NEWDIE STEADSLAW

“Get up, Jum,” said Tuberlone.

Jum Burie lay down, flat on her back, her eyes closed. Waiting.

“Jum,” repeated Tuberlone. “Get up.”

So—

You have the Inverted Earth as a whole-sized world, and it would’ve had at least a score time zones if it was ever anything but noon, and yet, despite the options, the story so far hasn’t gone more than about a dozen miles from Traycup’s house—although the cruise ship from last time might’ve been a little further out, but that was an outlier, by any measure. Who even knows if it’s part of the same story? It might be a huge non sequitur, after all. We’ll see how it goes. The point is, we’re still not much further than where we started—even here, barely past the borders of Howlistune and Nesodi Iveent, somewhere west of the east but east of the south, below the top and above the bottom, north of the southernmost cliffs and marshes, south of the northern lowlands, where the sea rose high—here stood a mountain, tall and steep, frightening crags aplenty, thunderstorms usually gathered about its head, and at least six folktales about its myth-tier danger to its credit. At the top of this mountain was a dark cave, and at the bottom of the cave was a tall tower, and at the top of the tower was a deep well, and at the bottom of the well was a mighty tree, and at at the top of the tree was a long tunnel, and at the end of the tunnel was an Olympic-sized swimming pool, drained and long dry, and at the bottom of the swimming pool were Tuberlone and Jum Burie.

“Get up, Jum!” said Tuberlone.

With closed eyes, with endless patience, with perfect care, slowly and gradually Jum Burie untangled her thoughts, her memories, even her feelings—picking out her own and leaving the rest to fall away and be forgotten. She felt the threads of her memory entangled with those of the shark, who’d dwelt in the bottomless deep, and wondered what lay in the abyssal darkness that seeped into the infinite stone of the Earth. She felt the threads of her emotions entangled with those of the toothpaste guy, whose loneliness was never-ending and who remembered only rooms with childish décor and aimless yearning for pleasance. She felt the threads of her thoughts entangling with those of the commissar, who had spent a lifetime in a hopeless quest for an unfindable prize, one purely material and utterly worthless. It was a task that demanded peace and quiet, time, and aloneship. Surpassing all demands, it was a task that could not be avoided. And, once complete—

Once complete—

“Jum!” said Tuberlone. It tapped its cane upon the tiled floor aside Jum Burie’s head—not a blow, no, but as close as one and, in truth, the only one that’d make a mark, although Jum Burie didn’t flinch, and never would. But Jum Burie opened none of her eyes and an imperceptible shift in her orientation told no one anything, being as imperceptible as it was. Nonetheless, her attention had been got—although it’s cheeky to tell you what goes on inside Jum Burie’s head. She could do that herself, and seeing as how she didn’t, presumably she didn’t want to. And Tuberlone had a brain of diamond, so that’s that.

Jum Burie did not get up. She lay perfectly flat, perfectly comfortable on the cold and even bottom of the pool. “Have you completed your interview with the boy?” she said.

“Are you trying to shirk your duty?” said Tuberlone. “Get up. You have work to do.”

We’re not allowed to give up, to stop, or to slow down. So we can only continue—or repeat.

And Tuberlone was there, and it was still a fox. It stared down at Jum Burie, scowling more than a little.

“Jum,” said Tuberlone.

“What duty do you speak of?” said Jum Burie with an intonation of obvious intent.

“Don’t play dumb,” said Tuberlone. “Don’t play at all—it doesn’t suit you. There’s critical work to be done. You know this.”

“Your quarry is safe,” said Jum Burie. Unmoving, still lying still.

“Our quarry,” said Tuberlone.

“Safe all the same,” said Jum Burie.

Now, they spoke of course of what’s-his-face, Traycup. Traycup was still bound in his cage, which they’d placed in the woods at the foot of the mountain, at the beginning of that geographical chain with the pool at the ultimate end. They’d hired ten knights, twenty pirates, and thirty ninjas to stand guard over him for the time being, and then Jum Burie had gone to her meditation—or perhaps it was a reverse order, maybe Jum Burie slipped away first, and then Tuberlone put the K. N. P. posse into position while it dealt with her. Doesn’t really matter, but should still weigh less.

“He may be safe,” said Tuberlone, “but he’s not the one we’re trying to protect. There is much at stake—much depends on whatever sits in his brain. You need to consume him. That’s something only you can do, so it falls to you to do it. That’s part of your duty, Jum.”

