“Of course, right away.”
Pol smiled at all of them before sitting in the other Queen Anne chair, which Dex had promptly vacated. Hig got up from the couch to let Dex sit there. Then Rob, or Bob, got up in turn to shift position. Ellis felt he was watching a silent version of musical chairs.
“We have a seating order,” Warren explained. “In the down-under they’ve forgotten all about authority, hierarchy, and structure. People just do whatever they want. I’m getting them familiar with discipline and the pecking order. Pol is number one, then Dex, then Hig, then—” Warren squinted at Ved One. “Are you Rob or Bob?”
“Bob, you said.”
“Okay, then—Bob, then Rob.”
“Do I have a place in this order?” Ellis asked. “And does it require me cutting off my fingers?”
Warren looked uncomfortable, but only for an instant. Then the serene face of an old master returned. “The fingers…well, the finger cutting is necessary for a few reasons. Identification, for one. My way of making certain I can tell the good ones from the bad. These underworlders change their shirts and you can’t tell one from another. Tattoos are easily put on and taken off. Fingers are a different matter. Plus, sacrificing them shows a commitment to the cause. I don’t want anyone here who isn’t in one hundred percent, and these people don’t understand real commitment anymore. They do something for a while, then change their minds and try something else. They don’t have marriage, don’t have countries. How can they understand the concept of loyalty? People won’t sacrifice two fingers without giving things a lot of thought. It’s the dues they pay to join me—to be special.”
“And me?” Ellis held up his right hand, wiggling his fingers.
Warren shook his head. “You’re a Darwin like me.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Means you’re not one of them. You’re above the law.” Warren raised his voice a bit. “And in case there’s any doubt, Ellis stands equal with me, and you will show him the same respect and recognize his authority just as you do mine.”
They all nodded. Ellis was sitting in a huddle of dogs that idolized a wolf.
Warren turned back to Pol. “So tell me who this Pax is and what happened in your office.”
Pol sighed. “Pax is an unusual case. Works as an arbitrator to some effect, but…well, there have been complaints of strange behavior.”
Strange behavior? Ellis wondered what normal was in a world where people walked around au naturel, danced in the rain, no one worked, and their world leader dressed like Julius Caesar.
“Then a few years ago, Pax tried to—”
Yal entered and handed Pol a glass of blood-red wine.
“Tried to what?” Ellis asked.
Pol took a dainty sip. “Pax opened a portal to the vacuum of space and tried to walk through it.”
No one said anything for a heartbeat. Each pair of eyes tried to process the sentence as if it were a riddle, one of those logic problems where a hunter who lives in a house with four windows all facing south shoots a bear, and people try to figure out the color of the dead animal.
“What?” Ellis felt the empty sensation rock him again. He was beginning to feel a little punch-drunk, an emotionally battered fighter unable to put his arms up to defend himself.
“I thought that wasn’t possible,” Warren said. “Thought those things—well, you said they had safety features blocking people from doing stupid shit like that.”
Dex, who was nodding, spoke. “They do. Living tissue is blocked from passing into hostile environments.”
“They do now,” Pol corrected. “The original CTWs had fixed destinations, so no one thought anything about it, but the first few generations of portals—they could go anywhere. After a few accidents, safety features were added.”
“But that was centuries ago,” Dex said.
“Pax, it turns out, is an antique collector of sorts,” Pol explained. “If it hadn’t been for the residence’s vox blocking the field, Pax would have committed suicide.”
Ellis felt guilty. He hadn’t had anything to do with the portal incident—didn’t even know how long ago it had happened—but he had just sent Pax away, crying. What is Pax doing right this moment?
“Are you saying this Pax person is insane?” Warren asked.
“Mentally ill,” Pol said. “Unstable. It’s why Pax lives with Vin-3667, a renowned artist. Vin volunteered to watch over Pax. I talked to Vin two days ago. Vin felt the excitement of being with Ellis Rogers has caused Pax to slip, and suggested Pax bring Ellis to me. Felt that Ellis Rogers was an upsetting influence.”
“So what happened?”
“The two arrived on schedule, but then Pax began venting, going sonic.”
“Leave out your underworld slang, Pol,” Warren said with a growl. “We speak proper American here.”
“Forgive me. Traveling between cultures is—”
“Get on with it.” Warren shuffled his feet, recrossing them on the stool in a manner as decisive as a judge banging a gavel.
“Pax became very upset,” Pol went on. “Acting threatened and frightened of me. Completely irrational. Before I could act, Pax had hauled Ellis Rogers through a portal, and the two disappeared. Thinking Ellis Rogers had just been abducted, I gathered people to help with a rescue. We chased them to Tuzo Stadium and into the jungles of the surface. Then we registered Pax stepping out into space.”
“Again?” Warren asked.
“To be honest, I thought the worst, for both of you.” Pol looked back at Ellis with a smile. “But here you are, safe.”
“Pax is fine too,” Ellis replied, although he wasn’t at all convinced that the Chief Councilor’s concern was sincere. Seeing the confusion on Warren’s face, he added, “We ejected Pax’s chip through a portal into space to avoid being followed.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Pol said. “Now we have no idea where to look. Pax really should be found and helped. Do you know where Pax might be?”
Ellis shook his head. Maybe it was his long bias against politicians, but he didn’t trust the wine-sipping Buddhist monk.
I’ve looked after Pax for centuries, wonderful, wonderful person, and not at all crazy, you understand.
He remembered the tear running down Pax’s cheek.
I’m not crazy.
Was he being blind just because Pax was the first friend he’d made?
He focused on the statesman monk. “How did Pax know about Ren? In your office, Pax asked if you knew who Ren was, and you said you didn’t know. Why is that?”
Pol shrugged. “I have no idea how Pax knew. To be honest, I had no idea who Pax meant. The question was so completely without context. Like you said, how could Pax know? I’ve never spoken to anyone about Ren.”
“None of us is allowed to,” Hig said.
“Shut it while your better is speaking,” Dex snapped, and Hig cowered into the upholstery, looking at the floor.
Pol ignored them both. “I suppose if the question had been about a Darwin named Ren living at Greenfield Village, I would have given a different answer, but I was caught off guard and downright confused.”
“And what were you talking to Geo-24 about? Pax asked about that too. I didn’t catch your answer.”
Pol glanced at Warren briefly as he sipped from his wine again. “How much do you know about Hollow World?”
“A little. Spent about two days there.”
“Do you know about the geomancers?”
“They’re like weather forecasters, only they predict seismic storms, right?”
“Wonderful, but that’s only part of what they do. Geomancers are the descendants of the old energy corporations. Dyna Corp founded the Geomancy Institute in the years just before the Freedom Act.” Pol looked concerned. “How much of Hollow World history are you familiar with?”
“Very little,” Ellis said. “I watched a show where a dancing hourglass told me about how everyone moved underground. Didn’t get all the way to the Great Tempest, though. I fell asleep.”