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6

A bunch of things happened at once.

The giant bat creature leaped into the air. Wings flapping. It screeched something not even close to English.

All those bats flying up above? Out of the corner of my eye I could see them start to dive.

All of them.

The girl in the wheelchair started shouting.

Vasco leapt in front of me, shouting just as loud.

Magellan started running circles on the white crystal floor, barking.

The sounds all became white noise, lost in the echoes of this enormous, prismatic crystal chamber.

I had to do something. And I didn’t have my thermos to throw.

The stairwell wouldn’t protect me. It was wide enough for the big bat creature, let alone the smaller bats.

No ceilings anywhere under the—

Childhood earthquake training kicked in.

I bolted for the giant table. Yeah, it was a good full-court away, and it looked heavy enough to flatten a semi, but it had more legs than a centipede.

I figured it might hold.

Long freaking sprint, but I was still riding high and strong from that key lime gumball. Felt like I could have left LeBron himself in my rearview.

Unfortunately, the bat creature was faster than LeBron.

Claws raked my shoulder. Tore off my shirt. Fiery pain lanced right down my back.

I dove. Rolled. Scrambled past a roller chair that went teetering out across the crystal floor. Clawed my way across that glowing white floor. Aiming for the center of the table.

The big bat creature landed. Ducked and looked under the table at me. Screeched frustration. Knocked chairs aside.

Smaller bats landed now. Started crawling across the floor toward me, chirping something as they came. Their big brown eyes all promised pain. Maybe death.

They weren’t exactly small, either. Big as good-sized dogs, those things.

Suddenly the girl’s voice boomed out louder than all the other sounds in the room.

“I said no!”

Another word followed that no. I was sure of it. I heard it. I knew I did. But the instant she finished the word, it fled from my mind. Like a dream that had seemed intensely real until the alarm went off, then even the subject of the dream fled, let alone the details.

The word was kind of like that. I knew I heard it. Until I didn’t hear it anymore. Then it was a faint idea just outside my mental grasp.

But the not-word had its effect.

Every one of those bats — giant bat creature included — fell to the ground.

Not dead. Not even unconscious. In fact, the giant bat creature immediately rolled over and looking in the direction of the girl in the wheelchair.

All the smaller bats stayed where they were. They were looking at me, but the promise of pain was gone from their eyes.

Honestly, they looked cute and fuzzy again. Like they’d never been little flying death machines.

Still. I didn’t trust it. I was bleeding from the shoulder and upper back, and the pain was still intense enough that I had to grit my teeth.

“You can come out.” The girl’s voice, soothing. “They won’t harm you now.” Her voice got harder. “Will you, Chiron?”

The giant bat creature drummed its wing fingers on the crystal floor in a disturbing little sound.

“No,” it said, it’s voice high and still a little too close to a screech for my comfort. “I and mine shall delay our vengeance.”

Chiron turned its eyes toward me. “At the insistence of the Lady of the Portals.”

I just sat there for a moment, hissing my breaths against the pain. It might have been my imagination, but I would have sworn that the burning sensation was spreading down my spine.

Magellan trotted up to me. Barked a four-piece that felt strangely reassuring.

“Honestly,” the girl — the Lady of Portals, I supposed — said reassuringly. “You can come out now…”

“Scott,” Vasco said.

“You can come out now, Scott. At the very least, you’ll want me to look at your wound.”

“Don’t let the pain reach your waist,” Vasco said. “It’ll go badly for you if it does.”

Magellan trotted a few steps away. Stopped. Looked back and barked. Then repeated the movement.

Using one hand and both feet — my left shoulder objected to taking my weight — I made my way after the beagle. Which, fortunately, didn’t lead me near any of the bats. Especially not Chiron.

Before I reached the edge I could see that Magellan was leading me to the Lady of Portals.

Hissing in a deep breath — the pain was to the bottom of my rib cage now — I pushed aside one more roller chair and stood up.

“My,” the Lady of Portals said, looking me up and down. “Hello, salty goodness.” She turned her head. “Vasco. It’s not even my birthday.”