“I’m not... able to do that right now,” said Jum Burie wearily. “I captured him. I need to rest before I try again. You can do what you want with him, for now. Interrogate him—torture him, if you like. Wring his tale from him that way.”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” said Tuberlone slowly. It began to pace about near Jum Burie’s head, tapping the cane with every step, the echo reaching deep into the dark corners of the pool room. On beat. “Jum—there’s no other way to guarantee the accuracy of his report. He will lie. He will try to deceive. There’s no end of tricks he may use in situations such as this. Moreover, we have not the luxury of time! Your consumption is, by far, the most expedient and reliable option.”

Being flat on the bottom of the pool left Jum Burie very little room to sag, and she was already as slack as anyone could manage. “Of course,” said Jum Burie. “Of course, I shall do it.”

“Good,” said Tuberlone, halting its pacing and turning toward her.

“After I’m finished,” said Jum Burie.

“No. Now,” said Tuberlone. “Or there may be no ‘after.’”

But Jum Burie was motionless. She lay on the floor easily, her breaths coming slowly and evenly, entirely under her control, arms and legs all stretched straight out and lying limp.

“I don’t want to,” she said.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Tuberlone. “Your duty is not yet finished. You must do you duty. So, come.”

Jum Burie did not get up, but she opened one eye and fixed her gaze on Tuberlone, who stood looming above her. The chamber was not adorned with a clock, and even if it was it would not have been capable of counting the furious minutes that passed before Jum Burie began to say, “I want to take—”

“We don’t have time for that,” snapped Tuberlone. “We need to know what the boy knows, and we need to know immediately.” Tuberlone tapped its cane to emphasize its words—well, no, I shouldn’t guess at its intent. I said that already, shame on me. But, it sure seemed that way. Perhaps there was some code that could be gleaned by matching the taps to the words, or a secondary sentence buried under the main—just some possibilities.

Jum Burie stared at Tuberlone with a sedate-seeming face, and betrayed no emotion. “Only a few hours,” she said.

“We don’t have ‘hours,’” said Tuberlone. “We don’t have minutes. Seconds count now. Jum, rise, and make haste.”

Jum Burie did not rise.

“You’re asking for too much,” she said. “If I tried now, I might—I am concerned a failure is imminent.”

Tuberlone scoffed and turned away from her, and began pacing about again. Tap, tap, tap. “‘Failure’?” it said. “Jum, you are not capable of failure. In all my years, I have never seen you fail, never seen you so much as struggle. You capabilities exceed anyone’s I’ve ever known. There’s no question as to the result of the ‘contest.’ Now.” It stopped and motioned toward the entrance—or, exit—and said, “No more wasting time. Come along, and let’s see it done.” It took a few steps and waited for Jum Burie to follow.

Do clocks even tick in a world where the time never changes? Well, why wouldn’t they—they’re machines, not philosophers.

Jum Burie said, “Why this haste?” She rolled her head to one side to gaze at Tuberlone where it stood. “What information aren’t you revealing?”

“Yours is not to question,” said Tuberlone. Turning halfway around, it asked, “Do you even know what we’re up against? Truly?”

“No,” said Jum Burie sternly. Now a topic of interest had arose. She opened all of her eyes and got up onto one elbow, leaning toward Tuberlone, and perhaps doling out more attention than it deserved. “I do not. It has been told to me, many a time, that Oopertreepia is an inscrutable enemy.”

“And do you think them languid?” said Tuberlone. It turned to face Jum Burie. Turning, turning, tapping, tapping. “Do you think the incomprehensible potency of our foe has been impressed upon you so due to its feebility?”

Jum Burie said nothing, but fixed her lips shut and stared at Tuberlone.

“Do you, Jum?” said Tuberlone.

“No,” said Jum Burie softly.

“What the boy saw may portend all manner of troubles for us,” said Tuberlone. “We need to know at once what it was. Like as not, it’s some kind of encrypted message, which will have to be studied—all the more reason for haste. For all we know,” it added, taking out a watch and checking the date, “it may be that some sort of Oopertreepian attack is moving against us even now.” It snapped the watch shut and reput it into its pocket, and then tapped its cane twice sharply. “I hope that clears that up. Now then, all the haste you can muster. Come along.”

Tuberlone stared at Jum Burie and said nothing as it waited. Gradually, as nothing further proceeded to happen, Jum Burie got up, and stood there uncertainly—well, she certainly stood there, but she swayed wearily, all her limbs soft, her eyes half-closed, her breath slow and quiet. It was a peace that Tuberlone could never understand, and when it spoke, it was like the peal of church bells.

