Gauging the intelligence of humongous magical reptilian source beasts was not, yet, one of Lilijoy’s strengths. There wasn’t much to go on in the beast’s description, beyond the apparent lack of a name, but since the Spawn of the Land Wyrm was also a Regional Lord, she wasn’t jumping to any conclusions. For all she knew, the vast creature composed ballads when it wasn’t ravaging the landscape.

There weren’t many clues in her other observations to this point either, as the beast’s behavior had consisted largely of stomping, spitting acid and infrasonic roaring, so it was with some trepidation that Lilijoy watched its large eyes take in the scene on its rocky back as she hid among the rapidly growing foliage. Would it be intelligent enough to understand the connection between its recent prey and the jungle makeover? Would it…

Okay then, never mind, she thought as the creature extended its neck still further to take a tentative nibble of the lush greenery, followed by a sweep of an alarmingly long, lumpy tongue. I guess the Regional Lord isn’t very bright.

The thought crossed her mind to attempt to tame the massive thing. The idea of riding it triumphantly into the orc encampments made it a tempting prospect, but she had a feeling that such an endeavor would be doomed to failure, and probably result in a quick respawn for her. On the other hand, there was the minor problem that her leafy cover was being consumed in large, greedy bites.

she asked.

Nykka tilted her head. she sent.

After an audible sigh, Nykka replied.

Lilijoy watched as the subject of their conversation stretched its neck impossibly and took another bite, removing about a third of her plants in one go. She felt conflicted by this new information.

she told Nykka.

She had left Anda out of that particular loop so far because she wanted at least one Tao System user on the outside of the arcology, should the worst happen, and she wasn’t certain he would see things the same way. She planned on bringing him in when they were in a position to leave, to make sure they had a secure exit from the city.

She had done her best to rule out motivations like embarrassment on Attaboy’s behalf and asserting autonomy for her thinking, but it remained a complicated and controversial decision within the confines of her skull.

Nykka replied.

Oops, Lilijoy thought. Better rip the bandaid off. She couldn’t help but wonder what that actually felt like. Even Emily’s memories didn’t have an instance for her to check.

His reply came a few seconds later.

She waited.

Nicely done, Anda, she thought.

After a brief three-way conference, they had a rough outline of a plan, thanks almost entirely to Nykka and Anda, though Lilijoy felt like she learned quite a bit. She was a bit distracted throughout by Inside events. No amount of urging and mana use could keep her plants growing fast enough to satisfy the appetite of the Regional Lord, but their roots had fractured and loosened the massive shell of stone and earth on its body just enough for her to hide in a narrow crevice.

However it had found her in the first place, it seemed unable to pierce her Stealth now, so aside from suffering from some acidic drool when it cropped the plants directly above her hiding place, she was as safe as anyone could reasonable expect to be, given the circumstances.

When the beast had polished off all the greenery, it made a low rumble, either satisfaction or disappointment, she figured. After another minute, it began to move, and she dared to peek out. Soon she stood on its back, enjoying what passed for clear night air on the Boiling Plains, her altitude such that the worst of the fumes were well below.

I could get used to this. What a view!

Aside from the aesthetics, she could see the light of distant campfires, perhaps only a couple miles away to the west. The gait of the beast was surprisingly smooth, which she attributed to its many legs, and possibly some magical effect, as it moved lightly upon the earth for a being of its mass. Looking back, she could barely see a sign of its passage.

It must manipulate gravity the way Master Rosemallow does, she mused. Either that, or it somehow repairs the ground as it passes.

The beast was headed roughly south, which was not her preferred direction, but she was more than a little afraid that it would quickly find her again if she left the safety of its back. She suspected there was a decent chance that it had found her through the earth magic she was casting, though she couldn’t rule out that it had other means of tracking her, or that it was guided to her location. Whatever the method, she had escaped its notice for the time being.

