Spinspace: The Space of Spins (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 2)

by Matthew Kennedy

  Esteban swallowed again. “Is there an age limit, then?”

  “Not as such. But I need someone to be able to blend in with the other students, and it is expected that they will be young people, who are not committed or with other responsibilities, like children.”

  “But, Holiness! To be around such influences...”

  “Come, now,” the Pontiff reproved him. “You have been handling forbidden artifacts for years now. Have you found it a burden...that it tested your faith?”

  Esteban shook his head. “No, Holiness. But all I do is receive them, classify them, tag them, and put them into storage. I have not attempted to learn anything about how they were made. That would violate the ban promulgated by one of your predecessors.”

  “So you fear the risk to your immortal soul? You have doubts in your ability to resist the temptations of sorcery, once you are within the nest of vipers?”

  “In a word, yes.”

  The Pope leaned forward. “What would you say, Esteban, if We told you the ban was not an infallible proclamation. That, in actual fact, it was simply an act of desperation, and not the result of divine inspiration?”

  Esteban's eye widened. “But they are gifts from demons, or from those who traffic with demons!”

  His Holiness sighed. “Brother Esteban, it is good to meet someone who does not doubt the word of the Church. But the sad truth is, the Tourists were not demons. They were merely people like us, from a different lineage, whom God used to humble the arrogance of the Ancients. In the aftermath of the Fall of civilization, they became convenient scapegoats, nothing more.”

  Esteban tried to process this. “Then why are you worried about this school?”

  His Holiness shrugged. “They failed us once. I, for one, would prefer not to risk that happening again. We should rebuild our civilization the way the Ancients were doing, before they traded for the Gifts. We should do it the hard way.

  “And there is another reason. The too-rapid progress of technology caused it to replace religion in the minds of many the first time. Science led to atheism. We will save more souls if they are not distracted, this time, from the authority of the Church by the glamor of new toys.”

  “You are right as always, Holiness.”

  “One more thing. You are to go in ordinary clothes. You cannot show up in cassock and rosary, bible in hand. They would suspect you are an operative of the Church.”

  “I understand. But what am I to do there, Holiness? What is my mission?”

  The Pontiff leaned forward again. “You are to be Our eyes and ears. We shall find a way for you to get reports back to us. It is not certain, after all, that the school will succeed. If it fails, then there is no danger, and you will simply return to your duties here. Or, if you wish, we shall arrange for you to be ordained. Would you like that?”

  He thought about it. There was nothing wrong with being a monk. As a priest, however...he could help people more than he could as a mere caretaker of artifacts. “I might enjoy serving in that capacity, Holiness. But what if the school does not fail?”

  His Holiness's face grew more serious. “In that case, Brother Esteban, We shall have to take...other steps.”

  Chapter 11

  Nathan: The Family Business

  אתה אלוהים שעובד פלאות;שביצעת ידוע מאודך בין העמים.

  “You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples.”

  Psalm 77:14

  After they finally got home, later than usual because of the detour, he went into the library and went looking for a definition of the word Tzaddik.

  It had never occurred to him to wonder why his family was so fortunate as to have so many of the books of the Ancients. Some of them made funny cracking noises when you opened them, but the paper was unyellowed, the inked words as legible as the day they were printed.

  It took him a while to find what he was looking for, but when he did at last, he was both intrigued and puzzled. The word Tzaddik meant simply “righteous one” and tzaddikim nistarim “hidden righteous men.” There were supposed to be 36 of them, which explained the number 36 in the star of David on his father's white robe.

  But it said nothing about miracles. So he kept looking. In the Talmud he found a verse that said “A tzaddik decrees and the Holy One (blessed be He) fulfills.”

  He sat there for awhile amid the old books thinking about that. A tzaddik decrees and the Holy One fulfills. Was that what had happened at the farmer's pond?

  His sister Sarah found him pondering there and called him to dinner. “And what are you doing with the old books?”

  “Just looking up something,” he said, closing the book. He followed her to the dining room and took his seat.

  As it happened, he was not the last one to reach the table. Samuel had been too involved in his moonlit contemplation of a bunny out back to hear the summons to dinner. He came careening into the room full of excitement, burbling about rabbits.

  “Wash your hands,” Rebekah admonished.

  The youngest of the family groaned at this but plodded over to the washbasin to comply.

  Sarah didn't like his answer. “What were you looking up?”

  “Miracles and Tzaddiks.”

  Rebekah and Isaac shared a glance. When Nathan met his father's eyes, Isaac compressed his lips and shook his head minutely. He doesn't want me to talk about this, Nathan realized. Why?

  Chapter 12

  Carolyn: The Pitch

  “Feminism isn't about making women stronger. Women are already strong. It's about changing the way the world perceives that strength.”

  – G. D. Anderson

  Another inch of snow had dusted Inverness during the night. It might get warm enough to slush it for all she knew, so she took her broom out front and began sweeping it off the front porch and steps before it could become more troublesome.

