Streets of blood

27

They woke in the separate bedrooms of their suite at much the same time, then glumly shared coffee and what claimed to be a continental breakfast from room service. In the end it had all been rather anticlimactic.

“Well, at least we know the details of the system sculpture system now” Geraint summed up. “I must admit that it surprised me, Very pastoral, nothing organic. Nothing that we encountered, that is. We got away fine as the wizard-bard and the priestess.” He was trying to be optimistic, constructive.

“Yeah, but there was nothing in there. Nothing in the personnel files on Smith, Jones, Kuranita, Jack the Ripper, and none of us either. I’d say we drew a total blank, Geraint. Useless.”

“Try to look on the bright side,” he insisted. “You didn’t get attacked by some homicidal maniac, and we got by their decker so sweet. He didn’t even realize we were outsiders. So much for the defenses of the most dangerous cybercorp in the UK. Not so much as an active alert triggered.”

“But where did it get us? We learned nothing.” Francesca poked at the limp croissants. After all their bright hopes and expectations for the run, it had been as bad as this breakfast.

“Well, apart from what I’ve mentioned, we did learn something. And we should have seen it before! Look, remember the cards I showed you yesterday? Five of Coins. We’re not getting the foundations right. But the outcome was the Six of Swords. Remember, we have to face some new element of the problem and deal with it.”

Okay, I buy that. It does fit. But how did we get the foundations wrong? Our plan worked. No one picked us up.

“But we didn’t get what we wanted. We didn’t find any sign that the database systems had any answers. That’s how the foundations of the enterprise were flawed. We were in the wrong system.”

She misunderstood him. “You mean we should have checked Fuchi instead because Transys is after them? But-”

“No, I don’t mean that at all. It was the wrong Transys system. Were going to have to hit the central system. That’s where the information will be. In the Edinburgh system, where their HQ is. If we’re onto something big, that’s the obvious place. We’ll have to deck into the Edinburgh system.”

Francesca was becoming frustrated. “But we don’t even know the number of the SAN!”

“You telling me you can’t hack that one? Fran, you’re the best decker! Know.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose I can find it.” Honest flattery usually worked for Geraint. “You sure about this?”

“Got a better idea?”

She looked deflated. The buzz, the thrill of yesterday was gone from her. Then she inhaled deeply, dumped the cold croissants into the trash, poured a third cup of coffee, and thumped her fist on the mahogany table.

“Okay, let’s do it,” she said. “If what I’ve heard about the TN system is true, it’s going to be damn tricky. We’ve just got to hope that its sculpture is configured like the one we saw last night.”

“Why would it be any different?” Geraint asked. “They’re bound to be the same. It would be too expensive any other way.” They smiled at each other, clinking their coffee cups together.

“Well. Master Bard, shall we sally forth and astound the varlets with our wizardry once more?” She was playful, her spirits improving.

“Viviane, my dear, I believe the hour of enchantments is finally upon us.” He spoke with mock grandeur. “And I believe we should disguise our sorcerous purpose by downloading a few tidbits elsewhere in the system, perchance from their research flies, should we happen by a helpless little SPU that reveals them to us. That way we can also make a few sovereigns into the bargain. Cover our tracks too. Verily, milady, let us sally forth anon.”

They got up and went toward the gleaming cyberdecks across the room.

“Ten minutes.” Geraint said, then reached for the cannula once more. Mustn't forget the shot.”

They stood outside the system access point, ready for the verdant scene that would greet them upon entry. Geraint-Taliesin stood with an almost fierce expression, a grimoire at his belt, a magical stave in his hand, and a harp at his back. Meanwhile Viviane of Avalon readied herself to pass through the mystic barrier and head for the SPU beyond. It worried Geraint only slightly that the Viviane icon was clad in a decollete dress today. At the very least it might distract any Black Knights who came their way.

Viviane’s mystic utterances dispelled the barrier program and then they were striding through into the green pastures, sending animals scurrying hither and thither across the sward. Data routing, obviously. Just what would be expected.

Geraint saw the quicksand or the tar baby trap immediately. but he didn’t need to alert Francesca-Viviane to it. She skirted the edges of the pitfall and he followed, treading in her steps exactly.

