Ch7.62 Revelations

The water seems bottomless, and instead of rising, Alma sinks toward a glimmering light. She sees it ahead of her, the dark, hard object, floating somehow despite being solid metal. She knows it, but how did it get here?

As she reaches for it, she sees for a moment an identical pale hand reaching for it. She looks and sees a pair of frightened eyes, eyes so familiar, eyes from a distant youth, a timorous, childish Alma she left behind so long ago.

But then she seizes the object, and breaks the surface. Her world spins as she reorients herself. Just as she is looking around, taking note of the chamber glowing with light from the water, noticing that the chamber is empty of anyone else, Sky surfaces behind her, putting an arm around her. “Are you all right, Lady…ehm, Inspector?”

She squirms in Sky’s arm, not struggling but turning, searching desperately for Dion. “Oh no….no, no, no…” Without thinking, she brings her fist down with considerable force on Sky’s shoulder multiple times. “Stupid, stupid, stupid – you are so stupid, Alma!” she roars in frustration and anger.

The water rises up, lifting her and Sky onto solid ground, before splashing away as the ocean-god releases his control of it. Sky sets her down, and she feels shame at hitting him, though she knows such pounding without some supernatural oomph behind it will do little harm to the big god. As she falls quiet, he murmurs, “I will get you home. I swear it. I won’t let them be without you.”

Alma takes a deep breath. “Thank you…does this mean…? I saw myself on the passage through. Was the other me, the Senator’s wife, going to the other side?”

Sky shakes his head. “You’re asking me? I think I caught a glimpse of myself as well. Perhaps your Sky is back home now. Perhaps we cannot exist in the same world at the same time.”

“Gods, I truly didn’t need this now.” Alma opens her hand, suddenly noticing that she is still holding the thing she grabbed. “The God Striker…”

Sky takes a look. “Fancy brass knuckles? A sort of lightweight cestus.”

He looks at Alma. “You punched an Archon to death?”

Alma shakes her head. “No. Gwydion punched him. He could have killed him with this but…he hesitated. He would have arrested him like the good Guardia officer he is. Instead, I ripped Nekh’s soul from his shattered body.” She gives Sky a look of defiance. “He was going to murder all my children in front of me.”

Sky’s expression carries no condemnation. “Sounds like you did what needed doing. Pity someone didn’t do that to him in this time-line.” He takes another look at the artifact, studying the fine script etched into the surface. “It seems inert at the moment. Still, I’m glad you weren’t wearing it when you were walloping me just now.”

“I’m sorry,” Alma says. “That was uncalled for. There wasn’t any convenient wall to punch…but I shouldn’t have punched you.”

“That’s all right,” he says. “I was confused and upset myself when I crossed over. But I will get you home, Alma. I promise it.” He sighs. “But it seems we will have to be back here in another twenty-four hours for that. We should go meet the others and find out what’s happened. Surely they won’t be far…”

“We need to find the Oracle, too,” Alma says. “If she is anything like the Nevieve I know, I would not be surprised if all of this is not just some elaborate cry for help.”

“At least Somrak will be glad to know the Fates are on our side.” He stretches a hand toward the pool. Water rises in a small hump, then pops free in a floating globule. Sky levitates it to float above his shoulder, and a swirl of glowing particles, like a tiny galaxy, spins into being from the center of it, suffusing the globule with bioluminescence, producing a watery glow reflected by the stone of the walls and floor in soft glimmers.

“This place,” Alma says and they start down the tunnel together. “It was Nevieve’s home. And Doria’s. They were our friends.”

“And now it is empty, violated.” Sky pauses, listening. “Though not entirely empty.”

Alma hears the faint echo of voices, too, as they approach the center of the Grotto. “I am not sure if I want to explain to these people what just happened,” she says in a low voice. 

“Do you want to hang back? Just wait by the pool? I could bring you some food.” 

She considers his thoughtful offer, but shakes her head. “It is better for them to know the truth than to think the other Alma is lost.”

He looks ahead and says, “Too late anyway.”

Before he’d even spoken, Alma had seen the two souls approaching. They had almost immediately been recognizable as Bunny souls, different from humans in their own subtle ways. Are they the same souls as her Bunnies, though? Before their faces appear in the watery light of Sky’s glowing globe, she thinks they indeed seem very similar to those of two of her daughters, Rosemary and Mayumi. If there are any differences, they are too subtle to detect without a more thorough examination.

