"Why is it that every time we're hunting fugitives, the trail always ends here?" The voice contained clear exasperation.
Vernon's reply sounded gruff. "Why is it that every time you're hunting fugitives, you chase them toward me? I'd thank you to stop. Puts me in danger. Would you like it if I started sending thieves and killers to your-"
The dog shifted, and Collins tightened his hold. If he could hear the men, likely they would hear any noise from him also.
"Cut the crap, Vernon." A loud, irritable voice joined the others. "What did you do with them?"
Vernon's answer dripped sarcasm. "I ate them."
The dog went limp in Collins' arms. The sudden dead weight made it seem twice as heavy, and it took all his strength to lower it soundlessly to the ground. What the…?
The first speaker huffed out a laugh. "You're a mouse, Vern. You can barely eat a hallowin seed before you fill up."
Worried he might have strangled the dog in an overzealous attempt to keep it quiet, Collins continued to bolster some of its weight. It felt liquid in his arms, all fur and limbs, and he fought for orientation. He no longer had its mouth, which put them at serious risk. He groped for it, swearing silently, overwhelmed by heat. All of the oxygen seemed to drain from the room. His heart rate trebled.
"I'll have you know I can eat three hallowin seeds before I fill up."
"Not funny," came the gruff voice again. "This guy we're hunting actually did eat someone. Cannibal. Try and hide him here, he'll probably eat you, too."
"Cannibal?" Vernon sounded shocked. "You're right. That's not funny."
Collins thought his heart might pound out of his throat. The dog became even harder to support, squirming into positions he could not fathom in the darkness. He no longer felt fur beneath his grasp, and that proved the final clue. God, no. He's switching. He gripped harder, now seeking a human shape among the movement. Not now, dog. Please, not now. He held his breath, awaiting the scream that revealed them.
"I… didn't know. I'll do whatever I can to help."
Collins could no longer concentrate on the conversation. He found a human ear beneath a wild mop of hair and lowered his mouth to it. "Please don't make a sound. I'll explain everything."
To Collins' surprise and relief, the boy obeyed. Now he turned his attention back to the speakers, but the voices and footsteps faded away. Vernon's revulsion had sounded sincere, concerned enough to reveal Collins to the guards. His chest clutched and ached. He doesn't know me, has no loyalty to me. He cringed, prepared for the worst.
The conversation grew uninterpretable, and Collins realized he had dropped the rose quartz in his struggle to maintain control of the dog. He pressed himself breathlessly to the wall, helpless, waiting for the guards to find him, for the dog/boy to shout, for Vernon to surrender him. Then, the voices faded away. Footsteps slammed up the steps, then disappeared.
More time passed, immeasurable in the sightless, soundless prison. Then, Collins heard the creak of the moving dresser. The door sprang open, and the dull interior of Vernon's cabin blinded him. "Thank you," he gasped out in English. The boy tumbled onto the floor, blinking repeatedly and glancing wildly around the room.
Vernon assisted the boy to his table, talking softly, while Collins fumbled around the hiding space until he found the quartz. He closed his hand firmly around it before shutting the panel. Now that he knew of the false wall's existence, he could see the faint outline of its crack and the indentation that allowed Vernon to pull it open. He shoved the dresser back in place.
Vernon approached Collins, enormous hands outspread. "Hi. Think him…"He gestured at the boy, who Collins saw for the first time. Blond hair fell around a heart-shaped, beige face, and brown eyes studied Collins with awed curiosity. Skinny, with long arms and legs, he could pass for a young American teenager if not for his completely unself-conscious nakedness.
"… think you…" Vernon struggled for the word, his English not even as competent as Zylas' pidgin speech.
The boy dropped from his chair to his knees on the floor, head bowed. "Your Majesty."
Collins understood. "Opernes?" he supplied. It seemed absurd, and he wondered what about his humble self might give such a noble impression. My clothes? The simple homespun his companions had provided clashed with his battered jeans and grimy Nike knockoffs. My watch? It seemed more likely until he realized that the boy had made his assumption as a dog. My scent? "Why does he think…?"
Vernon's features opened in surprise. "You-you speak…" He recovered swiftly, warning in his undertone. "Why does he…? Don't you mean how? How does he know you're royal, don't you, Your Majesty?" His lips formed sounds that did not match his words at all, like a badly dubbed movie. Collins had not gained that impression from Falima when she had carried the stone, and he guessed it rendered the speaker immune from that effect.
Clearly, Vernon expected him to play along. Though he did not understand why, Collins would not disappoint a man who had just saved his life. "Yes, of course." He turned to the boy. "How did you know?"
Apparently released by Collins' direct questioning, the boy clambered back into his chair. "Only royals don't switch." He studied Collins through liquid eyes, as though the answer should have been obvious.
It should have. Collins tried to cover. "I just didn't know one so young could determine that in switch-form."
"And retain it," Vernon added, almost hastily. "You must have good overlap."
The boy beamed, then blushed. "Not really. Not yet." For Zylas' sake, Collins did not glance at the translation stone, though he could not help clutching it like a treasure. He could understand Zylas' reluctance to lend it; at the moment, he would not trade it for the Hope Diamond. As he and Vernon took the seats on either side of the boy, he could not help wondering if it proved as useful to Zylas. Nothing required him to visit Collins' world; and, as far as he could tell, all citizens of Barakhai spoke the same language, at least in human form. But there's more than a little advantage to learning how to communicate with animals, especially here. He wondered if that explained Zylas' near-perfect overlap.
Unlike Collins, Vernon did not become too lost in thought to remember his manners. "I'm Vernon." He made an arching motion over the boy's head to Collins. "BentonCollins." He slurred it into one word.
"Just Ben's fine," Collins said before Vernon could stop him. "And what's your name?"
"Korfius, Your Majesty." The boy stifled a yawn.
"How old are you?" Collins asked.
"Twelve," Korfius replied. His posture improved abruptly as he added, "Almost a man."
Barely a kid. Collins kept the thought to himself. "What do you remember…" He glanced at Vernon for help. "… from… switch time?"
Vernon nodded his approval of the query, so Collins turned his attention back to Korfius.
"Not much, Your Majesty," Korfius' face reddened again. "I knew I was with royalty. And a horse-guard." His eyes crinkled. "Though I don't know why or how." He looked askance at Collins, who pretended not to see. The less Korfius knew, the safer he remained.
Apparently thinking along the same lines, Vernon rose and gestured at the pallet. "Why don't you get some sleep, Korfius?"
Collins winced, anticipating an explosion. No near-teen he knew would agree to nap like a child.
But the boy only nodded before glancing hesitantly at Collins. "Is that all right, Your Majesty?"
Struck dumb, Collins could only imitate Vernon's gesture.
"You sleep, Korfius. I'll be fine. Vernon and I have work to take care of."
Korfius bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Still naked, he headed toward the pallet.
"I've got clothes in the drawers." Vernon walked to the door. "Something in there should fit you."
Collins doubted it. Anything that covered Vernon's enormous form would fit Korfius about as well as a circus tent. "Sleep well." He followed Vernon outside and closed the door. As it clicked in place, he hurriedly tried to explain. "About that cannibal thing-"