Still, it wouldn’t do to be stuck on its back forever. She sat down and began to pull out large sheets of paper she had made earlier. It was time to craft.

***

Hide in my ceiling hole. As if! Attaboy grumbled to himself. He looked at the door to the storage room longingly. It was one of those rolling doors, segmented panels that pulled down from the ceiling, locked from the other side. Still, he was pretty sure he could wedge up a portion of the bottom, enough to get out, if he really wanted to.

He knew he shouldn’t though. For one, it would probably make a lot of noise, and for another, he had no idea what was on the other side. He had no idea what passed for security systems in the Corp headquarters, no idea whose territory he was trespassing. Some part of him really wanted to find out.

Sighing, he returned to the crates. He had already opened two, ignoring the augsight admonitions, once he was fairly certain there would be no alarm or other signal sent. They weren’t even sealed all that well, just glued shut with some material that was already cracked and brittle. It had only taken a few minutes and a couple broken fingernails to pry open the first, which was full of toys and children’s clothing, and even less effort to open the next, using a plastic screwdriver the size of a small chisel he had found in the previous crate.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

That crate had been just as useless, half full of dishes, pots and pans.

Good thing the Corp protected the world from the kitchen-pocalypse, he thought.

A message arrived from an unknown sender.

However, there were a few items of greater value that may remain, provided they were not removed illicitly. Chief among those is an EBO, a small, self-contained molecular manufacturing unit that interfaces with Guardian in the traditional manner. These are not uncommon within the clans, but they are strictly controlled by the Corp, and extremely difficult to obtain.

I would be extremely grateful if this unit eventually found its way back to me. I suspect your party may find it useful in the meantime.>

Huh. So there is some loot after all, Attaboy thought. He quickly scanned the rest of the lengthy message, which detailed other items he might find, such as augsight emitters, various types of signal relays and control consoles, their appearance and so forth. It turned out that the process of manufacturing such items gave a great deal of control over their appearance, so even if much of the valuable material had been intercepted by those more greedy than concerned about possible contamination, it was possible some of it had slipped through, disguised as more mundane items.

Thankfully, Marcus, as a former high-ranking member of the Caribe Clan, knew most of the preferred disguise forms for the various technologies. It was also possible, though Marcus thought it unlikely, that all of it had been retained.

Well, thought Attaboy, looking at the stacks of crates in their hundreds, there’s only one way to find out.

***

It turned out that finding a Regional Lord was an even bigger deal than Nykka had said. It was known that they respawned, but the time frame of their resurrection seemed to be in generations, rather than years. According to Jacob, the young man processing them at Sothechrist’s Auction House, the last time a Regional Lord had appeared was thirty years ago, and the balance within the Corp had been forever altered by the massive battles for the giant creature’s body.

Or so he claimed. It seemed to Lilijoy that Jacob had a penchant for the dramatic.

They had finally made it to the auction area of the West Leg, and then climbed what seemed to be at least a thousand steps. Once again, Nykka was playing the role, if that’s what it was, of clan scion, bursting into the offices of the elite establishment with no sense of shame for her dirty clothes and dirtier followers. The people of the front office calmly and efficiently handed them off to Jacob, with hardly a disdainful glance or wrinkled nose.

Lilijoy was bursting with curiosity about the whole situation. She had already learned how the early stages of the negotiations might play out from Nykka and Anda, but she was fascinated by the details, and the culture of the auction house in general.

“This is so exciting!” Jacob said for the fifth time. “And you say it’s a source beast too?”

She had a feeling that his excitement was mostly for the commission figure they had yet to negotiate. Jacob had caught a huge break when the ragged trio was foisted upon him, she was willing to bet.

I wonder what his story is? Who works at these places?

All she knew so far was that the auction houses, and of those, Sothechrists was by far the most prominent and reputable, were powerful independent forces outside of the clan structure. How that came to be, and how they possessed sufficient leverage to maintain their independence were two of the things Lilijoy was most curious to find out. Nykka, however, simply took it as established truth. The sky was brown, water was wet, and auction houses were the final bastions of integrity on the Outside.