Heading through the peaceful woodland, the couple came to another clearing; the tint of the subprocessors. Hiding behind the trees was a small gnome who skipped out and asked them the simplest riddle imaginable. What pathetic access defense, Francesca thought. Kindly, she gave the gnome the answer, and the inquisitive pixies lurking behind the older oaks stayed put on their toad-stools as the gnome nodded his acceptance. A trace and report program, she guessed. It looked feeble, but that was part of the skill of it. It disarmed a decker’s defenses to he faced with something that looked so pathetic. She was all too aware that the system had imposed its reality upon her perceptions, making it harder for her to give the right responses swiftly enough. Well, then, she just might have to leave some of the answering to Geraint-Taliesin. As they strolled across the clearing, she muttered to alert him. He nodded his head sagely, and they strode out hand in hand.

At the far edge of the clearing the fuachan leaped out at them when they tried to open the gale to the path beyond. One-legged, one-eyed, and one-handed, the muscular protogiants hefted their heavy clubs and posed their riddle.

“How may I circle the world in but a second?” The demand for the key, the password, was instant and direct. Access with a heavy edge. The clubs were poised to fall on their necks.

Francesca-Viviane produced a simple blank vellum scroll from the folds of her robe, and a quill appeared in her hand. Swiftly she drew a globe held it up for the fuachan to see, then drew a line arcing from one side of the sphere to the other. “Like this!” She said and flourished the solution triumphantly.

The fuachan was about to make another challenge, but the playing of Geraint-Taliesin’s harp soothed it. With that, the other fuachan laid down their clubs and ignored the visitors, hovering by the gate as the cloaked pair went on their way. Francesca breathed a sigh of relief and moved beyond the gate into a summery meadow ringed with trees. It was like a crossroads offering many possible paths. Francesca-Viviane looked around with her witch-eyes to see where the paths might lead.

Her analyzing soon told her that there was only one datastore. an arcane library in the far distance, and a path to yet one more woodland. The rest of the paths led to simple villages with working artisans, a sure sign they were mere slave nodes in the system. The library needed checking. She pointed it out to Geraint-Taliesin. who followed her soft footfalls across the grass.

The librarian stood with the card index clutched to his chest, a mundane collection of works arrayed on the shelves behind him. She reassured him that she had no desire to steal or even borrow any of his tomes, analyzing the contents of the index as he concealed it. There was nothing here but records of system operations, and only minor-league stuff at that. The books weren’t even gilt-edged. The librarian was suitably deceived and didn’t ring his handbell to summon assistance.

Geraint-Taliesin stood and observed the scene in silence, magical stave readied in case a phantom or sorcerous beast should unexpectedly swoop down upon them. They left and made for the path to the woodlands once again.

“That would have been too easy,” she said to the old man beside her. Got to be further in than this.

The woodland path was a nasty decoy. Only at the last moment did she see the slough begin to open up beneath her feet, leaping back from the treacherous terrain just in time.

Tar pit, yuk! Francesca thought. This is getting confusing. I can hang on to the Welsh-Celtic imagery Getaint’s generating, but this is a definite whiff of old-time John Bunyan. Whoever sculpted this sure has a sense of humor. In the distance, she thought she heard an owl hoot. Passive alert. Geraint would have heard it, too. They’d missed something, obviously. If it was white IC. no sweat. If it was gray, they were in trouble now. There didn’t seem to be anywhere to go, either.

Shifting into sensor mode, she saw the concealed pathway between the trees when she returned to the woodland they’d just left. As Francesca-Viviane urged the bard forward, his eyes flashed everywhere, looking for menace underfoot and in the trees. Her intuition told her they were getting hot now. She was right.

Passing below the tree canopy they beheld a castle-moat, drawbridge, pennant-topped towers, and all. The central processor. This had to be it. There was nowhere else to go.

As they approached the drawbridge, it lowered and a mighty knight mounted on his thunderous charger appeared before them. In the swirl of his flowing robes, it was almost impossible to perceive his outlines clearly. He wasn’t armored, but the robes shimmered with magic. Geraint was becoming worried about the defenses the IC construct might have. It would be hard to focus an attack on him. Francesca-Viviane did her best to hide her form as her companion spoke his words of invocation. She didn’t think it was time yet to join the fray.

In his own perception, Geraint called the great Eagles of the Hunt, and drew down the wise serpent to the battlements. The snake’s honeyed words seemed to calm and transfix the guards preparing their weapons upon the castles battlements. Suppressed an alert there, he thought. Now give me strength to defeat this mother. This is serious killer IC. The Eagles tore at the helm, shoulders, and body of the knight, ripped with their talons at his destrier, and drew blood. As a ripple of intense blue light flowed from Taliesin’s staff, the knight raised his shield to deflect it. The bolt flashed incandescent when it struck, reducing the shield to a corroded lump of burning wood. The knight dropped it and galloped forward, Lance raised, tip pointed at the offending magician.

