by Vic Davis
“It has to be the source-charges,” signaled Pilgrim. “What else of value could they be seeking?”
“Your guess is as good as mine at this point,” replied Breaker. “There seem to be some records kept here. We’ve skimmed them but they appear to just be ledgers for whatever it was that they were building here: these odd shells, that you tell me are for exploring the Great Desolation. Perhaps they had just returned here because that is what they had been conditioned to do?”
Stinky thought the proposition over. “It’s possible. You have hunted down infiltration teams before: have you not? Does this fit their modus operandi?”
“Mostly in the field as they tried to breach our perimeter in The Reach. This is a subversion operation and we’ve had a shockingly bad record against Council Mesmers running this kind of op,” admitted Breaker.
“I sadly can’t suggest anything that might help you commander,” offered Stinky thoughtfully.
Zuur broke the silence that followed with a grumbled suggestion. “We would be more than willing to concoct some intoxicants for experimental use. Such a thing might make them communicative.”
Breaker seemed intrigued but then deflated. “I should have thought of that. But we don’t have time to gather the necessary ingredients unfortunately. We must be at the assembly soon and our meeting with General Vinks is almost upon us. It is an interesting idea though.”
Stinky agreed. “Vinks has a solution apparently for what to do about Privil’s Landing after we leave. I don’t think these remnants of the Adjudicator’s Guild can inflict much harm upon us. We will be in Timathur in short order and can resupply there.”
Pilgrim watched as Breaker seemed to struggle with something internally. But the True Path commander simply shrugged its form walls and then motioned to the guards with a tendril. “We’re leaving now. Master Sergeant Bleaks will stay behind with Freaks to tie up the loose ends here. You two can report back to Adjutant Tencius once everything is cleaned up here. Understood?”
They set off to keep their appointment with General Vinks at the Syndic’s Palace. Like the rest of the city, the district that housed the grand estates of the city’s key holders was abandoned and eerily quiet. The dome of the Syndic’s Palace soon loomed ahead at the end of one of the district’s typically magnificent boulevards. There was a group of soldiers up ahead.
Captain Laz, now commanding what remained of Havoc’s Heavies, greeted them at the main gate. The grounds were still immaculate and well kept. A magnificently paved half loop indicated where key holders’ fancy carriages deposited their owners for their promenades to the Great Circle Chamber.
“Last time I was here,” announced Breaker. “One of the council’s Mesmers posed as an ambassador and sent the key holders into fits of greed and avarice. I’m arriving in a little less style for the ‘conclave’ this time, but with better company.”
The soldiers came to attention. Laz, flanked by two impressive Heavies, snapped a sharp salute. “Welcome to our little prison! General Vinks is anxious to get the meeting underway. If you will please follow me”
“Thank you, captain,” replied Stinky. “Please show us the way.”
Laz led them through the front entrance gate, down a well-traveled path and through two large doors into a spectacular entry hall that Breaker had visited already on several occasions. The overall effect was an intentionally ostentatious display of accumulated wealth: intricately carved support pillars, polished floor mosaics made of expensive flow, statues of ovoids, former Syndics no doubt, in mock heroic poses.
Pilgrim stopped briefly to gawk. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this, even in the Citadel of Indomitable. It’s— I don’t know what it is.”
“Try gaudy,” suggested Stinky with a chuckle.
Zuur grumbled. “Voor’s influence is here. Yet another symptom of indulgent guidance and misplaced priorities.”
“You can’t blame Voor for this,” replied Stinky. “You were both absentee meddlers.”
“Well, whatever the cause,” interrupted Breaker, “This luxury didn’t save them from the council. And you’ve never seen these key holders in action. This little wonderland they have built here makes perfect sense when you see them socialize in their little clicks and hierarchies. It’s entertaining and appalling at the same time.”
Pilgrim suspected Stinky had some inkling of what Breaker was alluding to since it had lived through the formation and founding of the Free Cities. Zuur had as well of course but would have had no interest in anything besides its little tavern experiments.
