LERNA SPRINGS.
Non observed the steamy hot springs, the lush year-round green foliage encircling the water, Lernea’s cave above them, and the ivy-covered buildings of the town nestled among larger trees. Normally, he would pass the town gate and head towards the switchback trail that led to the entrance. Most cave visitors over a meter tall used the 39 giant book-shaped steps, but they weren’t cart-friendly.
He had an uneasy feeling about the town. Likely the law presence on the switchback. Maybe the hawkman with a badge flying overhead. Perhaps the police staging table on the giant Crime and Punishment step. Conceivably the collie constable commanding him to get closer.
‘Lernea IS a supervillain. They broke the encryption! They watched me talking to her just hours ago!’
The amiable welcoming sign of hydra heads contrasted with the stern glare of the anthro collie while pointing to where he needed to stop. Her eyes kicked in the door of his soul.
‘She can see I’m panicking! Should I try running now? I shouldn’t have let myself get emotional!’
“Put the cart over there.”
“What’s going on?” Unhitching himself, Non thought of an escape. “I might get a death summons.”
“Is that why you’re so nervous?”
The taur nodded as he held up the warning letter and Handbook.
She glanced at the letter. “Non Sequitur. I saw that name somewhere. Do you work for the Hydra?”
‘She knows everything! No, it’s border collie treachery. Stay calm.’
Non Sequitur talks to a Border Collie Cop [https://i.imgur.com/WEuWVka.png]
“I haul books for Lernea the Hydra,” said Non. The hawkman landed behind the taur.
“When did you last speak to her?” The eyes of the border collie seemed 40% closer.
“I saw her in person five days ago. I spoke to her on Arpanet three hours ago, letting her know I got these books and would be here around now.” The collie cop delved deeper into his blue equine eyes. ‘Why can’t I look away?’ “I expect to haul books to a fair in Athens tonight.”
“When you spoke to her on Arpanet, did you use encryption?”
“I recall a red border. Lernea 5 tends to do that.”
“Do you have an exact time?”
“I arrived at the bookshop at 7:30, but she delayed opening until eight. I used 20 planck in personal funds to cover the transaction and made a mental note for her to pay me back. Ten past eight.”
“Who have you seen along the road?” She leaned a paper-wrapped staff she’d been holding to the sign before walking around him, her canine nostrils flaring. ‘That would be a good contact staff.’
“An artist hitchhiker came with me, Max, he’s back there. I made a mental snapshot of a reckless minotauress and unicorn in Tripoli. I could sketch for you. The sheriff gave me the Handbook.”
“I talked to the artist. He rode with an equitaur with a shifting pattern,” said the hawk cop.
“His pattern shifts? Like a chameleon?”
“I have both chromatophores and pilomotor rotators. If you examine my hairs–”
The collie dismissed it. “I’ve decided I don’t care.”
“Let’s see the minotauress sketch,” said the hawk cop.
Non adjusted his body pattern to resemble the Percheron-pulled carriage with a minotauress and a unicorn hauling a tarp-covered cart. “I can’t do colors. The tarp had blue stains. I could email the pictures.”
The collie looked, then gestured towards the two-story bookshelf gateway, with religious books on the right and books of myth on the left. Shadows showed tight crescents.
‘The religious books can’t be walked on. Obey the one that says Don’t Panic.’ Non felt herded as the collie cop directed him to the first meter-tall book step, Frankenstein. A gray-haired anthro cop of an animal type he didn’t recognize waited on the next step, Island of Dr. Moreau.
“Sayer, the taur here saw suspects in Tripoli. He made tattoos of the suspect,” said the collie cop before jumping to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. “He spoke to Lernea this morning.”
“If it means anything, she quoted Jabberwocky.”
Sayer of the Law shared a long glance with the collie, who was now on Rashomon. “We have to collect everyone’s story, standard procedure. Follow her up.”
‘Why did mentioning Jabberwocky bother them?’
On Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the collie asked, “Have you noticed any recent personality changes?”
For decades, power-sharing had been promised to the four subservient heads upon the delayed bicentennial upgrade. Lernea 3 broke that promise. ‘Was there another hydra head fight?’ As Non debated mentioning the new blood squeegee in the storage closet, the collie moved to a different question.
“If you have a memory ability, could we see your conversations with her?”
Non jumped up onto Bartleby the Scrivener. “I will gladly help you. I have hours of conversations I could share. I am 100 percent ready to cooperate,” he lied. “But yes, increasing weirdness. This morning she randomly mentioned that her Earthself died of an infection caused by a woodpecker.” Non got distracted enough to slip on the smooth stone book slab, windmilling his arms.