  She was so intent on this that the nearly didn't see him coming. Once again, she nearly didn't recognize him. It was as if he was taller (which seemed unlikely), the way he was walking these days. More purposeful. What had happened to him up in Denver?

  “Morning. Can we have that talk now?”

  She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Give me a minute. I want to get this done before it warms up.”

  He smiled slightly. “Here, I can fix that.” He stretched out one hand, and as he waved it, the remaining snow slid off the porch to one side. He turned around and put out both hands together, and slowly separated them, as if he were Moses.

  The snow on the front walk and steps parted and slid left and right, clearing a path to the door.

  Her jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

  He turned back to face her, smiling broadly now. “It's a thing I learned in Denver, using pathspace. Would you like to learn how?”

  She managed not to drop the broom. “Who, me?” Sure would be easier than sweeping, though. “What makes you think I could learn...that?”

  “Yes, Carolyn, you. You can learn this and a lot more. How do I know you can? Well, it's something else I learned. Would you like to go in and talk about it?”

  She looked up and down the road before answering. “Yes, come in out of the cold.” She led him in the front door and closed it. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Yes. Don't worry about that. Sit down. I have a lot to tell you.”

  She grabbed a chair, suddenly aware that she must look a mess. He pulled out a chair for her at the little table, then dropped into another one. In some ways he was still the same Lester, but there were differences. “Are you...” She swallowed. “Are you a wizard now?”

  He laughed. “I wouldn't say that. I've still got a lot to learn. I'm starting to get the hang of pathspace, but there's so much more to it than I ever realized. I'm becoming one, though. That's where I've been the last few months. It all started in the Summer when Xander came to town.”

  She listened to him in wonder, as he told her abo
ut becoming an apprentice. How he was shanghaied into it, but had decided it was something worth doing.

  “So that's where you've been all this time?”

  He grimaced. “Not quite.” And then he told her about being captured by the Texans, about his time in prison, and meeting the Honcho and the Runt Jeffrey, who he informed her was the new Honcho now.

  “What happened to his father?”

  His smile became grim. “We did.” And he told her about the invasion and how he and Xander had stopped it, and about the new peace with Texas.

  When he seemed to be finished, or at least paused for a breath, she spoke again. “So Xander needs another apprentice?”

  “Well, yes and no,” he said. “He's starting a school to teach more than one at a time. Then the first graduating class will become faculty members – the teachers who will spread it to even more students.”

  “And you want me? I still don't see why.”

  “Not everybody can become a wizard.” And he told her about how Xander had found him, about the mental echo thing. “I felt that same echo last night, when I was with your father.”

  At the mention of her father she felt herself frown. “But I can't leave Dad. He needs me, now that his striker's gone off to join up. It's hard from him to do it all alone, stopping from hammering to work the bellows and all.”

  “He doesn't need the bellows any more. I made him a swizzle and he can adjust it from completely off to a gentle breeze to keep the forge warm while he hammers. He can do a lot of jobs by himself now.”

  Mingled interest and doubts assailed her. He thinks I could be a wizard? “But...I've never heard of a female wizard. Wouldn't I have to be, I don't know, a witch? A sorceress?”

  He just smiled. “You can use whatever word you like. Xander prefers 'psionic engineer' but I think that's a little too much of a mouthful. But why should men have all the fun? Do it, Carolyn. Come back with me to Denver. If it doesn't work out or you change your mind, you can always come back to Inverness.”

  She found herself thinking about it. “Aren't you going to kidnap me, then?” She couldn't help quirking a smile.

  “Don't tempt me,” he laughed. “No, I admit I was pissed myself, at first, when Xander took me, but I got over it. We need you, but I won't do that. I won't force you. You can just say no and stay here. Please don't.”

  “I don't know anyone in Denver,” she said, wavering.

  “You know me. It won't be so bad. And it'll be good to have someone from home up there with me.”

  She sighed. “You're going to have to help me tell Dad.”

  Chapter 13

  Kaleb: The Assignment

  “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao

  the name that can be named is not the eternal Name”

  – Tao Te Ching, the Book of the Way, by Lao Tse

  He feet were bare, his hands empty as he shuffled toward the Palace. This is the end, he thought. I've tried my best, but apparently it wasn't good enough for her.

  The guards escorting him showed no sympathy. They couldn't afford to. At least they weren't dragging him.

  He had heard that when you were about to die, you whole life flashed before your eyes. That was, in fact, happening to him now...but he still wished it was a longer show.

  He went between the two stone guardians and, just before he opened the gleaming golden doors, he took one last look above them at the dragon, with its fantastically long fingers and claws, its many horns and those weird tendrils or mustaches that Eastern dragons always sported. Its expression, seen in profile with its face turned toward his left, seemed to him a mixture of happy and sad.

  He had always loved that dragon. It reminded him that there was more to the world than this city. The dragon told of lands across the Pacific, a great land with a long history of conquest and civilization.

