her side of Olorun, then the knowledge that she came from there would only enflame that goal. No. She couldn’t share that. She glanced up, toward the fast-moving clouds. A sliver of space opened, and she saw the few lit sunstrips peer through. “I’m from the sun. The top of the Jacob.” She pointed up.
The eye of the Barlgharel looked straight up. If she was going to run away, this would be the time to do it. It lifted itself up, piling each of its circular segments on top of each other until it stood nearly as tall as one of the columns itself. Oh, she thought, that was why it chose here to hide. It could pretend to be a column, and in the darkness, who would notice? I should run, she thought. Now. But she didn’t. Something locked her there. The Barlgharel was strange, but she wasn’t convinced it was malevolent. It was dangerous, she was certain.
It dropped its eye again. “I don’t believe you.”
She smiled. “No really.” She turned to look down the corridor. “I came down in a Jacob. From up there,” she pointed again, “I was just up there.”
The Barlgharel leaned close again, and the stench of the sewer—decomposed organic scents, pungent and thick, overlaid with a tinge of acrid chemicals—filled her nostrils. Don’t cough. Don’t gag.
It spoke each word slowly, “You’re not lying, are you?”
Syn shook her head. “No.”
“Why are you here?”
“I told you. I’m looking for my friend. Three people stole him from—”
“I have a friend. I think she’s up there too.” The Barlgharel pulled back. “Three you say? You should’ve said that earlier. Three, eh? You’ve run afoul of the Wey Wards. All three, huh? That’s some bad luck you have right there. If you’d said that earlier, I would’ve known you were on our side.”
“I did say that…” Syn trailed off.
The Barlgharel was moving away from her, moving in and out of the columns, circling the entire center build. “Well, they’re not here now. Not that they ever stay in one place. Three, eh?” It finished its course and moved behind her, “You know there were more of them once?”
“I don’t know them.”
“Then why are you chasing them?”
“They took my friend.”
“They’re bad people to chase. There were more of them, but they killed the others. The Wey Wards and the Crimson Queen should be avoided. Why don’t you stop chasing them and go back to the Sun? That’s the smart choice.”
From the darkness, a small high-pitched voice chirped, “That’s what I’d do.”
Syn spun, dropping into a defensive crouch. On instinct, her hand reached to grip her spear but found nothing. Need a weapon, she thought. And soon.
“Ralph!” the Barlgharel exclaimed and slithered over to the voice.
19
THE BARLGHAREL
“Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence…”
In the shadows, a series of red lights moved and the Barlgharel returned, followed by a simple cleaning bot that looked a lot like her Bob. Small and determined. But Bob was a dumb bot as well. Not good for anything but cleaning. And not someone designed to give advice.
The cleaning bot named Ralph said, “Stay here. Go home. But don’t follow the Wey Wards. Bad, bad mojo follows them. You follow them, and bad mojo follows you.” The voice was comical as if ripped from some cartoon. She stifled a giggle.