Reunification (14 page)

“
Nay,” I said, shaking
mine head. “We allow the cool, clean and imminently natural water
to cleanse us when we become dirty. Some wizards and witches will
use magical spells, but I know of none that use lasers in the way
ye describe.”

“
Well, that explains why
you Delanians are always so dirty,” Resita said with a huff. “You
use outdated and inefficient ways to clean yourselves. But maybe
one of these days, someone will figure out a way to convince your
people to bath better.”

“
Only peasants are
dirty,” I said. I gestured at myself. “We Knights of Se-Dela are
held to only the strictest of cleanly standards, for we serve King
Waran-Una, who does not tolerate dirt in his presence. Every night,
we scrub thoroughly until we are cleaner than the air of the
Fertile Lands.”

“
Soap and water isn't as
effective as lasers,” Resita argued. Then he shook his head,
causing a couple more feathers to fall out. “Never mind. We need to
find a way out of here. After that, then we can find the field
agents, maybe reunite with the Delanian branch, and … I don't know
what to do after that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do ye mean, ye
don't know what to do after that? Don't ye Foundation people have a
plan in case of this sort of emergency?”

“
If there
was
one, no one ever told me about it, since I was the janitor,” Resita
grumbled, shaking his hands to get the gunk off them.

“
I wonder if Xacron-Ah
is behind this,” I said. I reached up to stroke my chin, but
stopped because mine hand was still covered in this muck, so I
lowered it back to my side. “Is this the sort of thing someone of
his character would do?”

“
Maybe? I don't know,”
said Resita, shrugging. “I've never met the man. Nor have I ever
been given any orders to look into his past. From what I do know of
him, though, I don't see how he could possibly be behind this,
unless he just happens to have an army of lizard humanoids for the
express purpose of killing his enemies.”

“
Perhaps he does,” I
said. “Though I will admit that I know of no such species like that
on Dela. Perhaps there is such a people in the Underside, but I do
not know for sure.”

“
We can worry about this
later,” said Resita. He coughed like he was dying of a terrible
disease. “As I said, we need to find a way out of here. I've
studied the blueprints of HQ, so I know that there is a drainage
pipe around here somewhere. It should take us out of the city and
into the Dead Lands.”

I grimaced. “The Dead Lands? Is that where
Xeeon's waste is dumped?”

“
Yep,” said Resita,
nodding. “There's nothing out there, so it's not a big
environmental issue or anything.”

“
But I have heard rumors
of decadent mechanical monstrosities living out there,” I said.
“Such as the Destroyer, for example.”

“
We don't have to worry
about that right now,” said Resita in a dismissive voice. “Anyway,
the drainage pipe will probably dump us in the middle of nowhere.
But that's not a problem, because once we escape, it shouldn't be
hard for us to contact the field agents or the Delanian branch and
regroup.”

“
I shall defer to your
expertise, for ye, as a Xeeonite, are far more knowledgeable about
your world and your city than I am,” I said. I looked around the
four concrete walls around us. “Now, where is the exit?”

“
It should be around
here somewhere,” said Resita as he began walking through the muck,
his claws making squashing sounds as he did so. “It's covered under
all of this crap. This place isn't very big, though, so it
shouldn't take us very long to find it.”

I did not wish to scurry about this place
like a rat, but the only other alternative was to stay in this vile
place and let the stink slowly suffocate me. I prayed to the Old
Gods for strength and then began slogging through the excrement and
garbage at my feet, feeling it get betwixt my toes. This must have
been my punishment from the Old Gods for something wrong I had done
recently; it had to be because I had mocked Sir Alart's mechanical
eye behind his back that one time. This seemed like
disproportionate retribution to me, but then I remembered the story
of the Old Gods and the burning house and I decided that I had
gotten off light (though I still made a note to apologize to Sir
Alart the moment I got out of this vile pit).

“
What may we be looking
for, friend?” I said as I sloshed through the garbage. “I do not
know what this exit would look or feel like.”

