Inti’s Watcher, Group Area 27
image [https://assets.zyrosite.com/cdn-cgi/image/format=auto,fit=crop/Aq2BZoKQ8JcNgKvj/star2-AwvD5Qkeq7UL95b5.png]
“The contest for this Friday will be: mountain climbing race!” A picture appeared on the wall of an icy mountain. “This is Urkinmang, in the Himalayan mountain range. Your goal will be getting from here-” an arrow appeared in the middle, “-to here!” An arrow appeared at the top. “You’ll be provided all the usual mountain climbing gear. Just make sure to dress warm! As always, let us know by tonight if you’re joining or not!”
Peter looked at his group. “Mountain climbing?”
“I can climb a mountain,” Sophie said.
“Have you scaled a wall in winter?” Marie asked her. “A wall covered in ice?”
“Have you?” Sophie countered.
“No. I imagine it would be quite difficult.”
Miyamoto cleared his throat. “It is.”
“I’ve climbed a few rocks in my time,” Peter said. “But never in rain or snow. As long as we’re careful it should be all right. Right?”
“Very careful,” Miyamoto insisted. He looked at Nop. “Is a map of the area and a list of the provided gear available?”
The bird closed its beak, the image vanishing. “Of course! A printed map of the common route will be given to you on Friday morning. Until then, I can show a bird’s-eye view of the mountain any time you like. The equipment provided per person is: backpack, 100 sy of rope, climbing harness, crampons, belay tool, ice ax, pulley, four pikes, gloves, snow mask, snow goggles, emergency bail device, compass, watch, two canteens of water, and three bags of dried nuts and fruit. Two bowls of soup and canteen replacement will be provided at noon.”
“Emergency bail device?” Sophie asked.
Nop nodded. “A button you can push if for any reason you don’t want to continue in the contest.”
“Will that automatically fail us?” Marie asked.
“No. Some contests have several bailers. Mazes in particular often have people give up after a few hours. In that case, teams who spent longer in the contest rank higher than teams who bailed sooner.”
“If there’s no punishment for failing, and no risk of dying, we should join,” Peter said.
Sophie nodded.
Marie looked at Miyamoto.
“Do your languages have a word for ‘frostbite’?” he asked flatly.
“Caught in time, we can repair most frostbitten fingers, toes and noses,” Nop said.
Marie looked at the raven. “We’ll join.”
“Wonderful! Being the…” she paused, “...eighth group to sign up, you will be placed on the mountain at 8:30AM. Groups are placed in half-hour increments to avoid crowding on the trail. As we don’t want our contestants to die from cold and altitude shock, over the next two days I will adjust your area’s air to acclimatize you to what you’ll find on the mountain.”
“Should we bring our weapons?” Marie asked. “My knives, Miyamoto’s swords?”
“As you will not be interacting with other teams, weapons are not needed.”
“We need boots and warmer clothes,” Miyamoto said.
“I have boots,” Peter said, pointing. “And I’m sure my poncho’s warm enough.”
“It is not,” Miyamoto told him.
Nop hopped, catching their attention. “While clothes are always available for purchase in the Common Area, you will be gifted one outfit in your team’s colors. Consider yourselves lucky; snow gear includes some of the more expensive items.”
Sophie sat up, eyes bright. “We get free clothes?”
“Yes.”
Peter frowned. “Is there a poncho available?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, satisfied.
“And hats?” Marie asked.
“There are nearly a hundred hat styles available.”
Peter caught her eye, and she pointed at him.
“I get a bigger hat than you,” the captain decreed.
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
----------------------------------------
Razan frowned, debating between boots lined with waterproof fur and boots that emitted heat from their soles. He knew Marie had chosen the latter, and decided to follow her example.
Suddenly the lighting in the room changed. He looked around, not quite sure what the difference was. It wasn’t darker, it was…
“The light’s gone from blue to orange,” Sophie said, looking up.
“Yes,” Nop said. “As you can’t see the sun here, we change from ‘cool’ light to ‘warm’ light every twelve hours to emulate a day/night cycle. It is now 7PM.”
Razan looked at Sophie, frowning. She acted a bit stupid, but he was starting to suspect she was quite observant. Not that this made her smart, but immediately seeing things others didn’t notice was a very good skill to have.
She noticed him watching her and smiled. “So, what mountains have you climbed?”
He sat up straight. “As part of my training I climbed the Three Holy Mountains and meditated on their summits. It taught me much respect for life and the elements.” It had also instilled in him the belief that “cold” should be an element, but he decided to not mention that.
“Really?” Peter asked. “I didn’t take you for a mountain-climbing, outdoorsy type. Had you pegged as a city slicker.”
“It was training,” Marie said, not looking up from her scroll device. “He probably hated every minute of the climb.”
