"It's right up there."
Ada craned her neck in the direction indicated by the Minotaur chief. They had left the last cave house in the main village behind and were heading up another inclining path. Just ahead, the road melted away into a stack of hills, a steep but manageable climb. At the top, Ada could see a house tucked away on a path lined with cacti.
They squeezed their way through the path, the odd plant's thorns cutting at her sleeves. In contrast, Rory's rough hide and broad shoulders snapped them like twigs as he brushed past.
"He shouldn't be living up here alone. I tried to send some folks up to help him move, but he's stubborn," Rory huffed. He went up the door and gave it a rap with his hoof.
"You there, old timer?" the bull hollered after a few seconds of silence. When still there was no response, he tested the doorknob and, finding it open, entered.
"You must be jolly good friends. I've got some very old chums who would wish Hell's wroth on me if I ever came barging into their private accommodations," Ada said, as she followed him in. She was tickled by the airly way these Minotaurs behaved around each other.
"Yeah, we are," said the chief, his mind occupied as he passed through the foyer and into the drawing room.
On both the inside and outside, the house reminded her of the quaint little country cottages she'd find in rural towns. Not too different from Rory's home, though smaller. An odd contrast when compared to the hollowed out rock shelters that made up the rest of the village. The room they had entered was warm with the mild aroma of chestnuts lingering in the air. To Ada, it was like being wrapped in a cocoon of burly winter quilts.
In the far corner, slouched in an armchair was an elderly and shrunken bull. His snout hung low on his elongated face, rumbling softly as he slept. Like Rory, the tips of his horns had chipped away, although the edges of his were dull and worn, as if the damage to them had been done ages ago.
Ada maintained a respectful distance while Rory knelt by the elder's chair and gave him a gentle shake. "Wake up, old timer. How are you feeling?"
"Huh? What?" The old Minotaur woke with a loud snort. "Oh, Rory. I was just listening to the rustle of the pomegranates. They should be flowering any day now."
"Yeah, sure."
Ada shot Rory a look, though as he was turned away, it went unnoticed. She hadn't seen any pomegranates on the way up. Or any trees at all that might bear fruit at a later date.
"That's good… real good," he murmured, his head taking a sharp dip as he fell right back to sleep.
"It looks like he's in need of a recharge." She intended the remark to serve as a reminder, yet was ignored.
Ada wondered if it was worth clearing her throat and trying again, or if she should just wait and see where the whole interaction would lead. There didn't appear to be a recharge chair on hand in any case.
"Emmett, we need you awake for a second," Rory said, shaking the elder up a second time. "We came to ask about what you remember. From back when you were mapping Sensible Flats."
"We're in Sensible Flats," said the bull, as if that was a revelation worthy of memorandizing.
"Do you remember the stories you'd tell the calves? About your adventures across Cyberspace with Pop McCavity?"
"McCavity… McCavity…" the bull mused. "It's been a while since he's come up to town, hasn't it? Has he gone back to Mt. Olympus?" He shook a heavy head. "That place is a danger to right-thinking Minotaurs."
Rory blinked, his brows knitting over his forehead. "He's — retired now."
"That's very good — very good." The elder nodded, his head gradually dipping back into sleep before Rory gave him a pinch on the shoulder.
"Focus, old man. I need you to think back to when you and McCavity discovered the Train."
"What?" This question seemed to stir some alertness from the bull. He snorted indignantly and adjusted his position in the chair. "There ain't no trains in Sensible Flats. In fact, there ain't never been a train Sensible Flats in the fifty years Minotaurs have trod."
Ada heaved a sigh. "A most charming gentleman," said she. "But I don't think this is going to work." She was a patient woman, but it was obvious here they were just going in circles.
Rory frowned and rose onto his hindlegs. "Maybe he kept a journal somewhere in his office."
"That does seem like a rather more promising use for our time," Ada put a finger to her chin in thought. "Meanwhile, I think we could all use a little tea. If you'll grant me permission to rummage about the cupboards."
It was still of her opinion that a full recharge would be exactly what the bull needed and might even serve to jog his memory. She would have to suggest to Rory about getting him a proper chair sometime in future. Until then, all they could do was substitute with a natural stimulant.
With a nod of agreement from her host, Ada made her way back into the foyer, peering through the unexplored areas of the house until she found the room she was looking for.
For a mature gentleman who seemed to spend a majority of the day in his chair, the kitchen was surprisingly tidy and well stocked. A stack of soft biscuits sat in a jar on the counter and the anachronistic refrigerator was filled with fresh greens. Ada theorized the other townsfolk made a habit of trudging up the hill. Else Rory himself.
Like every other room in the house, it was picturesque and perhaps a bit too warm. Ada started to feel her own eyelids growing weary as she stooped down to look through the cupboards for a kettle.
She discovered one with a rusty handle as well as a box of tea bags that had expired nearly a decade ago. Without an alternative, she filled the kettle up and while waiting for it to boil, went to see how Rory was busying himself.
