by James Gurley
“I’m Tad de Silva,” Tad said and produced the note.
The man nodded, stuck the proffered note into a pocket of his robe, and produced a large key from inside his robe. When he unlocked the gate and opened it, the gate moved noiselessly. Tad stepped through the opening. The man closed and relocked both the gate and the wooden door. Tad followed his escort across a large bricked courtyard to a low, whitewashed stone building. Wooden benches scattered throughout the courtyard sat beneath fruit trees providing both shade and nourishment for the Monastery’s occupants. A well-tended flowerbed ran along the outer wall. Tad caught the heady scent of gardenias and heather floating on the breeze, a fragrant oasis from the aromatic assault of the tannery and slaughterhouse.
Oil lanterns on tall wooden poles evenly spaced around the courtyard illuminated it in soft light. Two wrought iron sconces beside the door of the low building lit the entranceway. The doorway led into a long foyer furnished in old but stylish furniture. Some of it looked hand crafted. He glanced at his reflection in a mirror on one wall and had the strange sensation of someone watching him, though his guide’s back was turned toward him. His guide delivered him to a large room off the foyer with leather couches positioned around a large fireplace. A long wooden table laden with books and several leather chairs comprised the remainder of the furniture. An ancient chandelier of dark metal and crystal globes provided ample light for reading. Tad barely noticed the furnishings. A man standing at the far side of the room drew his attention.
“Welcome, Mr. de Silva,” the man said with a rich deep voice that filled the room. His white hair and flowing white beard contrasted sharply with the man’s overall look of health and vigor. His face was unwrinkled and his eyes bright and observant. He wore a long white robe with the hood thrown back. He strode briskly across the room and shook Tad’s hand. “My name is Brother Alistair. I am the Abbott here in charge of this flock.”
Tad noted the strength in Brother Alistair’s handshake, suspecting the Abbott was no stranger to hard work. “Thank you for your rare invitation,” he replied, then paused. “Do your three Saddir guests have anything to do with it?”
Brother Alistair laughed. “To the point, I see. Yes, it is on their behalf that I summoned you.” He indicated one of the couches with a wave of his arm. “Please sit.” He turned to the other monk. “Brother Palin, please bring our guest something to drink.”
Brother Palin nodded silently and left the room. Tad glanced at the books on the table between the couches. Several of the titles were familiar, duplicates of books in the Watcher Library. Brother Alistair noticed the direction of Tad’s gaze.
“Yes, we collect ancient books also. They aid us in our work.”
Tad noticed a volume on particle physics and frowned. “Just what is that work?”
“Researching the Dark.”
Tad sat up. “The Veil? You study the Veil. How?”
The Abbott waved his hands to indicate the books. “By researching ancient accounts and texts and from direct observation.”
Tad grinned. “Ah, yes, the electronic equipment marked ‘prospecting tools’.”
Brother Alistair let his surprise show, but quickly recovered. “I was told you were quick and clever.”
“Oh, really? By whom?”
“Hanat.”
Tad worked his mouth wordlessly for a moment. “Hanat?” he repeated.
“Yes, he is a friend of ours, a member of our Ennead. Ah, here is your refreshment.” Brother Palin returned with a tray bearing two glasses and a flask. He set them on the table and left. Brother Alistair poured two glasses and handed one to Tad. Taking a sip, Tad was pleased to discover it tasted slightly of cinnamon and apple. “One of our light ciders,” Brother Alistair commented. “I prefer it to our red wines, which are also very good. You seem surprised that I know Hanat.”
“Very,” he admitted. “How is it possible? And what is an Ennead?”
“As you may have guessed, we are not quite what we seem. In fact, we are not from your planet at all.”
Tad choked on his cider, sloshing some onto his shirt. “Not from this planet? Where are you from?” His eyes brightened. “The stars?” he asked with hope.