“Not every minute,” Razan said. “Looking out at the world from the top of a mountain is truly a beautiful experience. Sleeping above the clouds with only stars around you brings a peace otherwise unachievable. …But yes, getting there and back down was quite miserable. Especially from Mount Haku, where I had to get back down through a blizzard.”
Sophie looked at his hands and shoes. “Did you lose anything from frostbite?”
“By the mercy of the heavens, no.” He paused, glancing at Marie. “I do not wish to take the position of leader, but I believe in the contest I may have some insight you lack.”
That got Marie to look up. “I’m from Haiti, I’ve only seen snow twice in my life. I know sleet and cold, but not ice. I know how to climb a mast in a hurricane; on rock I’m lost. Don’t think you’ll offend me by speaking up if we’re about to do something stupid.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“I know rock, but I’ve never dealt with snow,” Peter said. “Whenever it came around we all just hid inside.”
Sophie smiled. “I know snow, but not rock. I doubt we’ll find a brick wall on the mountain.”
Marie looked at Razan again. “For this contest we’ll defer to your better judgment.”
Razan bowed. “Thank you. I do not imply I know all; as you said, I hated mountain climbing. If you believe I’m wrong, it’s quite possible I am.”
She nodded, then sat back. “Do all samurai climb the three holy mountains?”
“Most have climbed either Mount Fuji or Mount Haku. To climb all three is the goal, but some have duties that make this impossible.”
“Are all samurai poets?” Sophie asked suspiciously. “They say men who spend the night on a mountain become poets.”
Razan looked at her, keeping all emotion off his face. “Yes. Every samurai is a renowned poet. Or aspires to become one.”
The girl nodded. “Thought so.”
Marie watched him. “For the first time in many, many years… I can’t tell if that was a lie.”
A smile twitched on his lips.
“Ah. It’s a lie.”
----------------------------------------
Sophie was about to scream from boredom.
Tuesday had been fairly busy. Wednesday… hadn’t been. She’d gotten to know everyone, but other than talk there wasn’t anything to do. Thursday promised more of same.
She went back to her bedroom after breakfast and collapsed on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She’d hung a hand towel over the crease in her wall where the camera was, and it demanded to be replaced with something more decorative. The furniture options hadn’t included any paintings or even printed wallpaper.
Sophie sighed, her eyes trailing to the ventilation grate. It had four screws holding it in place, and she wondered idly how tightly they were screwed in. She bet she could unscrew them with a butter knife…
Frowning, she propped herself up on her elbows. She could probably unscrew them with a butter knife. The vent looked big enough for her to fit in. Where did the shaft go?
As quietly as possible, she got up and pulled her new desk into the middle of the room. Climbing up, she discovered the vent was just within reach. So she could unscrew it, but not climb in. Sad, but knowing if the screws could be removed might be important information later.
Sophie left her room, walking casually to the kitchen. Miyamoto was the only one in the area. He watched as she took a knife and went back to her bedroom.
She stopped at the door, glancing at him. If she stood on his shoulders, she could at least see what the inside of the shaft looked like. She gave him her brightest smile.
“Miyamoto! Would you like to help me with something?”
“No,” he said flatly.
“Why not?” she asked, pouting.
“I do not know what you intend to do with that knife.”
Sophie paused. He had a point. “Please? I know you don’t have anything better to do.”
He sighed, getting up. “Boredom wins over reason,” he muttered. He followed her into her room.
She hopped onto the desk, smiling. “Just a moment.”
She fit the knife into a screw and twisted. It resisted at first, but quickly began to turn. A few seconds later it dropped into her hand.
“Hold this please,” she said, handing Miyamoto the screw.
He took it, looking it over. “Why are you removing them?”
“Just to see,” she said, handing him the second screw.
Soon all four were out, and she lowered the grate to her desk. It was surprisingly light; she’d expected it to have the weight of steel, but it felt flimsier than tin. She jumped down, shoved the desk left a few inches, and climbed back up.
“Please stand there and let me step onto your shoulders,” she said, pointing to the spot directly under the vent.
He watched her through narrow eyes for a few moments, then shrugged and stepped into place.
“Thank you,” she said cheerfully, putting her foot on his shoulder.
Grabbing the edge of the vent, she pushed herself up. It went up for about a handbreadth, then turned and ran horizontally the length of her room, the bathroom, and Marie’s room. At the end there was a spinning fan, while along the shaft there were gaps where vents split off. Cold air moved around her as she reached in and tapped the shaft with her knuckles. It was made of the same flimsy metal as the grate.
“Will you be long?” Miyamoto asked, grumbling. She felt him adjust his footing.
Sophie looked around, and decided to explore. She dug her fingernails into a seam, propped her elbows on cold metal, and pulled herself in. Miyamoto took her foot and helped her up. She hadn’t been expecting that, but was thankful.
