Human

by T S Alexander

  Unsurprisingly the Spirit Quarter was dominated by the royal palace, a spiralling tower rising at least a thousand feet into the air and dwarfing everything around it, be they one story tea houses or sprawling glass and metal buildings with an almost corporate look. I remembered seeing this effect on Earth, the Dubai Cities of Glass for example, but never at this scale and never against the alien background of a light blue ‘moon’ occupying a third of the sky. The frozen gas giant called Edeira, Merdun’s celestial master.

  The four of us were moving in silence, four black shrouded silhouettes travelling in pairs. Apparently, a sievrin quad was not usually so quiet, but duplicating their chatter was utterly impossible for us humans, and possibly even for Elizabeth. Thus, we were posing like a bunch of morose sievrin monks, while following our local guide, a non-descript fellow walking some thirty feet ahead of us.

  Under any other circumstances, calling the four-feet tall, grey-eyed Haillar non-descript would have been a gross injustice. Yet, amongst the colourful denizens of the Spirit Quarter, the man was as low profile as one can get, something that couldn’t be said about our group, sticking out like a sore thumb from the sea of people milling around us.

  The enormous tower was playing tricks to my sense of perspective, yet I didn’t think we were moving anywhere closer to the palace, but somehow on a tangent towards a less crowded sector of the city. Ten minutes later we turned abruptly to the right and stopped in front of an unimposing building. If I understood the Haillar glyphs correctly it was a shipping company back office, an ideal cover for a den of spies. A place where our presence as off-world customers was perfectly explainable.

  The guide entered without announcing himself. We followed suit in an empty front room, where the only piece of furniture was an empty reception desk.

  “The real action is in the back,” said the Haillar affably, losing his indifferent demeanour in a blink of an eye, as if dropping a mask. “Randig Sen’Aesir, at your service, my Lady of Chaos.”

  We followed him to the back, entering a vast space looking like the alien version of a spy holo-movie operation centre, only instead of 3D holographic screens, everything seemed to be based on crystal technology, giving the room the aspect of a treasure cove.

  Two males and two females, one of them little more than a girl, were busy operating the screens.

  “Lady Ashar, may I introduce my associates, shadow agents Narian and Serding Sen Aesir. The lady in the back is our enforcer, Etora Sen Dorien, sharing your affinity for Chaos. The Controller is my daughter, Lazurien”.

  “I’m pleased to meet you all,” answered Elizabeth. She introduced us in turn as alien friends and wards of the Sen’Dorien House.

  I would have expected my friend to be unhappy meeting one of her own working for a spy network that belonged to a different queen, but that didn’t seem to be the case. In the Haillar culture, this was apparently as legitimate a job as any other.

  Etora Sen Dorien nodded in turn to Elizabeth, without losing track of whatever signal she was tracing on her screen. Lazurien, on the other hand, was quick to fill the gap in conversation with a staccato almost too fast to follow.

  “Lazurien Sen’Aesir, first degree adept and shadow agent in training, honoured to meet you, My Lady. Today I’ll be your Controller, thus your main contact for the next stage.”

  The girl’s worlds didn’t make much sense for me, and apparently for Elizabeth either. The queen turned towards Randig with a confused air.

  “While grateful for the warm welcome, I think we might have missed a step or two here.”

  The agent smiled indulgently at his daughter’s rushed introduction, then turned to nod in Elizabeth’s direction.

  “Indeed, my Lady, I think starting with the overall context would be a good idea. Bringing you here was the easy bit, because although traffic to and from Merdun is controlled, checks are largely perfunctory, more a concession to the Scourge than anything else. If your looks would have been less … striking, we could have avoided the entire drama and smuggled you in under a cover identity. The Spirit Palace, on the other hand, is completely cut from the rest of Merdun, as Faun Sen’Diessa had set up layer after layer of wards preventing any unauthorised access and jamming any form of communication.”

  As Randig paused for a moment, the Chaos Queen spaced out for a few seconds.