She found the bull sitting in a room adjacent to where Emmett had resumed his dozing. A small, darkened office lined with bookshelves and lit by a single oil lamp on the desk. Spread across the desk were stacks of journals and rolls of yellowed paper.
Flipping a few open, she saw that they were maps. The first few featured the various regions of Sensible Flats while those at the bottom of the pile named locations she'd never heard of. Far off sites rarely explored. They varied in quality, some handpainted in extraordinary detail, others scribbled in haste. All in the same cursive handwriting.
Rory turned his gaze up as she came through the door. "Back when we dwelled within the labyrinths of Mt. Olympus, the Minotaur clan boasted some of the greatest map makers in all Cyberspace," he said, gesturing for her to take the chair beside him. "Anyone who put a boat in the Mediterranean made sure to get a Minotaur crafted map."
"A fine legacy."
It seemed the ice had been broken. At least with regards to the current topic of conversation, Rory seemed much less guarded than he had been when coming up the hill. Ada wanted to ask what had made the Minotaurs come to Sensible Flats in the first place, but decided to do so would test her luck.
Rory blinked in agreement. He seemed cautious of her presence. Not in the house, but in that room, surrounded by the precious artifacts of his predecessor. in particular beside him, among the precious artifacts of his predisuccessor. "He used to do quite a bit of exploring around these parts," the bull went on, in his voice a wistful melancholy. "Until one day he came back without his partner."
"The elusive McCavity," Ada deduced.
"I don't remember him setting hoof outside the village after that."
"And you put our phantom train at the top of the pool of suspects."
Rory nodded, falling into silence for a space as his vulture eye fixed on her. Ada could see its gears twist as it adjusted its focus. She had half a mind to issue a proud remark, but sensing the chief was on the cusp of speaking again, chose to wait.
"I don't get you," he said, finally. "You do work for Motherboard, right?"
"That sounds a bit like private business," Ada teased, raising a perfectly arched brow.
The chief snorted indignantly as he pieced together her meaning. Before he could retort, the wailing of the kettle pulled both their attention. Ada was about to hurry back to the kitchen when frightened cries rang out from the drawing room.
Rory darted out of the room like a streak. The Countess found him kneeling at Emmett's side, the old bull visibly shaking in his chair and clinging to the young chief like a scared child.
"The train!" he wheezed through bated breath. "It's come for me."
Ada blinked. "It's only the kettle."
"Turn it off!" Rory spat.
She returned to the kitchen and flipped the knob of the stove shut. The fire died as did the howl of the bubbling water. Figuring she might as well, Ada searched around for cups and a serving tray, laying out a makeshift tea set upon her return to the drawing room.
Emmett was still mumbling incoherently, though Rory had succeeded in getting him back into his chair.
"It's come." His voice quivered.
"What's come, Emmett? What happened?" Rory clasped the old bull's hoof in his own, stroking the raised hairs on his forelimb smooth. The old cartographer had a far away look in his eye. Like a fish that had been left to bake in the sun too long.
"It came to us when we were hopelessly lost and had run out of water," he began, narrating what only his mind's eye could perceive. As if lost in a dream, his gaze wandered to some distant spot in the room. "Wyatt was in slightly better condition than I was and offered to get help."
Ada glanced at Rory, hoping he could make sense of the introduction of this 'Wyatt' character before deducing this must have been the McCavity that had been paid reference to earlier.
"When I saw him board the train without me, I thought he'd left me for scrap. It was only after I'd gotten rescued that I realized I was the lucky one." He buried his head in his arms, quaking like the last leaf of autumn.
Rory rested a hoof on his shoulder. "You're safe, old timer. You're safe. Don't let ancient haunts keep you 'wake." He continued to pat the elder's back rhythmically. Bit by bit Emmett's labored breaths slowed and soon he'd fallen asleep again.
He had certainly taken the advice to heart. There was a beat of silence before the Minotaur chief glanced up at her. "I want to see if anyone from the village will help us watch him. Can you stay here alone a while?"
Ada nodded. "I'm sure we'll get on swimmingly." She reclined into an adjacent chair and reached for the kettle to pour herself a drink.
Rory disappeared for longer than she expected, giving her more time that she would have liked to mull over her thoughts. It was a curious set of circumstances they found themselves in. A mysterious train that enjoyed taking board Minotaurs who were never seen again. And presumably other kinds of borgs, seeing how the tale had spread yonder. Who, in all likelihood, had taken custody of Marbles.
Ada rubbed her temple and set down the half empty cup. Nothing in Cyberspace existed without a reason. What purpose could this aberration possibly serve?
A hand reached for her abdomen as she felt twinges of a familiar pain. Its recurrence so soon after she'd last drawn from the vial concerned her. Maybe she should have tried a double dose. But she hadn't brought enough to last much longer either way. And she needed more time.
Whatever their Phantom Train might have been intended for, if it had taken Marbles, it couldn't be an intended part of the stimulation. A glitch, or maybe, reflecting on the record thus far, the latest evil that had sprouted in her garden.