01. When the Changewinds Blow (22 page)

"I wish Zenchur would forget about the Jewel of Omak, or that there ever
was
such a thing, and that he could never touch it again, even by accident. And I wish that he would forget Boolean and everything he ever did for Boolean. I wish he would forget everything for the past five days forever."

Done.

"Zenchur-stand up."

The navigator obeyed.

"First, get and give me all your money, anything of value that could be spent in this crazy world."

Zenchur gave her the change purse, which was fairly heavy, then went over to the trunk with the female dress inside and pulled out a small secret compartment. He removed a second bag and brought it to her. It seemed a lot heavier than the change purse. She managed-to cram it all into the small leather change purse that was part of her own outfit, although empty.

"So you were gonna have me put on a bikini and go down and wander around offering myself until somebody took me up on it, huh? You bastard. I ought'a just order you to go down and become one of those storefront muscle men, but I won't. Uh-uh. Too easy. But for what you did to Charley, what I might not be able to undo, you deserve something real mean." She aimed the jewel.

"I wish that you only loved men," she said to him, her voice firm. "I also wish that you loved to wear women's clothing and jewelry and cosmetics all the time if you can, and that you had the manner and tongue of one of these courtesans-very swishy and real feminine. And I wish you were scared, terrified, of a lot of things. Scared of all women, for example, Akhbreed or not, and the dark, and lonely streets. I wish you felt completely powerless most of the time, and scared. And I wish female centaurs were the scariest thing to you of all."

Done,
said the jewel.

"Okay, get over there and go to sleep, you bastard," she ordered. "Dream nightmares, and when you wake up you'll be a new man."

It felt good, really/satisfying, to do in somebody like that. It wasn't until she had done it, though, that she realized she had blown it. He'd already forgotten her and Charley and everything. He could no longer answer the one big question: why she was wanted by so many people.

"Shit," she muttered, dismissing it as a lost opportunity. The real problem was what to do next.

"Boy, I wish I could wish that
everybody
see me as a hundred percent man," she muttered. "That would protect me around here."

Done,
said the jewel.

She was startled. "You mean I can really do that?"

You are the bearer. Nothing has changed, but optically and aurally they will see someone male and different. I said I was a protector. Limitations: I can do only physical self; not clothing or inanimate objects. Illusion will also be transparent to higher classes of sorcerers, some non-Akhbreed races.

"Huh. So I can't slip into something of Charley's without lookin' like a man in a dress. Still, it's good enough. It means I won't hav'ta worry 'bout this as much. I'm still real amazed that
anybody
bought it. When that guy looked at Charley.and me in the tavern and said that 'bout the two girls I figured I was nailed." She sighed again. "Okay, jewel. I talk to you in English but the one I zap don't hav'ta know it?"

Correct. I will provide the interfaces needed.

"But it'll work on the others, too. Not Akhbreed. Like Ladai."

Yes, but not all. I may also be unable to affect halflings, the accursed, and others of that ilk. Also certain races with intrinsic powers or whose memory and emotive patterns are too different from your own.

She thought a minute. "You can make most folks see a man when they see me. What else can you do to me?"

Question oddly phrased. I can maximize use of anything that is actually a part of the animate bearer. I can give pleasure, dampen fear, speed some types of damage repair, direct energy where it will do the most good, and provide some needed survival reactions and data within the limits of the information available to me. Warning: use me sparingly. I must recharge my energy or my abilities diminish.

She nodded absently. "Yeah, but what I need now is to save Charley and I don't know how. I wish I had the strength, stamina, ability and sheer guts to go after her myself, but . . ."

Done,
said the jewel.
Warning: your body will pay a physical price for this later.

Suddenly there simply was no question in her mind as to what she had to do. Her head stopped its aching, her mind became remarkably clear, although the knot was still there and it was still ugly. She felt strong, confident, wide awake, and cautious, not afraid. She searched Zenchur's bag and the trunks for anything else of use. Not much, and she had no patience to search for secret compartments, not now. Still, in his bag was something solid wrapped in soft crimson cloth, and she took it out and unwrapped it.

It was a knife-no, bigger than a knife. The handle looked more like a sword handle, but the blade was maybe a foot long, perfectly proportioned. She picked it up, felt it, made a few slash and jab moves. It was as if she'd always had the thing and practiced every day.

She took the time to change. There was a soft pullover top of near jet black in there, a pair of black male tights, and a loose but sturdy black leather-belt. She tried on the outfit and it fit pretty well, although the top was lifted up a little by her breasts. The body was all girl, though; she searched and found a loose leather jerkin that went over it and concealed a bit. She knew she didn't really need it with the power of the jewel working for her, but you never knew if you were coming back. Her soft leather boots would continue to be fine. The short sword's scabbard fit on the belt, so that was added. She was reasonably satisfied-it was men's clothing, although she didn't look very mannish in it. That jewel's spell had better work. She kind of liked the look, though.

She was almost ready to go when she realized she'd almost forgotten the money purse. That, too, went on the belt, and she hoped it wouldn't jingle much.

Next was finding a way out. She considered risking the stairs, but the less seen the better. She went to the window, stood on the trunk, and with a real effort got it open and looked out. It was four stories down to the street below, but there were ledges and cornices all the way. The fact that she had always been scared of heights and never even climbed trees well as a kid was forgotten; her mind plotted the whole thing carefully, then she let herself out of the window and lowered herself down onto the four-inch ledge. She worked her way along it, carefully but confidently, until she reached the corner of the building, then eased herself down and let her body flow over the side until only her hands were on or held the ledge. The cornices and brickwork at points gave her only an inch to work with, but, very carefully and in fair darkness, she made her way down the side of the building without aids.

