The Society of Two Houses (Dissolution Cycle)

by William C. Tracy

  “Mandamon knows the construction of the instrument, Kratitha a way to modify the Symphony attached to it. If a dire need arose, could any of this group swear not to make another object to, hm, render the geas inoperative?”

  None of us could meet the Benish’s eyes.

  “One thought not.” They watched Bethaya picking at the shards of my invention, and their voice lessened from sandpaper over wood to a file on leather. “Bethaya. Bethaya!” The Etanela looked up, obviously still in shock. Her eyes did not focus on the Benish. “This one has the, hm, copy of the list of Society members? This one took it from the Speaker’s study, yes?”

  Slowly, Bethaya nodded. “I did,” she said. “But after what happened to Aegrino, I…I,” she stopped again, staring into the distance.

  “What did you do with it?” I urged her, and she watched me as if she didn’t remember who I was. “The list?”

  Her head came up, looking to the ceiling of Moortlin’s study. “I burned the salt-soaked thing, with their bodies.”

  Moortlin made a low noise; the creak of an oak settling after a hurricane. “Not ideal. One would like to, hm, have the list in hand rather than supposedly burned and gone.” They sighed. “If this is the situation, then this group will make the best of it.” They turned to Gompt. “Please take Bethaya to the clinical ward. That one’s wounds must be treated before, hm, a trial is attempted.”

  Gompt looked like she might say something, but Moortlin’s stern expression cut her off. She nodded, and helped Bethaya rise, still picking wood and metal shards from her hands. Gompt unlocked several clasps and chains on the door before it would open. Moortlin locked it behind her. They put their back to the door. “Kratitha, this one made no other copies of the list?”

  The Pixie shook her head. “Stole the one Aegrino copied, then took it to the Speaker. Only because Mother was in danger. Would never hurt the Society otherwise.”

  I cocked my head. Something isn’t right. “But the Speaker copied at least part of the list. I picked up the indentations on his writing pad. Neither list was in the room.”

  “As one said,” Moortlin replied. “When a secret is, hm, revealed, it is very difficult to conceal it again.”

  Kratitha looked between the two of us holding her arm. Her stooped stance spoke of bone-deep tiredness. “Delivered the list to Speaker very early in morning—previous night, really. Speaker copies list. Then Bethaya shows invention to Speaker and Speaker shows her copy?” She swayed just slightly before her intact wing buzzed to support her. “Yet Bethaya only takes copy, burns it, and Mandamon finds nothing.” She paused as if we should be able to fill in the missing information. “Only two solutions. Either paper still hidden in Speaker Thurapo’s study, or another person took it.”

  Moortlin clenched their hands with a creak like wood about to snap. I took an involuntary step back. “It may be impossible to save the Society from the breach, as, hm, one has already stated.” They opened their hands again, and their eyes brightened.

  They stepped away from the door. “Kratitha, follow the others. This one also needs medical attention, and has a presentation to show off the, hm, System Beast. This group will need to be fully healed.”

  “But the Speaker—,” I started.

  “Presentation not yet approved,” added Kratitha, even as she loosened latches. It was a sign of her discomfort that she didn’t protest the Benish’s order.

  “One has made, hm, other arrangements.” Moortlin said. “It is not preferable. It leaves a trail connecting the System Beast to one, to the Society, and to the mansion. At this point, the truth is perhaps, hm, unavoidable.”

  “What of punishment?” Kratitha ventured.

  Moortlin waggled their fingers. “Much has been done in the Society by suspect means for the good of the whole. One is glad this one’s caste has a chance to survive. The Assembly needs more scientists, and fewer warriors.”

  “Thank you,” Kratitha whispered, before pulling the door closed behind her.

  As soon as we were alone, Moortlin creaked to the door, pulling latches locked once again. I wondered if they could save time and dispense with the action, but they finished quickly, and took three straight-legged strides to their desk.

  “Moortlin?” I asked, but the Benish fished something from deep in a pile of paper on their desk with a grunt, and passed it over.

  It was a list of Society members.

  But this was lost. Someone took it. “Is this—? Did you—?”