And yes, there it is, Merri’s face entering the light, the ginger curls and freckles and russet fur on her ears so familiar. But her voice, when she asks, “Is that you, Mother?” is different. The timbre is the same, but carrying the accent and rhythms of a high-ring family, not the unique lilt and burr that matches no other accent on the Insula she knows of, the one her daughter emerged from the dreamworld with. 

“Almost,” Alma replies, keeping her voice calm, reassuring. “But not quite. Are you all right, Rosemary? You sound frightened.”

Rosemary slips past Sky and takes Alma’s hands. “You’re all wet! And wearing different clothes! You smell…different. And and and…”

“You’re taller,” May says, wonderingly, wide-eyed. This daughter, too, sounds a little different. Alma reminds herself that in this world, according to Sky, she goes by May rather than Mayumi, a shortening that her Mayumi once tried to explain was just incorrect for some strange reason. “And…you have a sword.”

“Let’s return to the others,” Sky says. “You shouldn’t be away from them. Is everyone well? Your father and sister and little brother?”

Alma feels a flash of appreciation toward this world’s Sky, for trying to distract them while she gathers herself back together. This is so very strange. There are Sky and May together, in her world so much in love, here meaning nothing more to each other than bodyguard and client. Yet she notices Sky looking at the Bunny with a little curiosity, perhaps wondering what his counterpart sees in her.

But she feels her equanimity shaken again, by anxiety and desire about seeing this godling babe. She takes Merri’s…no, Rosemary’s hand, and then May’s as she resumes walking toward the others. “I took an unexpected dip in the pool. I’ll explain everything when we’re all together.”

They find their way to the Oracle’s audience chamber. As they step in, she sees several people: Machado is there, and Cala and Aliyah, all three in uniform. Somrak, too, probably fueling the fire that burns on the stone floor, unfed by wood or anything else. She sees his scar, healed away by her mother weeks ago, returned to his otherwise beautiful face. And sitting at his feet–

“Saira…” she breathes. Her ally. Her patient. Her friend. 

Saira who lost her life in a quest for vengeance – and in the process saved them all. Here. Alive. And…a prisoner?

The Bunnies look up at her, feeling her tension.

Sky murmurs to Alma, “Not sure who that is. She must have joined us earlier today.”

Rosemary tilts her head, one ear flopping to the side. “But…what? You captured her.”

May wrinkles her brow. “You’re not the same Tuma-Sukai who was here a little while ago. You’re the one we first met, aren’t you?”

Rosemary shakes her head like a fly is trying to get into her ear. “What? There’s two of them?”

“Not only him,” May says, looking up at Alma, her eyes accusing and fearful. 

When Alma feels May let go of her hand, she feels a sharp, brief pain at the rejection. She and Mayumi had struggled to find their way to a strong connection – just before the girl had gone off to the Guardia Academy, Mayumi had become, in some ways, the one Alma felt closest to among all her children. The pain of the chasm she’d struggled to bridge returns. But she reminds herself that these are not her children. They are Lady Alma’s. And Senator Gwydion’s.

She wants to explain. These may not be her Bunnies, but they are mortals who are in a frightening situation. And more, she still feels a bond to them, even across the divide of universes.

She gives Rosemary’s hand a little squeeze of encouragement, then drops her hand. “You’re right,” she says to May. “But I–”

“Alma! But you are drenched!” Senator Gwydion, emerging from an alcove, hurries toward her, brushing aside Sky’s halfhearted attempt to stop him. “Oh, I knew this was a bad idea. You don’t even know how to swim. Are you well, my little lamb?”

Before she can think to bring her hands up to keep him back, the god, a rather well-fed, older-looking version of her Gwydion, embraces her. Alma stiffens at his touch. Her eyes widen at the treatment, then narrow at the pet name. Lamb? If for even a moment she had thought this soul was her beloved, that moment was past. She pats him awkwardly on the shoulder blade. “I am fine. For the moment.” She shares a look with Sky, who is trying to hide an amused smile, and tries to silently tell him, Man, you were not kidding. “But I am afraid I have some bad news for you.”

“Alma, what is wrong?” Senator Gwydion sounds worried as he releases her. She waits, watching him look her over, take in the differences. With the fire at his back, he can see her face more easily than she can see his in Sky’s aqueous globule’s glow, but still she sees him blanch. He turns to Sky. “What happened? What did you do to her?”

Sky takes a breath. “Do you know about the pool, Senator?”

Gwydion nods, impatient. “The pool that is supposed to be some sort of link to another world, yes! What…” He pauses, his eyes flickering over Sky’s uniform. “You’re no longer…half-naked.”

“Daddy!” Rosemary cries. “You knew?!”