“Jum,” it intoned, “do you know something? In nineteen-eighty-five, when we had more like you, we sent them forth in every direction. But not one of them returned. Do you know why?”

“No,” said Jum Burie, in many ways.

“Of course not,” said Tuberlone. “No one does. And it was not the first time. But we had to hope against hope that we could find the least scrap of a clue about the accursed place. Time and time again, whenever we’ve struck out against them—against hateable, freakish Oopertreepia—we met defeat and destruction. And now, now, we have an Oopertreepian spy in our very clutches. Jum! This is an opportunity that has never befallen our nation before. We cannot waste it. We will not lose this chance. And thus—you are needed.”

It—a fox, remember, not a goat—stepped toward Jum Burie, tapping its cane in irritating irrhythm. Jum Burie waved some of her hands in a vague motion that might have been meant to mean something.

“Stand up straight,” said Tuberlone.

Jum Burie didn’t.

“I see,” said Tuberlone. “I see—it was the dancing. That dancing you did earlier, that’s sapped your strength. Is that it? Jum, there’s reasons why that stuff is forbidden!”

“It isn’t because of the dancing,” said Jum Burie.

“You dance, you tire,” said Tuberlone. “No one else dances, no one else tires. You’ve done this to yourself. Oh, Jum.” It sighed and shook its head. “There’s nothing else for it. You’ll just have to do your duty in this wretched shape that you put yourself in.”

“It’s not because of the dancing,” said Jum Burie.

“That leaves nothing else,” said Tuberlone, “except a lie and deceit.”

“You’re not listening to me,” said Jum Burie. “You don’t know more about me than I do.” Still her head hung, half-closed eyes downcast.

“I know more than you will ever realize,” said Tuberlone.

“I am teetering on the brink,” said Jum Burie. “I can’t do it now. I can’t. The last one nearly overwhelmed me. Another, now, would surely be too much.”

“No—not you,” said Tuberlone. “A thousand years in a day, a thousand miles in an inch. All the training you’ve gone through, the myriad missions you’ve completed expertly—all this atop your natural ability—no one is your equal now. Nothing can overwhelm you. So put all this stress out of your mind—and do your duty.”

Her mind, her busy mind, so full.

“My duty,” said Jum Burie solemnly. It had to be hers, since no one else could do it. No one else could equal her.

“Your duty,” said Tuberlone. “For our country. For Endestallia. And the battle we all fight.”

The battle we all fight, with Jum Burie at the tip of the spear, their great weapon, their workhorse. It must be her. She’d learned long ago that questions don’t get answered, and had ceased waiting for any to be given to her.

“Listen, Jum,” said Tuberlone, leaning close to her. “Your might, your strength, is unprecedented. What you’ve accomplished, what we’ve seen you do—no one is an equal to you. Nothing can overcome you. You, of all people—you’re the last person that should ever fear defeat. Now, come.”

Tuberlone turned pointedly and tapped its cane on the floor, and began to stride away, waiting for Jum Burie to follow it—but of course she didn’t. She was, among other things, tired.

At length, Jum Burie said, “In this weariness is born my strength. You must realize this. And, if you want me to make use of it again—you must let me rest.”

Tuberlone sighed. “You doubt yourself,” it said, and it turned back around to face Jum Burie and strode over toward her, and paced around her once again. “Jum, I know you better than you know yourself. You think I don’t, but I do. I see you from an outsider’s perspective—an unbiased perspective. I’ve seen you handle more, in worse condition. This? This boy? This is nothing. You can handle him easily. You can do anything.”

But Jum Burie shook her head.

“This,” said Tuberlone, “is becoming trying. Come, Jum. You are loyal, you do your duty. You always have. This disobedience is unlike you, and unseemly besides. I will report to the Masters if you refuse to comply. I don’t want it to come to that—their tolerance for this behavior is nil.”

Tuberlone spoke to her with authority and condescension, and eyed her with suspicion as it walked around her. As it came to stand in front of her it stopped, and Jum Burie’s eyes flicked up and glared at him.

“Endestallia is not my home,” said Jum Burie. “I’ve never even seen the place.”

“That, Jum, is a tragedy that will soon be ended,” said Tuberlone. “Cracking that boy’s brain might lead to the end of your mission, at last. But, think of all we’ve done for you. What the country has done for you. What I’ve done for you. All your training, your education. The privileges you’ve enjoyed. The country that’s called you its daughter for so long has made you the person you are now. And do you think you owe no debt? Come, Jum.”

