Part 5 (1/2)

Falima hesitated, clearly seeing the trap. ”You were starving?”

”Yes.” Collins refused to allow her to sidetrack him. Though no third world orphan, he had gone twenty-seven hours on nothing but water. ”Would you eat the bugs?”

Maybe,” Falima said, then clenched her jaw. ”Why? Is that murder where you come from?”

The urge to reply affirmatively became a burning compulsion. It would make his point swiftly and efficiently, but Collins never lied well. ”No. But it's disgusting. You wouldn't get hung-”

”Hanged,” Falima corrected.

Collins blinked, barely daring to believe a person who could only speak his language because of a magical device thought it possible, even necessary, to correct his grammar. ”It's hanged? Not hung?

Really?”

”Trust me.”

Collins returned to his point. ”You wouldn't get hanged.” It still sounded wrong. ”But you might get locked up.” He did not bother to differentiate between prison and a mental unit. It would only weaken his point, and at least he had not directly lied.

Another large, flying thing zipped past Collins' head. He smacked it out of the air. ”No wonder you can eat the bugs here.” It flew in an awkward arc, then crashed into the dirt. ”They're as big as-”

Falima's sharp intake of breath cut off Collins' words before he could make a fatal faux pas. Zylas scrambled to check on the fallen creature, Collins presumed to augment dinner.

Zylas scooped it up but did not add it to the crock. Instead, he cradled it in his hand, ma.s.saging it with a gentle finger.

Dread crept through Collins' chest in icy p.r.i.c.kles. What have I done this time? Leaping to his feet, he raced Falima to the thing in Zylas' hands. A tiny hummingbird lay there, its colors vivid against thechalky whiteness of the rat/man's palms. Its body was deep emerald, the wings a lacy lighter green. A patch of pink decorated its throat. The long, thin beak was black. ”I'm sorry,” Collins gasped out, gagging. ”I thought it was a horsefly. I swear I did. I-I . . . is it . . .”He shuddered at the idea. ”... dead?”

”Just stunned.” Zylas held up his hand, and the bird's wings became a blur. It zipped into the air and disappeared, to Collins' relief.

”He is a menace,” Falima grumbled under her breath.

”Honest mistake,” Zylas replied.

Collins suspected both of the English comments had been directed at him, though they addressed one another. To his surprise, he appreciated them talking around him rather than in their own language. At least, he felt included. ”I'm sorry,” he said again. ”I'm really sorry.” He wondered if he had just destroyed their security or enhanced it. If he alone noticed the hummingbird, and it had been spying, then he might have averted capture. More likely, he had whacked some innocent bystander who would now find him less a curiosity and more a danger to discuss with guards and friends. Collins dropped to the ground and buried his face in his hands. The new lines of thought this bizarre world inspired left him with millions of possibilities and little direction. ”Perhaps . . . perhaps, the guards at the ruins might get tired of waiting for me and give up?”

Falima's amused snort shattered that last hope. Even Zylas loosed a laugh. ”Not likely. Even best time, guard . . . zealous.” The last word seemed a difficult one for a tyro to choose, and Collins suspected its similarity to the rat/man's name made it easier for him to learn. ”They know you corned from there. Want you.” He shrugged. ”Not go till get you.”

”They know?” Collins felt his features grow tightly knit. ”How?” There seemed only one logical explanation. ”Have others come from my world?”

Zylas glanced at Falima, who shook her head with a grimace. They exchanged more dialogue than Collins thought necessary. Either they had or they had not. If s.p.a.ce aliens had visited his town, he could not imagine anyone not knowing.

Finally Zylas addressed Collins again. ”No.”

The answer seemed too simple for the time it had taken to gather it. ”No?”

”Not that either of us knows of,” Falima clarified. ”The royals might have more information.”

Collins doubted it. If others had come, it seemed likely the so-called royals would have kept him from entering Barakhai in the first place.

Apparently thinking along the same lines, Zylas added. ”If other come, royal not know from where till you.”

