When he woke again he felt weak and curiously empty, but his fever had broken and he felt clearheaded for the first time in a long time. He pushed himself up from the bed, grimacing at the way his sweat-soaked and filthy clothes clung to him, and staggered into the bathroom to take a shower. He stood under the hot spray and scrubbed at himself until his skin was lobster red, and when he got out he spent an hour in front of the mirror cutting his hair and shaving off his beard. By the time he went to make himself a light meal he was dressed in clean clothes and feeling almost human again.
Elle came in as he was eating and greeted him with, “That's much better. You look good without that face mop.”
“Mmm.” He finished eating before giving her his full attention. “I want to go tomorrow.”
“If you think you're ready.” She eyed him. “You look like death but at least you're clean.”
“Thank you. Where am I going and how do I get in?”
“Here.” She leaned down and pulled a rolled tube of blue paper out of her bag, then spread it out on the table, absently pushing his breakfast plate out of the way. “You want to be here, in the collections room.” She tapped a room in the center of the blueprint. “Here are the entrances, and here's your best path. Getting in is very simple. You just walk right in and make sure you aren't seen.”
He raised an eyebrow. “No alarms? No locks to pick or door codes to figure out?”
“Nope. The Collector relies on wards and spells. You, being human and pretty insignificant, won't trigger them. You just have to make sure nobody sees you wandering around in there. You can manage that much, right?” She gave him a brilliant smile.
“When do I get my information?”
“When the world is in my hand.” She rolled up the blueprints and handed them to him. “Just in case you need them. Now, the real trouble is going to come when you try to take the world. So you need to take this,” she took a glass sphere containing an odd blue stone out of her bag, “and put it in the world's place. It won't last long, but it should keep the alarms from triggering until you're already on your way out. Think you can handle that?”
“Yes.” He took the sphere and examined it, turning it over and over in his hands. The stone gave an unpleasant rattling noise as it slid from one side of the sphere to the other, and for an instant he thought he saw oversized eyes blink open on top of it. “What is this thing?”
“Just put it on the stand.” Elle got up and picked up her bag. “See you tomorrow morning.”
“Is that all you're going to tell me?” he started to ask, but between one blink and the next she had disappeared. “Well, fuck you too.”
He spent the rest of the day napping and eating, trying to build up his strength for the next day. He still felt embarrassingly weak but the craving had dulled and even the grief that gnawed away at him had been reduced to a dull ache. He went to bed at midnight, expecting he would have trouble falling asleep, but instead he closed his eyes and knew nothing until the morning sun woke him.
He was washed and dressed by the time Elle arrived. She gave him an appraising look then to his surprise she handed him the handguns and gun belt he had hocked nearly six months earlier. He looked at them for a moment then buckled the belt around his waist and slipped the guns into their holsters.
“Try not to shoot yourself in the foot,” Elle said. “I'll take you to the back door. Get in, get out, and get back to me using this.” She held up what looked like a round polished stone but didn't give it to him. “This'll trigger alarms. I'll leave it out back for you.”
“There are a thousand things that can go wrong with this plan of yours,” Jones said, uneasy. “You couldn't come up with anything better?”
“Think of it as a way to test your skills. Now let's go.” She took hold of his arm and the room tilted alarmingly around him; then they were standing in the shadows of a stand of giant redwoods, looking out at a large, stately mansion. Jones studied the building, mentally superimposing the blueprints he'd studied over it, then glanced at Elle.
“Go,” she said softly, and he went.
He ran, his muscles tense and knotted in expectation of the alarm being raised, but he reached the back door without incident. There he paused, looking around and mentally cursing how out of breath he was already. He waited until his breathing had slowed and evened out, then slipped in through the door. His confidence grew as the house remained calm and quiet, and he walked down the hallway towards the collections room as though he belonged there. The door was standing open and he paused a moment in the doorway to take a look around.
The room snaked around in a gentle curve, its walls lined with stands and display cabinets. The lights were kept low enough that, combined with the curve, he couldn't see the far side clearly. He vaguely made out a large shape that took up the entire end but he dismissed it when he saw the blue-green sphere glowing in the dimness a few feet in front of it. He glanced around one last time then walked silently towards the sphere, fishing Elle's glass out of his pocket. Very carefully he took hold of the world, careful not to jar it in its setting, and slipped the glass sphere into its place as he smoothly pulled it away.
“What are you doing?”
