“Oh, there she is.” Tammy stares off into the near distance. “Sorry if I go derpy. I’m hiding us.”

  Derpy is Tammy’s new word for looking foolish. Lately, it’s when she’s using so much of her brain power, the rest of her gets neglected. Blank faces, mouth open, drool. It’s why Anthony has to carry her. What wonders the internet has brought civilization, right? I never even heard the word ‘derp’ until I had teenagers.

  Drool? Really, Mom?

  I pat her on the rear end. I love you, kid.

  The smell of food wafting by on the breeze enchants Kingsley and Anthony as thoroughly as a snake charmer’s flute. The two guys head for a nearby place with the look of an inn or restaurant. Allison starts to follow, but stops to look back in a ‘you coming’ way. Oh hell. Food wouldn’t be a bad idea. I escort Tammy since she’s already become kinda out of it.

  Five stairs lead down from the front door into a recessed tavern room. Even though I’m not being affected by the punishing heat, I can tell it’s noticeably cooler inside this building than outside. Since my daughter is zoned, I take the translation ring. While the others sit at a round table in the back corner, I prowl the room in search of a ‘patron.’

  Because stealing is apparently the greatest crime imaginable to this society, it’s time for a little generosity. A guy wearing a few gold rings and ruby earrings stands out as ‘probably rich’ to me. This goes against most of who I am, but it’s getting chalked up to the greater good of stopping Elizabeth. If we starve, we won’t have the strength to stop her. Also, we don’t have the time to run around doing odd jobs for people to earn some money.

  I approach the rich guy’s table. He’s sitting with two people. One’s a slender young woman who’s probably in her early twenties, dressed in fine, almost-transparent silks dyed cyan and violet as well as a silver slave collar. Her demeanor and body language reminds me of a personal assistant for a demanding boss who also has the ability to command her to sleep with him whenever he wants. Hates her job but can’t quit.

  The rich guy’s other friend is a man in his thirties. I assume he’s definitely some kind of bodyguard due to his big muscles, scars and the large sword strapped across his back.

  Rich dude’s teasing forty but might not be there yet. Long beard, lots of rings and jewelry. Some grey in his beard.

  I eye the clearly beaten-down slave girl. Okay, my regret at basically stealing from this guy is gone.

  Approaching the table, I dive into the bodyguard’s mind and implant the sudden, powerful sensation that he’s about to experience explosive diarrhea. No, it’s not going to cause him to actually blow up ‘down below,’ but it will send him sprinting off for the nearest… whatever this place has equivalent to toilets.

  The rich guy jumps at his guard’s abrupt departure, calling, “Nasi? Where are you going?”

  I stare at the rich guy until he makes eye contact, and jump into his brain next. He’s pretty weak-willed. Good. It only takes me a minute to do a little brain surgery on him. In his memory, he now believes that as Nasi rushed to the bathroom, an assassin tried to kill him. Safa, his slave girl, threw herself in the way, delaying the attacker long enough for a good Samaritan—me—to chase the assassin off after defeating him in a brief sword fight. He is going to reward me with fifty or so of those lahz coins and reward Safa by giving her freedom.

  He stares into space, briefly lost in a mental fog.

  I look at the woman and go into her head. It’s safer for her if she believes the story as truth, too. Since I get the distinct feeling this girl would not have risked herself to save him, I give her the believable alteration that he threw her in the way of the assassin. It might catch her off guard when the guy rewards her for saving him, even if she believes he used her as a body-shield, but it’s extremely doubtful she’ll protest.

  The man fishes out a handful of coins and hands them to me. A false memory of him profusely thanking me beats his making a scene in the inn. I send him on his way to deal with whatever legal process is required to give the young woman her freedom, then head back to our table.

  Takes a little bit of brain poking before I realize things are somewhat different here. As in, this world has no table servers. We have to go up to the bar and order food, then carry it back ourselves. Not a big deal. The food is similar to Tandoori grilled chicken, sausage, and something else, probably goat or maybe camel. Thus far, animals here are basically the same as our Earth. All of us eating—including Kingsley having his fill and Anthony eating enough for three—resulted in me spending three coins and getting back thirteen smaller, thinner bronze coins as change.

