talent for mining, and perpetually unlucky. He survived as an entrepreneur. He won his garnets from men, rather than from stone.
“I need a blue garnet as I need Laza’s love,” fat Hastings expounded during a break. The others gaped at him, rising to the bait.
“Hasty, Hasty—you know what a blue garnet is ?” Framy asked incredulously. “You know what a blue garnet’ll do for a man?”
The other edged in, anticipating a show.
“I know what it’ll do for a man,” Hastings said. “It’ll kill him so fast the chimera wouldn’t pick up the pieces.”
The “chimera” was the cavern name for a deadly predator of the fringe caverns that no person had ever seen—and lived.
“I’ll take that chance,” a man said. “Just gimme the garnet.”
Aton was curious. “I’ve never heard of a blue one.”
“Oh, Fiver,” Framy said, dusting himself off in the center of the group. “Lemme expoun’ to you the facts of life. You know how the little ones we find are red, and maybe a brown one once awhile? Well, there’s other kinds too, we don’t latch on to often. Worth more. Like if you got a black one, you tap ol’ bitch Garnet for a week’s chow, maybe more. And if you got a chunk of pure white jadeite—well, ol’ man Chessy upstairs is hard up for the stuff, and he’ll pull for you something awful, you sneak him a message. ‘Nuff of that stuff, you don’t have to mine no more.
“Well, these’r little fish. You ever grab hold a blue garnet, it’s your ticket to freedom.”
Aton’s interest abruptly intensified.
Framy was enjoying himself. He scratched his hair. “Yep. They’ll let you go. You won’t be punished no more. Free as a bird in the big outside.”
The others nodded agreement, sharing the dream. “But you’ll never see one,” a woman said.
“That’s right,” another put in. “Ain’t none of us seen a blue garnet. Ain’t none never will. Ain’t none.”
“That’s a lie!” Framy screamed.
“Don’t call me a liar, you little liar!” the woman said angrily. She had sharp features and black hair winding down her back. Few of the women in the lower prison were pretty, but this one was; she still looked deceptively young and soft. “I’ll poke your beady little eyeballs back into your dirty little brain,” she continued.
Framy cringed, then came back boldly. “Not with my pal Fiver here, you won’t. He’ll get you good.”
It hadn’t occurred to Aton that the woman’s threat might be literal. But it was; she had nails like talons. She now eyed him speculatively. “I reckon I can handle him awright,” she said. She inhaled to make her fine bosom stand out. “How about it, mister?”
This too was literal, and not entirely unattractive. But not now. Aton attempted a return to the subject. “What’s so deadly about the blue garnet, Hasty?”
“So your last name’s Five,” Hastings mused, as though he had just discovered the fact. “They call that the pixie number, you know. Dangerous. Only name I ever heard that translates into itself.”
“What’re you talking about?” Framy demanded.
Hastings held out a fleshy palm.
Framy fought his curiosity and lost. He spat out a small garnet and handed it over. Hastings considered Framy his prime customer.
“Science of numerology,” Hastings said, and the people around settled back comfortably, listening. “Every number from 1 to 9 has its vibration. You add up the vowels— A is 1 because it’s first in the old English alphabet, E is 5 because it’s fifth, and so on—you add them up, and add again, until you have a single number. Each one has its influence—1 is the beginning, 2 is slow, and so on down the line.”
“But how does 5—?”
“Spell it out. F-I-V-E. That I is worth 9; the E , 5. Add them up to make 14. That’s too big, so add the one and the four to each other to get your number: 5.”
Framy’s face lighted. “Five is 5!” he said, delighted with the discovery. Someone
“I need a blue garnet as I need Laza’s love,” fat Hastings expounded during a break. The others gaped at him, rising to the bait.
“Hasty, Hasty—you know what a blue garnet is ?” Framy asked incredulously. “You know what a blue garnet’ll do for a man?”
The other edged in, anticipating a show.
“I know what it’ll do for a man,” Hastings said. “It’ll kill him so fast the chimera wouldn’t pick up the pieces.”
The “chimera” was the cavern name for a deadly predator of the fringe caverns that no person had ever seen—and lived.
“I’ll take that chance,” a man said. “Just gimme the garnet.”
Aton was curious. “I’ve never heard of a blue one.”
“Oh, Fiver,” Framy said, dusting himself off in the center of the group. “Lemme expoun’ to you the facts of life. You know how the little ones we find are red, and maybe a brown one once awhile? Well, there’s other kinds too, we don’t latch on to often. Worth more. Like if you got a black one, you tap ol’ bitch Garnet for a week’s chow, maybe more. And if you got a chunk of pure white jadeite—well, ol’ man Chessy upstairs is hard up for the stuff, and he’ll pull for you something awful, you sneak him a message. ‘Nuff of that stuff, you don’t have to mine no more.
“Well, these’r little fish. You ever grab hold a blue garnet, it’s your ticket to freedom.”
Aton’s interest abruptly intensified.
Framy was enjoying himself. He scratched his hair. “Yep. They’ll let you go. You won’t be punished no more. Free as a bird in the big outside.”
The others nodded agreement, sharing the dream. “But you’ll never see one,” a woman said.
“That’s right,” another put in. “Ain’t none of us seen a blue garnet. Ain’t none never will. Ain’t none.”
“That’s a lie!” Framy screamed.
“Don’t call me a liar, you little liar!” the woman said angrily. She had sharp features and black hair winding down her back. Few of the women in the lower prison were pretty, but this one was; she still looked deceptively young and soft. “I’ll poke your beady little eyeballs back into your dirty little brain,” she continued.
Framy cringed, then came back boldly. “Not with my pal Fiver here, you won’t. He’ll get you good.”
It hadn’t occurred to Aton that the woman’s threat might be literal. But it was; she had nails like talons. She now eyed him speculatively. “I reckon I can handle him awright,” she said. She inhaled to make her fine bosom stand out. “How about it, mister?”
This too was literal, and not entirely unattractive. But not now. Aton attempted a return to the subject. “What’s so deadly about the blue garnet, Hasty?”
“So your last name’s Five,” Hastings mused, as though he had just discovered the fact. “They call that the pixie number, you know. Dangerous. Only name I ever heard that translates into itself.”
“What’re you talking about?” Framy demanded.
Hastings held out a fleshy palm.
Framy fought his curiosity and lost. He spat out a small garnet and handed it over. Hastings considered Framy his prime customer.
“Science of numerology,” Hastings said, and the people around settled back comfortably, listening. “Every number from 1 to 9 has its vibration. You add up the vowels— A is 1 because it’s first in the old English alphabet, E is 5 because it’s fifth, and so on—you add them up, and add again, until you have a single number. Each one has its influence—1 is the beginning, 2 is slow, and so on down the line.”
“But how does 5—?”
“Spell it out. F-I-V-E. That I is worth 9; the E , 5. Add them up to make 14. That’s too big, so add the one and the four to each other to get your number: 5.”
Framy’s face lighted. “Five is 5!” he said, delighted with the discovery. Someone
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