Brother Alistair shook his head. “No. We have heard nothing from our brethren across the Void. We are from Scylla. When the Dark or the Veil as you call it struck, we managed to save much of our manufacturing and resources. Still, it took us several hundred years to redevelop space flight, local only, using antigravity, a very tricky proposition in the unpredictable gravity anomalies around Charybdis. We do not have Jump capability, nor would we risk its use if we had. We came to Charybdis and found a primitive planet at war, the eight races fighting one another for dominance. We formed the Ennead, a nine-member group to undertake the task of, let us say, nudging civilization back onto the right track. We are both Terran and Saddir, though we enlist other races for our purposes.”
“The Plin?” Tad interjected.
“Yes, the Plin.”
“Saracen was one of your ideas,” Tad stated.
Brother Alistair looked at him and smiled. “Your mind grasps things quickly. Yes, we went to Lord Saracen and convinced him to seize control and unite the races. He did not know our true origins, but agreed with our goals. Later, the Plin decided to obscure his origins to avoid resentment against them. We do not interfere directly. We simply direct people onto new ideas, new methods of manufacture and that sort of thing. So far, we have managed to help you avoid wholesale slaughter.”
“Not for long, according to the Plin.”
Brother Alistair nodded. “You are right. We were unable to relieve all the tensions and resentment. There will be another war someday soon. We want Terrans and Saddir to win.”
Tad nodded and took another sip of cider to hide his surprise. “I can see where that would be to your advantage, but what advantage to Charybdis?”
“Terrans and Saddir are both fighters. The other races will fight in self-defense, but have no concept of cooperation against a threat such as the Veil and the evil it brings. It is coming again. If you, and we, are to survive a second attack, we must face it united and prepared. Only Terrans and Saddir can accomplish this.”
“The Veil is no enemy to defeat with sword or pistol,” Tad shot at him. “It’s a force that destroys stars.”
“Yes, but an arms race has always spurred advances in other fields of knowledge. We on Scylla are more advanced, but we are few in number. We need your help and you need ours.” He hesitated a moment as if coming to a decision. “There are other things out there besides the Dark.”
Tad gulped and asked, “What do you mean?” Simios had hinted much the same.
“If we know the Dark is returning, then other surviving races will as well. If they decide to flee, in what direction do you think that exodus will take?”
“Out of the galaxy… through the Fringe,” Tad replied, suddenly understanding Brother Alistair’s concern. “But if other races survived with faster-than-light capability, like Jump ships, why not Terrans or Saddir?”
“We believe that there might be other methods of traveling faster than light that do not use gravitational wells such as microscopic black holes as a source for their drives. Such drives might have survived the Veil.”
“Why the subterfuge? Why not come openly and ask our help? The Plin have a great storehouse of knowledge.”
“When knowledge of the Veil’s return becomes widely known, there will be panic and pandemonium. Even the rumor of an outside threat will cause governments to fall and with it, all chances to fight. It is best to forge small alliances in secret and direct research in the right direction. The Plin’s knowledge will be a great help, if they agree to help.”
Things began to come together in Tad’s mind, disjointed facts and thoughts that had been swimming around endlessly seeking a place to land. “There are others who oppose you. The Blood Cabal for one.”
Brother Alistair seemed surprised that Ta
d had heard of it. “Yes, the Blood Cabal.”
“What is the Blood Cabal?”
“We do not know who they are, but their goal is to expose us and defeat us.”
“It seems a simple enough goal, but why?”
“They worship the Veil and are on a holy crusade to welcome its return.”
“They’re insane!” Tad burst out.
Brother Alistair nodded. “Perhaps, but they have many followers willing to do their bidding.” He looked at Tad pointedly. “One of those tasks has been your death.”
Tad caught his breath, his deepest fears realized. His assailant in the Sanctuary had spoken the truth. It had sounded like the truth but Tad had not dared believe it. “So the attempts on King Karal …”
“Meant for you,” Brother Alistair finished. “Our autistic king is harmless.”