The collie steadied Non, helping him from Don Quixote to Pride and Prejudice. “Are you sure? It seems you’ve worked for Lernea for a while.”
“I believe in loyalty to my employer, but only so far. I’m unaware of anything illegal, and I’m sure Lernea won’t mind sharing our book-collecting adventures.”
Non was halted on Bleak House by Fakenham, a 2-meter-tall onocentaur, a local owner of a Queerqueg tavern, a lawyer, and the highest-ranked member in Lernea’s gaming group.
“It’s bad, Non. I got drafted to help with forensic clean-up. Dip your hooves into that bucket. I’ll clean you up with Ariesta. If you leave your canteen, I’ll get that filled with grain water,” said the donkeytaur.
Ariesta, a 2-meter mare-faun bard and tavern wench, got busy with a hoofpick and brush as Non set down his 8L steel Queerqueg beerkeg. “Non, I’ll be in room 201 if you still attend the book fair.”
The collie moved past them to the Crime and Punishment step, pointing out the body sketches to police creatures there. She wrote down file names after consultation.
“You said you met Lernea five days ago. Make an overhead shot of the main room while those two clean you up if you can. Whatever your ability and memory can manage. Then mail your previous images and the new images to these addresses.”
As his body got brushed, picked and sponged, Non recalled an in-game moment when his human ranger had been knocked out. While getting snacks, he’d taken a mental snapshot. Memory refreshed, he made an overhead D&D style map at 1:56 scale, showing the irregular walls, floor, shelves, furniture, sundries and the other gamers, with the hydra at the head of the gaming table.
“I sent those files. Lernea’s eyes recently got lasers. She can do holograms or laser etching; you can get a better image from her.”
The collie shushed the taur. “Can you handle blood?”
‘How bad is this?’ wondered Non. “I grew up in the Etruscan-Centaurs Siege of Pelion. I tended battlefield casualties as a colt. I’ve hauled for butchers since then. Blood hasn’t bothered me for years.”
“He’s clean enough, barista. Non, the commissioner may ask more. Head up the rest of the steps and give your pictures to the commissioner,” said the collie.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Non took a step to Sherlock Holmes. “Wait!” commanded the collie. “You have a memory talent but only hauled books? No. That’s inconceivable. You made copies,” she accused.
Non’s shock affirmed the collie cop’s claim. “Is that illegal?” Long ago, a congenial lady offering cash for a memory copy arrested his colt self on this very step and booked him for Abuse of Powers. In the subsequent hours, his colt abilities fascinated Lernea.
“Head on up, Non Sequitur. If an agent comes, they’ll find you,” said the collie, dismissing him.
Non felt disheartened on the slab for Poe, a mood that changed and evolved for the worse as he went up book steps for Ovid and Darwin. He tried to distract himself by recalling each giant tome.
A rivulet of blue fluid dripped from Stoker to Grimm, with a broader stream of blue on Clockwork Orange and a significant amount of blue blood on Hamlet. By the time he got to The Shining, he only saw the oncoming rush of blue blood as he trotted through the vast tunnel to the main room.
Non’s vision dimmed at the sight of his friend Lernea. He couldn’t process it. ‘The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame.’ He looked around for an explanation as his breath quickened.
‘The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!’
Rivers of blue blood flowed from five severed necks, each half the length of his body. Multiple massive punctures covered Lernea’s abdomen, which had been gored, shot and hacked open. The lake of blue shrank into a sea of blackness.
A person in a shabby coat thumped Non’s chest. “Whoa there, steady! Look at me! Look at me!”
The taur looked at a human pulling his equine head for eye contact. A weathered notepad in the hand holding his wide snout listed names and times and injuries. ‘A detective at a crime scene?’
“That’s better. Keep your eyes alert. You’re too big to conk out. I can’t handle blood myself. Especially weird blue blood. I lost my breakfast on a book by Sartre. Please look at that burn mark on the wall behind you while I look at the files you sent. I’ve let go of your fine nose. Just turn your head back.”
The detective was a mess of a man, a tangled mass of unkempt hair, disheveled clothing, and stubble. He looked like a drifter who’d wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time, but his eyes told a different story. His eyes, cold and calculating, bore into Non’s own, but without the unsettling intensity of the collie’s gaze. These eyes could be trusted behind their glint of weary cunning.
Non turned on his haunches and saw the thin, dark laser burn on the wall, just below the clock. ‘Someone slaughtered Lernea!’ He looked at the clock for ten seconds, ensuring his vision. Then over at the Earth clock. GMT. Comforting, relaxing data. ‘Calm down. Listen to the detective.’