It was a tight fit, but she’d climbed tighter chimneys. Compared to the chimney in her London apartment, this shaft was practically cavernous. It was infinitely cleaner, too.
She reached the first gap, one that went right, and carefully looked around the corner. A vent let out on a wide, dimly-lit corridor. There were tubes and pipes running along the far wall, all marked with strange letters. A grate was held up with the same type of screw as hers had been, meaning she could easily remove it and climb out.
A part of her that her mother had always deplored insisted she do this immediately. As Sophie looked at the grate, her mind was filled with lines and measurements. Did the corridor go all the way around their area? How many areas were there? Were the corridors watched? Who had access to them, and for what? What did the pipes do? How much trouble would she be in if she were caught wandering around the corridors?
“Miss Sophie?” Miyamoto called, his voice echoing up. “You’re not stuck, are you?”
She turned. “No, thank you.”
“Good.”
“Actually, would you mind handing me my purse?” she asked, backing up a bit. “It’s on the chair.”
“Not at all,” he said.
Sophie dangled a foot out her vent, and soon felt him wrap the strap around her ankle. With a thanks, she pulled her foot back up and twisted around so she could pull her knee up to her chest. She took the meat hook and rope out of her purse, inspecting nearby seams.
Choosing the seam second-closest to her vent, she jammed the edge of the meat hook in. A few whacks with her fist, and it was as secure as it could be. After that, it was a simple thing to drop the rope out and climb back into her room.
Miyamoto stood back as she descended, ready to catch her if she fell. “Fancy jewelry and fine rope; what else do you keep in your purse?” he asked, his voice still mostly bored.
“Oh, pin money, a sewing kit, spare laces, a folding knife, lockpicks… And an assortment of other things a lady might find useful in her day-to-day life,” she answered, dropping the last few inches.
“Folding knife?”
Sophie nodded, opening her purse. Her knife had its own pocket, so she found it instantly and pulled it out. “A knife. It folds.” She offered it to him, and he accepted with a small bow.
He opened it, examining the blade as she moved her desk into place and climbed up to put the grate back on. She curled the rope up, setting it on the grate where it would be invisible before twisting the screws back in.
As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t explore everything yet. She had to wait until Saturday or Sunday, when she was sure she wouldn’t be missed.
“A good weapon,” Miyamoto said, bowing slightly as he offered it back to her.
“Thank you,” she said, putting it back into her purse. “I stole it from my brother.”
He looked disapproving. “It is bad luck to steal a weapon. It will break when you need it most. You should return it and buy one of your own.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” He paused. “I will make no complaint about stealing food or jewelry. But items you rely on for safety, such as a knife or rope, ought to be bought fairly. A stolen weapon can only hold bad karma.”
Sophie pushed her desk back where it belonged. “What’s karma?”
Miyamoto took a seat, folding his hands in his lap. She was about to get a lecture.
----------------------------------------
Marie looked at her new clothes. They’d appeared on her desk during lunch.
The blue long-sleeved shirt was soft, made of a fabric that stretched as she put it on, then fit like a hug. Her room was growing a bit cold for her liking, and the thick shirt felt warm.
Oddly, the dark red-orange trousers almost felt like they were made of velvet. They hung loose on her legs, held up by a blue cloth belt.
There was also a bigger pair of trousers, these paper-thin and made of a clear material she had no chance at identifying. Their only benefit was that they were waterproof. They had clips that attached to her belt instead of belt hoops. Marie didn’t care for how they looked, but knew being cold and dry was survivable while being cold and damp wasn’t.
She’d been gifted three pairs of socks for choosing the simplest ones available. Half the words they’d used to describe socks she wasn’t certain were even French. These were blue, made of wool, and that was all.
Her new cavalier boots, on the other hand, were beautiful. They were a darker red-brown from her trousers, with several (mostly ornamental) blue buckles. The outside was a thick leather, while the inside from ankle down was padded and lined with silk. The rubber soles were thicker than what Marie was used to, but when she kicked the heels together they grew warm. Heat radiated up, beginning in her toes. The sensation was divine.
The boots came with instructions to leave them on a provided mat when she wasn’t wearing them. Marie doubted she’d ever take them off.
A long jacket, blue with red-orange trim and buttons, was made of a stiff material that reminded her of the canvas used for sails. It was lined with red-orange satiny fabric that was, apparently, nearly waterproof. She had to admit it looked more elegant than her old leather jacket.
Lastly there came a red-orange bandana to keep her graying hair in place, and a blue leather tricorn hat. Sadly, there hadn’t been any good hats with feathers.
Dressed in all her new finery, Marie went into the bathroom and looked herself over in the mirror.
Her old crew would still recognize her. She looked like the fierce pirate captain her reputation claimed she was.
If thousands of people were going to watch her climb a mountain in eighteen hours, at least she could face the challenge knowing she looked fantastic.