Tonespace: The Space of Energy (The Metaspace Chronicles Book 3)

by Matthew Kennedy

  “It would indeed. If one of the Navigators were changing the spin of the Ship, he or she would know exactly how it is changing and be able to compensate on the far-seer. But if others were doing so, especially in an erratic way, the Navigator would not be able to compensate properly.”

  She climbed into the sleep-learn pod. “Is that all the Space of Spins is good for? Compensating for the spinning of the Ship when we look ahead?”

  “No,” he said. “But we can talk about that later. Now go to sleep.” He closed the cover of the pod.

  She lay there and tried to quiet her body, but her thoughts were somewhat harder to control. She found herself thinking about the mutiny. She'd heard they had wanted to turn the Ship around and go back to Homeworld. But how would they find it? According to the cosmography memsphere she had absorbed days ago, all of the stars in the galaxy were in motion, orbiting around the center of the galaxy in a way similar to, but not exactly the same as the way Homeworld orbited its star.

  Was it even possible, at this point, to retrace their steps?

  And if not, did the mutineers understand this?

  Related to this was the matter of her own personal memsphere. According to Mentor, when one of the People was about to die, their last recording was made, emphasizing the things they wanted to retain from their most recent life cycle. She was not allowed to regain her old memories from it until she had completed the instructional memspheres.

  But all of the People had their personal records. Even the mutineers. Had they come to terms with the Mission, finally?

  Or was the mutiny still with the People, stored indelibly, awaiting its chance to strike again?

  Chapter 72

  Feather: Only Forward

  “You already possess everything necessary to become great.”

  – Crow saying

  It took a long time to open her eyes. They seemed to be frozen shut. Finally she put her palms over them, and the little crystals melted enough for her to separate the bottoms of her eyelids from her cheeks.

  Sometime last night she must have slipped and slid down the hill she'd been on. Not all the way to the bottom, though; a mound of snow had build up in front of her and eventually stopped her slide. She could see that she had not yet reached the bottom of the snow line of the eastern side of the mountain. That fact, and the cold of the night, had tried to freeze her solid.

  She struggled to her knees. I should be dead, she thought. Her shoulder strap had prevented the herb bag from being torn from her body. She lifted the cover flap and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the Healstone still nestled inside, faintly glowing green. Her body had curled around the bag.

  It probably saved my life, she thought. While the cold was trying to kill me, the Healstone was healing me, holding death at bay while I slept.

  She became aware of a ravenous hunger. Healing required food. She'd survived, but her body was trying to digest itself.

  She struggled to her feet. Shading her eyes with a hand, she gazed down the slope and saw some brown a mile or so downhill from her. Not far now to the snow line and out of this frozen doom.

  Once again, she concentrated on putting on foot in front of the other, even more carefully than when she'd climbed up the western slope. As she descended, she allowed herself to ponder her next move. It looked as if she'd lost that wizard Ludlow and the other men from the coast. But she'd also lost her people,and dared not return, not by herself.

  Reaching the end of the snow took forever, but in this case forever seemed like a short time because her thoughts circled like birds in an updraft. Without anything but footsteps to mark her progress, she stumbled down, barely aware of her surroundings except for the placement of her moccasins, until at last she found a bare and dry patch of grass to sprawl on.

  I have two choices, she thought. I can continue wander around by myself, or I can try to find people. I'm more likely to survive if I find people. Where there are people, there will be food. I need food. Therefore I need people.

  After a while she forced herself to stand up again and continue downhill. It got warmer the lower she went, which raised her spirits, especially when the dampness in her clothing from melted ice began to evaporate from the sunlight and the warmth of her exercising body.

  Soon she began to hear birdsong. In the last couple of days she had left Spring with her climbing, and now she was leaving the eternal Winter of the snow cap and returning to Spring. Her stomach growled, but other than a squirrel that darted up the trunk of a tree and paused to stare at her, she saw nothing to eat.

  Well, she had no bow anyway. She left the squirrel there, and its eyes followed her until she had passed out of sight.

  Chapter 73

  Nathan: I Think We're Spies

  “Wise people store up knowledge”

  – Proverbs 10:14

  He awoke to the sound of chanting. At first he thought he was home and Father was teaching something to his younger brother, but then he opened his eyes, saw the ceiling of his dorm room, and with that additional information the sound he was hearing seemed to shift and he realized it was Kareef saying Fajr, the dawn prayer.

  He rolled over and got his feet on the floor. Sure enough, there was the older student – no, wizard, he corrected himself mentally – kneeling on his musallah, facing mostly East.

  When they had begun rooming together he had, at first, been irked by the idea of a prayer that had to be said before dawn. But after the first time, he realized that this was part of Kareef's faith, and as a good Jewish boy Nathan knew a lot about faith and could not disrespect it. Since there was no point in trying to sleep through it, he'd decided the best thing to do was to join in, praying in Hebrew silently to avoid distracting his roommate.