He felt dizzy with sensory overload. “But why me?”
“I’m not certain. Hanat saw something in you and brought your name to the attention of the Saddir Enclave. Your name is not unknown in Delphi and other regions.”
My grandfather!
“The Blood Cabal must have members in the Enclave. When you went to work for the Plin, we became aware that you were different. So did they.”
At the word different, Tad winced. Different was the word his inner voice kept whispering to him. Brother Alistair did not notice Tad’s unease and continued.
“When the Saddir named you Tushima, we knew you possessed hidden talents and watched you closely. When you survived the attempts on your life, we knew you were special.”
“Talidorus Murse,” Tad muttered.
The Abbott stared at him. “What name did you say?”
“Talidorus Murse, a Wraith. He saved my life once.”
The Abbott shook his head slowly. “Stranger forces than even I could conceive are at work here.”
Tad jumped at this. “Why? Who is or was Talidorus Murse?”
The Abbott’s eyes bored into Tad’s as if he was trying to pry free information. Tad thought that if the Abbott were a Plin, he would be trying to read his mind. Finally, the Abbott said, “Talidorus Murse was a close confidant of Saracen, some say his assassin.”
“Assassin?”
The Abbott shrugged. “Tales change over time, but Murse did make many long journeys for Saracen and kept many secrets.”
“But that would mean …”
“Yes, that would mean that Talidorus Murse has been a Wraith for over four hundred years.”
“But why … He’s guarding something,” Tad said suddenly as the thought occurred to him.
“Perhaps, but what?”
Tad shook his head. It did not make sense that a man would allow his soul to become a Wraith for so long. Did time pass differently for the dead? Whatever he guarded, it must be something of Saracen’s, something important. But why would he protect me?
“I don’t know,” Tad conceded.
The Abbott continued. “When the Council of Regents betrayed you, we suggested to Simios, through intermediaries of course, that you undertake this journey. We knew that if the rumors about you were true, you would somehow find us.”
“But you contacted me.”
Brother Alistair smiled. “Would you not have found some means to gain entry into this Monastery and investigate our Brotherhood?”
Tad smiled back. “Yes, I suppose I would have tried.” Another thought came to him. “Ket and the others—they’re going into the Waste to investigate the Veil, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Would you like to join them? After all, our goals are the same.”
Tad hesitated. “I seek the High Gate of Tomorrows.”
“Ah, the legendary High Gate. Yes, a worthy goal, one that we too seek, but if it exists, it is a long and dangerous journey.”
“Nevertheless.”
Brother Alistair rose and smiled. “If you agree to accompany Ket and his group, we will aid you in your search for the High Gate of Tomorrows.”
Tad carefully considered the Abbott’s offer. If the answer he sought was in the Waste, it might save an even longer journey, and the thought of traveling with Lousa had a certain appeal. “I’ll go.”
Brother Alastair smiled and clapped his hands together. “Good. It’s time to meet my brothers.”
27
THE ENNEAD
TAD TRIED TO HIDE HIS DISAPOINTMENT WHEN HE LEARNED that Lousa would not be joining the others for the meeting Abbott Alastair had convened. Ket and his taciturn companion, Daret, were there, as well as the entire Brotherhood, twelve strong. The room in which they met was actually a chapel, with rows of padded benches facing a raised dais. In the background, Tad recognized statues he had not seen for a long time. A small Virgin Mother with Child and several saints including St. Pieter lined a narrow shelf along the back wall. A wooden cross with the Holy Son crucified adorned the wall above. Dominating the room was a representation of Saint Pieter standing proudly erect holding his crucifix skyward in a vain attempt to stop the Veil from falling. To most believers in the One True God, he was simply a historical figure, but the monks of the Monastery considered him a martyred saint.