“
We're looking for a
hatch,” Resita said without looking at me, for his beady bird eyes
were focused on the garbage at our feet. “The way this system is
set up, there should be a hatch that opens occasionally when the
dump gets full enough. It then transports the garbage and crap to a
landfill in the Dead Lands, though it's not a landfill connected
with the city, so we don't have to worry about Xacron-Ah or any of
our other enemies meeting us on the other end.”

Mine stomach churned at the thought of
sliding down yet another pipe with this awful mixture coating its
interior. 'Twas as appealing as rolling in the mud with a pig,
though pigpens were far cleaner than this filth.

Then I felt a handle of some sort beneath
the slop. It felt like a ring, round and metal, but even so, I
could tell that it was likely the handle of the hatch that Resita
had mentioned. What great luck, I thought, though I did not bend
down to grab it, for that would have meant bringing mine face
closer to the stinky mess covering my feet.

“
Resita!” I called out,
waving at him from where I stood. “I believe I have found the hatch
of which ye spoke! 'Tis right here.”

Resita made his way over to me with much
sloshing and squelching, until he was right next to me. I kicked at
the handle to indicate where it was before he could ask.

“
That was fast,” said
Resita, though he did not sound at all disappointed with the speed
at which I found it. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let's open
it.”

“
We can just open it
ourselves?” I said in disbelief. “I thought that ye Xeeonites had
set it to open itself, perhaps through some technological sorcery
of yours.”

“
Technological sorcery?”
said Resita, repeating the phrase as if it were a foreign term.
“What is—never mind. Anyway, ordinarily it is supposed to open on
its own. But that doesn't mean it can't be opened manually as well.
Why else do you think it has a hatch with a handle on
it?”

I folded my arms over my chest and stepped
back. “Well, I am certain ye can do it on your own, Resita. I will
simply stand back and watch as ye do it and then follow once the
drain is open.”

“
Me?” said Resita. He
looked as mortified as if I had suggested that he climb Mount Karna
without any ropes. “But I'm just a weak little janitor. That hatch
is very heavy and, because you're a big brave Knight of Se-Dela,
you could probably lift it far easier than me.”

“
How do ye know how
heavy that hatch is if ye have never opened it before?” I demanded.
I pointed sharply at the muck around our feet. “'Tis no time for us
to be arguing, anyway. The stink in here is starting to suffocate
me, so we should not waste precious time arguing about who should
open it and who shouldn't.”

“
I agree,” said Resita.
He stepped back and gestured at the spot where the hatch was. “You
first, my friend. And no arguing; as you yourself said, we have no
time for that kind of nonsense.”

I gritted mine teeth. Xeeonites were
always annoying to me, because they did this sort of trickery and
deception whenever they thought they could get away with it. They
may have been a technologically advanced people, but sometimes they
were as sly as the cleverest thief. Such as now, with Resita
catching me in mine own words like a trapper frog caught in its own
trap.

Grudgingly, I nodded and said, “Very well,
then. I shall do it, and I shall do it in such a way that not even
the Old Gods will forget it.”

So I stepped forward again and then bent
over, reaching down toward the muck with my hands. Yet I hesitated
when the tips of mine fingers were not more than an inch from the
surface of the goop, as I did not wish to get myself any dirtier
than I already was.

But 'twas only for a moment that I
hesitated. In the next instant, I plunged my hands beneath the
surface of the excrement and garbage and searched for the handle.
Praise be to the Old Gods, for I found the handle after only a
little searching and wrapped mine fingers around it easily.

Thus, I was fooled into believing that
opening this hatch might not be as difficult a task as I once
feared. I pulled hard, but the hatch did not budge. I pulled and
heaved, putting all of mine strength into it, but the hatch still
refused to budge, as if it were heavier than Castle Una itself.

But perhaps I could have opened it, if I
had had any sort of footing. For the floor underneath the goop was
slimy and slippery under mine bare feet, though there was naught I
could do to improve that situation much.

