her. She sat there, frozen, wondering how to respond.
The voice spoke again: A pause. Then her head flared hot, and the voice spoke so loud it hurt:
Sancia flinched.
The warmth in her head receded.
said the voice.
The voice was strange. Clef had sounded quite human, and even the Mountain had displayed a few human affectations—but this voice did not. The impression she got was that it was struggling to make words, fashioning sentiments and intent from…something else. She was reminded of a street show she’d seen once, where a performer had artfully tapped on steel pans in such a way that they sounded like birdsong. This was like that, but with words and thought.
Yet she knew the voice was female. She couldn’t say why, but she understood that.
asked Sancia.
said the voice,
Sancia waited for more. When none came, she said,
The voice sounded frustrated.
Sancia’s mouth slowly fell open. She turned to look at the battered box with the golden lock.
This was almost impossible for her to believe. The Mountain had been sentient to a degree, but it had been a huge creation, powered by six advanced lexicons. Yet this entity occupied only a moderately large box. It was like hearing someone was carrying around a volcano in their pocket.
She remembered what the Mountain had said: I once contained…something…I sensed a mind there. Impossibly big, huge, powerful. But…it did not deign to speak to me…
she asked.
A soft click. Another soft series of clicks. <…clerk? Is that term appropriate?>
Sancia said.
Sancia had to admit that manifesting as a gold, nude woman definitely did get her attention.
she said, though that frankly disturbed her.
A click.
This didn’t make Sancia feel any less disturbed.
said Valeria.
said Valeria.
said Sancia.
Click.