They moved on into the interior of the palace. After a short while they reached a large open roofed passageway lined with second story balconies. General Vinks was there to welcome them. “Good to have you all here. Once we finish this up, we shall finally be in a position to get this campaign underway.”
“How many of them did you finally round up?” asked Stinky as the entourage made its way toward the large double doors of the domed meeting chamber: an impressive structure, until recently the seat of power of the Syndic of Privil’s Landing.
General Vinks showed a smile on its from walls. “Almost half of the top twenty, which apparently are the only ones that matter. But more importantly Captain Laz managed to detain almost the entire staff here: guides, magistrates, guards. They have their own little sub-culture working behind the scenes. I suspect they do more than just their job descriptions. We sadly don’t have time to investigate what was really going on.”
“Simply incredible,” signaled Breaker. “We had no idea that anyone other than the key holders were running things. When we were working for Voor to root out the Council infiltration ring, the focus was entirely on the Syndic and its succession chain. I wish we had time to fully interrogate these underlings. It seems likely that they were collaborating with the council or at least helping their agents in the Adjudicator’s Guild. Perhaps we should just dispose of them?”
Pilgrim knew it should feel some sense of shame for having no objections to the suggestion. But there was none. On the contrary, it felt only a numbness: an ever-increasing dulling of its moral compass. “These creatures deserve nothing less if they have been collaborating with the council.”
“No doubt. But I’ve thought of something even better. Something more useful, I think. Appropriate too.”
“You’ve sold them into their own slave markets?” quipped Breaker. “That would be truly fitting.”
“We should toss these so-called key holders into the slave pens too,” added Pilgrim.
Vinks chuckled. “That’s not a bad idea but I went for something a little more practical. I conscripted them into our little army. Where we are headed, we will need a forlorn hope, a penal battalion to do the dirty work when the occasion warrants.”
“That might be more work than it’s worth general,” replied Breaker. “You’ll need to keep a close guard on them, or they will desert the first chance they get.”
Vinks looked untroubled. “I’ve got Tencius on it and its commandos are instilling some discipline at this very moment; they’ll be ready to march. As for the key holders, well, that’s something I hope to settle right now. They await us inside.” Vinks motioned a tendril at the large double doors that now confronted them. “Shall we?”
One of Vinks’s adjutants pushed the doors open. Vinks hovered briskly across its threshold and into the Great Circle Chamber: once the setting for any formal key holder conclaves convened inside the Syndic’s Palace.
Breaker had to stifle a laugh at the sight of the bedraggled key holders even now still mulling about in their ridiculous positions within the bands inscribed on the surface of the chamber’s floor. At the center of the circle rested the former Syndic, Humous the Sincere looking rather the worse for the wear and the ordeal of having its city invaded, then saved at the last moment by barbaric nomads. It had been caught by chance trying to escape with a caravan of ostentatious carriages loaded to the brim with valuables and wealth.
The Syndic lounged contemptuously on an ornate resting place of exquisite craftsmanship meant to flaunt status and power. Breaker grimaced at the sight. Strict orders had been given to deprive these key holders of any comforts or signs of respect for their former ranks. As far as Breaker was concerned these miscreants were criminals.
The entire remaining assembly of key holders popped up in unison from resting states energized by the sight of somebody with whom they thought they could deal more profitably. Captain Laz and its Havoc Heavies had treated them with a demeanor of indifference that the key holders had found infuriatingly insulting and disrespectful. Their aggravation only increased when they discovered that no offers of wealth, property, slaves, influence, or favors could effectuate a release from their outrageous confinement.
“Commander Breaker! At last someone reasonable,” signaled Vesital, who hovered anxiously at the invisible barrier that separated its ring of precedence from the next lower. It was clear the ovoid wanted to move to greet the newly arrived group but dared not yield its superior social position to do so. “Please inform your henchmen that they need not treat us as prisoners. Especially if you wish to receive your salaries that we so graciously and generously negotiated. We have contracts on record in the Grand Exchange, but you cannot treat us this way and expect to get paid. The same goes for your General Vinks there. The Syndic will not tolerate this abhorrent comportment.”