Brother Alistair entered the room and walked to the dais. “You have all heard of, if not met, Tad de Silva.” When he nodded in Tad’s direction, Tad felt all the eyes in the room turn his direction. He felt a little uncomfortable under their gaze. “Since his arrival in Delphi, he has been the focus of much attention, both by the Ennead and by the Blood Cabal. Attempts were made on his life, some thwarted by powers I do not yet understand.”
He glanced at Tad.
“Ket and his companion Daret have agreed to undertake a dangerous assignment—venturing into the Waste,” He turned to Ket, “what the Saddir call the Tortured Land, and taking in situ scientific readings from the ground. As you know, flyover readings have produced mixed results. For Tad’s benefit, I will recap.
“Two anomalies have been discovered on Valastaria, one in the Skillar Mountains near the Southeastern coast, and one at the very heart of the Tortured Land. A complex pattern of gravity waves emanates from this point, spreading for many leagues, overlapping and even at times nullifying the gravity of Charybdis. Spacetime distortions attributed to this phenomenon are not verifiable, but have been the source of much controversy among our ranks. We have located clusters of ball bearing-sized black holes as those we believe to exist in the Tortured Land in an orbit between Scylla and Charybdis. These, we now know existed before the Dark. They were the very reason man ventured to this sector of space, to utilize the gravity fluctuations for manufacturing purposes, but the Tortured Land is a child of the Dark, as close to it as we can ever expect to venture until the Dark sweeps through here once again destroying us entirely. By studying this phenomenon, we hope to learn how to defeat the Dark.”
There was no applause. Tad got the impression that Brother Alistair had spoken these very words many times before to those gathered here. Perhaps not all of them agreed with him, but there were no rebuttals or challenges. The Abbott relinquished the dais to Ket. Ket seemed nervous speaking to a crowd and wrung his hands throughout his speech.
“I am a geologist, my companion Daret, an astrophysicist. The Ennead requested that we investigate the Anomaly. We hope to determine exactly how the Veil scarred this blighted area. By determining its effects, we can perhaps learn what our foe truly is. We had sufficient warning to build Sanctuaries. It is logical to suppose other planets did the same. If the Veil originated in the Core, as we believe and the effects weakened with distance and time, there must be other surviving civilizations here on the outer edge of the galaxy. The question becomes, why have we heard nothing from them? The Fringe would be the logical place to search for survivors.
“We believe the Dark disturbed the fundamental fabric of spacetime; indeed the Veil may even be a product of spacetime distortions erupting from the massive black hole that dominates the Core. Jump drives, which utilize artificially created black holes to produce wormho
les, would therefore be useless in disturbed areas, but other types of drives would not, such as fusion or ion. We have detected no traces of these drives with our satellite observatories. Our conclusion is that we are alone.”
He sat down amid stunned silence. Tad’s heart was racing. He did not understand all that Ket had said, but he knew, felt in his core, that they were not alone in the universe. He stood.
“No.”
“What?” Ket asked.
Tad shook his head. “I do not believe we are alone. Somewhere out there, others of our kind must continue to struggle for survival. If the Veil, the Dark, struck them harder, they may require longer to recover, to advance. We have had five hundred years and yet we are only at an early industrial stage. Scylla, with your technology, have only visited Charybdis and then only to direct our technological advancement for your ends.
“What of the Way Station at the edge of our system? What of the other Sanctuaries on Charybdis? We know of only three, yet there were supposedly five. What secrets might they contain? It seems to me the Ennead has been too focused in its solitary pursuit of uniting Terrans and Saddir. You have another enemy, the Blood Cabal. I believe your mutually adversarial roles have forced you to act and counteract the other’s ploys, wasting valuable time and resources. Investigate the Tortured Land, yes. I will help, but don’t waste time by further plotting. Go to the Plin openly. They will help. In my mind, I see the Veil returning, a great, dark shroud smothering stars and dreams. I know what it can do. I do not want to see my children or my children’s children burrow uselessly into the earth, only to be claimed by the Veil in the end.”