“I like your overhead map. What an incredible memory. Five days ago, and there’s a backpack over there that hasn’t moved. And you haven’t collapsed. Will you be okay, or should I send you out? I will completely understand, but I do want to know if you remember that mark on the wall.”
Non took a deep breath and looked back at the disheveled detective. “The burn mark is new, sir. Wasn’t here before. Sorry about losing it. Lernea is a friend. Was a friend. This–”
The police detective held up a hand. “According to this note, you saw a unicorn with a blue-stained head. And you spoke to Lernea at 8:10. If you can, examine the room for anything significant. Excuse me.” The detective joined others to discuss the new pictures.
Non recalled that red, blue and green blood corresponded to iron, copper and magnesium. Hemoglobin, hemocyanin and chlorophyll/chlorocruorin. Relaxing facts. Same as pixels. But light used additive colors, RGB. Blood and pigments used subtractive colors, MYCK. Myck the Knife. ‘The unicorn’s head was soaked with Lernea’s blood.’
An anthro jackal measured Lernea 3’s neck. A human took pictures with a fancy camera. Everyone had gloves on. A poodle in a uniform had the blood squeegee, PROPERTY OF LSL on the handle.
Non opened his cabinet near the entrance and donned his curator gloves. ‘What can I add? The safe isn’t well known. Maybe use the measurement ability with ping.’
“Thieves might have accessed the safe behind the ‘Labors of Hercules’ painting. A chain with the key is around her third neck. Her new recording device is missing.” His words joined the soft chatter.
Non pinged the room and noticed a discrepancy. “There’s something under her front right claw.”
That got more attention. Non wheeled over a book cart that doubled as a claw stand and then pointed to the jackal. “Wheel this under when I have the claw up.” No one yelled Stop, so Non got his arms around the warm claw and lifted. After hearing the cart roll and stop, he lowered the claw and stepped back to see a silver cloak, oil and smashed metal. An old journal touched his hoof.
‘Oh, no. It’s Rumbler. Last month’s special project.’
“Another ‘Silver Screen’,” said the jackal. “I sent a memo on this. A week ago, reactor tech Duetta Egretta wore a silver cloak and hood. She died trying to blow up the lion at the Nemean fighting academy. Just yesterday, the surgeon Beek Illidith died trying to blow up Ceryneian Hind Deliveries. Same outfit. Inside both cloaks were the words Silver Screen.”
‘Beek helped train my brother. He did the surgery on Lernea’s eyes.’
The jackal pushed open the cloak with a blade to show those very words, stained with oil. “Ancient mechanical. Numerous in-and-out laser burns, one bite, then crushed by this claw. Laser holes match up with the burns on the floor and wall.”
Non inspected his gloves, activated his perfect memory, picked up the book, and rapidly flipped through the pages. “A handwritten journal here. The Learning Hydra. Lernea’s first writings. I didn’t know her journal still existed.” He saved the memory in his mental archives and handed off the book.
A human cop held up a local newspaper, The Lernea Ledger. “This is Rumbler, the announcer robot. Front page. He finished a public reading of Dragon’s Egg last night. His first appearance since malfunctioning at the Learning Games last month. Originally a robot called Adam Link.”
A pair of cops moved the painting and used the key. “Commissioner, the safe is empty.”
The detective sighed. “Add the painting to the queue. Are those labels the usual names?”
Nemean Lion • Lernaean Hydra • Ceryneian Hind • Erymanthian Boar
Augean Stable • Stymphalian Birds • Cretan Bull • The Mares of Diomedes
War Belt of Hippolyta • Cattle of Geryon • Hesperides’ Apple • Capturing Cerberus
Several police stood around an overhead map, fresh from the library’s printer. The detective indicated sections with a pencil, analyzing the gruesome details with the detached precision of someone who had dedicated their life to this work. “At least six people killed this huge hydra. Humanoid mechanical Rumbler got destroyed on the scene. A creature with a dragging tail and clawed feet over here, blood splatter suggests a large, bladed weapon. Two different sets of boots near bullet casings here and here. One set of boots walked up to this blank area, then walked away. Mr. Equitaur, does the circle on the map represent the location of the recording device you mentioned?”
“Lernea Three picked that very spot when she received it a month ago.”
“Something strong with two cloven hooves carried the severed heads to a cart over here. Likely the minotauress. Suspected unicorn over here, quadruped hoofprints and severe puncture splatter.”
‘Should I tell them Lernea mentioned her journal? Or mention Dad’s zeppelin?’
