Chapter 14

"Take care of your body, for it is God's dwelling place." -- The Teachings of Gran Ch .13 Line 1.

Dahra woke up with the feel of water dripping on her face. She raised her face off the lawn and tried to figure out where she was. She was under a wogbol tree in the plaza at Fahrlot. The wogbols usually make excellent rain cover, but during long rains the water finally makes it through the layers of fronds and drips on the ground underneath. It was this dripping that woke her.

A moldering corpse was lying about fifteen meters away, but she could still smell its fowl stench from that distance. A leechbird was perched on top of it, tearing a strip of flesh off the back. Dahra opened a portal under the body, dumping it into the nearby sea. The leechbird squawked in alarm, as it fell through. Dahra closed the portal before the scavenger could fly back through.

Pain shot through Dahra's brain. Damn, she thought, still haven't recovered yet. She wasn't sure how long she had searched for other survivors. One tended to lose track of time when one hops from time zone to time zone. It had gone on for well over two days, with no sleep. That combined with dozens of portals, wreaks havoc on a portaler's ability to function.

She remembered the beginning of her search very well. She went to a bookstore and got a atlas, and started a methodical search of the planet, starting at the few isolated and desolate islands near the poles. She acquired a heavy coat at a store at the small town of Fvabod, the southernmost town on Docre. She went from there to more isolated isles. The few houses and research outposts in the polar reaches either contained corpses, or were empty. Could some other portalers be alive and searching for survivors? Docre's a big planet. Two portalers could spend years portaling from isle to isle, and never run into each other.

After finishing her search there, she went to the major cities with a can of paint. In all the wide open public places, Dahra graffitied the walls, instructing survivors to come to the plaza at Fahrlot at noon.

Fighting fatigue, Dahra started searching the other isolated islands not in the polar regions. The last part of her search was fuzzy, with a feeling of detachment, like a dream. Something about forcing her way through a thorny hedge and fighting a feral ahd. Evidently when facing both mental and physical exhaustion, she portaled back to Fahrlot and collapsed under this tree. Though she didn't remember doing so.

One thing she did know, though, that she didn't find any more survivors.

She looked down at her clothes, and saw that all that was left was dirty green rags. She hadn't changed her clothes since the disaster had happened. Under the rags, her body was covered with cuts, scrapes, scratches, and a nasty-looking ahd bite on her left arm. Her hair and body was covered with dirt and blood, that was now becoming red mud from the rain.

Why was she abusing her body so? Dahra had always taken care of herself. She always watched her diet, and tried to exercise regularly. Even during her time at the find, she did calisthenics almost every morning. Now look looked at herself. She looked like some wild child, raised in the jungles of some deserted isle. She also loved to sleep. Lissa used to tease her about wanting to rise and set with Lat. What was wrong with her?

Dahra knew what was wrong. She was having a nervous breakdown. The depression of losing Lissa, combined with the guilt about being the cause of the disaster had caused this spate of self-destructive behavior. She needed a psychologist. But there weren't any psychologists, not anymore.

Dahra started crying, and found she couldn't stop. After she ran out of tears, she still wept.

She was interrupted by an ahd licking the salty tears off her face. It was Fig, still wearing the red collar. His dark green fur shed water with ease, and seemed at home in this moist environment. After he got Dahra's attention, he chirped and nuzzled his head against her cheek.

Had he been following her all this time, wondered Dahra, hopping through the portals behind her? If so, he had done a good job of staying out of her way. Maybe he had been waiting for her here at the plaza for her to return. She seemed to remember returning to Fahrlot several times during the last few days. Either way, it was an amazing feat for an ahd.

She sniffed, wiped her eyes with her tattered sleeve, and pet the beast. Fig gave off a low trill of pleasure.

Dahra stood up shakily. She felt very weak. How long had it been since she ate? She didn't know. She went to a nearby cafe and made herself some soup. The smell of the soup cooking made her stomach start to rumble. She had planned to save half the soup in a thermal container, for later. When she started eating, though, she finished the whole pot.

It was also time to get some decent clothes. These filthy rags would not do, and neither would walking around naked.

The cynical voice spoke in the back of her head. What difference does it make? Who's going to see you, an ahd? She ignored that voice and portaled to her apartment and took a shower and dressed her wounds.

Dahra then went to her favorite clothing store, one that specialized in portaler clothing, just a few blocks from her home. She had to portal in, since the shop had no doors. She could have chosen the most expensive outfit in the place, but that would have been impractical. Instead, she chose a medium green jumpsuit with knee-length legs. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Dahra felt and looked much better.

Now, what to do? thought Dahra, as she stifled a yawn. She then realized that she was still tired. Evidently, her nap under the wogbol had not gotten her caught up on sleep. She portaled back to the find, where her clothes and bedding were, and laid down on her bed. I'll plan a course of action tomorrow, Dahra thought, as she drifted to sleep.

Dahra looked up at the massive blue doors, still not quite sure why she decided to come to the healers' guild headquarters. She pondered her rationale for a moment, and realized there were three motives that made her come to Carn.