  Curious, I dive into the bartender’s mind and probe his understanding of money. One lahz is about the same as a $20 bill. The bronze coins, simply called ‘ra,’ are close to dollar bills. Basically, our dinner cost $47. We have just over $100 left. To the owner of the tavern, we’re big spenders. This place isn’t expensive, but Kingsley’s and Anthony’s appetites are already the stuff of legend.

  I pocket the coins and head back to the table. Tammy is still eating since her focus on hiding us slows her down.

  And yeah, it looks like my mission objective might have expanded a bit.

  Yes, we’re still after Elizabeth and her merry band of psychopaths.

  But this slavery business doesn’t sit well with me.

  No, not at all.

  Chapter Four

  A New Immortal

  Once we’re done eating, we resume searching the city.

  At least now we have Tammy as sort of a compass. If we travel in a particular direction for a while and she gets more mannequin-like, it’s a good sign we’re heading toward Elizabeth. Honestly, it’s not necessary to use my daughter as a human dowsing rod. I’m ninety-nine percent certain the bitch is going to be taking up residence in the former king’s castle.

  If it wasn’t broad daylight, I’d fly straight up for an aerial view of the city.

  Allison thinks, Hang on, I got it, then raises her hand. She casts a spell, throwing a peanut-sized spot of yellow light into the air. Thanks to our mental link, I get to see what she sees: it’s as if her eyes popped out and went zooming toward the sky.

  From the air, the city we’re in resembles a gigantic twelve-pointed Chinese throwing star around a shimmering blue lake. It has to be some manner of spring or oasis, a water source. Twelve canals run outward from the lake, in line with the ‘points’ on the outer wall. Darn good explanation for how a city this big cropped up in the middle of the desert. Also looks like despite their extreme fixation on money and hate of thievery, water is completely free to any who want it.

  Guess dehydrated people don’t pay taxes or join the army, right?

  On the northeastern shore of the giant lake stands a tall pyramid-shaped castle. At least, I’m assuming it’s a castle given the fancy stairs on the north side and palace guards. I imagine the Great Pyramids of Egypt once looked like this, being all smooth and shiny white. This castle has two main differences from those, however. The top isn’t pointy, but flat, like someone chopped off the uppermost twelve feet of an eight-story pyramid. Second difference is the presence of numerous patios and windows around the outer face. It’s definitely being used as a building and not as a tomb.

  The resemblance to pyramids in our world both with the castle and city wall is uncanny. Though, I suppose a pyramid might simply be the most efficient way to stack a crapload of rock. Allison’s spell gives a decent sense of ‘you are here,’ so we both have a general idea of which way we need to go to reach the palace at the edge of the lake.

  We’re not planning to do anything yet beyond verify Elizabeth is here. Yeah, I know. We’ve essentially done that already, but I’d like to get a look at the castle up close... and get a lay of the land, so to speak.

  Allison releases the seeing spell and our vision returns to normal.

  We navigate a handful of streets, passing residences as well as another merchant district—damn this city is huge—on our way to the middle. Mostly, I’m trying to go west to the nearest canal and follow it in a straight line to the central lake, since the streets are quite winding and maze-like.

  Our express trip to the city center takes a momentary detour when I spot a stage set up at the end of an alley, surrounded on three sides by high walls. Only, the people on it aren’t doing a theater production… it’s a slave market.

  Ah, hell.

  Three young men are being sold, likely as laborers. A row of prison cells against the right wall holds three more as well as a pair of young women. None of the people in the cells have collars. One woman and two of the men in the cell are bound with ropes. I can’t help myself and look at their thoughts. As Tammy feared, the three who are tied have recently been grabbed off the street since they had no family to claim them and can’t prove they don’t belong enslaved. The ones in the cells are locked up awaiting collars. All are debating their odds of escaping.