“Uh…” I started, but she laughed.

Her laugh had a nerdy, dorky kind of charm that was infectious. I found myself laughing too, despite the pain.

“She’s teasing,” Vasco clarified, approaching, while Chiron called over the smaller bats and began … well, I’d call it muttering, but it was more like a muted version of their screeching.

“Turn and crouch down,” the Lady of Portals said.

I did as she bid, and she said a few more words that fled my memory the moment she said them. She began rubbing the area of my wound with hands that glowed the pale green of mint chip ice cream. Suited the scent coming from those hands.

Cool relief spread right through me. My muscles relaxed so quickly I felt a buzzing in my head. My breaths got deeper, and the whole cavern brightened.

She kept going, careful to get the whole of the slash. Must have gotten more of me than I thought…

“I believe you’ve covered the wound, Janna,” Vasco said, one eyebrow high. “And then some.”

“Oh, all right,” the Lady of Portals — Janna — said, and stopped rubbing. “You can be such a killjoy, Vasco. You should feel those shoulders.”

She leaned in closer. Her voice quieter. “I don’t suppose Chiron got your chest at all? Abs maybe?”

“No,” I said, standing and turning around. “Just the shoulder.”

Vasco pulled a tee shirt out of his duffel bag, and handed it to me.

“Pity,” Janna said as I put on the tee shirt.

Then I frowned, because it looked exactly like the shirt Chiron had just torn off me, right down the U.C. Monterey logo. Even had the aftermath of a small blood stain near the collar from the time I got hacked on a layup by a guy who really needed to cut his fingernails.

“We are leaving,” Chiron announced.

“No,” Janna said, her voice suddenly icy with authority. The room seemed to still as she finished her statement. “You’re not going anywhere. Not if you want to come through to this world again in my lifetime.”

“You would—”

“You have a complaint,” she said, rolling her chair between me and Chiron. “You will make it. He will answer it. Then I will rule. Do you agree?”

Chiron pulled in his wings. His wing fingers drummed on his fur.

Vasco set down his duffel bag. Stepped beside Janna, between me and Chiron. Took up what looked like a defensive stance.

Magellan took up position on Janna’s other side. His head low, jaws apart. A faint growl issued from him.

The other bats gathered around Chiron. Chirping challenges of their own.

Chiron then straightened and snapped his wings out wide.

“I have decided,” he announced. “We shall stay, and I shall issue my complaint. Which, properly, is the complaint of the Va-a-naska.”

That last word seemed to echo more through the chamber than any other sound. I started batting it around in my head.

Va. Vaaaah.

A. Ahhhh.

Naska. Naaah-skaaaah.

There was something familiar about it, but I couldn’t say why.

“Very well,” Janna said, and I thought she sounded displeased, but I was only paying half-attention because I was still batting that word around in my head. “State the case of the Va-a-naska.”

“This one.” Chiron pointed at me dramatically. “This human. Native to this world and these lands. This one, who has been called Scott. This one, who stands shoulder height to me, with hair like summer wildgrass, and skin like—”

“We have established that you are referring to Scott Angus Eagleson,” Janna said.

Did everyone know my middle name? I sure never used it. Made me sound like a reject from Braveheart. But apparently Dad had a favorite uncle Angus, who died in Viet Nam, so complaining would have sounded petty.

“Very well.” Chiron pulled his wings in close to his body. “This Scott Angus Eagleson.”

“I’m the only Scott present,” I said. “Shall we just stick to that?”

Chiron leaned forward and chirped an objection. But then he straightened up.

“Very well, this one who chooses to be called Scott. He willingly and intentionally slew a riskatan, not two hours past. He did so when it posed no threat to him. He did so when it was in the act of lawful hunting.”

“Wait,” I said, stepping forward. “Is he talking about the fish monster?”

“He dismisses it,” Chiron said, pointing again, “as humans dismiss all things they do not understand. And like so many humans before him, he slew the ‘monster’ without considering his actions.”