Even Anda agreed, though he seemed to think it was because the Corp wanted it that way.

“Now,” said Jacob, brushing his hands together, “We need to move on this as soon as possible. Can’t have someone else stealing our thunder. I’ve sent the initial footage off for verification, and we have established that you have exclusivity for the time being. Just realize that the entire Garden will go into a frenzy the moment there is even a hint of a new appearance, so the clock starts ticking as soon as we announce the subject of the bidding.”

“That’s why we require a private, anonymous auction, invitation only,” said Nykka.

Jacob nodded. “I was going to suggest that very approach.”

They went on to discuss who to invite, how much to disclose in the invitation, and starting bids, all while Lilijoy could sense the gentle rocking of the mighty creature under discussion beneath her. She was even beginning to feel a little guilty, when she remembered its initial greeting had been to vomit acid on her.

Pays to be polite, I guess. Of course, I was already slinging mud at it. Oh well.

Nykka had already negotiated well on their behalf. As a high ranking clan member, she had an established relationship with Sothechrists, in the form of a silver level membership. Pending final verification, both Lilijoy and Maria would have the same. This gave them access to silver level auctions, as well as certain conveniences such as previewing auctions and the auction house’s assistance in authenticating Inside goods and arranging for their auction and delivery at any of numerous Outside branches.

Additionally, they would have accommodations until the auction closed, and the service of personal shoppers, who could run around and fetch clothing and other items for them. They would still have to pay, of course. Lilijoy was just incredibly glad they would have a place to stay for the rest of the night. The day had been far more stressful than she, or anyone had expected.

She only felt a little bad that Attaboy would have to spend the night in a storage room somewhere in the bowels of the building, while the rest of them experienced whatever moderate luxury Sothechrists would offer them. Anda and Mo were already making their way back out of the city, their presence no longer necessary for the time being.

Tomorrow, or possibly the next day, the auction would take place, though their presence wasn’t needed for the actual event. After that, they could worry about escaping from Walden Clan’s forces. With the ability to get new clothes and disguises, that would be much less of an ordeal, though they still needed to figure out how to get Attaboy out.

I suppose I should check in with him.

she sent.

he replied.

Attaboy filled her in on Marcus’ message. Lilijoy was very excited when she heard the details.

he replied.

She had to think about that for a subjective minute. How many times had she nearly lost herself in the past few months?

she said at last.

She wanted to rant at him, to take her frustration out on somebody. But he was probably right. There was no putting that djinni back in the bottle. Speaking of that…

There was a pause.

he replied eventually.

She didn’t know how to reply to that. She thought she should. She had a thousand articles on the subject of accepting apologies at her beck and call. What Attaboy had done wasn’t even that bad, idiotic as it was, severe though the consequences had been. Perhaps it was that she didn’t really know who was apologizing, or what they were really apologizing for.

Is he sorry he’s out of control sometimes? Is he apologizing for his very being? Or is it Atticus, apologizing that we all have to live in the world his parents made? If I ask, do I run the risk of harming him?

Ultimately, she decided to take it at face value.

she said.

She just hoped that last part was true.

***

The rest of the night was everything she had hoped. They were brought to a suite of rooms, with real beds, and soft, white robes that were a foot too long. There was a bath, with hot running water, and she barely even thought about how plumbing might have been integrated into this vast, alien structure imported from the Inside.

On the Inside, she finished her project, a large kite, or rather a series of box kites held together by her thinnest cord. She released one, and then two and three to trail in the wake of the vast beast’s movement, and they soared into the night air, borne aloft in the thermal upwelling of the boiling Plains, dancing in the breeze.

Then she followed, sinking at first, then rising, dancing beneath her creation, leaving the Regional Lord and the earth itself, cattail fluff floating above a hostile land.