  “Buried in the bottom, locked drawer of Speaker Thurapo’s desk.” I was almost certain Moortlin’s craggy face showed a smile, though I don’t think I’d ever seen that expression on them. “Bethaya thought the copy was the original, and though one did not find the Speaker’s, hm, body, one found this.”

  I had missed it too, in my original haste to discover what happened to the Speaker. I remembered nearly looking in the desk before Bethaya knocked on the door. If I’d only had a few more seconds, this all would have been easier to unravel.

  My thoughts went back to the dusty scrap Gompt and I found in the records room. “And older versions…?”

  “May now be, hm, conveniently lost.”

  Then the list would not be revealed to the larger majus community after all, or to the Assembly. We still needed to fix the front gate, but tightness melted from my shoulders.

  I tried to hand the paper back, but Moortlin crossed their arms. I frowned. “Why?”

  “The Society will be disbanded, and likely sooner than later. One feels the event, hm, happening even now. There is too much damage to the mansion, and the deaths of a speaker and a majus will not go unnoticed.”

  I still don’t understand.

  “One will go back to Aben soon, and plant with a suitable group. One has said as much. The Society must be seen as dissolved for many cycles—hm, until all have forgotten about it.” Moortlin paused. “Save perhaps the Effature. That one forgets little, though is also, hm, bound by the geas.”

  I was slowly coming to realize what Moortlin meant. “You want me to keep this secret. For a long time.”

  Moortlin nodded with a crack of a branch snapping. “Until this one deems the time is right for the Society to, hm, re-emerge. It will be many cycles. This one will be the new head of the Society when that happens. Do not tell the others. One fears a larger group would only, hm, complicate matters.”

  “Surely there are other, more senior members who are better equipped—”

  “Senior, but also, hm, older. This one is one of the youngest, and most capable, members. One can see this one’s future will be…interesting.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.” I fumbled with the list, unsure whether to fold it and put it in a pocket, or keep it unbent and frame it, or just lock it in the safest place I could imagine.

  “Say nothing. Watch and record the events of the Great Assembly of Species. Decide when the Society of Two Houses should reform to, hm, face the threats of the universe.”

  Moortlin stepped around me to unchain the door.

  Three ten-days after Moortlin gave me the list, I stood, with Gompt and Kratitha, in the rotunda of the Great Assembly. It was my first time on the crystal floor, below the seats of the maji, diplomats, and representatives.

  I was surrounded by the sixty-seven chairs of the speakers. Several were empty at any time, and my eyes strayed to the bank of five Etanela speakers, led by the imposing form of Rabata Liinero Humbano. Speaker Thurapo’s chair was vacant, as his districts of Etan had not yet picked a replacement.

  “You may begin.” The voice drew me back to the moment, and I heard the chime of the Ethulina’s hoof against the crystal floor. I looked to the Effature, who had said the words. His face was expressionless, the circlet of crystal on his brow reflecting a beam of light shining through the dome.

  Don’t throw up. Gompt shifted from foot to foot, and even Kratitha was preening her right wing. The left had been amputated la
st ten-day, but she was already working on a System-based prosthetic to lift her weight off the floor.

  “Gathered representatives,” I began, trying to keep the prepared words straight. “Today we are here to demonstrate what a System Beast can do.”

  When Gompt spoke I could barely hear the tremble in her voice. “I am giving the System Beast a few commands,” she said, lifting a hatch and flipping several levers. Kratitha wrung her hands as she watched. “In light of the recent tragedy, we thought the creature that helped bring a killer to justice could also give its condolences.” Gompt closed the panel and said, “Give your package to Speaker Humbano.”

  The Ethulina stepped forward, metal hoofs clicking. The glass in its mane caught the light from the dome. There were gasps and conversation as the Ethulina walked across the circle of speakers, stopping in front of Speaker Humbano. Its mouth opened, and from the mobile lips emerged a handwritten note. One hoof split into fingers, took the note, and gave it to the Speaker.

  Speaker Humbano frowned, but took the paper, unrolled it, and read it silently. I tried not to mouth the words I had labored over for a full ten-day.