  He knew he carried the heritage of that land in his own body. Somewhere, across the ocean, his ancestors had lived and died. Some of them had sailed up and down the coast of their land, fought in wars, and schemed in Imperial courts. Others had come to this land, refugees seeking work in the American mines and on the railroads that no longer ran.

  “Stop stalling,” said one of the guards.

  He sighed and opened the golden door. They followed him to make sure he didn't try running away.

  Once he was inside it, the throne room was cavernous. Hundreds of seats sloped down to the dais. Working his way down an aisle, he wondered what the building had been in the old days, before the Fall. Clearly, it had been a place of gathering, and the Queen, for her own reasons, preferred it to some of her other palaces. Perhaps it was because she, like him, had ancestors in distant China.

  There were marble steps that someone had placed before the elevated dais. For some reason, they seemed out of place, as if they were not part of the original structure.

  He raised his gaze, and there she was, reclining on her golden throne, speaking to two of her advisors. At his approach she looked up and gestured negligently with one hand. A tube of carpet at the head of the stairs unrolled down toward him, an invitation and a reminder of her power.

  “Approach me, Dog.”

  Inwardly he grimaced, though he was careful to keep his face from changing. When he had been selected for service, she had renamed him, as she usually did her servants. It amused her to give him the name Kaleb, an old Hebrew name meaning dog, so that she could insult him merely by referring to it. He knew that some of her ancestors had eaten dogs.

  “Yes, your majesty.” Feeling numb he plodded up the stairs. He knew perfectly well that she could kill him anywhere in the room. One of his first tasks as a Palace servant had been to mop up the blood of some of her visitors. She never seemed to tire of killing.

  Apparently she wanted to see him die close up. He wondered if she would tell him why before she slew him. He moved forward, the advisors sidling back to either side to distance themselves from him, and stood before her throne. There was no point in running now.

  “Do you know why I have summoned you, Dog?”

  He shook his head mutely.

  She laughed. “Don't look so hangdog, Dog. I didn't bring you here to kill you.”

  He blinked. He wasn't going to die? “I am glad to hear that, your Majesty.”

  She drank something from a crystal goblet. “What do you know of the lands to the East, Dog?”

  The question caught him off guard. He shifted his weight on his feet. “Not much, Majesty. I know there is desert, then the kingdom of Desert, and beyond it, Rado. They say Rado is ruled by a woman, called the Governor.”

  She nodded. “They might be becoming a problem to us.”

  He tried not to gape at the statement from her. “How could they be, Majesty? With the desert between your land and theirs, and the Mormons, and your own powers...”

  She held up a hand, silencing him. “They have decided to set up a school for wizards. I was hoping the Honcho would take care of them for me, but his invasion has failed.”

  He knew better than to ask how she knew this. A school for wizards? How would they find enough students? On the heels of that came another thought: she fears this school. There is no one to challenge her reign, here, but if someone started training wizards...

  “I was not aware of this, Majesty,” he said. “But forgive me for asking, what has any of it to do with me?”

  Her eyes seemed to drill into him. “I want you to go. To attend this school of theirs.”

  He had thought himself past all surprise once he learned he was not here to die, but this rocked him back on his heels. “Me, Majesty?”

  “You.” The Queen turned and picked up a small object from a tray and tossed it to him. Caught off guard, he reached out and nearly dropped it, but as it bounced off his outstretched hand he managed to snag it with his other hand.

  He examined it. It was a ring of blue metal, heavier than it looked. He looked up at her. “What is this for, majesty?”

  “
You'll find out. Keep it safe on your journey, and put it on when you reach the School.”

  He dropped it into a pocket. “I don't understand, Majesty.” He swallowed. “Why would you want me to go to a school for wizards?”

  She smiled. It was not a pretty smile. “To destroy it.”

  Chapter 14

  Kareef: The Second Birth

  “But it may happen that you hate a thing which is good for you.”

  – Quran 2:216

  It was still early, but he stood there in the road next to his new suitcase. He supposed that he really should be breathless with excitement. At least he would no longer be breathless from walking the two miles to the madresah every day.

  He had a good view of the road. His father's house stood on a little hill surrounded by fields. The road ran through these, with a path extending from it up to the house behind him. In much of the rest of the year, he would, by now, be seeing the fellahin, the peasants tending the fields, but now that they were going into Winter almost all crops had been harvested. The fields were acres of desolation, mirroring his mood exactly. He felt like a piece of fruit that had been harvested and would be carried wherever others wished.

  In his prayers that morning as he had knelt on the sajjada, the prayer mat, he had tried to be thankful for his hajj. But it was a struggle. In his soul he was still grumbling.

  Movement out of the corner of his eye prompted him to swivel and catch sight of several vehicles coming down the road. This must be it. He picked up his suitcase and trudged carefully down the path to the road to meet them.

  The caravan consisted of three covered wagons, each like a wooden room on wheels drawn by two horses, plus an escort of four armed men on horseback He gathered that one of the wagons must be for him and the ambassador, and another for luggage and provisions. He wondered what the third was for.