  Their relationship was a complicated one. When they had both asked for separate rooms and Xander had elected to pretend he had not even heard their requests, Nathan had come to understand, and felt fairly sure Kareef also understood, that their room assignments were deliberate. At first they tried to ignore each other, then mutual avoidance mellowed to toleration, and eventually, to the beginnings of mutual respect, as each of them had gotten it into his head that the other was just as devout as he was, just in a different Way.

  Naturally, when Xander had them trying to solve the swizzle problem, they had competed, each trying to solve it first. If either had perfected it before the other, it might have injected more hostility into their cultural clash. But neither turned out to have a knack for swizzles. Nathan had discovered the icetorch weave, instead, and Kareef had found a way to make the everwheel weave.

  That was all in the past now. They'd both mastered the swizzle weave well enough to fly at graduation, and while Nathan was still better at tonespace weaves and Kareef fared better with spinspace, both could handle all three flavors of metaspace now.

  Lord, he prayed, help my father get home safely and return here again. And watch over my family and Kareef's. Please help the trade agreement succeed so that our countries can cooperate and avoid another war. He opened his eyes. Kareef had rolled up and stowed his prayer mat and was sitting on his bunk eyeing Nathan with an unreadable expression.

  “You don't have to pray just because I do.”

  “I know,” said Nathan. “But I want to.” He spread his hands. “I can't let you hog God's attention, can I?”

  Kareef frowned at the levity. “He hears all Muslim prayers at once. I'm sure he can manage to fit you in, too.”

  “Actually, I had an idea about that. If you taught me some Arabic, then I could join you in your morning prayer, and God would only have to listen in one language.”

  Kareef looked at him as if he were crazy. “What would your father Isaac say about that?”

  “My father's not here,” Nathan pointed out. “But even if he were, I'm sure he wouldn't mind.”

  Kareef just shook his head.

  “Look,” said Nathan, “if it helps, I can teach you some Hebrew, so sometimes you could pray with me, and
sometimes I could pray with you. That way neither of us would have to pray alone.”

  “My father definitely would not like that,” said Nathan. And then, surprisingly, he smiled. “So I'll do it. La illaha illaha llahu.”

  Nathan repeated it. “What does that mean?”

  “There is no god but God.” said Kareef. “Monotheism is very important to us.”

  “Very interesting,” said Nathan, and rattled off a sentence in Hebrew. “E chad Adonai elohenu Adonai yisrael she ma'.”

  Kareef listened and echoed it. “What does it mean?”

  “It's an old prayer called the Shema,” he said, putting the accent on the last syllable. “Hear O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is One. You see? Not so different after all. We both call upon the one God. We just use different languages and different names for Him. You say Allah and I say Adonai.”

  Kareef stood up. “We're both going to say 'I'm starving' if we miss breakfast,” he said.

  On the way down the stars Nathan had to ask. “Have you heard anything back from Qusay?”

  “Esteban seems to be the only one getting mail these days.”

  “That's not what I meant. I was wondering if he had access to one of those blue telepathy-booster rings.”

  “Why would he?”

  He halted at the next landing. “Look,” he said, turning to face his roommate. “We're both at the stage where we can recognize others with talent. Before he left, I could tell that Qusay is or could be a wizard, just as I'm sure you sensed my father is. Okay? We don't have to hide what we know from each other.”

  Kareef exhaled. “Qusay never mentioned the blue rings to me. Which proves nothing. But I haven't heard from him.”

  “All right.” Nathan turned back to the stair and they resumed their descent. “You know what I think? I think every major country has wizards in it.”

  “If that's the case, then why hasn't anyone else started a school to teach them?”

  “How do we know they haven't? If you think about it, the fact that you and I are here in Denver might even be proof of it.”

  Kareef paused at the next landing. “How do you figure that? Why would we be here, then?”

  “Curiosity,” said Nathan. “Xander is the only wizard we know of who has announced his School publicly. What would you do, if you heard that Rado had opened a school to train new wizards?”

  “That would depend on what kind of country I was in. If I were in a country that condemned wizards, the way the TCC does in the Lone Star Empire, I'd probably try to invade and shut the school down, like the former Honcho tried.”

  “But that was because he was afraid of wizards.”

  “True,” said Kareef, “but what about Angeles? The Queen sent Lobsang to try to sabotage the school, and she's a wizard.”

  “Yes, but she's a special case,” Nathan insisted. “She's a wizard who's a ruler too. She's afraid that if there were more people with the ability, one would try to kill her and take control of her country.”

  “Angeles isn't a country,” said Kareef. “It's part of Cali.”

  “You know what I mean! In a way, she she's the same as the old Honcho was. Both of them were afraid of the School, just for different reasons. But what if you were someone who wasn't afraid? Then what would you do?”

  They reached the cafeteria floor and Kareef pulled the door open. “If I wasn't afraid, and was like Xander and had my own school, I'd probably offer to share information and students. Trade knowledge so that we both come out knowing more than before.”

  “Right. But neither New Israel nor the Emirates has done that, as far as we know, have they?”

  Kareef got in line and pulled two trays off the stack. He handed one to Nathan. “Not as far as I know. And Xander wouldn't keep news like that from us.”