Or else I would have found the ruins better guarded. Collins nodded to indicate he understood, then stumbled over an odd thought. ”Do your people come to our world often?” He had studied some strange animals, like the platypus, that seemed otherworldly. Perhaps it explained the disappearance of the dinosaurs; somehow they all got zapped to another dimension.

Falima continued gathering bugs. ”Zylas is the only one I know of who has gone. And I only just found that out because of you.”

Zylas looked at his sandals. ”Know one other. Not think more.”

”Let us eat.” Falima held out the crock, now half-full with crawling insects.

Collins' stomach lurched.

Falima poured water into the crock, replaced the lid, and set it near the food. ”Hurry up. Gather kindling.”

Immediately, Collins obeyed, glad to find some small way to start repaying his rescuers. He brought back armfuls of dry twigs, choosing wider ones with each pa.s.s. The first gray stirrings of dusk settled over the forest, bringing a chilly breeze that stirred the leaves into rattling dances overhead. Oncoming darkness dimmed the trees to skeletal hulks swarmed with fluttering leaves like dark, limp hands. As Collins dropped his third load, he found his two companions squatting in front of a well-arranged tower of kindling with a pile of leaves beneath it. He hunkered down between them. ”Be a lot easier if you'd brought my lighter.”

”Not need.” Zylas reached into his tunic pocket.Before Collins could marvel over Zylas even knowing what he meant, the albino's hand emerged wrapped around a translucent purple Zippo. Expertly, he flicked the wheel with a callused thumb. A tiny flame appeared, and he used it to ignite the leaves.

Zylas sat back. ”Brought own.”

Collins dropped to his haunches. ”You . . . you have lighters?” It seemed impossible. If Barakhai had that technology, he should see so much more; and it made no sense that they would have an otherworld brand name version even so. Then realization clicked. ”You must have got it in my world.”

Zylas watched the sprouting flames, brus.h.i.+ng aside his cloak and replacing the lighter blindly. ”Work hard drag back.”

”I'll bet.” Collins pictured a rat scooting the Zippo across a dark, dirty floor for hours. He bit back a smile. Zylas probably would not appreciate the humor, and he doubted Falima would either. Reminded of his own devices, Collins expressed grat.i.tude that had gone too long unspoken. He now understood that Zylas must have packed the saddlebags. ”By the way, thanks for getting my watch back.” He held up his wrist. ”And the phone, too.” He patted the Motorola StarTAC clipped to his waistband.

”You welcome.” Zylas fanned the growing flames with his hat as they danced onto the wood. ”Not able get all. Pick good?”

Collins measured his response. No matter how misguided, good deeds deserved praise, not condemnation. ”Fine.”

Apparently reading the hesitation, Zylas looked up, snowy hair plastered to his head in the shape of his missing hat. ”Truth, please.”

”Honestly,” Collins returned carefully. ”I do appreciate your help.”

”But. . .” Zylas added, replacing his headgear.

”But,” Collins continued dutifully. ”Time doesn't make a whole lot of difference.” He gestured at his watch, then pulled the cellular phone from its holster. He pressed the b.u.t.ton and got no response.

”Without a charger, it's not much use.” He chuckled. ”Even if it worked, who could I call?”

Zylas grinned crookedly. ”Do better next time.”

”Next time. Right.” Collins studied the creases at the corners of Zylas' mouth and realized his companion was kidding. He laughed. ”Next time.”

Even Falima managed a smile, though she turned away as if afraid the men might see it. ”Why do we not start eating? The main course will come soon enough.”

Hungry, Collins nodded. He had eaten only cheese curds since daybreak and not nearly enough of those. They sat and ate most of the apples, hard rolls, and cheese curds in their possession while the bugs bubbled merrily over the coals. They shared the water in the canteens. It tasted dusty and stale, but it slaked Collins' thirst. By the time Falima pulled the hot crockery from the fire, he felt satisfied, not the least bit interested in the boiled ma.s.s of recently crawling pests.

Suddenly, Falima stiffened, a handful of dead bugs halfway to her mouth.