First and formost was her scientific curiousity and thirst for knowledge. She had been so isolated the past month, immersed in study in that damn shelter, that her know- ledge of the events leading up to this cataclysm was sketchy at best. But even from her limited information, it was obvious that the healers' guild was an important point around which many of the controversies started.

Second, was the possibility that there would be survivors here. Guild halls were logical gathering spots for survivors to organize. She had already checked the portalers' headquarters. No one was alive there.

She would have to make sure that guild halls were part of her island searches, from now on.

Thirdly, there was a small part of her, perhaps more than she cared to admit, that was curious on what the inside of other guild halls were like. Rumors about the other guilds flew with wild abandon between non-members.

Emoters were the most secretive of the guilds, therefore it had most rumors. One of the most enduring ones was that emoters were homosexuals, at least during their guild ceremonies. The erotic sensations of your partner, while experiencing ones of your own was said to be beyond description. There seemed to be some credence of this, judging from the emoters Dahra knew. At workplaces, they tended to work together in pairs. And sometimes a statement or remark would draw a knowing, intimate look between the two.

Portaler guild activities were also the source of much gossip and speculation. Dahra's guild was the only one whose headquarter's location was known only to members. She had heard speculation that it was at the bottom of the deepest sea, or on Chin, Docre's tiny moon, or even on one of the other planets that orbited Lat. In fact, the guild headquarters was in a giant cavern under Farhep, a remnant of the mountain's volcanic past.

The healer's guild, by nature of their work, was the most open of the guilds, but even then, there were rumors. One such rumor Dahra had heard since childhood, was that some of the most powerful healers could prevent death from old age. These super healers stayed inside the headquarters on Carn and cared for former guildmistresses, who faked their deaths. Some of these ancient leaders were alive when Gran walked the earth. These individuals were speculated to be the real leaders of the healers guild.

Such speculation is useless, though. No guild member would give away her guild's secrets. Sometimes, a very young girl, who did not know better, would ask about a guild secret. Some people would scold the child, tongue lashing the child to tears; insuring that she would never do such a thing again.

Dahra didn't think that was the best way to handle such situations. She had only been asked nosy questions twice since she learned all of her guild secrets when she achieved menarche. Both times it had been by a child less than one year old. In each instance Dahra had kindly, but firmly, told the child that such information was not hers to know. It was a guild secret.

Dahra knocked on the big blue door. Under normal circumstances, at this time of day, there would be two security guards at the door. They would ask her what business she had with the guild. If the reason was not deemed compelling enough, she would be turned away.

But these were not normal times. And no security people were present at the entrance. So all she could think to do was knock. The dead thud of her fist against the door echoed across the square.

There was no answer.

She knocked again.

Dahra waited ten minutes.

Knocked again.

Fifteen minutes.

Knocked again.

Twenty.

Tried knocking one more time.

After a quarter hour had past, with no response, Dahra gave up. If there was anyone alive in there they had to be on the far side of the building, unable hear her pounding.

She had to enter the guildhall uninvited. And she couldn't just portal in. The security field to the building was still up. She had to go in through the door.

Dahra's hand shook uncontrollably as she reached for the knob to the massive doors. Her hands fumbled when she tried to open the simple mechanism. She took several deep breathes to steady her nerves.

She knew that most nonmembers who tread on guild property without an invitation and escort were never heard from again. There was a jail in the portalers guild headquarters that held about a dozen women who had had the gall to sneak into guild territory. They would never see the light of Lat again.

She finally grabbed the knob and tried to turn it. It was locked.

Dahra slapped her thigh in disgust. Of course the door would be locked. It had been near midnight here on Carn, when the catastrophe occurred. Most carnians died in bed.

Actually, if Dahra wanted to, she could imagine that Carn had been abandoned. That worked fine, until one walked near an apartment building, and smelled the stench, or turned the corner of a street and found a body laying on the street.

Most of the carnians Dahra found dead wore the badge that identified them as city sanitation workers. But a few were just everyday people. Insomniacs heading out to a diner, a worker who was heading home after working late, or a portaler who lived in Carn, but worked in a different part of the world.

Dahra sat down on the ground, with her back to the door that blocked her progress. A key, she thought. Where would one find a key to the healers guild headquarters?

Rank and file members wouldn't have one. Only the senior guild leadership would have one, and they, more often than not, lived in the building itself. Security would have one, of course. There was probably one a few meters away on the other side of the door.

External security? Were there security people patrolling the outside of the build- ing? Of course! It wouldn't do to have someone cut a new entrance into the guildhall from the outside. There had to be a few people outside guarding the perimeter.

Dahra got back on her feet and started walking around the building.

Fortunately, the guildhall building that she was trying to enter was much smaller than the administrative buildings that adjoined it. It would take an hour to circle them.

Dahra walked a hundred meters following the wall, turned the corner, and found the body of a security guard, not five meters from the corner. The guard lay on the ground, her face turned away, thank God. Dahra had seen enough decaying faces contorted in pain to last the rest of her life. From the back though, she reminded her alot of her mother, Fran. Same build, same auburn hair.

