Incarnation

by Kevin Hardman

  I let that roll around in my head for a second. “Seems more probable than him doing the deed himself. Was he unhappy working for Gamma?”

  “Like all laamuffals, he was dedicated to her,” Endow said.

  “Spoken like a typical boss,” I declared, then uttered in a mocking tone, “‘My employees all love me.’”

  “But in this case it was true,” Rune insisted.

  “How do you know?” I asked. “Did he give her a ‘World’s Greatest Boss’ mug or something? Because they only give those out to people who deserve them.”

  Rune crossed his arms in agitation. “Okay, wise guy, here’s the skinny on laamuffals: they have incredibly long lifespans, during which they look how they want to look. They dress how they want to dress. They eat what they want to eat. They get to see the wonders of the universe. And if they don’t like it, they can quit at any time. On our part, if they don’t have the loyalty and commitment an Incarnate requires — and we’ll know, because we can sense it — we’ll simply release them from service with no hard feelings.”

  “Wow,” I muttered, impressed. “For a guy who doesn’t have a laamuffal of his own, you knocked it out of the park on the job description.”

  “Thanks,” Rune said, looking smug.

  “Although you left out the part about working side-by-side with an omnipotent killer,” I added. “Guess any applicants will need to read the small print.”

  Rune shook his head in disgust. “Anyway, what’s your next step?”

  “Trying to find out what I can about Cerek,” I replied. “Despite what you said, maybe he wasn’t getting along with Gamma.”

  “But who would know that besides him and Gamma?” asked Endow.

  “His colleagues,” I answered.

  Endow looked pensive for a moment. “You mean the other laamuffals?”

  “Of course,” I remarked with a nod. “Employees always commiserate and complain about the boss.”

  Chapter 23

  Endow and Rune asked for a little time to arrange for me to see the laamuffals. That was fine with me; I felt the need to unwind anyway. Telling them to come get me when they were ready, I teleported to my bedroom.

  I popped up next to the bed and essentially collapsed onto it. As before, I felt fine physically, but mentally it seemed like the walls were closing in. This situation had a lot of moving parts, and in an effort to get my arms around things, I decided to take a quick tally of what I was working with.

  Seven suspects (if you counted Cerek).

  Six nigh-omnipotent beings.

  Five laamuffals.

  One killer.

  No alibis.

  No body.

  No motive.

  I groaned aloud. This was way more than I signed up for when I agreed to help Rune, more than I felt capable of dealing with. The one silver lining was that it kept me so preoccupied that I didn’t have time to think about my girlfriend, Electra. (Or rather, ex-girlfriend, since she broke up with me.) But now that she had come to mind…

  *****

  I spent a little time simply lying there and daydreaming about fun times I’d had with Electra: hanging out with our friends, going on dates, and so on. We hadn’t been broken up for very long — less than a day, in fact, at the point in time when I’d come to Permovren with Rune — but it felt much longer.

  I was still reflecting on my relationship with Electra (and pondering if she was regretting dumping me) when an unusual sound reached my ears. It was something like twigs being snapped and put me in mind of wood crackling in a campfire.

  At the thought of a blaze, I immediately jumped up from the bed. The sound seemed to be coming from the sitting room of my apartment, so I shifted into super speed and dashed there immediately.

  Much to my relief, nothing was on fire. Or, more specifically, none of the furniture was on fire. As I looked around, however, I did detect the source of the crackling: one of the walls was burning.

  Fire, of course, is almost universally recognized as a hazard. Thus, I was about to shout for help when I noticed two things. First, the fire on the wall wasn’t spreading; it seemed confined to a relatively small area. The second thing that caught my attention was that the conflagration on the wall wasn’t just a single blaze. From what I could see, it consisted of numerous flames that seemed to be arranged in a pattern.

  All of a sudden, the flames began to die down in a unified fashion, and I stared in surprise at what was revealed as they began disappearing.

  Without taking my eyes off the wall, I reached out telepathically for Rune and located him in the main part of our suite.

  I bellowed telepathically.

  Rather than acknowledge the message, he simply appeared in my apartment, materializing next to me.

  “What is it?” he asked anxiously.

  Rather than answer, I pointed at the wall where the fire had been. The flames were gone now, but had left behind scorched and smoldering marks that were easily identifiable.

  They were words, and they formed a chilling message:

  STAY OUT OF MY WAY

  Chapter 24

  Rune was able to repair the wall with a wave of his hand. Afterward, we reconvened in the living room of our suite. (Endow had apparently left shortly after I went to my room.)

