Chapter 7: Kailash

Llynn stared at the injured man. Now she saw what she had not noticed in the press of action: he was of Asiatic complexion. That suggested that he was not a local Moscow resident. He could be a visitor, perhaps on business.

His shirt was soaking with blood. She didn't know how badly injured he was, but it must be serious, because he had passed out once he entered the house. He had missed most of the action, which was maybe just as well.

He groaned again, and tried to sit up. "No, no, lie down, relax," she said soothingly. "You're safe now."

Then Chandelle was there with bandages and a basin of water. "Get his shirt off," she said. "We must find out the extent of his injury."

Llynn put her hands to the man's shirt. He tried to protest, but she smiled, cautioning him, and he relaxed. On one level she found this pleasant: her ability as a woman to pacify a hurting man. It was a gender role she had not adopted before, but now she liked it. It didn't hurt that the man was young—

perhaps twenty—and clean-cut.

They worked his shirt open, spreading it on the floor to either side. The wound was laid out to view: a slice across the right ribs and into the flesh below. "It was a slashing cut," Chandelle said. "The ribs deflected it, but not enough. It's not deep; his problem is mainly loss of blood. We'll have to clean it and bandage it to halt the bleeding. Then he will have to rest until he heals."

"I'll take care of him," Llynn said. "It's my fault he's here."

"I think he would be dead by now if you hadn't brought him in."

"I guess so. When I saw him being chased like that, I just had to do something."

Penn spoke from across the room. "You realize, of course, that he is a stranger. We don't know him or his motives. This compromises our occupancy of this house."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Llynn said. "I'm a foolish girl. But we can put him back in Moscow when the coast is clear."

Chandelle washed the man's side, then touched his hand. "I must clean the wound," she said. "It will hurt." Then, to Llynn: "Hold his hand."

"His hand?"

"So he doesn't get in the way."

Llynn took the man's right hand in both of hers. "We have to do this," she said, knowing he didn't understand.

Chandelle dabbed at the wound. The man flinched. His arm flexed, his hand clenching.

"No, no!" Llynn said, hanging on. His arm was not unduly muscular, and he was weak from injury, so she was able to keep it captive. "You must let us clean it."

He relaxed. Then Chandelle dabbed again, trying to clear the partly coagulated blood. The man tensed, and gasped with pain, trying to protect it with his hand.

"No," Llynn repeated. She drew his forearm in toward her, trying to hold it firmly.

Chandelle dabbed a third time. This time Llynn anticipated the man's reaction, and hugged his hand to her chest.

After that, he tensed when Chandelle's cleaning hurt him, but did not try to move his arm. Llynn realized that he must be aware of her bosom, slight as it was, and satisfied to remain as he was. She hadn't intended to vamp him, but on the other hand it was further evidence of her femininity, and she found that she rather liked making it count. So long as no one could accuse her of being forward.

"It's clean," Chandelle said. "Now the antiseptic. This will really hurt, for a moment."

Llynn spoke to the man. "Medicine," she said. "Clean the wound. Hurt." She made a hiss of intaken breath through her teeth. "Understand?"

He turned his head and looked at her directly for the first time. His eyes were brown. He nodded slightly.

She clutched his hand more tightly, prepared to hang on when he reacted to the new pain. "Now," she said.

Chandelle applied the antiseptic. The man's whole body stiffened, except for his arm. Maybe that was the one part of him that felt no pain.

In due course Chandelle finished, and put a dressing on the wound, and a bandage on the dressing.

Llynn noted her grandmother's competence with a certain muted pride; it was her business to know what to do when someone was hurt, and she was good at it. "This should be all right, if he doesn't get too active. I'll have to change it every so often, but it shouldn't bother him between times."

"All done," Llynn said to the man, and released his hand.

His head turned to her again, and he smiled. He was halfway handsome when he did that.

"Now he should eat something," Chandelle said. "He needs nourishment to recover. And rest, of course.

I'll go fix some soup.

"Where's he going to stay?" Lloyd asked.

Llynn hadn't thought of that. "I guess he can have my room, since I'm responsible for him being here. I'll sleep on the couch in the living room."

"No," Penn said firmly. " He'll sleep on the couch. You will sleep in your own room—and lock the door."