Jum Burie did indeed remember everything the country had done to her. Even with her mind as crowded as it was, some things glew too bright not to see.

“If I eat him,” said Jum Burie, slowly and firmly, “I will be lost.”

“No, you won’t be,” said Tuberlone. “Jum, I’ve told you enough times. Your might—”

“—is enough to repel the Oopertreepian army from our very gates?” said Jum Burie. She raised her head.

Tuberlone paused and stared at her, its mouth set firm.

“Is that not so?” said Jum Burie. “If my strength is without limits, as you say.”

Tuberlone said nothing.

“Why play these games?” said Jum Burie. “Always skulking around in secrecy. Spying, sneaking. If my strength is without limits—”

“Do you wish to assault Oopertreepia itself, Jum?” said Tuberlone.

“Is that not my duty?” said Jum Burie.

“No,” said Tuberlone. “Your duty is to follow orders, and not to make jokes. I am giving you an order: you are to consume the boy’s brain at once.”

“No,” said Jum Burie.

“Jum!” said Tuberlone. It grit its teeth and tapped its cane—no, no mere tap, this was a strike, firm and sharp upon the tiles. Jum Burie met its gaze, unmoving. “Jum—you’re flirting with treason. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear this stupidity if you go at once and fulfill your duty.”

“‘No one is stronger than you,’” said Jum Burie. “So why must I take orders from you? Or anyone?”

“No one is stronger than you,” said Tuberlone, “but some are wiser and know what the world needs for its proper order. You’re a fighter, Jum. Not a thinker. As you’ve said yourself, your head is too full, isn’t it?”

“But nothing can overwhelm me,” said Jum Burie, pitch-black eyes growing wide. “So, what care have I for the world when it cannot hope to jostle me from my place?”

“I know you’re not so callous, Jum,” said Tuberlone.

“Nor so kind,” said Jum Burie. “My only emotion is fatigue—but I could make room for fury.” The truth of her speech was belied by the red rim of her eyes, of fire and blood both.

“You’re speaking treachery,” said Tuberlone. “Treason. Do you realize that?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jum Burie. “I know what I’m saying. I know what my words mean.”

“This is treason,” said Tuberlone. “I will contact the Masters. I had wanted to bring you to Endestallia as a hero atop a parade, but you’re choosing to go as a prisoner in chains.”

“What chains are as mighty as I am?” said Jum Burie. “But this is your claim. I’m merely tired of hearing it.”

Tuberlone thrust its hand into its pocket and pulled out its phone. It flipped it open. “I will call them,” Tuberlone said, “and they will come. And then what will become of you?”

Jum Burie made no answer, but only looked at the phone. “Call them,” she said.

“Your words,” said Tuberlone, “are treason. I will not ask again. Jum, obey your orders. Complete your duty. I like not the thought of the Masters’ potential response to otherwise.”

Jum Burie said nothing.

“Jum!” said Tuberlone.

“Call them,” said Jum Burie.

Tuberlone shook its head and tapped at its phone. Ere it completed the connection, it again glanced up at Jum Burie. “When they come, they will not be dismissed lightly. Do you truly wish you face their wrath? To die without dignity as a rebel? I order you, once more, to fulfill your duty.”

“Call them,” said Jum Burie, still watching the phone.

Tuberlone sighed deeply. It pressed the last button. The sound of the phone ringing faintly came from the internal speaker. Jum Burie slowly lifted her eyes to Tuberlone.

“All these years, wasted,” said Tuberlone.

“All these years,” said Jum Burie, “wasted.”

Someone answered the phone.

With slow and firm steps, Jum Burie strode through the long tunnel, climbed out of the deep cave, descended the tall tower, rose out of the deep well, and came down from the tall and steep mountain that was away in every direction from everywhere else. There, at its foot, Jum Burie sighed but smiled sweetly. Traycup’s cage and his guards were missing, but that didn’t matter anymore. She aloftly held up a glass flask filled with iced tea and turned it in the sunlight, watching the rays glint off the facets, and off the diamond flakes that floated in the drink.

“Well, Tuberlone, whatever shall I do now?” she said, smiling still. “Our vaunted Masters will arrive soon to discipline me, and will be sorely displeased to find their quarry missing. Whatever shall I do?” She turned the flask. “Ah—you’re right. I do deserve a nap.”