Sky raises an eyebrow. “I was…? Never mind. I am the first Tuma-Sukai you met. The one that was…out of uniform was from the other world. I think he must have gone back at midnight, exchanging places with me once again.”

“Which would have set everything right,” Alma says. “But…” She opens her hands to indicate herself.

Senator Gwydion deflates, like someone has punched him in his slightly paunchy belly. “You mean to tell me that my wife is…gone?” The two Bunnies look horrified, and Alma catches sight of Cherry – no, Cherish – coming out of the alcove, holding a little baby in her arms. She has been overhearing this, and looks confused and afraid.

“Not gone,” Alma assures him. “She has crossed over to my world, where she will be perfectly safe, with good friends to take care of her.” She reaches out and pats his arm. “However, the same cannot be said about us, Gw– Senator.”

“On top of that, we now have someone with us who knows a thing or two about our enemy, and has beaten him before,” Sky adds. “The Inspector, here, has defeated Nekh in battle. It’s not a bad thing that she’s crossed over.”

“Why don’t you all come closer to the fire?” Somrak’s soul, like Sky’s, is much less scarred than that of the Somrak of her world, though not entirely free of the mark of old wounds, Alma can see even from here. His face, though, still bears the old scar that twists his pretty mouth into a slight sneer. But he has the same challenging, confident – even arrogant – stance. The same slender but muscular figure. 

He looks her over, skeptical but then smirking a little in satisfaction as he notes the way she bears her sword, like it belongs on her hip and is very comfortable there. “And, if you’ll allow me, I can do something about the wet clothes.”

“For as long as you are gentle with the fabric,” Alma replies, with a little smile. “I was told the blend is somewhat prone to shrinking.” She looks again at Gwydion and the two Bunnies, who have moved closer to him for comfort. They are still looking at her, confused. “I am sorry if I scared you. This is as strange and worrying for me as it is for you. I am Acting-Inspector Alma, of Three Rats Station.”

Rosemary asks, “So…our mother is a Guardia officer in another world? And… you have children there?”

As she’s speaking, Cherish, holding the infant comes closer. The Bunny’s big brown eyes are wider than usual. She asks, hesitant, “Are you sure our mother is well?”

Somrak takes Alma’s hand and sends warmth into her, and more specifically into her Guardia-indigo sari and her hair, heating them to the point that steam starts to come off them.

Alma almost wilts at how good that feels. She smiles thanks at Somrak, and says to the Bunnies, “Your mother has my closest friend and my world’s version of your father with her to protect her.” She looks at the one holding the baby – the same beautiful dark skin, the same full lips as her own daughter, but the wild kinky curls of her hair tamed and straightened into a glossy black ponytail similar to Somrak’s. “Tell me, Cherish, do you ever go by Cherry?”

Cherish says, “Oh…well sometimes Rose and May call me that. But nobody else, really.”

Rosemary adds, “And Shirtless Sky called May ‘My Yumi’ or something! And May said that it felt like something from a dream…now isn’t that curious?” She grins teasingly at May. 

“I rather imagine he would call her that,” Alma says with a smile. “He knows my daughters as Cherry, Rosemary, and Mayumi. Their names in my world. They look very similar to you but they are also different. And each has her own accent. Also, in my world, I have four other Bunnies: Sage, Kori, Chime, and Tulip. But no godlings.” She looks at the baby and her expression softens. “What is jys name?”

“His name is Nari.” The Senator’s tender pride pulls him briefly away from his fretting for his wife. Still, his eyes helplessly drift to Somrak’s brown hand holding Alma’s pale one. “Ahem, are you quite done with laundry, Sergeant? Perhaps you should help your partner dry off?” His attempts to keep jealousy from his voice are unsuccessful.

“Have to do this slowly and carefully, Senator, or this outfit might shrink,” Somrak says, trying to sound very serious. “As pretty as that might look, she might find it hard to move if another group of assassins asks us to dance. But…how does that feel, Inspector? Dry enough?”

Alma, used to Somrak’s flirtations, wriggles her shoulders and touches her choli, the bodice of her sari. It is dry and toasty warm. “I think so. Thank you, Sergeant. Now, what do you mean, another group of assassins?”

Gwydion replies, “We were attacked before. At the local Guardia station. Thankfully, no one was harmed in the process.” He is looking at Alma again in wonder and shock at the sound of her voice. “I didn’t really believe what the, um, other Tuma-Sukai said before. Not in my heart. But the way you are taking command with these sergeants…”

“Rather than demanding respect for your station,” Somrak adds, his sardonic grin more pronounced, as he steps back.