  “I see what you mean. That may cause a problem, for even if I screen the inner Palace, in case of an emergency, I won’t be able to port there in time.”

  “Hence the second stage, infiltrating the Palace itself,” agreed the Aesir.

  “Can you do this?”

  “We do have a contact close to the Palace official chambers, not quite in the negotiation wing but a few floors above. We have a pair of crystals attuned to each other, one here and one with our inside man, so despite the wards we can create a minor portal, awfully unstable and only for a brief period. It only works close range, but it should be enough to see you through to Almerean’s quarters. Beware, we thought it prudent to keep the Sen’Diessa mole unaware of your real identity, or else a random mind touch can betray your presence.”

  “How about the presence of a human in his quarters?”

  “Odd, but hardly something to get him too excited. You would be simply a retainer acting for the Chaos Queen, nothing but a relay. Lazurien, who’s our Controller these days, will be your outside contact.”

  I can see the wheels turning in Elizabeth’s head, her face adopting a slightly sour expression. For her immediate needs, this entire arrangement was fortunate indeed, yet the shadow network’s ability to penetrate Faun’s security raised the question if Dorien’s estate was similarly exposed.

  “What about my friends?”

  “Your human friends will stay with us, protected and away from the Scourge. If I understand it right, this was your non-negotiable request to begin with.”

  I didn’t realise that before accepting our involvement, Elizabeth had blackmailed the spy network into guaranteeing our security. I knew she cared about us, but I hadn’t expected her to hesitate when the Haillar Dominion interest was at stake.

  “I need a way to stay in contact with my friends, and also a way to quickly open my own portal through Faun’s wards. I would assume none of these will be an issue.”

  “Indeed not,” responded Randig producing a case from one of the lockers. “We prepared here a communication pendant attuned with four different tokens, one for Lazurien, the rest for each of the humans. The case also includes a pair of pre-set portal stones, and several artefacts useful in our trade, though you can probably duplicate most of them naturally.”

  We split the contents of the case, Elizabeth keeping for herself the pendant acting as a communication hub and both portal stones. To our surprise, in addition to the comm tokens, the Sen’Aesir spy gave us a couple of black disks, each approximately one inch in diameter.

  “Please keep these safe and only use them only as last resort defence. Each of this is a portable containment field storing a small amount of eka. If worse comes to worst and you come under attack, use it as a distraction while you run. The effect is loud but harmless.”

  I could see the Chaos Queen was not exactly happy with these preparations.

  “If worse comes to worst and they come somehow against the Scourge, my friends will need more than a loud petard, they’ll need a way to defend themselves.”

  “I’m sorry my queen, but they lack the abilities to use any of our eka weapons.”

  Elizabeth made a movement to grab the tokens, then seemed to hesitate for a second, only to make up her mind and eventually take them in her palm.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, lady Ashar?”

  “Maybe, maybe not, Randig. Yet I refuse to leave my friends once again defenceless against the enemy, especially at a time I will be out of range. No offence intended, spymaster, but I want them able to protect themselves.”

  Turning to the three of us, Elizabeth continued:
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  “I’ve infused both these artefacts with a certain amount of Chaos, making them more than a distraction, but powerful weapons indeed. Dangerous weapons too, as at close quarters Chaos is uncontrollable even by me, disintegrating anything in its radius. Please use them only as a last resort, and make sure you are at least three steps away when the field collapses, or else you’ll become its first victim.”

  Christine didn’t hesitate to pick one of the disks, and I took the other. Charles was watching them warily, the way somebody would watch a pair of hand grenades, which in a sense I guess they were.

  Lazurien activated something and opened the smallest portal I’ve ever seen, a barely two feet wide rift in space. Much to my surprise, Elizabeth took a step forward and hugged me, her silky lips briefly caressing my brow.

  “Stay safe, my friend”, she whispered. “Whatever you do, stay away from the Scourge or their minions. I’m sorry I had to drag you into this, for this is not your war, not yet anyway.”