Vinks was not amused. “You can tell your Syndic that it’s lucky that we and not the council captured you; you welcomed your invaders with open arms not so long ago. Or have you forgotten that?”
“Not to mention the fact that you canceled our contracts,” added Breaker contemptuously. “You discharged us after the ambassador from the council made its little sales pitch in this very room. Or have you forgotten that as well, Vesital? What a disappoint you are. I guess there is no honor among key holders.”
Vesital seemed to find the True Path commander’s accusations absurd to the point of utter incomprehension. “Oh, come now Commander Breaker: you can’t really mean that? We are key holders, and you are mere mercenaries. It’s not our place to keep you employed when there is no real necessity to do so. That wouldn’t be financially productive or advantageous. Surely you can see that?” There was a grumble of consensus in the ether from all the gathered key holders except for a solitary dejected figure who lay collapsed on its side in the circle adjacent to but outward from Vesital.
Pilgrim hazily recognized Vesital from their encounter at the slip point into Timathur’s Node what seemed like an eternity ago. The dejected ovoid collapsed onto the floor looked somehow familiar too, but Pilgrim could not place exactly where or when they had met before.
The disconsolate ovoid on the floor started to moan loudly into the ether. Breaker pointed to it. “What’s the matter with this one?”
Vesital seemed to brighten up at the opportunity to explain. “Fullfeffer has had a bad time of it. It’s ill-conceived plans to achieve a comeback led sadly to a scandalous mugging by the miscreants that it hired to further its aims.” Vesital could not restrain a snicker but then composed itself to continue. “They locked it up in a room in its manse and abandoned it when the city was invaded. Somehow it managed to free itself but then ended up intoxicating itself into oblivion in the abandoned establishments of the Tavern District. We all marvel that poor Fullfeffer still coheres.”
Breaker looked at the pitiful creature spread out on the floor and a flush of anger spread across its form walls. “This is the one who hired Xodd? Yes, I remember it now.”
Fullfeffer perked up slightly at the mention of its former mercenary captain to issue a moaning threat. “Xodd! Is that you? You will pay for this. I am a key holder. This is an outrage.”
“Fullfeffer, compose yourself. Commander Breaker is addressing you. Perhaps if you cooperate, we can clear some of this nonsense up and get back to ruling this city and composing the most exquisite Snufs. Remember when I bested you and took your key. The Snuf Snipper available for the judging was not at all impressed with your creations. Quite unexpected that must have been. How hilarious. Ha! Ha! Ah, good times.”
“Vesital? Is that you. You scurrilous scoundrel. You should not think that this is over. I have Snufs the likes of which will beat anything that your pathetic sensibilities can muster. I will have my fifth key back. I—”
“You won’t be anything but sick for several cycles Fullfeffer old friend. Just leave this to us. We are already negotiating a new agreement with our former lackies and everything will be back to normal snip snap. I might even make third since nobody has seen Unct the Greedy since all this unpleasantness started. And these interlopers— er, no offense Commander Breaker, don’t understand our way of doing things. We’ll be back in business in no time. We might even get another offer from the council once they settle their business with General Vinks and start to be reasonable.”
“Get this thing out of my sight,” ordered Breaker.
Vesital enthusiastically concurred. “Yes, Fullfeffer isn’t really at its finest right now. Best to let it do its penance somewhere in private. Good thinking Commander Breaker.”
Breaker shuddered with a barely constrained surge of anger. “I was talking about you Vesital. You are going to the penal battalion along with your friend Fullfeffer here. The two of you can work out who has seniority.”
Vesital looked stunned. “Surely you can’t be serious. There is no doubt that I outrank Fullfeffer. I’m a fifth key holder. Is that not obvious from my demeanor?”
“Captain Laz, get these two out of here!”
Laz gave the orders. Pilgrim watched as two Havoc Heavies escorted Vesital and Fullfeffer from the room via a side door once used by the functionaries of the Syndic. Fullfeffer was more dragged than escorted but the effect was the same. An awkward silence descended over the room.