  The scorched statement had clearly been a warning, and we didn’t have to guess who it was from. Moreover, in addition to the words actually etched on it, the wall also conveyed another message: the killer wasn’t done.

  “So why now?” I asked. “Why try to warn me off now instead of earlier? He could have done it before that first meeting with the Incarnates, before I went off exploring, before the reconstruction of Gamma’s murder. Why now?”

  Rune pondered for a moment. “Maybe you did something to tick him off.”

  “Or maybe it’s not something I did,” I countered. “Maybe it’s something I’m going to do.”

  Rune raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

  “What was next on my to-do list?” I asked.

  “Talking to the laamuffals.”

  “And is it safe to assume you had to clear that with their bosses?”

  “Yeah,” Rune stated with a nod.

  “So after it becomes known that I want to speak to laamuffals, I get a flaming message on my walls.”

  Rune frowned. “So you’re implying that there’s something about the laamuffals that the killer doesn’t want you to know.”

  “I’m saying that I need to speak to the help as soon as possible.”

  Chapter 25

  Pinion’s laamuffal was the first one who I spoke with. Much to my surprise, he wasn’t human; he was a steam-powered robot who stood about six-foot-six in height and went by the name Gearbox.

  We met in a small conference room that Rune had designated for interview purposes. Gearbox — who preferred to stand while I sat — gave straightforward responses to my questions.

  “Was Pinion involved in Gamma’s murder?” I asked, dismissing with any pleasantries.

  “Not to the extent that I am aware,” Gearbox responded.

  “Would you tell me if he were?”

  “I am programmed to be loyal to Pinion.”

  “So does that mean you wouldn’t?”

  “It means that I would abide by his wishes. If he were involved in the murder and wished it known, I would speak to that effect. If he were involved and wished it kept secret, I would not divulge the information.”

  “What if he were involved but did not make his wishes known in that regard?”

  “I would seek his opinion.”

  I pondered for a moment. “How much free will are you granted?”

  “I am not restricted in what I may do by either word or deed. However, if you are asking if I may commit murder, I am imbued with a strict moral code that includes an abhorrence of violence toward living creatures. However, I may act in any manner necessary to protect innocent life.”

  “So you can
kill if you so desire?”

  “Desire indicates a want or yearning on my part,” Gearbox replied. “I do not have such in regard to violence. But to answer your question — yes, I can kill.”

  “Were you involved in Gamma’s murder?”

  “I was not.”

  “Do you know anyone who was?”

  “I do not have definitive information in that regard.”

  “Do you have suspicions?”

  “Yes — anyone who stood to gain from her death.”

  The rest of my conversation with Gearbox went in much the same manner. The upshot of our conversation was that he had built-in loyalty to Pinion, and he did not know who was involved in Gamma’s death. As to Cerek, Gearbox didn’t know what had become of him, but described him as utterly devoted to Gamma and incapable of anything that would cause her harm.

  I received similar responses when I spoke to Konstantin — Reverb’s laamuffal. A few inches taller than me and built like a weightlifter, he dressed in what I would call a Cossack style, including a kaftan worn over a pair of trousers and a tall, fur papakha on his head. Needless to say, he insisted that Reverb had nothing to do with Gamma’s death.

  “Reverb believes in the sanctity of life,” Konstantin assured me.

  “So you’re saying that he’s not capable of killing anyone,” I surmised.

  “Such an act is beyond him. He would rather die than take an innocent life.”

  “Didn’t feel that way when he spoke while I was in the room,” I countered.

  “Reverb knows precisely how to vocalize in order to take or preserve life,” Konstantin insisted. “If you think he was careless in that regard, then I would say it begs the question of whether you are ‘innocent.’”

  Ignoring his jibe, I asked, “Don’t you find it ironic that a guy who can kill with a word holds life in such high regard?”

  “It is precisely because he can so casually take life that he reveres it so.”

  In short, Reverb’s innocence was beyond doubt as far as Konstantin was concerned. Furthermore, like Gearbox, he had no clue as to who would want to murder Gamma, who was involved, or what had happened to Cerek. Finally, he was just as adamant as his robotic colleague in the belief that Cerek would never cause injury to the Chomarsus he served. That said, I did detect a slight bit of nervousness when we discussed the missing laamuffal.

  I next spoke with Sayo, but had few questions for her since we had previously spoken. However, there was one thing I had been curious about.

  “When we first met,” I said, “you correctly identified my quarters and Rune’s. How did you know the difference?”

  “They’re marked,” she replied. “As an Incarnate, the Inscrutable’s private chambers are distinctly identified. However, I don’t think the designation is conspicuous to those whose vision hasn’t been augmented.”

