Tuning the Symphony (Dissolution Cycle)

by William C. Tracy

  There was animal life hiding nearby, despite the lack of leaves or ground cover. She caught glances of the same gliding creatures they saw on the way in, and once in a while saw a tuft of fur or tail of ground creatures the size of the forest cats they had back near her home city. These seemed skittish and were camouflaged, and Rilan guessed they were prey creatures, not predators, even though they were rather large.

  Every so often, Origon paused for a few minutes while touching a tree, mapping another point in the complex web of air movement he was building. Sometimes she saw the shapes of animals outlined in the false breeze. Once or twice she saw a man-sized shape. Was he going farther back in time, mapping the air around where his brother had walked?

  Rilan kept the change to her sense of smell, though she felt it wearing on her. Holding a change contrary to the Grand Symphony of the universe took effort. Many other new maji would be struggling more than she did. Take that oaf Vethis, for example. Well, he wouldn’t even be out here in the first place.

  Origon was sweating, and she watched a bead of water roll into his feathery moustache. It wasn’t just the humidity. If it was hard for her, it was amazing he could hold such a complex change over this length of time. She rarely had a chance to observe how talented he was, especially with the House of Communication, and it gave her new appreciation for the tests the house heads set for her. Of course she had been meant to pass them. Otherwise she would have had no chance.

  “How long can you hold on to the air map?” she asked. They were already some distance away from the source of the change and traveling farther by the moment.

  “Long enough.” The terseness of his speech spoke volumes. She let the matter drop as a scent caught at her.

  “What’s that?” It was sharp, and pungent. Similar to the smell at the site of the disturbance, but from a different individual. She couldn’t place it. It wasn’t the musty scent of the ground creatures.

  “There are predators on Festuour,” Origon said, watching her sniff the air. “On this homeworld, the dominant species is having a massive build, thick fur to repel fangs and claws, and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Imagine what their wild fauna is like.”

  Rilan was leading, and forced her Kirian friend to stop as she slowed. “You decided to mention this only after we entered the deep dark forest without telling anyone where we were going?”

  Origon shrugged. “It was to be your idea.”

  Rilan growled. “You are—” Arrogant. Stuck up. A thrill seeker. “—going to take the first watch when we camp for the night.”

  It was getting dark, and her change to the Symphony was progressively harder to maintain. The longer she used her new sense of smell, the more likely she wouldn’t be able to reverse the change, and thus lose those notes from her song forever as the change became permanent. There was a good reason she didn’t have the sense of smell of a dog. It would mess up her other senses, eventually.

  She knew Origon was suffering, though he would never admit it.

  “Let’s find somewhere to stop.”

  They walked until they found a space between the ever-present cilia-barked trees large enough to camp for the night. Origon touched one last trunk, watched how the line of yellow streamers blew, and nodded to himself. The yellow light vanished from around them and he stood straighter, as if putting down a rucksack full of bricks.

  Rilan reversed her own change and felt the notes of her song come back to her. It was never completely perfect—one always lost one or two in the transition—but it was much less than if she had made the change permanent. She’d feel better tomorrow.

  She took in a long breath of the warm, humid air, and began making a little bed among the roots of one of the trees, grumbling about Origon keeping her from getting a tent. It wouldn’t have cost much more.

  “What are you to be doing?” She turned to find his head cocked to one side.

  “I’m trying to make a place to sleep, since someone insisted we didn’t need tents.” She stood, and put her hands on her hips.

  “That is to be solved easily.” Origon even gave her a little smile as he came over. He set his stance, feet planted firmly, and raised both hands. Yellow and orange auras, mixing together like pools of paint, extended from his outstretched hands. She could tell he was listening intently. He shook his hands and the aura flexed out like a sheet. It fell slowly, draping over an area big enough for two people to sleep comfortably together. As if there was a tent pole, the center hung in the air, the sides of the sheet of aura draping to the ground, the back of it resting against the tree she had chosen.

  Rilan raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know he could do that. Being born with access to more than one house invited combinations she had never really considered.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It is the mixture of air and heat, compressed to be forming a tactile surface.” He brought a fist down on the surface, invisible to non-maji except for a faint glimmer in the air. Something resisted him.

  “And you can hold that all night?” And after mapping miles of air currents, too.

  “It is staying in one place. I will be nearby. It is no matter.”

  Rilan ducked under the sheet of compressed air. Origon had left an entrance, clearly visible to a majus by a break in the yellow and orange aura. She lay back on the ground, her pack making a suitable pillow against the tree base. Shavings drifted down from the tree above her, and gently landed on the invisible surface above. There would be a thin layer by the morning, she expected. At least they wouldn’t be on her.

  Origon took first watch, sitting outside the impromptu tent. Rilan watched the unfamiliar stars, trying to find similarities. Festuour was the closest homeworld to her own, but she could find none of the constellations she knew.

  She was almost asleep when Origon began to speak.

  “I was always closest to Delphorus, out of all of my family members.” Rilan propped herself up on elbows, leaning forward to hear better. He didn’t look at her, but she saw the outline of his head turn in the darkness. He knew she was listening.