“I saved a talking otter from being eaten.”

“Ridiculous,” Chiron said. The bats around him all chirped agreement. “He has not the smell of a Locksmith.”

Janna held up a hand to stop me from responding. To Chiron she said, “Is your complaint complete, or have you more to add?”

“I have brought forth all the pertinent facts.”

Chiron’s bats chorused agreement.

Janna turned her chair.

“Scott,” she said, her tone gentler. “Tell me in your own words what happened.”

“Delays!” Chiron objected. “Needless delays. All pertinent facts—”

“I will hear his words,” Janna said, without looking away from me.

Chiron chirped, and his bats began complaining until Janna raised a hand. Then they, too, fell silent.

“Go on, Scott.”

“I’d just finished a game of basketball in Riverfront Park, when I heard what I thought was a woman call for help. I tried to get a couple of my teammates to come help me check it out. I figured three big guys will chase off a problem faster than one.”

Chiron chirped and screeched an objection.

“Take to the air,” Janna said, spinning in her wheelchair to face Chiron. “If you cannot listen quietly, spend your aggression through your wings. I will hear his story.”

Chiron leaned forward and chirped at her. Some of his bats took to the air, but he remained, wings folded, brown eyes glaring at me.

I didn’t embellish what happened. I explained about the otter, and the fish monster. The pleading for help. The thrown thermos. Even my unexpected dip.

Unless I was mistaken, the image of me falling into the river brought a sparkle to Janna’s eyes. But if so, no smile ever approached her lips.

I finished with Officer Martinez helping me over the rail.

“There,” Chiron said. “He admitted flinging the projectile with murderous intent. He—”

“Vasco,” Janna said, talking over Chiron, who fell into sullen silence. “You were present in Riverfront Park, I believe. Did you hear a dorach cry for help?”

“I did hear a cry for help, pitch and timbre consistent with the voice of a dorach. The cry woke me up. I also heard the call repeated.”

“Did you witness Scott’s actions?”

“I saw him throw and fall. I did not see a dorach or any riskatan.”

Magellan began barking.

Chiron chirped another complaint, but Janna’s attention was on Magellan.

“Magellan supports Scott’s version,” she said, turning to Chiron, “and confirms having heard a dorach cry for help. Locksmith or not, Scott clearly acted in response to that cry for help. Which means he did, indeed, intentionally defend a dorach from being eaten by a riskatan.”

“He killed it,” Chiron said. “Does its nonhuman nature excuse his crime?”

“The riskatan had no right to hunt the waters of the Willamette. It should never have left the Columbia.” Over Chiron’s immediate objections, she continued, “Furthermore, the riskatan was not hunting an otter, but a dorach. Which is a pertinent fact you left out, I note.”

“I have heard nothing of dorachs in the Willamette,” Chiron said. “The story is farce. Vasco awoke from a dream, heard a sound, and leaped to the wrong conclusion. If this Scott heard anything, he clearly mistook it. As for Magellan, he could be lying out of loyalty.”

“Nice try,” Janna said. “But the presence of witnesses supports Scott’s version. He was deliberately and intentionally protecting a dorach from murder and consumption against the Va-a-naska Treaty.”

“That does not permit him to commit murder. But he is human, so you will forgive his actions. Is this so? Is this your justice, Lady of the Portals?”

“No,” Janna said, and this time she sighed in a way that gave me a cold feeling in my stomach. “I freely confess I would like to give him a pass, because I believe the riskatan’s death was accidental, because the riskatan shouldn’t have been there in the first place, and because it should not have hunted a dorach. Not to mention that Scott is not a Locksmith and does not know the treaties.”

She sighed again, and that cold feeling started spreading chills up my spine and down my legs.

“However, my own desires are moot. The fact is, Scott, you did kill the riskatan. I’ve seen the corpse. When you hit it with your thermos, you snapped its neck. Intentionally or not. And I can’t let that go unpunished, or the entire treaty system falls apart.”

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