The darkness which had been a fearsome enemy was now a friend to her, and she stepped into it and drew the short sword, then allowed her eyes to grow accustomed to the murkiness and made her way along the back streets. She had made Zenchur be very precise; within ten minutes and with no real incidents except a few rats or rat-like creatures, which she ignored contemptuously, she made it to the waterfront itself and looked back on a row of warehouses, one of which in particular interested her.

She made her way completely around it, unobserved in the darkness, studying it with a professional's eye. It was bound on all sides by streets, the smallest of which was maybe fifteen feet. So much for roof to roof; without equipment it was just physically out of reach. That left the warehouse itself. It was about the same distance to the roof as it had been down from the hotel room window, but this was stone and cement block. The only possibility was the rain channels and gutter pipe, which was more of a rounded pipe than the aluminum rectangles back home. The lowest channels that were useful were a good ten or twelve feet from the street level, more than twice her height, and it wasn't clear just how they were set in. She was five-two, a hundred five-okay, a hundred and twenty. Why quibble? The gutters and mounts back home wouldn't take either weight. If these didn't, then she was screwed and there'd be a lot of banging. If these did-then what?

To hell with it,
she told herself.
Charley's in there and I don't see another way.

She removed her boots in an alley that separated two warehouses in back of her target, then used the sword to cut away the bottoms of the tights up to the ankles. She knew she'd be better off if she left the sword and maybe the money as well-even though the money bag also had the Jewel of Omak-but she wasn't about to leave her only weapon behind and certainly not the money or the jewel.

She sized it up from every angle, calculated the timing, speed, and place, then, without considering things further, she took off, hit her mark, and leaped, arms outstretched.

Both hands grabbed the gutter pipe, but then the rest of her body slammed into the stone wall. It hurt and she almost lost her grip, but she held on. Damn! Wasn't she gonna be a sight if she lived through this?

The pipe was solid and held, and seemed to be mounted on thick steel rods embedded in the concrete of the building itself. With supreme effort and contorting more than she ever thought possible she got a leg up, then rolled into the building letting the two inches of clearance between the rods and the side of the building hold her. It took her some more time and much care and breath control as well as strength, but she managed to get up so she was standing on the two inch pipe. She worked her way down to where the vertical pipe from the roof met and merged with the horizontal one and studied it. It went all the way, right up the corner, but there wasn't much to hold on to except pipe and support pins.

Taking a deep breath and willing away the pain, she used the same arms that could not have possibly lifted one of the trunks, let alone Charley, and pulled herself up the side of the building.

The roof was a sloping affair of dirty green copper.

Cautiously she moved along it, until she reached the corner and a scary turn to cling to the side facing the water. She hoped Zenchur knew what he was talking about. It would be unendurable to find at this point that this was the wrong warehouse-or that Charley wasn't inside.

There
were
windows, at least-a long string of very large ones, only on this side. Some had been propped open several inches to catch the breeze, which was definitely there, although mostly blowing from the land to the water. She made her way to the nearest window and looked in, praying she was not. going to find herself looking down into the warehouse.

She wasn't. It was a room-a big room, with a polished wood floor and tons of stuff all over the place. If definitely looked like an artist's studio-there were even sculptures around on stools and stuff like that. It was definitely what was advertised. Now the only question remaining was whether or not Charley was inside. Zenchur had said that Boday wasn't the only one doing this filthy business, only the biggest name.

Further on down and out of her direct line of sight some lights were certainly on. She had come this far; she had to find out one way or the other. At least, damn it, she made the effort'

It wasn't easy opening the window more than the pins allowed without them falling back, but she managed it, wondering how the hell Boday opened them in the first place. She managed to get under, just barely squeezing through, until she was hanging, suspended inside, but still a good six or eight feet from the floor.

There was no way around it. She would have to drop and roll, and hope that the sound wouldn't be heard or would be dismissed by any who did.

She let go, falling immediately to all fours and then freezing as the short sword went
thunk
against the wood. Holding it up, she crawled into a dark corner and waited to see if anyone would come to investigate.

Someone did. The figure silhouetted in the far doorway was imposing, but, backlit, it was impossible to tell much more than that she was
very
tall and
very
thin and she wore very high heels.

"Hello! Anybody there, darlings?" she called out in a voice that was deep and rich and very female. The Akhbreed dialect was also heavily accented. She walked into the darkened studio without showing any real fear, and in the darkness various forms and colors seemed to glow, although she was barely visible. It didn't take much imagination to see that the glowing parts were shapes and highlights of her body that made the whole show obscene. In a few steps, she stopped again and was slightly illuminated by a shaft of reflected light from the lakefront outside.

The most obvious thing about her was that she was wearing tall, high-heeled leather boots and matching panties or bikini or whatever. What was anything but apparent for quite a moment was that she wasn't wearing anything else, although that realization restored Sam's confidence in fashion design. The fully lit version of the woman did not have the very obscene shapes, but it was a whole new category of obscenity.

From the top of her small, firm breasts to the top of her boots, the woman was a walking art show. It was like she was tattooed all over, yet it wasn't like that-these were no skin-dulled designs, but bright, flashy colors, and lots of them. Dozens, maybe more, all in loops, swirls, waves, and every sort of shape possible. She looked like a walking modern art sculpture. Even her face had some starburst design exploding from her eyes. Only her arms and hands and shoulders seemed free of paint.

After pausing a moment more, she walked out of the slim light and again there were those glowing patterns, although now Sam realized that it was part of the designs on her body. Like day-glo or something, they glowed softly in the dark. Jeez! Those spirals around the breast and nipples moved when she did and could almost hypnotize you! And the hair. It was long, but she'd never seen spikes that thick or that perfect, going out in all directions maybe a foot from her head-and each a different color, too.