Vol. 4 Chap. 3 Rain, Rain, Go Away

Vol. 4 Chap. 3 Rain, Rain, Go Away

Truth raced the sunset into the big city on the river. His road atlas claimed, to Truths deep suspicion, that the name of the town was The Hot Male Side of the Shang River. Which was clearly stupid on several levels, not least of which being that the river (according to that same road atlas) was called the Han.

I think we need to work on our Onis more. This is dumb.

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The city, whatever it was called, came as a shock to Truths senses. He was a Harban boy, born and bred. He was used to high density, hive-like slum towers and gorgeous wealthy districts. This city had those things kind of. Just different enough to feel utterly alien and familiar all at once.

It was the apartment blocks. They looked like they had been stamped out on an assembly line. Identical buildings, dozens of stories tall, sorted into tidy rows like corn stalks. Row after row of them. Then lower apartment blocks were merely a half dozen stories, but four or five times the width of the towers. Those were sorted like books on a shelf. Neatly lined up and ready for use. Each perfectly identical to the other.

Very like home. Very like the mass produced housing Starbrite and its imitators churned out. He was struggling to put his finger on the difference. The sheer concentration of perfectly identical structures was almost enough to throw him by itself, but that wasnt the whole of it.

They he wanted to say that they were clean, but it was more a feeling of clean, more than the actual state of being not-dirty. Like the people living there took pride in their infinitely replicating apartment buildings. Maybe that was it- the people looked like they wanted to be there.

Nobody looked stressed about the war. In fact, more people looked worried about the sky. They were a very little bit north of the volcanos plume, but the dust spread wide through the atmosphere. It wasnt just Truth. Judging by the way everyone was hurrying home, nobody wanted to be on the streets tonight.

Truth cruised around looking for a mid-market hotel. Something with reliably clean beds and decent spell bowls under the doors. One of the great feats of magical engineering right there- making the bound demons able to pass through home wards without getting demolished by the spell bowls.

He turned down a busy street and was brought to a quick halt. Floating above the street, ten meters up, were little folded paper birds. Thousands of them, all the same model. The birds were in a variety of bright colors, and they mostly just floated in place. Sometimes they would shift a little or pretend to preen their non-existent feathers. What made them really special in Truths eyes were the lights in them. Each paper bird was lit from within by a bright, white light shining through the colored paper.

It was gorgeous. It was lively and joyful and fun, even with the identical birds manufactured in six approved colors. Under the darkening orange-black sky, they seemed brilliantly alive and hopeful. He smiled up at them and hoped they wouldnt come to any harm from whatever was coming tonight.

The hotel boasted the Sure, why not? name of Summer-Hill Suites, despite having no suites and being built on perfectly flat land. Busy night at the hotel, it turned out. A lot of people from out of town suddenly felt the need for the shelter of the city.

Truth stood behind the clerk and looked at the list of available rooms, and picked the most expensive one that was still empty. If someone came in the middle of the night, he would deal with it then. Besides, the most expensive one was a double-queen-bed room with a pullout sofa, intended for an entire family to share. Not exactly the stuff of fevered dreams.

Flopping on the adequate mattress, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. There was something fun about how he managed his sleeping arrangements. No worries about safe houses, or being snitched on. What made it better was that Jeon knew he was doing it too. No idea about Onis degree of information on him, but their internal security services had a reputation for unpleasant thoroughness. They would be checking all the hotels, all the time, whether he existed or not.

He was sealed up tight. Not a speck of energy leaked out. What he had, was his. He was fine. Just sitting and waiting. Listening to a hotel full of people screaming in fear and pain, for four hours. Trying desperately to convince himself he didnt care, and it wasnt touching him.

He left as soon as the blood rain stopped. For some reason, he didnt want to look anyone in the eye.

The iron horse was no worse for wear. The demon was completely obliterated, of course, but the talismans had been such utter trash to begin with, the fluctuating magic didnt manage to make them worse. One surprisingly technical bit of summoning later (his time fixing Army wagons came in very useful there) he was on the road again.

He pushed the two wheeler as hard as it would go. No more stops, no more looking around. Head down, straight for the Capital. Trying to outrun the echoing memories of screams. Trying not to think what those endless identical towers would have been like last night, or what the hospitals would be like now.

Tried not to think about the turbulence that vacuum had caused. Was the rain of blood pushed out ahead of a weather system of collapsing magic? He had no idea.

Straight into the center of the capital. He would look around later. Several layers of ring roads, he noticed. The city was beyond huge, but it was very orderly. Endless rows of identical apartment towers. He kept his eyes on the road. It took a lot of hunting, and a bit of discreet asking, but he did eventually find his way to the Siphios Embassy.

He approached the front desk. Hi! I was told to ask for the Second Assistant Deputy to the Special Dispatch Officer for Trade and Agriculture? Truth said in a friendly voice. The receptionist looked considerably more alert at the end of his sentence than at the start of it.

Oh? I believe he will be free shortly. Would you follow me please? She asked.

Of course.

She led him deeper into the embassy, finding a profoundly anonymous looking office with a profoundly thick, heavily warded door, and waved him to a seat. The seats were identical. This was a room for anonymous meetings, not posturing.

Who should I say is here? She asked. Truth grinned, remembering Merkovahs instructions. Tommy Wells. Im here about your talisman problem.

She nodded, recognizing a code phrase when she heard it. She turned to leave. By the way, Truth hurriedly added Do you have a cafeteria here?

She looked puzzled. For staff, yes. Why?

He smiled. Im dying for some good coffee. After I give my report, I think Im going to be running out of here like my hairs on fire. Any chance of a cup?