  “No, I don't think he would. So our countries haven't offered to share, but they haven't tried to attack the school , either. So there must be a third response, and they're both doing it.”

  “What makes you think they're doing anything?”

  “We're here,” Nathan pointed out. “At first I thought I was just coming to keep my father company and see more of the world. But now it seems pretty obvious he intended all along for me to be in the School here.”

  One of the servers behind the counter must be new, he thought, as he saw Kareef hold out his hand to block the man from dropping some bacon on his plate. “And in your case it was obvious you were brought here to attend, since you came with Qusay instead of family.”

  Kareef picked up a cup of cider and led the way to an empty table in the corner. “In my case, I was ordered to come.”

  Nathan followed him to the little table. It was evident Kareef didn't want everyone to hear what he might say. “Okay, so let's follow the thought and see where it goes. Both of us were sent to learn from Xander. Neither of us came from a wizard school offering to exchange students or share information. Neither of us was sent to destroy or undermine the school. So why are we here?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think we're spies.”

  “Keep your voice down!' Kareef hissed. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  Nathan lowed his voice but continued. “We're not here to attack, and we're not here to share, because I came here knowing nothing about the magic and I bet you didn't either.”

  “One does not dip a full bucket into a well,” Kareef muttered.

  “Exactly. We were sent to find out what Xander knows and being it back to our own people.”

  Kareef looked around the room, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them. “Then why haven't we been summoned back to our homes, now that we've graduated?”

  “That's a good question,” Nathan agreed. “Because when the bucket is full you haul it up out of the well. I'm sure there's a reason, because I know for sure my father is going to be in trouble with my mom when he gets back without me.”

  “He's probably back by now. But I see what you mean. Obviously they think there's more for us to learn here.”

  Nathan paused with a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to his mouth as another thought struck him. “You've told Qusay what you learned so far, right? Just like I told my father.”

  Kareef was eyeing his own bowl of oatmeal, as if trying to decide if it was really edible. “Yes. Xander never said to keep it secret.”

  “That's the answer then. They want us to stay here and learn as much as we can, while they carry the knowledge back to our countries to pass it to the wizards there.”

  Kareef forced himself to start eating the oatmeal. “Are you sure your father talks to other wizards?”

  Nathan nodded. “I know for a fact that he does, because a group of them came to our house before we left. Tzaddikim.”

  Kareef looked up. “What?”

  “They're called Tzaddikim in my country. I looked them up in my father's books. The old traditions say they are special holy men, that they work miracles because God listens to them when they ask for them.”

  “And your father's one of them?”

  “There's no point in hiding it from you, is there? You already knew he was some kind of wizard, even if you didn't know what they call them back home.”

  Kareef seemed to be struggling with a decision. He set down his spoon. “My own father's not in the Order of the Sihr, but I'm sure Qusay is.” At Nathan's questioning look, he added “Sihr is the Arabic word for wizard or sorcerer. It's a secret organization in the Dixie Emirates.”

  “And they're the ones who ordered you to come to Denver with Qusay, aren't they? Just as the Tzaddikim told my father to bring me here with him.”

  “I only met one of them, before Qusay. My teacher at the school I was attending turned out to be in the Order. I never knew before he told me they were sending me.”

  “Never knew?"

  “They're very secretive. Partly because people are afraid of them and what they can do. No one knows who they are.”

  “The Tzaddikim are a
little like that,” said Nathan. “For a long time I had no idea my father was one. But the government must have known, or the Tzaddikim must be part of the government, because how else would he end up being sent as an ambassador?”

  “I never met Qusay before I was sent here with him. But something of the sort that you are describing must be true in the Emirates.” He paused. “No one knows how many of the Sihr there are. Supposedly they work for the Emirs.” He picked up his spoon again. “But sometimes I wonder if it's the other way around. Maybe the Emirs work for them.”

  Nathan sipped his cider. “What makes you say that?”

  “I've read that a hundred years ago the Emirs were always fighting each other, each trying to become the sole ruler, or at least to enlarge his own territory at the expense of others. But then they stopped, and settled down into a peace for some reason, though I've never heard of any formal agreements between them.”

  “So? Maybe they just got tired of fighting.”

  'That's what I thought,” said Kareef. “But the first accounts of the Sihr seem to date to about the same time. The Emirs were fighting, and there were no Sihr. Then the Sihr appear, and the fighting stops.” He swallowed some cider. “I think they, not an agreement, are what stopped the warfare.”

  “Why didn't they just replace the Emirs and stop the fighting that way?”

  “Because people were afraid of them,” said Kareef. “The Quran forbids sorcery, just as your Bible does.”

  “That makes sense. It's the way religions tend to think. Any miracle that doesn't come from God must come from Satan, the Adversary. Or so they think. In my country they must have used the old stories about Tzaddikim to get around that fear. That way, they're miracle-workers, holy men, instead of evil sorcerers.”

  “Clever,” Kareef commented. “But maybe that was because you didn't have a lot of strongmen fighting over land.”