  Speaker Humbano rolled the paper up and, surprisingly, addressed the System Beast. “Thank you,” she said, “for delivering these heartfelt words. I will see they get to the Speaker’s family on Etan.”

  Her words were the floodgates. Over the next three lightenings—nearly the entire afternoon, we paraded the Ethulina through its paces, and the speakers, the Council, and the Effature debated.

  At the end of the demonstration, the Effature addressed us, his warm voice too large for his small frame and balding, elderly head.

  “This Assembly agrees to the production and use of what you call System Beasts.”

  Gompt grabbed my hand in a bone-crushing grip, and my shoulders relaxed for the first time since I had found Speaker Thurapo’s body. We did it. Our concept will be used throughout the ten homeworlds and the Nether. After all the destruction, there was one bright point.

  “But—” Kratitha whispered to us. “Will be a ‘but.’”

  “But, we would like to see the following adjustments before the speakers all agree to let System Beasts be sold on their homeworlds,” the Effature continued.

  Kratitha let out a labored sigh. I shook Gompt’s paw off before she squashed my fingers.

  “The homeworlds of Festuour, Loba, and Methiem wish the displayed intelligence of the System Beast to be reduced. They suggest their homeworlds’ citizens will be afraid to use the devices if they perceive them to accommodate their requests too easily.”

  I heard Kratitha’s low-pitched grumble, and tried to ignore the leaden lump growing in my belly.

  “In addition, the homeworlds of Mother Hive, Sath Home, and Sureri wish the ability to locate individuals removed or reduced. They fear potential for abuse.”

  Now Gompt scowled. “So they want a shiny packhorse, is what they mean.”

  The fine gearing loops of thought, the cognitive functions we’d labored over? Were they all a waste of time? The System Beasts could be so much more than what these speakers wanted, so much bigger.

  I grasped my thigh with one hand to keep it from balling into a fist, and addressed the Effature. “We can make these changes,” I said.

  There was still an upside, and I kept it forefront in my mind. Gompt, Kratitha, and I could make System Beasts with all their abilities. The Assembly only restricted us from selling them publicly.

  On the way out, Moortlin caught my eye, and waved a wide hand toward themself. I left Gompt and Kratitha with a promise I would meet them at the celebration that evening.

  “There was another, hm, decision made today, by the Council of the Maji,” Moortlin rumbled when I came close enough. They swung their bald head side to side with a grinding creak as they spoke.

  A weight settled in my stomach. “The Society?”

  Moortlin nodded with a snapping sound. “It will be disbanded, the mansion condemned. This ten-day.”

  “What of the—” I broke off as a Lobath speaker strode past. “—of the members and their families? Some haven’t been to the Imperium in cycles.” Tethan might not survive moving from the mansion.

  “One has spread the word to the members of the Society. Several families will go into hiding, as those groups chose not to, hm, rejoin the mainstream maji for personal reasons.”

  Meaning, news of questionable experiments they performed won’t be well received.

  My hand rose of its own accord to the inside of my fine brown wool jacket, which I had specially cleaned and mended just for the presentation. The list of Society members was tucked inside. I have the only record of everyone, when they disperse.

  “All this is because of the murders?” I asked.

  “Bethaya was, hm, very direct in that one’s tale,” Moortlin answered. “Though that one listened to one’s request to leave certain…others out of the recounting.” They raised one finger to my chest.

  “And the geas?” I asked.

  “There is no known way to reverse it, is there?” One of Moortlin’s eyes dimmed and brightened in a slow wink. “This will keep unwarranted information from, hm, spreading—a happy side effect.”

  I watched the Benish’s straight-legged stride toward the other members of the Council, wondering at the tightness in my chest. Gompt had already offered me a place to stay with her friend group. We would have to find a new place to work in the Imperium, but the Assembly’s agreement to produce the System Beasts also came with a grant of funds.

  I silently thanked the Society for helping me. It was disbanded, but not forgotten, and I suspected my knowledge would guide all my future actions in the world of the maji. Someday, the Society would be needed again, be it ten cycles or fifty, and I promised myself I would keep track of its members, both existing and those who could join in the future.