As much as she agrees with Somrak, Alma shoots him a narrowed glance. “Nor did I believe this Sergeant’s claims,” Alma says, pointing at Sky. “I am sorry. I did not mean to be harsh before. And…my condolences on your uncle’s demise. I know how attached Gwydion is to Math, I can only imagine what a loss it must be. In my world, Math has become dear to me, as well.”

The Senator’s grief is obvious. “He was like a father to us, a grandfather to the children. It all feels like a horrible nightmare.”

“The Commander regarded Archon Math with great respect,” Sky says. 

“They butted heads sometimes,” Somrak adds. “But what can you expect. The Archon was good for the Guardia. Great coffee, too.” His voice is not mocking at all. 

“The Commander will butt heads with a standing wall if he feels it’s in his way,” Alma says. “And where is he? The Commander? And my aunt, for that matter? I doubt they would allow all this to happen while they watch from the sidelines.”

Sky and Somrak share a look. “Your aunt?” Somrak asks.

Alma smiles a little, relishing the reveal. “Subcommander Varah, in my world. The Fencer.”

Gwydion shakes his head. “That dreadful goddess…”

Somrak’s eyes are wide. “Well…that explains a few things.”

Sky blinks, but merely says, “Since assassins have attacked here, this ward obviously isn’t the safe little hideaway the Commander thought. Somebody has intercepted the information.”

“Then we ought to be going random, throw them off the scent, go anywhere the mole in the Commander’s office won’t know about,” Somrak points out. 

“No,” says Sky. “This Alma has information the Commander needs now. And more than information.”

Somrak looks surprised and hopeful. “You found the God Striker thing?”

Alma reaches into a pocket and shows the weapon, weighty and solid in her palm. “Yes. It doesn’t look very threatening now but once it is recharged, it will be powerful enough to destroy even an Archon. And we need someone like the Commander to recharge it.”

Somrak sighs. “Fine, but…there is a mole. We need to go in, ready for that.”

“I…remember Somrak mentioning a traitor in the ranks of the ‘Off-Blues’,” Alma says. “But I am not sure who it is or who she works for. Only that she is female and has a partner. I am sorry but he could not disclose any more.”

“That he was even revealing that much – should this not be confidential information?” the Senator asks.

“It should be, yes,” Alma agrees. “He should not have told me. But he was being healed at the time. It is not uncommon for people to experience confusion in those moments.”

“I know this. My wife is a very talented healer.” He looks at Somrak as if he might amorously pounce on Alma at any moment, a look that Somrak receives with apparent amusement.

“Your wife has many talents, Senator,” Alma replies, hearing her aunt’s growl in her voice. “If she is allowed to shine, she might even outshine you before you know it.”

The tense moment is broken by a cry from the baby. Cherish says, “Um, he must be hungry. What about food? For him?”

Alma feels the beginnings of panic. “What do you mean…food for him? Did you not – oh…”

“The baby is still suckling,” Dion explains. “And…now he does not have his mother to feed him.” He looks sick with worry and goes to take the baby from Cherish’s arms.

“And he just polished off the last of the stored breast-milk,” the Bunny says as she hands him over. “We grabbed a few bottles on the way out when the Sergeants came to get us, but he’s a hungry little darling.” She nods toward their luggage not far from the fire. Alma can see an empty bottle with a preservation sigil on it, to keep the stored milk fresh.

“Why hasn’t his mother been feeding him directly? Or replenishing her stores?” Alma asks.

May says, “Well she was. But, uh, Sergeant Sky had her looking for the magical item. And so we fed Nari the last bottle not long ago.”

Gwydion’s attempts to cheer the baby are not working, and the cries are growing more demanding. Cherry says, “It was really only about a quarter of a bottle.” Her ears sag against the back of her head in worry.

“No dry formula?” Sky asks.

Cherish shakes her head. “You two were rushing us so much…”

“Oh dear,” Gwydion rocks the baby a little. “What are we going to do until your mother gets back, little Nari?”

Alma hesitates, then goes to the Senator. “Give him to me. I have an idea.” At Gwydion’s hesitant expression, she adds, “I am still a Life goddess. Besides, none of the Bunnies was born after a natural pregnancy, right? So the only way your Alma could have nursed them would have been to use magic to…activate lactation. She has to have done it before, and if she could do it, I’m sure I can. These things are not beyond a goddess’ control. Just…let me try. It is the easiest solution to this problem.”

The Senator looks alarmed. “But, um, here? With…” He tilts his head toward Sky and Somrak.