Llynn opened her mouth to protest, then remembered how the brute of a thug had ripped open her shirt and pawed her bra.

Any strange man could be dangerous. All they knew about this one was that he had been fleeing attackers, and was wounded. He could be a criminal, maybe a deserter from a gang. So they did have to be careful. Just as Grandma was competent in care-giving, Grandpa was competent in protection.

"Yes."

"But for now, we'll try to make him comfortable where he is, on the floor," Penn said.

Chandelle arrived with a bowl of hot soup on an elevated bed tray. She brought it close enough to the man's face for him to see and smell it. He smiled, knowing food when he saw it.

"We'll have to help him to sit up," Penn said. "Take his left shoulder, Llynn."

Llynn obeyed with alacrity. She knew that Penn was giving her the left side, because his greater strength would be needed on the right side, to prevent aggravation to the wound.

They lifted and hauled, and got the man into a sitting position, though he did groan with pain as his midsection flexed. They used pillows to prop him up against the wall. Chandelle put the tray over his legs. Then he tried to pick up the spoon with his right hand—and almost knocked over the soup. The pain of that side made it unsteady.

"I'll help," Llynn said. She took the spoon, dipped it into the bowl, waited for it to cool sufficiently, then put it to the man's mouth. He looked a bit askance at this, but she smiled at him, and he opened his mouth. This, too, was fun, in its novelty; maybe she was cut out to be a nurse.

While she fed the man, the grandparents went to another room. Lloyd, evidently on orders, remained in the living room, and so did Obsidian. Maybe that was just as well. Why take chances with a stranger who might not be as weak as he seemed?

The job was slow, but they got through the soup. Chandelle brought a glass of water, and Llynn steadied the man's hand with her own while he drank. Very little spilled. They were a success.

Chandelle brought blankets, pillows, and a sleeping bag, forming a bed. She also brought a change of clothing, having evidently judged the man's size and found something close enough in a closet. This house always had something close enough. "Penn, take him to the downstairs bathroom," she said as she took away the bed tray.

Llynn nodded. Naturally the man had natural functions, and he wouldn't want a girl helping him change clothing.

Penn kneeled beside the man. "Bathroom," he said. "Wash." He made washing motions. "Pee." He touched his crotch. "Change." He showed the clean clothes.

The man nodded. It would have been hard to misunderstand such an explanation.

They heaved on the man's shoulders and got him to his feet. They walked him to the bathroom. Llynn grabbed Obsidian, who wanted to go too. The dog liked to be in the middle of any activity of any nature, and tended to be jealous of attention paid to others. Then Penn took him on in, while Llynn retreated. She did not want to get involved in this.

"You know this is temporary," Lloyd told her. "We can't keep him."

"I know," she said, rubbing the dog's ears. "But I think we did right to save him from those thugs.

Otherwise he would have been dead."

"Yeah. But who is he? Maybe he's a thug himself."

"He couldn't be. He looks nothing like a criminal."

"That's girl talk, I could be a criminal."

She eyed him appraisingly. "That's hardly proof. You do look the part."

He laughed. "Walked into that one. But the point is—"

"I know. And you're right. We do have to be careful."

"We can't even talk with him. We don't know anything about him."

Chandelle appeared. "I have an idea. Maybe we can talk with him."

"You know Russian, Grandma?" the boy asked.

"No. But maybe the house does."

"The house?" Llynn asked blankly.

"One of the pieces in the attic. That one that's like the hearing aid, except that it doesn't work. We never tried it on a different language."

"A different language," Llynn echoed. "That just might be it. How can it translate, if there's nothing to translate? But now there is."

They hurried to the attic, Obsidian leading the way, and fetched the ear piece in question. "Do you want to try it?" Chandelle inquired.

"Yes." Llynn put on the unit.

"But if it works, how do you know for what language?" Lloyd asked.

They hadn't thought of that. The thing could be a perfect translator—and do them no good at all. There seemed to be no control, no way to set it.

"But you know," Lloyd said, answering his own question, "this house has a way of making things work, when you use them right. So maybe it knows what it's doing."

Llynn hoped so. She didn't relish trying to learn Russian.

They returned to the living room. The man was now in the new clothing, and sitting on the couch. He looked much better. Penn had even combed his hair.

"Say something," Llynn said to the man.

He looked at her, not understanding.