  The conviction rose in my chest. The next time the Society of Two Houses emerged, it would be in the open.

  If you enjoyed this book, please leave a brief review at your online bookseller of choice. Thanks!

  Want more adventures in the Dissolutionverse? You can sign up for my mailing list and get a free short story - “The Symphony Eater.”

  You've seen Mandamon in action as a young man. Find out what he gets up to later in life in Tuning the Symphony and The Seeds of Dissolution!

  Mandamon Feldo will return in Book Two of the Dissolution Cycle…

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The Dissolutionverse continues growing. I’ve now published three books and a short story, and the worlds of the Great Assembly are becoming deeper. These novellas let me explore side stories and points in history that might be lost if I tried to include them as a smaller portion of a novel. I’m very pleased Mandamon has gotten his own story. He started out as a character who died off-screen in the first iteration of The Seeds of Dissolution, and somehow graduated up to a member of the Council. Now I get to learn more about his past, writing this novella. This also means you may see a Mandamon point of view in the follow-up to The Seeds of Dissolution.

  Kickstarter is proving to be a great way for me to start out with a (relatively) low startup cost for a published book. Making money off of sales, rather than having to pay back my startup costs, helps me focus on writing more stories.

  Thus, I am very grateful to the friends, family, and strangers willing to help me fund this project. Because of you, Micah Epstein again created some incredible illustrations, and I was able to work with Luisa Preissler, another amazing artist, who painted the cover. Micah’s art can be found online at micahepsteinart.tumblr.com, and Luisa’s portfolio is at luisapreissler.de.

  Thanks always goes first to my wife Heather, for supporting my writing, and putting up with me when I pay more attention to my writing than to her. She is also an excellent copy-editor! Also, a big thank you to my alpha and beta readers: Eli Freysson, R.K. Bentley, Dan Eavenson, Brook Kuhn, Matt Cote, Va
nessa Martinez, and all the folks at Reading Excuses for critiquing my submissions. Thanks especially to J.S. Fields, Robin Duncan, and Laurie Carroll for providing excellent feedback that helped me fine tune the intricacies of this story. Turns out mysteries are hard to write!

  Thanks as well go to the members of the Writing Excuses podcast for spending their valuable time teaching and encouraging new writers.

  A final thank you goes to my backers on Kickstarter. In no particular order, they are:

  David W Hill, Zach Zientek, Mike Goffin, Dan, ThatAnimeSnob, Dhara Henderson Jones, Matt Burris, Sarah Schweitzer, Joseph Rach, Knitdeer, Daniel Eavenson, Rebecca Hogan, Robin Duncan, Martin Ellermeier, Michael Dietrich, Christina Gale, Margaret, Mike A. Weber, Ian Fincham, Brian D Lambert, J.S. Fields, Becky Barnes, Courtney Bowers, Ashley Capes, Ross Newberry, Melissa Shumake, Susie and Ben Roberts, Steve Boykin, William A. Bauer, Clyde Dennis, Christopher Goetting, Zaus, H.N. Klett, Phil Tucker, Jeff Lewis, GMarkC, John Tracy, Scarlett Letter, Brook Whitman Kuhn, Noah Chan, Katie Gomez, Alexandra Matei, Christy Shorey, Austin Alander, Alysse, MXM, Lucas Cooperberg, Romain, Kicklix, Wayne Mathers, David Queen, Anne Burner, Scott and Cindy Kuntzelman, Sierra E-S, Brett M Guth, Hannah, PrintNinja, the Lawrax, Jesse Brown & Michela Munoz, SwordFire, Henry & Julie Burroughs, and Julie Lee.

  I hope you enjoy reading!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  William C. Tracy is a North Carolina native and a lifelong fan of science fiction and fantasy. He has a master’s in mechanical engineering, and has both designed and operated heavy construction machinery. He has also trained in Wado-Ryu karate since 2003, and runs his own dojo. He is an avid video and board gamer, a reader, and of course, a writer.

  In his spare time, he wrangles three cats. He and his wife enjoy putting their pets in cute little costumes and making them cosplay for the annual Christmas card.