Do I attack or defend? Geraint thought wildly. My serpent-frame is occupying the other guards, so I can’t use it to defend me. I live or die here. Another spell to destroy this errant knight.

The feathery flames hovered over the knight, then engulfed him as he rode on to the solid ground beyond the drawbridge. The mount faltered and the knight fell from his mount, but no call was heard atop the battlements. The serpent calmed the hearts of those within the castle.

“Haste, Taliesin!” Viviane called. They rushed across the drawbridge and entered the citadel. Within were many towers, a keep servants scurrying to and fro. Two squires stared at them uncertainly; gray IC not yet activated, they guessed. The enchantress scanned the scene, her inquisitive frame-servants exploring the citadel.

Taliesin grew increasingly anxious, wondering how long the confusion would last. As Viviane pointed in triumph to the far limestone tower, a trumpet sounded. Great, he thought! they’re on to us. Work swiftly, my priestess. We have little time left to us now.

Reaching the tower just as the dogs were unleashed in the courtyard, they slammed the door behind them with a crash. She led him up the winding stone staircase to the warded and barred door. He battered on it with his staff, screaming spells to dispel the magical protections. On the stairs, they heard footfalls and clanking sounds. Stuff the organic feel of this, Geraint’s panicking brain was howling, these guys have got swords.

The door opened without a sound, revealing a room in which myriad crystals floated airily, each containing a picture and a scroll. Viviane’s summoned sprites began to examine and read, analyzing the contents. They had taken one crystal and were looking for another when Nimue appeared before the bard’s eyes.

She smiled seductively at him, her hands alive with gelatinous webs. Her voice soothed him, called to him, her eyes alive with poignant sorcery. She cast aside her flimsy gown and stood naked before him. Adrenaline raced through his body at the sight of her, his arousal distracting him from his true task. Feebly he murmured an incantation of self-defense as the succubus advanced on him. Her body brushed his, and he delighted in that instant. He could feel her breasts pressing against his body as she began to wind her arms around him.

“Tell me, darling, where you have been, that I may come with you and rest within your bower and be your lover. I want to bring you my delights.” she purred, curling a leg around his, rubbing against him with her thigh, her tongue seeking his. He almost fainted.

Sorcery! Succubus!”

Taliesin heard the words in time and turned to see Francesca’s form changed into the fury of Morgan le Fay, in an instant changing again into the black bird. He changed his own form into that of a dove and escaped up into the airy cupola of the tower, circling around with the raven beside him. As one they dived beyond the furious, clutching maiden and sped down and out of the tower.

They were hunted. They heard the wolves and erinyes, the seductive words of sirens, but they closed their cars and flew through the air, over the rustling trees, across meadows stalked by enraged guardians, past gates and barriers. As they flew toward the exit to the Isles of the Sun, a great fireball came down at them from the heavens, and as they soared over the sea the fire engulfed them in a flash that blinded and disorientated them.

Yet they soared still, and their forms came home at last to the blessed place. Viviane carried with her a tattered bag, the spoils of their foray into the deadly castle. They landed amid a copse that smelled sweetly of lavender and apple blossom, and instantly jacked out.

“Oh, God.” Geraint was coming down from the boosters. It seemed that Edward had significantly downplayed the drugs’ after-effects. It was four in the afternoon and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept for a week.

Francesca, however, was jubilant, alive with energy. “I’m not going to download this lot yet. Maybe that lady you were so engrossed in got a fix on your magical home, my Welsh bard. We’ve got to get out of here fast. They may have our location.”

Geraint was seeing double, but they managed to pack their decks, adding them to their other luggage, and made it to the parking garage in seven minutes flat. He couldn’t even remember the faked identity he’d used to check in.

“Mr. and Mrs. John Smith,” Francesca sniggered as they closed the car doors. “The traditional alias of furtive lovers. But we’ve been doing something much better than that.”

It was true, he reflected. Francesca really got off on a good run in a way that she never really did with sex. Perhaps I should have used Edward’s little recipe after all, he thought idly.

“Now, you’ve got dinner tonight. I think we should drive to, um, let’s see.” She ruffled the pages of the road atlas. “Banbury. That’s nice. Those old fakes, the druids, have got some stuff out there. Let’s check in there. Ooh, and they’ve got a Holiday Inn too. Aren’t we lucky?” She turned the key in the ignition and pulled away quickly.

“We did it. We got something. The spirits were smiling. Tonight I can get a good look-see at what Transys has got on us.”