"Speak," she said. She put her hand to her mouth, like a megaphone. "Say anything."

"You want me to speak?" the man asked. The quality was different, but the words made sense; she could understand him.

"It works!" Llynn almost screamed.

All of them looked at her, including the dog, not understanding for their separate reasons.

She took off the ear piece and approached the man. "Let me put this on you," she said. "Maybe it will make you understand us."

He sat still while she fit the ear piece to his ear. Then she stood back and spoke. "Now do you understand me?"

The man jumped, then winced as his side hurt. He spoke a rapid stream of words. Obsidian jumped to her feet, thinking there was a problem.

"Oops," Llynn said. "It works—but we need two of them."

"There are others there," Chandelle said. "Enough for us all." She disappeared, Obsidian following her.

A person in motion was always more interesting than one in place.

"It's a most accommodating house," Penn remarked. "It has whatever we need, in the quantity we need, once we realize what we need."

"But it sure makes us work to know what that is," Lloyd said.

The man looked around, evidently understanding the words but not their context.

Llynn spoke carefully to him. "It is a translator," she said. "We will fetch more of them, so we can understand you. Right now we can't."

The man nodded. He touched his ear, appreciating the wonder of the ear piece.

Soon Chandelle returned with four more ear pieces. Each of them donned one. And suddenly the language barrier was gone.

"My salutation," the man said.

"Who are you?" Penn asked. "Why were you being chased by those men?"

"I am Kailash, from Kashmir."

"India or Pakistan?" Penn asked. "The region is contested."

Llynn hadn't known that. But then geography had never been her strong point.

"The Himalayas of India," the man said. "I came to Moscow to try to find my sister Shree. But when I inquired, they attacked me. I managed to get away, but they pursued me. I almost escaped by fleeing into a quiet residential section, but they found me."

They questioned him, and the rest of the story came clear. Kailash was twenty, a hopeful artist, but in the backwoods mountain region the best such work he could find was painting designs on crockery intended for the tourist trade. Times were hard, for there had been warfare there recently, and things were changing even in the outlying regions, making them harder.

His sister Shree was eighteen, and beautiful. She had trained to be a secretary, for she was good with language and writing. She and Kailash had enjoyed debating each other, just for the pleasure of word play. But there was little need locally for such employment. So she had answered an ad for an excellent job in Delhi, more than three hundred miles away. The pay was far better than anything in the mountains, and she hoped to send money back to support the family.

But no money had come back. In fact, Shree disappeared. Alarmed, Kailash had gathered what little money and equipment he had, and gone to investigate. He had to work at whatever he could find to support himself on the way, and that made the search difficult, but he had learned that the job Shree had gone to was actually foreign, in Moscow. She had gone there, though it was surprising that she hadn't sent word to her family about it. But he hadn't found her at the given Moscow address. Then the thugs had come after him. He assumed it was because he was an obvious foreigner, so was easy prey.

"I doubt it," Penn said.

"It is the truth!" Kailash protested. "I swear!"

"I wasn't doubting you," Penn said. "I was doubting that the thugs were merely picking easy prey."

Llynn was perplexed. "But why else would they go after him, when he was just inquiring?"

"White slavery," Penn said. "It's big business, especially in the defunct Soviet Union. Young women are promised excellent jobs in distant cities, but are instead sold into prostitution."

"Prostitution!" Kailash exclaimed in horror. "That can't be!"

"It's not voluntary on their part," Penn said. "They have no choice. Their papers are taken, so they are stranded as aliens, often not even speaking the local language. They are rendered completely dependent on the pimps, who are ruthlessly cruel. The women must oblige, or be beaten, or tortured in ways that don't show."

"But Shree is an innocent girl! She could never—"

"They prefer innocence. Innocents are easier to cow, and free of disease. You say she is pretty."

"Yes, very much so. But—"

"Let's hope there is some other explanation," Chandelle said, but she didn't look very confident.

"I must find her," Kailash said. "I must bring her home."

"Not before you recover," Chandelle said. "You can't go back out on the street in this condition."

Kailash touched his injured side. "I can't," he agreed. "But if Shree is in danger of—of—"

"We have to help him," Llynn said.

But Penn looked doubtful. "It isn't that simple."

"Yes it is," she protested hotly. "You wouldn't let me be taken like that. Why let his sister?"