  After a second that lasted forever, she detached herself briskly, turned sideways and stepped through the portal.

  “Well, that was intense,” commented Charles and for the first time, I had no words in return.

  CHAPTER 23 (ELIZABETH)

  I crawl sidewise through the improvised portal, leaving the humans behind. I shouldn’t have brought them with me, but all other options involved openly defying Faun one way or another, something I’d rather avoid for several reasons. Furthermore, an open challenge to the Spirit Queen would implicitly mean challenging the Council, something I’ve done before, but never lightly. My mind tells me I’ve done the right thing, but my heart seems to disagree…

  The other side of the gate is a jungle. Low tables are loaded with stacks of tablets, piles of recording crystals are stored in boxes, and I can even see scrolls thrown haphazardly in a corner. I move forward in the dim light and barely avoid stepping in the remains of a pie, by the looks of it a leftover from last night supper. Or maybe the one a couple of nights ago.

  I’m far from being an order freak, that would be my sister’s curse, but whoever owns this place is a complete slob.

  While squeezing between two towers of assorted rubbish, my luck finally runs out and I brush off the unstable architectural wonder on my left side.

  Hrrrrrrurmp!

  With a horrible ruckus, the entire thing disintegrates in a rain of booklets, crystals and trinkets of various sizes and shapes. Even worse a glasslike panel explodes in a thousand pieces. Oops!

  A string of curses erupts from the other side of the door and a short and chubby person, probably the archivist, barrels into the room, miraculously without triggering further disasters.

  “Of all the Flame-cursed accounts I need to tidy up now… What!? Who in Chaos’ name are you?”

  The question is surprisingly spot-on, though the middle-aged male has no clue about his uncanny hunch. Taking Randig’s advice, I choose to avoid formally introducing myself.

  “I’ve just arrived with spymaster’s help through the Sen’Aesir portal. I’m of the House Sen’Dorien, here to keep an eye on the talks in case anything untoward happens”

  Not yet lying, though I don’t know how much I can stay on this side of the truth. I hate outright lies, as we demean ourselves when uttering falsehoods, not to mention disrespecting the others. Besides, once you start, you’ll never end, and it becomes so difficult to keep track of the increasing web of fabrications. Lies are a headache I can definitely live without, sidestepping the truth is so much easier.

  “You are a clumsy oaf, that’s who you are. I’ve heard about your race, so much like us yet slow and awkward as a seragh calf. You are one of the Chaos Queen’s new alien retainers.”

  Wow, news of the humans travels fast, though my friends’ description is far from flattering. I guess it’s my description too, so I’ll need to take steps to correct this perception. But that can wait for another day, as this is neither the time nor the place to begin an image campaign on behalf of the human race.

  “I really don’t understand what your mistress believed, to send one of you to my quarters. You are unversed in the ways of the Haillar and prone to make a mess of such a simple task. I mean, look what you managed to do to my archive, not three steps after crossing the gate.”

  “The Chaos queen’s thoughts are her own!” I respond. Quite right, and I didn’t have any intention to share them with this person who didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself. Although, in truth I hadn’t introduced myself either.

  “Every queen’s thoughts are her own, and mine will have my hide should she learn of your presence here. Foolish me for trusting that Sen’Aesir youngster and agreeing to associate with your lot. Now I’m stuck with a wretched alien woman in my quarters, one set to destroy my work and mess up my records.”

  Hearing the grumpy Sen’Diessa one would have thought he was the custodian of our most valuable Lore and his archive a shining beacon of recordkeeping. Unlike the Archive of Lore, the House files stored mostly administrative trivia, things like out of date trade contracts and accounts, history of past transactions, land deeds and such, millions of pages after pages of dreary prose stored on crystals if ever needed for future reference. I knew this very well, as a few thousand cycles ago I undertook to modernise the Dorien archive, in penitence for some long-forgotten mishap I caused to Reith. My biggest mistake ever, and one I still remember.