  Allison whispers to Kingsley and Anthony what’s on my mind, namely, storming over there and raiding the slave market. She puts a hand on my shoulder as if to hold me back.

  “Sam, it’s the society here. This is their normal.”

  I exhale hard. “Normal doesn’t mean it’s right.”

  “Yeah, I’m with you there,” says Allison, “but if we attack them, we’ll be the outlaws. If we kick the hornet’s nest here, we might not be able to blindside Elizabeth unaware. Right now, she thinks she’s untouchable. We have to catch her by surprise and do whatever we’re going to do before she can mount a defense. It’s the only chance we have.”

  Agreeing with her boils my blood, but it makes sense. What’s happening here to those people would have been going on anyway, even if Elizabeth hadn’t come here. I’d never have even known about it. And, thus far, from what we’ve mined out of people’s heads, slaves aren’t too bad off. It’s not like the American South where they whipped people mercilessly. More like how Ancient Rome regarded ‘slave’ as a low social rank.

  In more of a hurry than ever, I storm off down the street. Anthony, carrying his sister, jogs after me while Kingsley hovers protectively close to Allison. She is thrilled. He knows she has an innocent crush on him and likes to mess with her.

  The canal is bigger than I expected based on the aerial view. It’s as wide as a four-lane highway, but shallow. We walk through a crowd of children, some playing, some apparently working as runners fetching water. Fortunately, none of them have slave collars or I’m not sure I’d have been able to hold myself back. Their thoughts confirm they’re voluntarily working as water runners to help their families afford food.

  A few people swim, which kinda makes me squirm at the thought they drink the same water.

  Whatever. We hopefully won’t be here long enough to worry about it. Allison senses a surprisingly strong outward current in the canal and believes it’s being moved along by magic. Not sure how that helps protect against bacteria, but at least it’s not stagnant.

  We follow the canal for about a mile and three quarters before the central lake—and castle—come into view. The area around the lake is awash in lush vegetation, mostly grass and palm trees, but also several types of flowers and some unfamiliar bushes taller than me. It is really weird to be wearing clothes like I’m about to participate in a theater production of the story of Julius Caesar’s assassination while walking through knee-high grass around a desert oasis. I realize we’ve gone to an alternate world, but the feeling of having gone back in time, too, is eerily strong.

  “It’s because you haven’t heard a single airplane, car, helicopter, or radio since we arrived,” says Allison.

  “What?” Kingsley glances over at us.

  “She’s thinking it feels like we went back in time.”

  “We kinda did.” Anthony points at the pyramid castle. “Elizabeth’s in there.”

  “How can you tell?” asks Allison.

  “I dunno. Just kinda know. Oh, and Tammy has devolved into a gummi bear.”

  “She what?” I spin, alarmed.

  My daughter is limp in his arms, like she passed out drunk. Except her eyes are open and full of awareness, as well as a sense of grim determination. She’s all brain and no body at this point, doing all she can to shield us.

  I quickly lead us around the lakeshore to the huge street running past the north face of the castle. A massive courtyard spreads out just beyond the main palace entrance. It’s mostly empty at the moment except for a partially smashed statue of, I assume, the former king. Multiple huge buildings surrounding the square look like mansions belonging to nobility or perhaps temples to whatever gods they have here.

  Beyond the courtyard is the palace itself. Broad stairs lead up two full stories to an extended platform sheltered under a stone arch supported by eight columns carved to resemble serpentine dragons. Recent bloodstains are everywhere on the steps and the area near their base. The tattered remains of decorative banners still hang from rings along both sides of the canopy. Elizabeth’s people tore down the prior king’s crest, apparently.

  I’m shocked to see only two palace guards standing at the midway point of the stairs. Both wear the same black leather armor as the men stationed at the city gates. These two look noticeably beefier, like they’ve had access to a modern gym—and steroids. I start peeking at the mind of the one on the left, but awareness of being spied on appears in his outermost thoughts. Whoops! I drop the connection as fast as my brain can react, hopefully before he realized where—and who—I am.