"I can answer that," Kailash said sadly. "The four of you have been most generous to me, and I think saved my life. But you have business of your own, and I am interfering."

"That, too," Penn agreed.

"There's something else?" Llynn demanded.

"And I am a stranger," Kailash said. "How can you believe what I say?"

Penn nodded. "You have a good grasp of the situation."

"But why should we doubt him?" Llynn asked.

Kailash answered again. "I could be telling you a story to encourage your trust, and then rob you and sneak away."

"No you couldn't."

"But you can't be sure. I trust you because you saved my life and have not robbed me. But you can't trust me."

"You can't sneak away," Llynn said. "Because—"

"Ixnay," Lloyd said.

She realized that she had been about to give away the secret of the front and back doors. They were right: they could not afford to trust a stranger. "Anyway, you need to rest and recover. So it doesn't matter."

"I think I am being in the way," Kailash said. "I can not repay you for your help and kindness to me, but I can relieve you of the burden of my presence. If you will take me to the Indian embassy—"

"No," she said.

"What, you're sweet on him?" Lloyd asked insolently.

"No. It's just—"

Penn and Chandelle exchanged a look. "You stay with Kailash," Penn said. "We'll see what we can do."

"There is no need to attend to me," Kailash said. "I will merely sleep."

"Nevertheless, we must watch you, until we can be sure of you," Penn said.

"Oh. Yes. Of course."

Llynn was disgusted, but the truth was she was intrigued by this polite young man. "Okay, I'll stay. Mind if I watch TV?"

"It is not my place to object."

So she turned on the set, while the others left the room. Obsidian hesitated, then decided that there was more of interest in the living room, and stayed. She lay down beside the couch.

The program came on in English. Then Llynn thought of something. "I wonder if this has an Indian version?"

"We do have television in our village," Kailash said. "We are not entirely primitive."

"This is special." She invoked the special controls. Sure enough: there was a table for different languages.

She selected India—and was rewarded by a subset of many languages she had never heard of. "Which one's yours?" she asked.

"My native language? But your excellent translation device makes that unnecessary."

"Still, I'd like to see if this works."

He guided her to one of the dialects, and she invoked it. But the TV continued speaking in English. "It's not working."

"Oh, but it is," Kailash said. "Remove your translator."

"Oh." She did so. Suddenly she understood none of the dialogue. She saw that Kailash had removed his own ear unit. He was watching and listening, and nodding: he understood it.

He said something, but she could not understand. She put her unit back on. "What was that?"

Kailash smiled, though he could not have understood her words, except by context. "I understand the television perfectly. It is indeed in my language. This is remarkable."

"It's a remarkable set," she said.

"It is a remarkable house."

She realized that some of the secrets of the house had already been revealed. "Yes."

He returned the unit to his ear. "If I may inquire—"

How much could she tell him? "I don't know."

"I do not wish to impose, but your presence diverts me from my discomfort, and I would like to talk."

Her presence diverted him? She liked that too. "Yes, sure."

"It is not possible to avoid the realization that this is no ordinary domicile. You seem to be ordinary people from America, no offense, and I am from a primitive village, but I have never heard of technology like this." He indicated the ear piece. "And I saw that the scene beyond the door changed in a manner I thought it could not. You surely have excellent reason to say that I could not simply walk out."

He was observant. In fact, he was no fool. She liked that. She would have to tell him something. "Yes.

Moscow is not there anymore."

"But how could this be?"

"How can I tell you, if I can't trust you?"

He spread his hands. "I apologize. I should not ask. I will simply accept that this is a magic house."

So she told him. "Not magic, exactly. Super science. This house can travel. We started in America, and went to other cities, and stopped in Moscow. We happened to be there when you came, so we helped you."

"You made them help me."

Llynn felt herself blushing. "I guess I did. But I couldn't just let three men murder you."

"I owe you my life, whatever your motive. It was an extremely fortunate coincidence that brought me to your location at that time."

"I guess so," she agreed uncomfortably. Obsidian, recognizing that she was troubled, lifted her head sympathetically.

"Do you believe in divine guidance?" Kailash asked.

"No."

"I do. I think that what you would call fate guided my steps, and put me where I could be saved."

"It was just chance. You could have taken a hundred other streets."