  “Neither of us got along with the rest. Our grandmother was being an eminent stateswoman in her youth, and expected her descendants to be following in her trail. My father, her son, was deeply religious, and was trained in the priesthood, leading the family in their regard of our ancestors. He was using his talent for speech, but not in the manner my grandmother preferred. She never had any regard for our mother. When I was found to be able to hear the Grand Symphony, I was sent to the Nether, of course, for training. I could only be accessing the House of Communication then. My second house, that of Power, came later. I think my grandmother expected me to be serving on the Council in a few cycles. She was disappointed.

  “Delphorus was younger than me. He showed no inclination for the maji or for public speech, which as you know is highly prized on Kiria.” He waved a shadowy hand, as if the point was self-evident. Rilan crept closer to the entrance of the tent, pulling herself into a ball.

  “The position of lawman, especially one devoted to ferreting out wrongdoers, is viewed as a necessary evil in my province, but is never a prestigious job anywhere on Kiria. When my brother chose such a base job, my grandmother was near to be disowning him. She died a few cycles after he started his profession.” Origon’s voice dipped alarmingly at the last sentence, and Rilan resisted the urge to hug the man. She wanted to hear more.

  “He confessed to me later he felt he failed our family, though I never did.” Origon left unsaid whether he considered himself a success. Rilan had an idea, considering his standing with the Council.

  “We kept in contact, sending messages to each other about our work. I was visiting him when I had the chance, as he never had much money. My father joined the ancestors a few cycles after our grandmother and our mother was long departed. It was a sign of their feelings for us that the family house and all the accumulated wealth was left to the descendants of a cousin of our grandmother—a noted p
ublic speaker, I might be adding.”

  “That’s awful,” Rilan said. The shadow of Origon’s head nodded. She saw his crest rise.

  “It is to be somewhat traditional on Kiria, in our province.”

  Rilan moved out of the tent, snuggling up next to him, now that he seemed to be done with his story. One of the moons of Festuour was up, and she thought she could see tears on Origon’s cheeks, reflecting its faint light.

  “We had not spoken for several months before…before I got the communication.”

  Rilan touched his cheek, wiping a tear away. “I’m sorry,” she said. She was an only child. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose—”

  Something cracked, above them and to the right.

  “What was that?” Rilan searched the branches above them. She started to push up, but a shape dropped with a thud in front of Origon. The same sharp scent hit her, strong now, like metal and rotting meat.

  “Back!” He pushed her and she fell against the sheet of air making their tent. It flexed slightly at her weight, and she slipped underneath it. Origon scooted in after her.

  “Ancestor of a turtle!” he cursed. “I cannot be creating another shield over the entrance.” His body was blocking a clear view of whatever was out there. In the dark, it was only a massive shape under the starlight. It stood over them, now they were inside the tent.

  She saw the yellow of the House of Communication blossom in his hands, and a blast of air blew the scent of the thing out of the tent. There was a deep snort and the shadow shook its head, which seemed half as big as the tent. Something smashed against the sheet of air, pressing Origon back into her. He grunted and the colors intensified. He was putting more of his song into holding the change. She caught a glimpse of a massive razor-sharp claw bearing down on them. It ran over the top of the tent of air, the surface bowing alarmingly.

  “That didn’t do anything,” she said. “How do we get rid of it?” She jumped as the creature grunted at them, loud and deep.

  “I am open to any suggestions, provided they are quick.” Origon scooted back farther as something swiped across the opening with a hiss of air.

  “I can’t see it clearly,” Rilan said. “I don’t know what its biology is, and I don’t know how to affect it.” The Symphony seemed remote and hard to hear. She had never been in a situation like this before. Even her testing had been a controlled environment. The beast swiped again and its sharp smell flowed back. It couldn’t seem to figure out why something resisted it.

  “I’m going to adjust my eyes,” Rilan told Origon. It was the only thing she could think of. He only grunted, not turning. He was pressed into her, her back to the tree, her pack under her. The orange and yellow outline of the sheet of air was moving. He was trying to adjust it between them and the thing.

  Rilan listened for the Symphony, but it was spotty and far away. She closed her eyes and focused on her own body, one of the easiest actions for her house.

  Come on. Focus. She couldn’t fail them now. She had tested under pressure a hundred times. Another deep grunt made her pop an eye open before closing it again.

  She listened for the melody of her visual system. This was familiar. The tune floated by, faster than usual, in time with her heartbeat. Change the tempo slightly, use her song to adjust the cadence and brighten her night vision.

  “I can see it now. Move out of the way.” She peered past Origon, trying to get a good look at their attacker.

  The second one landed on top of them.

  Rilan looked up and screamed. Above her, two sets of serrated jaws sawed at the air inches above her face. She felt the sheet of air push her to the ground. Triangular teeth vied with three large tusks jutting at angles from a face that seemed half mouth. The shaggy body was larger than the now flat tent.

  She flinched back into the ground, but its full weight was on them. She could barely see Origon, on his stomach beside her, not moving. The sheet of air above her pressed in, pushing both of them down into the ground. Jaws snapped so close above her she couldn’t focus on them.