After a few minutes of struggle, I let go
and stood up. Mine back ached from having been bent over for as
long as I had been, and my hands smelled as awful as if I had stuck
them into a pile of cow manure. I looked at Resita, who still had
his feathery arms over his chest, appearing more like a slave
master disappointed by his slave's work than a friend.

“
What?” said Resita,
spreading his arms when he saw me looking at him. “Can't open
it?”

“
The hatch is quite
heavy,” I said, gesturing at the surface of the muck where the
hatch was under. “I cannot find any footing in this place, nor can
I get a good grip on it. Notwithstanding the muck itself, which I
fear is adding too much weight onto it.”

Resita sighed in exasperation. “Oh for the
love of … never mind. Why don't we work together and see if we can
lift it by combining our strength?”

“
What is the heaviest
thing ye have ever lifted?” I asked.

Resita looked at me as if I had asked him
what color a square was. “What?”

“
Ye heard me,” I said,
jerking mine thumb at my chest. “What is the heaviest thing ye have
ever lifted?”

Resita folded his arms again and put a
thoughtful look on his bird-like features, a look of contemplation
on par with the look of a Sage considering the future. “Uh, I think
that would be the collapsible work desk I bought for my home when I
was a freelance reporter for the
Xeeon Daily
. Why?”

I had no idea what a 'collapsible desk'
was, but it did not sound very heavy to me. Still, I asked, “How
much did it weigh?”

“
Probably a little more
than ten pounds, though I don't remember because that was years ago
and I sold it after I quit my job at the paper,” said Resita.
“Again, why?”

“
A ten pound desk is
hardly what I would call heavy,” I said with a snort. “I doubt ye
will be of much help in opening this hatch.”

“
So you just want to
live in this stink pit for the rest of your livelong days?” said
Resita. “Just because I'm not a bodybuilder like you?”

“
I did not say that,” I
said, shaking mine head. “I was simply acknowledging the truth of
the matter, which is that ye are clearly not a very strong
individual.”

“
That's still not an
excuse for not allowing me to help,” said Resita. He flexed his
feathered fingers. “Let's at least try before you write me off as a
weak little bird.”

I sighed a deep sigh, a profound sigh, for
I knew what was destined to happen next. “Very well. Let us not
dilly-dally, for I grow immensely sickened of this place by the
second.”

Thus, the two of us bent over and grabbed
the handle with both of our hands. 'Twas somewhat difficult, no
doubt due to the fact that the handle was not very large, but we
managed to get our hands around it nonetheless. Resita's feathered
fingers brushed against mine, which combined with the muck that we
stood in, made me wish to lift this hatch as fast as we could.

“
All right,” said
Resita. “On the count of three, we'll both pull up. Got
it?”

“
Understood,” I said,
though I tried to say it without opening my mouth widely, for I did
not want to inhale the stink that rose from the filth we stood
in.

“
All right,” said
Resita, who looked as though he too was trying to avoid the stink
just like me. “One … two … three!”

As soon as that word left his mouth, the
two of us pulled up together. Again, I put all of mine strength
into this effort, pulling as hard as I could, drawing on every
ounce of strength I had in mine body. Based on the groans from
Resita, I could tell that he also was using all of his strength to
lift this hatch, which made me feel far less alone in this struggle
than I thought I would.

We pulled and pulled and pulled, but the
hatch did not budge no matter how hard we pulled. Mine feet began
to slip, and I heard Resita's clawed toes scraping against the
floor 'neath us, which told me that he, too, was beginning to slip.
And still the damn hatch did not moved; 'twas as though it was
glued to the floor.

My fingers began to ache, but I still did
not let go. I redoubled my grip and repositioned my feet, though
whether that would do any good I did not know. It was much harder
to do than before, largely because of Resita's presence, for he
stood quite close to me, giving me little room in which to maneuver
and reposition myself. Still, I could tell that Resita was not
going to give up, which made me think that what he lacked in
physical strength, he made up for in mental strength and
courage.