"Yes. But I did not. And so I was saved, when I should have perished. By a house that I think can not exist."

That made her wonder. He was right about the coincidence: it was really too much to be believed.

Could the house have had a purpose?

"I'm going to have to tell you more," she said. "It's an alien house. We're just using it for a month. We don't know who built it."

"Fate built it. And brought it here, to save me."

Llynn shook her head. "I don't want to offend you, but I'm not much on Eastern religions or whatever. I don't think the house cares about you. Or us. It's just a very advanced alien residence."

"And I do not wish to offend you, Llynn. I may call you that?"

"Sure." She liked to hear him say her name. It had a different quality, with his translated accent.

"But I do disagree. Let us accept the fact that we differ in belief, and see if we can't find some common ground. Will you consider my thesis?"

"That you were guided here? Okay, for now. But we weren't guided to you, so it's still a wild coincidence that we should be there right when you needed us."

"Perhaps. You say you do not know who made the house. How then can you say what its purpose is?"

"I guess I can't," she admitted.

"Could you entertain the notion that perhaps the house seeks people? People suitable to occupy it? That just as people need houses, houses need people, or they are unfulfilled?"

Llynn glanced quickly at him. This guy was disturbingly sharp. "I suppose."

"Or that perhaps those who made the house wanted it to be occupied by people who would appreciate it. Perhaps it is designed to discourage those who are unsuitable."

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Grandpa says that lots of people looked at it, and wouldn't take it. Because of the back door."

"The back door?"

"It—oh, hell, you'll figure it out anyway. It opens on a forest. Sometimes. It has different settings."

He raised a finger. "The men who pursued me—did they not come into the house? Where did they go?"

"Out the back," she said. "And we changed the setting. So they're gone."

"You isolated them in some other region?"

"Yes. And the third one we drove out the front door, and changed that setting, so he's in Moscow, but we aren't."

Kailash nodded. "Why would a forest frighten people?"

"Because it surrounds the house. Even though the house is in a city. It—it's hard to explain. But it scares people, because there's no place for a big forest in the middle of a city."

"The world of the back door is different from the world of the front door?"

"Yes. The doors are—are portals to other places. And they don't have to match. It's weird."

"I will not say I understand perfectly, but I can appreciate how such a thing could seem unsettling. Why didn't it unsettle you?"

"It did. But I loved it. It's like playing in the fifth dimension. A real challenge. I guess Grandpa and Grandma saw it the same way. And it is a really nice house. It has things for all of us."

"Like the translation units?"

"Yes. And the TV. And fabulous access to the Internet. And even clothes and food we like."

"Then I think you have made my case. This house desires you, so it makes itself appealing to you. And not to others. It must see something in you that it likes."

"I guess so," Lynn said, feeling awed. The house did want them. Obsidian nuzzled her hand. "And you too," she said to the dog. "I'm sure it wants you."

"So it is not coincidence that you occupy it. Many looked, but only your family stayed. Could it also desire me?"

"I guess," she agreed, her awe at the concept continuing. "But it was sheer chance that you came by, right when we happened to be in Moscow."

"That I wish to address. Assume that the house is aware of people, and recognizes those with attributes it desires. It took you in, and that is good. But it needs more people. So when it saw me, it desired me, and took me in too."

"Could be. But if you hadn't come by just when—"

"Yes. Such coincidence makes me nervous, especially since it was my life at issue. But could it have been aware of me when you were not in Moscow?"

"How can it be aware of anything, when it isn't there? There's just a—an empty shell, when the house is away."

"How do you know?"

"We tried to get in. That's what we were doing, when you came by. There was nothing there—just a closed-off frame."

"You could not enter it?"

"Right. It's impervious."

"Then how can you say there is nothing inside?"

She paused. "I—I guess I can't. But—"

"Such as perhaps a unit that senses people, suitable and unsuitable."

"I guess there could be. But what good can that do, when we're not there?"

"I mean no offense. But could the house influence you?"

"What, mind control? I don't think so."

Kailash frowned. "The spirits can be subtle. I think of this house as a spirit, for convenience. Perhaps it could not, or would not, influence you directly. But indirectly, such as by providing things you appreciate, such as versatile television—"

"Agreed. Indirectly, there's a lot."