  On the positive side, the other one couldn’t get at them, now the opening was squashed flat.

  Her arms were pinned, and Origon’s face was being crushed into the debris of the forest floor. He wasn’t moving, but he was breathing. Unconscious. His tent would only last a few minutes without him holding it in place. When it dissolved, there would be no barrier between her and the teeth above her.

  This was not the time to crack under pressure.

  Rilan closed her eyes again, and tried to ignore the wet sounds and grunts from above her. Assess the situation. Make a decision. Follow through. Words her mentor had taught her long ago snapped into her head.

  She delved into the Symphony. There was no problem finding it this time. Pure adrenaline brought the music to her, beating in time with her fear. She blocked out the Symphonies of her body and Origon’s, focusing on the two creatures. If she could only touch them, it would be easy. She could affect their bodies or minds, make them docile. But if she could touch them, they could touch her.

  She concentrated on the pheromones traveling back and forth, along with grunts and snarls. They were a mated hunting pair, she realized.

  She adjusted notes, hoping the sheet of air was porous enough to pass scents through. Copied pheromones might confuse them.

  A few moments later, the snarling stopped and she cracked open an eye. The jaws were still, and the massive head was tilted, watching her. An eye the size of her fist took her in. Shaggy black hair surrounded it.

  The pressure on her increased and another head joined the first, watching. She felt a root digging into her leg. Origon was pressed almost completely into the shavings.

  There was no snarling now, but twice the weight—not the solution she wanted. The tent dissipated much of the creature’s weight, or they would both be crushed to death. Still, the air was getting thick and her head felt fuzzy. She wouldn’t get another chance. The next change had to be right.

  She took back the notes of her song and searched the Symphony again for anything that would draw the beasts away. Free from the confusing pheromones, a paw the size of her chest bounced off the blanket of air, just above her. Rilan exhaled sharply as something gave with a muted crack. Probably a rib. Pain flooded through her.

  Concentrate! She would not cry out.

  She poured through the melodies. What were the strongest urges? Food and sex, and she was food. Sex, then. She grabbed at notes as they flew by, and missed more than she caught.

  Change!

  The Symphony resisted, but these pheromones were different from the last change. Finally, she captured enough of the notes to create a phrase of the music, and used her song to push it into place, melding it with the beast’s natural instincts.

  One of the creatures snorted in response, a massive blast of air. The other one cuffed it on its head and Rilan grunted when the pressure on her increased.

  She realized she could feel fur tickling her wrist. The pressure was increasing because the blanket of air was dissolving. Her vision contracted to a tunnel.

  Come on, take the bait.

  The first beast sniffed in her direction, smelling alluring pheromones.

  The second one swatted the first in the head again. It responded with a growl that shook her eardrums, but its head turned back to her.

  A foot pressed her pelvis into the ground cover and her muscles protested. The blanket was going faster.

  Another cuff, and this time the beast responded to its mate, stepping away to growl. The other growled back, and suddenly the weight was off her.

  The ground shook as the two beasts cantered off into the woods, one chasing the other like cats the size of wagons. A nearby tree creaked as the first caught a low branch with wicked curved claws and pulled itself up. The second followed.

  Rilan let out a breath, looked around with her augmented eyes, then turned to Origon. He wasn’t breathing. She snaked an arm beneath him, pu
lled him around, and cried out as her rib protested.

  Definitely broken.

  She tried again, slower this time, and got him turned over, brushed shavings off his face and out of his moustaches. She knew basic medicine, but it wasn’t her thing. Her forte was mental, not physical. Some of those in the House of Healing could repair flesh itself, though it was strangely not that common.

  She pressed an ear to his chest. The heartbeat was strong, and fast. Kirians’ hearts beat harder than her own species. So why wasn’t he breathing?

  She dived into the Symphony again, counting tempos to find the music of Origon’s breath. A foreign melody clashed with the one that kept him alive.

  An obstruction.

  “Shiv’s eyes,” she swore, and hooked a finger past the Kirian’s sharp teeth. She found the collection of tree shavings that was blocking his throat and pried them out. With a snort, Origon gasped in a breath.

  Rilan inhaled, clutched a hand to her chest, and exhaled slowly, around her broken rib. Only a majus would listen to the Symphony before checking to see if someone was choking.

  “What…is happening?” Origon’s voice was weak and hoarse. Rilan took in their trampled supplies and the trees around them. The last yellow and orange of the tent faded as Origon reabsorbed its notes.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’ll take the next watch.” Origon snorted something, but was soon asleep, curled up in the tree roots.

  Rilan watched the sky the rest of the night, thinking of what he told her about his brother. The forest sounds had returned to normal, but just in case, she copied the scent of the tree she rested against, replacing her own and Origon’s so they didn’t attract any more attention. And she kept the change to her eyes until just before the sun rose.

  Origon was limping when they started out the next day, though he insisted he was fine. The extra weight on this world would not help his injury, or hers. They would be slower to heal. There was not much to do for her rib except to lace her leather vest as tight as she could. It still burned with every step, making it harder to breathe.