Free City of Ruins by Mark London Williams Page A

Guardians who pursued me were yelling at
me to ‘ Stop! Halt!’ and generally desist in my running. They
were tired of the chase and were even firing their weapons at me. I
was still able to move fast enough, despite my old jabberstick
wound, to avoid exploding into many tiny pieces. Yet why go to all
that trouble to catch me, if they only wanted to blow me up?”
    You look for logic where there is fear and
passion.
    “There may have been fear and passion, but
soon enough, there was water. Much, much water. The explosive
projectiles were dislodging the rock barrier behind me, which had
been fashioned into a sealed wall, a barrier against the bay
outside the DARPA tunnels. The excitable mammals pursuing me
suddenly realized the same thing and screamed the command ‘Hold
your fire!’ at each other. But it was too late.
    “Soon a trickle, then a torrent, of liquid
came through the tunnel, pouring over the tracks, causing sparks
and confusion, but eventually allowing me to stop running and start
swimming.
    “I squeezed my way through a small opening
into a vast body of water.”
    Like the fish tribes.
    “Yes! Like the Saurians on their water
planet.
    Are you a fish?
    “I don’t have the sshezz-flmm , the
breath capacity, for it. Behind me the DARPA tunnel walls continued
to give way. But once again, my good intentions may have caused
even more confusion for my friends, and this time, of a liquid
nature.
    “Being separated from them by the roaring
water pouring in, I made my way to the surface, gulping down much sshezz , much air, and finally found myself under the very
bridge Thea and I had flown by before, in the Saurian time-vessel.
The same bridge we had returned to when we time-ported back from
the days of Clark, Lewis, and North Wind Comes.”
    Human names I recognize. From the time of my
first grandmother, Silver Throat.
    “Yes! I knew Silver Throat!”
    You are like the Fish Man in her
stories.
    “I am the same Fish Man! She was my friend!
Who are you?”
    The signs here call me the mind-reading
wolf.” In my tribe of wolves, they say this ability was passed down
from Silver Throat herself—that after her encounter with the Fish
Man, she grew to understand the thoughts and language of many
different creatures. But perhaps I am a novelty simply because
humans are always startled whenever they are actually listened
to.
    And is that what you are called? The Fish
Man?
    “Is this the kind of prison where you are
assigned new names? I haven’t been in one of those yet.”
    They don’t call it a prison. They call it a
carnival. It’s a traveling show, for the amusement of humans.
    “Really? Amusements? Do they show what they
call ‘movies’ here? Especially one called Slaversaur! ? That
apparently amuses humans, too, though the reasons for it elude me.
If they run one about Gwangis, however, we can learn new words.
Like amigo . And mañana , which refers to the movement
of time. You can call me by my name, though.” And I pronounce it
for her in my native Saurian.
    And you can call me by mine: Silver Eye.
    “You are named in remembrance of your
forebear, Silver Throat.”
    Yes. And because I am said to see things. I
see how you came to us here.
    “I have been telling you the story.”
    I also see that you have more to tell.
Concerning your friends.
    “Yes. It’s how I came to be captive here, in
this — you said, ‘carnival’?”
    Yes. Rocket Royd’s Traveling Circus and
Odd-Lots Carnival.
    “Do carnivals always camp in ruins? I
understand this place was once called ‘Wolf House.’ Perhaps you
knew of it?”
    No. Rocket Royd came here to look for
something nearby.
    “My friend Eli’s nest-sire kept a dwelling
near here, a place for research and experimentation. And it was
this destination I headed for after taking leave of the —”
    “Fish!”
    I turn to the new human voice. I can see him
through the bars. He is a boy, younger than Eli, his eyes wider,
his hair darker, more tangled. He seems