Alma smirks. “Somehow I think they’ve seen it before. But I will step away a little, beyond any curious looks that might never have seen a female breast before.” And she does, moving to a little hallway, turning away from them, bearing a breast and letting the baby suckle on it, her control over her own body urging her glands to produce milk in response, the milk to flow into the ducts, to the nipple. She grimaces and taps the baby’s lip. “I know you’re hungry but I am new at this. No biting.”

Will he accept her? Will he latch on? Any fears are quickly allayed as the hungry infant takes her nipple, peacefully, eagerly suckling, undisturbed by any possible differences in taste, while Alma enjoys the pleasant release of hormones, the sensation of peace and closeness to the little child. “You are truly adorable, did you know that?” she whispers to the baby, looking at him, studying his face. “So similar to him…”

She glances back to see Cherish standing quietly nearby, a little behind, holding a towel, waiting to be noticed – how very unlike her own brash daughter. Still, her smile is much the same, warm and broad and bright. “He burps up sometimes – you’d better have this.” She offers the towel, and arranges it on Alma’s shoulder. “Hey little Nari!” The baby’s eyes open and he looks up at his big sister. The corner of his mouth curls in a smile even as he suckles. Cherish giggles, then says to Alma, “This is pretty strange, isn’t it?”

“It is. And I don’t know what is stranger, really, looking at you three and seeing all the similarities and all the differences to my own children, or breastfeeding a godling child when I have none.” She shrugs, gently. “This part is not all that uncommon to gods. Your father could have breastfed him, too.”

Cherish laughs. “I would’ve paid to see that!” She becomes more still and quiet for a moment. “You must be missing them. But, you know…we’ll take care of you, while you’re here. Don’t worry.”

Alma reaches to stroke Cherish’s ears, then her cheek, which the Bunny responds to much as Cherry would have, by leaning into the touch, as sensual as a kitten. “Thank you,” Alma says. “I am missing them, yes. But I am here to take care of you and help you back to safety. We will find a way to do that and I will soon be on my way so that you can have your mother back.” She leans down conspiratorially and whispers. “I can tell your father can’t wait to be rid of me.”

Cherry looks a little sad at that. “We do want her back. But he’s just worried sick is all. And just because we want her back, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be making you feel welcome here!” She brightens. “I wish we could meet them! Especially the ones younger than us. Boy Bunnies…goodness!”

Alma shifts Nari in her arms a little, prompting an annoyed grunt from the babe, but she is only reaching for and then removing her elaborately asymmetrical Guardia badge. “No, don’t grab that, little Nari,” she admonishes. “There’s a pin that will prick you.” She hands it over to Cherish, sliding her finger over a little, inconspicuous bobble hanging from a loop on the pin, starting the projection of glowing images, sculptures in light, of special moments from her own memories, that appear for a short time, and are them replaced by another. She keeps a few dozen of her favorite moments there. “There. Their images will show up eventually.” Indeed, while the first image is one of Gwydion smiling rakishly, the second is of Merri and Cherry laughing helplessly together over some silly thing.

Cherish gasps, looking at the glowing picture in wonder. “Oh, can I show the others? They’ll love this!” Her voice is high and excited.

As Cherry rushes away and gleeful exclamations echo in the chamber, Nari finishes his meal and Alma raises him to her shoulder, whispering encouragement to him and she pats his back gently. Tuma-Sukai approaches, a soft, faint smile on his stoic features that makes him resemble more strongly the Sky she knows. “Somrak and I have been talking. We’ve agreed on how to try to find the Commander. It involves a visit to the off-blues headquarters, though.”

“Do I need to be blindfolded?” Alma asks. “Or just promise I will not disclose the location in the future?”

“Oh, we’ll figure all that out later. He thinks he knows who the mole is. But he isn’t willing to bring the Senator and the mortals and a baby into the middle of what could erupt into a fight, and of course neither am I. So just briefly, they have to stay here, and we will come back for them. But we have a prisoner we can take along. Somrak says that your Sky told him you helped her, once.”

“Saira…yes. I helped her, and she helped me. She helped save the Bunnies’ lives. And then she saved all of us, and gave her own life in the process.” Alma sighs, feeling heavy despite the sweetness of nursing. “Well, can we at least leave the local Popula here to guard the tunnels? This place is a maze. It will make it difficult enough for anyone to locate them easily.” Alma says, then looks at the baby. “After I replenish this little one’s milk reserves, I guess. Hopefully, the good Senator won’t think it all too sour for his baby’s lips.” She shakes her head in disbelief at the whole thing, then turns to the baby. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you someone to hold you while I make sure you won’t go hungry again. Oh, you are a strong little fellow, gripping my fingers like that – not the hair. Not the hair…thank you.”