“You know,” she subvocalized, “if this turns out as suspicious as it seems so far, and you have to keep on acting like a dumb animal, you’ll be put in a stall and I won’t be able to be with you without giving you away.”
True. But a stall is no discomfort for me, and we can remain in mind contact throughout. I believe I can now reach you across a continent, so we will not truly be separated.
“I hope not! But I have an ill feeling about this. Someone has gone to an awful lot of trouble to show us in.”
We must continue as we have, until we are able to proceed through this reality and resume our journey. Obviously they know someone will be coming on the Virtual Mode, but not who or from what direction, or they would not have fashioned so many paths.
“That’s what bothers me. This is obviously another anchor. Why didn’t the anchor person just come on out to meet us? If he wants to escape his reality, why take all this trouble to bring us in to it?”
I think we shall find out. I doubt we can avoid the encounter which threatens, so it is better to proceed into it as if innocent.
“We are innocent,” she muttered bleakly.
They crossed several more realities—and were abruptly in a huge building. This was evidently the anchor place.
A man stood before them. He was in a uniform: a princely robe of what looked like silk or fine artificial material. A metallic band circled his head at forehead level. His hair was reddish and receding, and his eyes were black and piercing. He looked to be in his fifties, running to density rather than fat.
Seqiro stopped immediately. Colene, uncertain what to do, decided to remain mounted. That way she could go with Seqiro if he bolted. “Hello,” she said tentatively, her throat feeling somewhat constrained.
“Hello,” a ball hanging near them said, mimicking her voice and intonation precisely.
I can not get into his mind, Seqiro thought. But I think that device is trying to communicate.
A translator! That made sense. She faced the ball. “Hello. I am Colene, and this is my horse, Seqiro. We are from a far reality, and only passing through this one. We would like to stay the night and go on in the morning.”
“Hello. I am—” the ball said.
Colene tapped her collarbone with a thumb. “I am Colene.” She glanced down. “This is my horse, Seqiro.” She indicated him. “Who are you?” She pointed to the ball, and then to the man.
“Hello. I am—” the ball said. Then the man lifted one hand and tapped himself. “Ddwng.” The ball spoke again. “You are Colene. This is my horse, Seqiro.”
She smiled. “My horse, not your horse. This is your palace.” She gestured around the chamber.
“Seqiro is your horse. This is my palace. You are from a far reality.”
That machine was fast! “A far reality,” Colene agreed. “On the Virtual Mode.” She gestured back the way they had come. Then she oriented on the man. “You are Deed-wing.”
“Ddwng,” he corrected her. There seemed to be a stutter at the beginning and no vowels in the middle.
“D-dwng,” she said, almost getting it. “Who are your people?”
The translator ball took some dialogue to get that straight, but in due course answered: “My people are the—”
“DoOon,” Ddwng finished.
“Do-Oh!-on,” she repeated, noting the three different “o” sounds. “Ddwng of the DoOon. I am Colene of the Americans.”
The introductions completed, Ddwng stepped forward. He smiled, offering his arm for Colene to brace against so she could dismount without tumbling. She put both hands on it, finding it very strong, and jumped down.
Other people appeared. Except that they weren’t exactly people. Colene tried not to stare, sure that it would be bad form. They had the heads of sheep!
“These are nulls of the Ovine persuasion,” Ddwng said through the ball, noting her surprise. The actual words were less precise, but that was the essence. “Palace servants. They are of human intelligence and perception.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
First the Ovines saw to her horse. Colene made clear that she wanted her mount well treated, and Ddwng led them to a chamber that would do for a stall. They were now in the anchor reality, and things did not shift every ten feet. She arranged with Ram, the male Ovine, to get good hay and grain and water for the horse, for Seqiro could eat the food of an anchor reality and retain it. Plus a block of salt! Then, with regret, she left him, for it would not do to show too great an attachment to a mere beast of burden. Seqiro advised her in this mentally, while playing the part of animal perfectly. They still did not know whether they could trust the folk of this reality. At least the DoOon seemed to have no notion of telepathy; their sophisticated ball indicated that they depended on computerized data banks for translation.
Then they saw to Colene. Ewe, the female sheep, approached bearing silken robes. Colene realized that she must look pretty ratty, after the day’s hike and the soaking down in the storm. Her clothing had dried on her and must look that way. She nodded affirmatively.
The sheep-woman led her to an elegant private chamber. Ddwng did not follow; it seemed he honored basic human protocol with regard to males and females. But she still didn’t trust him. She remembered how her date had behaved well enough, until he got her alone with his friends and their liquor. This could be a fancier version of something similar.
There was another hanging ball here, and it continued to respond to all her remarks. Maybe it was all part of a network, and they wanted to get as much of her language as possible, quickly. That was fine with her. She gave it all the words that came up, and instructed it in basic syntax, correcting it when it made an incorrect assumption. This was the easy way to establish communication!
Meanwhile she suffered herself to be undressed, bathed, and redressed by the quiet female. She was very good at her profession, evidently born to be a servant to nobility. For Colene was being treated like a princess, and garbed like one. Whenever she spoke to Ewe, that creature nodded her head forward in a set motion, both bow and acknowledgment, and did her best as quietly and efficiently as possible.
Soon enough Colene was not only clean and clothed, her hair was flowing and lustrous, and she wore a diadem that scintillated iridescently. Her fingernails matched the diadem, and her toenails too, in comfortable yet elegant sandal-slippers. The fatigue of the day was fading; the sheer luxury of her apparel was banishing it.
She looked at herself in a mirror. She was stunning! As lovely as she had ever imagined herself to be in her most foolish flights of fancy. She showed no private flesh, yet somehow the gown made her look utterly feminine.
Then they guided her to another ornate chamber. This seemed to be a dining room, and suddenly she realized how hungry she was. She and Seqiro had been so busy following the pontoon bridge that they hadn’t stopped to eat since breakfast.
Seqiro: the horse was doing fine. His thoughts told her of his best meal in days, and the attention of servants who had the heads of horses, who scrubbed off his hide and brushed out tangles in his mane. He could not read their minds, but their attitude indicated that they had not seen a genuine horse before, but understood hoofed animals, so had a general notion how to treat him.
Ddwng was waiting for her. He showed her to a seat at a table for two, and sat opposite her. “You are comfortable?” the ball of this room inquired.
“Yes, thank you,” Colene replied. Indeed she was, physically. But what was this leading up to? She tried not to show her continuing tension.
“You are beautiful,” the ball said.
“Thank you.” Then, aware that it spoke at the direction of Ddwng, she made the servant nod-bow to him.