"And if you wished to experiment with cities, and selected randomly, could it make the choice for you?"

"Grandpa pushed the buttons. Grandpa chose the city."

"But if he did not care which city—could the house cause him to choose Moscow?"

She stared at him. "Maybe so."

"So if it sensed me in Moscow, and desired my entry, could it then bring you to Moscow to intercept me?"

Her head was whirling. "I—I guess it could."

"I do not mean to cause you distress. But as I reflect, I remember something I did not credit at first.

When I came to Moscow, and passed this neighborhood on my way to inquire for my sister, I felt an odd temptation. I wished to go in a certain direction. But that was not where I needed to go, so I overrode it and went about my business. But when I fled, hardly caring where I went, this is the direction I came. Toward this house."

"It summoned you," she exclaimed. "It reeled you in—when it could. And it brought us in at the same time, so we could connect. So we could save you. Suddenly it makes sense!"

Kailash leaned back, carefully. "Of course this is merely conjecture."

"Don't back off now," she flared. "You've convinced me."

"And me," Penn said, entering the room, and the dog jumped up to greet him. "It eliminates coincidence almost entirely."

"You were listening?" Llynn asked, embarrassed for no reason she could fathom at the moment.

"I was returning, and heard you talking, and paused," Penn said. "It was so interesting I didn't want to interrupt."

"I see things in a manner you may not," Kailash said delicately.

"No, I think you could be right. I don't like coincidence any better than you do. It explains a great deal. I think we had better bring you in on the remaining secrets of the house."

"But we don't know that we can trust him," Llynn said, though she did trust him now.

"That's next," Penn said. "We found what we were looking for, thanks to Chandelle's expertise with the squiggle script." He held up an open bracelet. "Put this on, Llynn."

She did, bemused. "What's this, a dingus that stops lying?"

"Not exactly. Try telling a lie."

"My name is the Queen of Sheba." She paused. "No reaction."

"My name is the King of Sheba," Penn said.

Llynn jumped. The band had tingled. "It told me you lied," she said.

"Yes. It seems to be ideal. It lets you lie, while warning you about the lies of others."

"This is great. Now we can verify Kailash." She turned to the man. "Tell me a lie."

"I think you are ugly."

The bracelet tingled. Llynn felt herself blushing again. "Tell me another."

"Everything I told you about my personal history is false."

The bracelet tingled. "That's a lie," Llynn said. "Which means what you said must be true."

"Not necessarily," Kailash said. "Some of what I told you might be true, and some false. So it would be a lie that all of it is false, but would nevertheless deceive you."

She looked at Penn. "Grandpa, this man is too smart for me." But she liked the man's evident intelligence, and his compliment.

"Are you deceiving us?" Penn asked Kailash.

"No."

The bracelet did not tingle. "He's not lying," she said.

"Can we trust you?" Penn asked.

"Yes. I am grateful for the way you saved my life, and will return the favor if I can."

"No tingle," Llynn said.

Penn tried once more. "Do you have designs on Llynn?"

"Grandpa!" she cried, blushing again.

So did Kailash, though it showed less on his darker skin. "I hardly know her."

The bracelet tingled. Llynn held it up, signaling that she had felt it. The man had been evasive, and the bracelet interpreted that as a lie.

"Do you mean her any harm?" Penn asked.

"No."

No tingle.

"But you do like her."

"Yes."

"Can we stop this now?" Llynn asked, mortified.

"I find her attractive," Kailash said. "She has been kind to me, and attentive, and she is pretty. I react as any man would. But I mean her no harm, and will not pursue her. I realize she is young, though in my culture she would be of age. I regret causing distress."

Penn nodded. "He finds you appealing. Do you object, Llynn?"

"Yes." But she flinched, expecting the bracelet to tingle, despite knowing better. "No."

"I think we have done enough for now," Penn said. "Kailash must rest. But tomorrow I suggest that the two of you experiment with the truth band, and ascertain its limitations. We may have good use for it, in due course."

Kailash nodded. "I shall be glad to cooperate."

Llynn hesitated. "Promise you won't ask that question of me, when you have the bracelet. About my feelings."

"I give you my oath," Kailash said, and the band did not tingle.

But Llynn wasn't sure she was relieved. She was flattered by his attention, and did like him, and she knew it showed. He hardly needed to ask.