  “This alien woman is most eager to get out of your way, master Archivist. Forgive me, I don’t recall hearing your name.”

  “Almerean Sen’Diessa, head of the Spirit Queen’s household archive. And who might you be?”

  “Elizabeth.”

  Giving him my avatar name was risky, since my public persona should be rather well known following the Conclave. I wasn’t much concerned about my looks, as after Rovalda’s ministrations I could hardly recognise myself in the event’s recordings, but my name was unusual enough to register. I was betting on Almerean being a hermit and hoped he wasn’t paying much attention to the outside news. At worst, if he’ll recognise me, I will confine him to his quarters. Given his cranky habits I’m quite sure he won’t be missed for a while.

  I shouldn’t have worried.

  “I’ve too many things on my mind to bother memorising strange alien names. Just do what you have to do, set whatever devices you have in that case, and stay out of my way. Better yet, you should make yourself at home in my old office as I haven’t used that space in a while.”

  Just like this, I was inventoried, labelled and stored, like an alien artefact of little value. Apparently, Almerean’s mind was a vast cabinet where every small item had its label and associated physical location, in a bizarre system making sense only to him. My description must hence be something akin to ‘strange clumsy alien woman (one piece)’, and the location ‘on the middle left shelf in the old unused office’. An arrangement that suits me just fine.

  These improving feelings for my host last only moments, until I have the chance to enter the old office, or better yet ‘the old closet crammed with junk’. Amongst piles of dusty items stored on every possible bit of furniture I stand no hope to find an empty place anywhere but the floor, most likely what the archivist expected I’ll do from the very beginning.

  Well, tough luck! I gather my courage and remove a sizable chunk of the dusty pile on the desk, while at the same time appropriating the office chair. To my surprise, once relived by Almerean’s antiquities, both desk and seat prove to be fine pieces of furniture, the reminder of a time when someone loved and cherished this place. It was no doubt a predecessor of their current owner, for I couldn’t imagine the sloppy archivist giving a damn about stylish furniture or comfort in general

  Having now a base of sorts, it’s time to check on my sister and the poisonous bastards she shelters in her house.

  ✽✽✽

  From inside the Spirit Palace, I have no trouble accessing the conference room level.

  I was e
xpecting that it would take me some time to find the Scourge, but as soon as I start searching with my mind I come across the most intricate eka construct I’ve encountered before. Layer after layer of Spirit webs surround the hall where Faun and a few of her higher-level adepts are in a meeting with the enemy warlords. From the inside of the conference room, Cannora Sen’ Diessa seems to be the one maintaining the contraption, while at least a dozen of other Spirit masters and mistresses located in adjacent rooms occasionally meld with the working while performing various tasks. Faun herself is uninvolved, preferring instead to observe the Scourge warlords.

  I now see the full scope of my sister’s plot. The conference setup is nothing more than an elaborate research centre, the envoys nothing more than specimens being studied by the Sen’Diessa house in their hope of better understanding the enemy. I don’t even bother to attempt eavesdropping, as I’m pretty sure the actual content of the discussions is irrelevant, just a pretext to occupy the Scourge.

  The only issue is that the enemy is probably well aware of this and bidding their time while cooking their own plot. Their stated reason for being here is so flimsy that I suspect they didn’t expect for a moment we’ll enter these talks in good faith and were not shy to let us know it.

  Oh, how I hate this entire situation! I feel that somehow, by trying to match the enemy’s deviousness, we lower ourselves to their level. That in fighting the Scourge with their own weapons, we are transforming ourselves in the very thing we are battling against. I’m well aware we need to change our tactics, but there must be a better way to do it, something else than these purported peace talks that have become a contest in deceit.

  But there is little I can do, other than sit, watch and wait for the Scourge to make there move. My own web of eka is set, overlaying Faun’s arrangement like a blanket. I wonder if another queen, maybe Oriel, maybe Verdid, isn’t shadowing me too, with yet another layer of eka. I wouldn’t put it past the Spymistress.

  ✽✽✽