  The guy doesn’t look like a vampire. He’s standing out in the blistering sun, and there isn’t a single wisp of smoke around him. It’s highly unlikely anyone in this timeline has invented sunblock, nor does he appear to be slathered in it. He is sweating, but nowhere near as much as I would be if I stood around wearing black armor in 108 degree heat—even if it’s ‘light armor’ like the kind the Roman Centurions wore, complete with a skirt and such. But it’s still armor. And black. What kind of moron wears black in the desert?

  “The guards might be paranormal,” I say. “What, exactly, I’m not sure.”

  Kingsley sniffs the air, narrows his eyes. “Hmm. They still smell like mortals, but feel supernatural.”

  “We can probably—oh, whoa. Incoming,” whispers Anthony. He pivots, using Tammy’s limp body like a mannequin to point down the street.

  Amid the back-and-forth foot traffic, a group of about twenty men trying too hard to look casual moves in the direction of the castle. They’ve all got dingy whitish-beige cloaks on over armor mostly in the same style as the palace guards, only plain leathery brown.

  “They’re going to rush the palace,” I say.

  “Read their minds?” asks Anthony.

  “No. It’s obvious merely from looking at them… but…” I stare at the lead man and try to get a read on his thoughts.

  Sure enough, he’s mortal and the door to his mind is wide open. They’re the former king’s soldiers, some of about a thousand who escaped alive and went into hiding. He has no idea what kind of monsters they’re dealing with, but he suspects the invaders are weak in the day, so they hope an attack during sunlight will let them retake the castle.

  When the group nears the base of the steps, they throw off their dingy cloaks, draw falchion-style swords, and rush up at the two palace guards. They, too, draw swords. Before the question ‘should we get involved’ can even form in my brain, four soldiers are dead. The palace guards run through the attackers like they’re running through a field slicing down bamboo poles incapable of fighting back. All twenty-one humans are dead or mortally wounded in under a minute.

  “Ack.” Allison covers her mouth. “I was going to ask if we should help.”

  “Bit late,” deadpans Kingsley.

  “We can take these punks.” Anthony looks around. “Where should I put Tam?”

  I study the palace guards’ motions as they examine the bodies, all of which rolled down the angled castle wall, slid, or were kicked to the ground at the base of the steps. These two men didn’t look faster than me or even particularly skilled at swordsmanship. Then again, the humans put up little in the way of a defense. Vampiric speed could allow anyone to kill ordinary people quite easily using a sword. My son’s likely correct. I could take one of these guys out and not stress too bad over it. Two on one and I’m not as confident of winning. But me, Kingsley, Allison, and Anthony on two of these guys? Yeah, we’d mop them up.

  They certainly didn’t look as fast as the ascendant dark masters, and they don’t appear to be vampires.

  Question is, what the hell are they?

  Guys, says Tammy in a weak mental voice. The frontal approach isn’t going to work.

  “We can take ’em,” says Anthony.

  It’s not those two you should be worrying about. It’s the other fifty or so inside.

  Anthony leans back. “Oh… good point.”

  Grr. I’m not helpless, Anthony!

  “Huh?” I ask.

  Ant. He’s being a dumbass. He’s still willing to charge right in the front door, but he’s afraid of me getting hurt out here.

  I pat her on the head. “Hon, you’re not helpless, but you also aren’t superhuman.”

  It’s fairly unlikely one of them would attack Tammy, since she’s both unarmed and wouldn’t be participating in any fighting—except possibly humming Justin Bieber music into people’s heads to distract them.

  Grr. I hate feeling so useless.

  Aww, hon. You are absolutely not useless. The guys who invented the first atomic bombs couldn’t beat a soldier in a fistfight, but they ended the damn war.

  My daughter sighs mentally. Those men helped the government murder thousands of innocent civilians. Bombing entire cities like that is horrible and evil.

  Okay, okay. Bad analogy. Umm, you’re like the people at mission control coordinating everything. You’re the most valuable part of our team. Because of you, Elizabeth doesn’t know we’re here yet. And… we also effectively have radio communication in a time without electricity.