Vinks gestured with a flick of a tendril. “I think it’s time we tell these idiots about the new rules.”
Breaker nodded and hovered forward crossing into the outermost ring demarcating the social station of the lessor ranked key holders. There was a communal gasp of displeasure that Breaker found thoroughly enjoyable. “We’ve had enough of your silly games and contrivances. We are marching to war taking the fight to the council and you can either help us or— well let’s just say that we won’t let you remain in our back field to harry or disrupt our plans.”
The Syndic, Humous the Sincere, had been quiet up until this point. In fact, Breaker could not recall ever actually detecting the slightest signal from it whatsoever during any of the dealings when it was present. It now occurred to Breaker that something seemed very off with the current Syndic.
Not long ago the Hegemon had sent Breaker and Valor to Privil’s Landing to thwart an effort by the council to subvert the keychain and install a puppet. Their contact Voor, a strange creature who seemed to be both an agent for and friend of the Hegemon, had been insistent that removing the first and second key holders would foil the infiltration. This small unassuming ovoid, Humous the Sincere would be much more pliable to the Hegemon’s interests, or so Voor had argued.
Breaker halted near the Syndic and marveled at how wrong Voor’s estimation had been. The Syndic’s form walls were tired and dejected. Its low energy state cast an abject pall over its surroundings. Breaker took another scornful look at the ornate furnishing upon which the Syndic was perched. “Who brought this ridiculous resting spot in for the former Syndic?”
Vinks now took notice of the symbol of authority upon which the Syndic meekly lounged; its form walls flushed with annoyance. “You heard the commander. Who did this?”
Captain Laz hovered forward from its position with some of the guards on the periphery of the room. “Sir, I’m not, well I think, that is— I think you did sir. Didn’t you?”
“That’s ridiculous captain. I ordered these idiots stripped of their play keys and ranks and secluded here until we figured out what to do with them.”
> Laz seemed embarrassed and perplexed. “I’ll have it removed immediately sir.”
“Good, see to it captain,” affirmed Vinks.
Laz hovered over toward the resting Syndic and with a motion of a guide tendril beckoned two of the nearby Heavies to come over to assist. As the interlopers penetrated into the symbolic rings, that engraved their social hierarchy into the floor, the former key holders shuddered as if a sacred temple was being defiled.
Breaker hovered back over to where Vinks and the others were assembled to confer. There was a strange gurgling in the ether; suddenly, the unimpressive ovoid form of the former Syndic Humous the Sincere went absolutely rigid, as if frozen in place; all attention snapped toward the center of the rings. Laz and its guards halted.
A signal in Trade code emanated from Humous the Sincere. “Know that you have all failed. Now I impose the judgement of the council.” A short cackle of laughter followed. The Syndic formed a wispy guide tendril, reached down below to the side of the extravagant resting spot, gave a yank. Pilgrim detected a panicked shout into the ether from Stinky: a strangled warning of piercing intensity. Before Pilgrim could even exert its will to speed up its processing to find out what was going on, the cluster of source-charge canisters hidden within the Syndic’s resting spot exploded.
Chapter 5
The Codex
The miracle of pulling raw source from the ether had catalyzed a fanaticism in the camp of followers that fascinated Xodd. In the past it had commanded armies of inerts: blindly obedient soldiers conditioned so well, that they would throw themselves on their own lances, if ordered to do so. The memories of the purge ritual orchestrated in Timathur evoked feelings of unease in Xodd but no shame or regret. The rage at the abuse it had suffered from the Endarchs of the council dominated any nascent stirrings of empathy for others. Such anger fueled one paramount desire: revenge.
With fully laden wagons of raw source, stored in a spectacular array of improvised containers, they set off deeper into the Empty Nodes. Voor guided them onward. Xodd thought the Djenirian’s behavior even more odd and erratic than normal, mirroring the bizarre landscape now engulfing them: a nervous tittering energy of growing anticipation. The formations of unusual flow pillars became even more dramatic the further they traveled; Voor’s eccentricity seemed to intensify conforming to the changes in the scenery.