The sudden voice made him jump and for a heartstopping moment he fumbled the world sphere, nearly dropping it. He caught it at the last minute and hugged it to his chest, feeling his heart try to hammer its way out of his ribs. Breathing unsteadily, he turned to look into the far end of the room.
The large shape was a cage made entirely out of gold, the bars as slim as his little finger and delicately carved with runes. The inside contained a queen size bed piled with blankets and pillows, and a pair of matched dressers painted jade green. A fine filigreed chain ran from a bolt in the floor at the end of the bed to the ankle of the young man standing at the bars of the cage, watching him. Golden shackles encircled the youth's other ankle and both wrists, and he wore a collar set with a single polished emerald. He had tanned skin, long dark hair, and the proud features of an aristocrat.
“Who are you?” Jones asked, slipping the world sphere into the pocket of his overcoat.
The youth's blue eyes flicked down at the movement then back up to his face. “My name's Andraeon. Who are you?”
“Jones,” he said after a slight hesitation. “Why are you here? Locked up like this?”
“I'm part of the collection.” Andraeon's voice turned wistful. “Are you going to leave?”
“I have to,” Jones replied but he didn't move, studying Andraeon's face. “Are you... happy here?”
Andraeon looked down at the chain around his ankle then up again. “Would you be?”
Jones looked towards the door and thought of Elle telling him that the glass sphere with the blue stone wouldn't fool the alarms for long. Then he stepped forward and inspected the lock on the cage's front. It looked simple, almost more for show than for actually keeping Andraeon in, and it was the work of a moment to pick it with the tools he carried in an inside pocket. He opened the cage door and stepped inside, warily, almost expecting an attack; but Andraeon only stood and watched him. The lock on the shackles around Andraeon's ankle was tougher and he was still fiddling with it when a loud, strident alarm suddenly blared into life.
Driven by fear, he shoved the lockpick back into his pocket, grabbed the delicate chain, and gave it a yank with all his strength. It snapped off a few feet from the ring in the floor and another alarm screamed above their heads. Jones grabbed Andraeon's wrist and yanked him out of the cage, and they bolted for the door. He heard pounding footsteps coming from the direction he wanted to turn and without a second thought he turned the other way and pulled Andraeon deeper into the mansion. He didn't dare stop, searching for the quickest way out, even as shouts were raised behind them.
Andraeon swung him into a side passage so suddenly that he nearly collided with the wall, and stumbled as he caught his balance. The footsteps were so close behind them that he almost thought he could feel hot breath on the back of his neck; and the muscles in his back itched in anticipation of a blow. A part of him registered that he heard no yells to stop and he risked a glance back over his shoulder.
They looked like men but even in that quick glance he saw their skin was the pebbled grey of stone and they had no mouths. They carried no weapons either but their rough, mottled hands were easily twice a natural size and he had no doubts that they would be more formidable hand-to-hand than with any weaponry.
Unconsciously Jones tightened his grip on Andraeon's hand and picked up the pace, running flat out.
He skidded a little on the tiled floor as they reached a sudden dead end but Andraeon pointed out a narrow set of stairs leading up. Jones hesitated only a moment before heading up them, breathing hard with the exertion. His heart was pounding by the time they came out onto the second floor landing, and he didn't have time to catch his breath before the stone men charged up the stairs behind them. He brushed his fingers briefly over the butt of the gun at his hip, then pulled Andraeon into the nearest open room with a balcony.
They scrambled out onto the balcony and Jones boosted Andraeon up onto the edge of the roof then swung himself up, an instant before a grey hand would have closed around his ankle. Leaning over the edge, he watched their pursuers mill around as though uncertain. The brief rest allowed him to slow down his breathing and he felt better when he pushed himself back to his feet. Gesturing for Andraeon to follow, he led the way across the roof, setting their pace at a rapid jog.
Something thumped behind them and without even looking back he grabbed Andraeon's hand and sprinted for the other side of the roof, where one of the enormous redwoods arched its leafy branches over the house. Jones pushed Andraeon out into its branches and gave him a few moments to start climbing down before following. They both jumped down the last ten feet and Jones led the way at a run towards the place where Elle had promised to leave his escape route. He found the polished stone sitting on a tree stump and snatched it up, then hesitated, unsure what to do next.
The next moment the redwoods tilted around him again and he had just enough time to grab Andraeon's arm before they were tossed sprawling onto the floor of Elle's kitchen. She stood at the counter with a glass of wine in one hand and stared down at them, eyebrows raised.
“Jonesy,” she said after a careful moment, “you have just opened yourself up to a whole shitload of trouble.”
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