She searched the body, careful not to move it. She checked the pockets first. Several personal items, but no key. The needed key turned out to be on a chain around her neck. Rather than lift the head, Dahra snapped the fragile chain.

As a means of repayment, Dahra opened a portal under the guard, and deposited her into the sea, never having seen her face.

The former archeologist clutched the key tightly in her fist, and jogged back to the doors. She put the key in the lock and heard a small click.

Dahra tried to open the door again. This time she did so with ease.

Dahra let out a sigh of relief. She had been afraid that that there might be some kind of lock that would require a healer's ability to open. Many movers had doors with no visible knobs or latches. They were all inside the door. You had to have a mover's ability to open the door. Fortunately, there was no such equivalent for healers.

Dahra looked inside.

True to her suspicions there was another body. It blocked Dahra from opening the door more than a few inches. This one had been sitting at a desk, and had actually been able to crawl a few meters toward the door before expiring. Probably the outside guard's boss. This one was stocky, though not from fat. She was all muscle and probably one tough guard.

It took many hard shoves for Dahra to push the body back enough and get through the door. Hanging off the corpse's belt was a massive keyring with several dozen keys on. Dahra relieved her of the keys, then gave the head guard a burial at sea, just like her junior partner.

After disposing of that unpleasant duty, the portaler stood up, took two steps inside the building. The door closed behind her. She looked around the room.

It was all blue. Everything. All the furniture, all the walls, all the carpets, every- thing. Even the paper on the guard's desk was a shade of light blue. Dahra had seen all blue decor in healers' bedrooms before, but something about this room that made it overwhelming.

There was a feeling of otherness. A feeling that this was a place where she was an unwelcome intruder. Her green outfit stood out like a clod of mud dissolving into a pure still lake. She was defiling something pure. She was a trespasser. She did not belong here. She must leave.

Dahra bolted for the door in terror. She race out into the normal world and slammed the door behind her, panting. She leaned against the entry and panted for breath. All her life Dahra had never been ashamed of being a portaler, until now.

Gradually she calmed down. The terror and shame subsided. And Dahra collected her thoughts.

What had just happened? Had it just been a panic attack, or was there something subliminal to that room that made all non-healers feel unwelcome? It could have been an emoter messing with her emotions, but it didn't feel like it. The fear, panic, and shame she felt weren't focused enough.

It didn't matter, said a logical part of her. I still have to go back in that building and get answers.

Just the thought of going back in made her heart race.

For the next half hour Dahra talked to herself. Told herself that it had just been a panic attack. That she was doing what had to be done to get the answers. By the time she was done, she almost believed it.

A thought suddenly popped into her mind. Maybe I should wear blue in that guildhall.

That made her laugh out loud. Imagine, Dahra Cahlarfelgis wearing blue! With a frilly skirt around her waist, and an exposed navel with a jewel inside, of course. Ridicu- lous! Walking around naked would happen first.

She started. What if it were the color of her outfit that set the panic attack. Could there be some devise that was activate if someone wearing other than blue passed in front of it.

It could be. Dahra wasn't an electrical engineer. She didn't know what was possible.

She walked back to the big blue doors and opened them cautiously.

On the wall, just beyond where the left door hit it, there was a small blue electric eye, at about waist level. It was well camouflaged to blend with the wall. If she hadn't been looking for it, Dahra wouldn't have spotted it.

Dahra tried to grab a piece of blue paper off the guard's desk, but it was just out of reach. She would have to break the electric eye's beam to get to it. She didn't want to do that again. That meant that she would have to go find something blue elsewhere.

Too bad she had disposed to the other two bodies so quickly.

The best bet on finding healers was near the guild headquarters. Perhaps another security guard.

Dahra headed off in the opposite direction around the building from which she went the first time. It turned out there had been two security people patrolling the outside. The second one was much further away, on the far side of the hall.

She was a young woman, a late two or possibly an early three, slim with blond hair. She was laying on her back, face to the sky. Her face had already been pecked at by birds, and was truly a horrific sight. She was wearing the security uniform like the other two, a light blue blouse, blue vest, and knee-length skirt. The blouse had a hole around the navel, which was decorated with blue glitter.

Dahra tried to tear off part of skirt, but found that it was made of a heavy canvas material. She would either need a pair of scissors, or she would need to undress her.

She had no idea where to find some scissors. It would probably involve breaking into some ones house, gagging on the smell of death. Outside the smell was carried away by the wind, but inside the smell was intense. No, she would undress this poor girl.

Dahra decided that it would be easiest to remove the skirt. The portaler remembered that her mother had usually attached her skirts in the front, but Dahra could not find any attachments in the front. She had to turn her over.

As she tried turn the body over, a feeling of deja vu hit Dahra. Suddenly she remembered that she had done the same thing to her old college roommate, Shissa Menortan.

Shissa had a drinking problem, and had gotten drunk the night before she and Dahra had an important test, and was sleeping it off. Dahra tried to wake her for class, to no avail. She had turned her roommate over and slapped her face. Still didn't work. Still didn't work. She ended up having to drag Shissa through a portal, into their floor's shower room, and spraying cold water on her head. That finally woke her.

They both made it for the class. Shissa didn't do very well on the test.