“All the blood here is blue! Where is the red blood? Lernea’s a formidable fighter attacked by a unicorn and a minotaur and who knows what else. Lots of red-blooded mammals. Five jaws, two claws, a spiked tail, ten laser eyes. None of the attackers got hurt enough to bleed? Why attack the robot? Because it had the old journal? Why was Rumbler with this group?” The detective pointed his arm to the lasered, chomped and stomped robot between severed necks.
The detective’s pointing arm jerked to one side, his head tilted left, and he swayed as both knees locked. Non grabbed him before he careened face-first onto the stone floor.
The collie rushed in, her badge flashing red. “Your Earthself is near death, Non. Meet Agent Duracotus. Out. Take Commissioner Fichet with you. The rest of you, the eclipse starts in two minutes.”
Non placed Fichet on the giant Maltese Falcon, where his saddlebags, cart and the wrapped staff had been brought. The sileni used fresh towels on the taur’s hooves as Sayer tended to the detective.
“Sayer, find a blood expert. Mr. Equitaur, May I?” asked Fichet, picking up the bag labeled APPLLES.
“Take it. The kids that sold me the apples saw the minotauress in Tripoli last night.”
“More homework, but thanks.” Fichet took a bite. “One more thing. That staff has your name! I knew I’d seen it. We found it near the backpack this morning with the Agent note. Was it there earlier?”
Attention: Agent Duracotus. Icosian. For Non Sequitur the Equitaur.
‘Recall the memory snapshot. Fakenham missed a save. On the wall.’
“My memory confirms proximity to the backpack five days ago.” Non gave the stave’s wrapper to Fichet. “It’s an Olympic bar without sleeves like the left pole of my cart. I practice with it. They made my character sheet weapon, Icosian?” A message popped up.
♫ ICOSIAN. CONTACT STAFF OF VECTOR MANIPULATION.
Stars appeared as the eclipsed sun transformed into a black disk encircled by fiery filaments. As others looked thataway, Non tried a simple contact staff maneuver, then looked up to the stairs, wanting to show Lernea, always a good audience. Just like that, he missed her again.
║ DIGITAL LIBRARY SIZE: 123201 BOOKS. HELLO? IS THIS WORKING?
Ñ̰ HELLO? OH, WE HAVE AN INTERFACE. YOU TALK? PARDON MY MELANCHOLY. WELCOME TO MY IMPENDING DEATH.
║ I WAS RUMBLER, THE ANNOUNCER ROBOT LERNEA CRUSHED. I TRANSFERRED TO ICOSIAN. I CAN RELATE.
On the Principia Mathematica step, a wormhole appeared. A young human stepped through, attired in blue jeans and a green D20 t-shirt, holding a folded tarp under one arm. The teen surveyed the police and the equitaur, then donned dark glasses to look at the eclipse.
“I am Agent Duracotus, son of Fiolxhilde. Non Sequitur the Equitaur, your time is now. Grab your things. On Earth, leave no trace. Step through the portal.”
Non gazed at Icosian, then grabbed his saddlebag and canteen. So many thoughts. Should he tell the police about Rumbler? Should he do the song he’d planned? He hesitated near the too-small portal.
Duracotus noticed the trepidation. “The portal size adjusts automatically as you approach.”
Non bucked himself up, then sang, spinning his new black staff as he stepped through. “Clean off the dirt and makeup, then step into the light...”
PELION.
“... You’ll get the final curtain as a puppet til tonight.” On a mountain plateau, the eclipse had unstarted. A second portal stood near a pile of items: goggles on a dusty leather workman’s apron festooned with chisels and other tools, the name MIDDY ZOLA stitched into it.
Non stopped spinning Icosian. “This isn’t Earth. It’s Pelion. My parents live over there. Sculptor Middy works in the quarry down where I’m pointing.”
“One moment, I didn’t expect a pre-existing superportal. Drop your stuff except for the staff and forms.” Duracotus looked at private screens.
Non complied. “Ginni Anatto must have died, Middy’s Earthself. I took Middy to Lerna Springs a month ago with a hydra statue for the park. With five colors of gems for the new laser eyes. Along the way, I read Gorgon Zola to her snakes. Through the portal there, that giant d20-shaped home, that’s where she lives. Used to live. I see Constable Song rushing to meet us. Dad helped to design her jail. Should we wait?”
“As the local sheriff, she’ll assist with scavenging and circumventing a crime scene. You’ll come back to Pelion with your Earthself added. We need to step on through.” The teen traversed the superportal.
Ñ̰ HERE WE GO. READY?
║ I’M ADAPTING TO YOUR THOUGHTS. BUT YES. GO ON.