  “Hmmm,” I droned. “Are you saying that laamuffals can perceive things outside the normal range of vision?”

  “Of course. It’s a gift, but also makes it easier for us to render service.”

  “What other gifts are provided to laamuffals?”

  “It depends on the Incarnate, as well as the respective duties of the servant. Certain tasks may require excessive strength, or a keen ear, or a sharp eye.”

  “Do you know what gifts Cerek would have had?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” she replied, but — as when we had spoken in my quarters — I started picking up on nervousness and anxiety.

  “Do you have any idea what happened to him?”

  “No,” she said tersely.

  Additional questions about Cerek produced responses along the same lines, with Sayo — despite broadcasting uneasiness emotionally — essentially toeing the party line by expressing the belief that Cerek would never have harmed Gamma.

  Next was Albion, who served Static. He was about my height, but slimmer, with dark shoulder-length hair that was tied in a ponytail. I put his age at around forty, but it was difficult to tell because — in addition to a gray five o’clock shadow — he had wrinkles and bags around his eyes that gave me the impression that he hadn’t slept in weeks. As expected, he had nothing but nice things to say about his boss, but I couldn’t help but notice that, in addition to being emotionally jumpy (like Sayo and Konstantin), he seemed to be visibly nervous and unable to hide it.

  “Static is, uh, w-w-wonderful,” he stammered. “Wonderful, truly.”

  “Can you see him committing murder?” I asked.

  Albion shook his head emphatically. “N-n-no. Never. Absolutely not.”

  I frowned. Despite their anxiety, I had detected sincerity in the responses given by Sayo and Konstantin. Albion, however, was so keyed up that it was difficult to discern how truthful he was being.

  The same was true with respect to his comments about Cerek, a topic which made him particularly skittish. Like the others, however, he couldn’t envision Gamma’s laamuffal harming her in any way. Ultimately, feeling that there wasn’t much new to be gained from him, I brought our conversation to an end. That left me with one last servant to speak with: Ursula.

  “Alone at last,” she coyly remarked as she came into the room and took a seat.

  I chuckled. “I thought you’d be more inclined to say that I’d saved the best for last.”

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” she said with a shrug. “So how goes the investigation?”

  “Difficult,” I admitted. “I haven’t been able to eliminate any suspects.”

  “My fellow laamuffals weren’t able to assist with that?”

  “They all insisted that their respective Incarnates couldn’t have done it, and that Cerek wouldn’t do anything to hurt Gamma.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe them?”

  “They seemed sincere,” I stated, “but also apprehensive.”

  “Can you blame them? Even innocent people get nervous when they have to talk to the cops.”

  I frowned. “But I’m not a cop.”

  “Sure you are,” Ursula insisted. “You’re here investigating a murder, identifying suspects, questioning witnesses. That’s Cop Procedure 101. The only thing missing is a trench coat and a partner to trade witty banter with.”

  “That last would be Rune,” I said, smiling. “Although the witty banter is a work in progress.”

  “Plus he’s still a suspect,” she reminded me. “Although, now that I think about it, there’s at least two suspects you should be able to scratch off your list.”

  I leaned forward, intrigued. “Who?”

  “Static, for starters.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Because Gamma was his mother?”

  “You don’t think that carries any weight?”

  I shrugged. “Not every parent-child relationship is great. Until very recently, I thought I hated my father.”

  Ursula looked at me in shock, but it was a true statement. My father, Alpha Prime, had been a no-show for most of my life. Because of that — and other reasons — I’d wanted nothing to do with him, but our relationship had undergone a vast improvement recently.

  “Before you go there,” I continued, “I had no plans to kill him, but you wouldn’t have found me wailing at his funeral if something had happened to him.”

  “And now?”

  I sighed. “I accidentally called him ‘Dad’ a few days ago.” This caused Ursula to immediately start giggling. “Anyway, who’s the other person you think deserves a get-out-of-jail-free card?”

  “Endow, of course,” she declared matter-of-factly.

  I didn’t even bother hiding my skepticism. “Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?”

  “Well, have you asked her?”

  “Not directly.”

  “Well, you should, because she’ll tell you the truth.”

  “Of course she will. Murderers always fess up when asked politely, because they don’t know how to lie.”

  “It’s more like ‘can’t’ rather than ‘doesn’t know how,�
�” Ursula stated.

  I gave her an odd look. “What are you talking about?”

  “Endow,” Ursula answered. “She can’t lie.”

  “What do you mean ‘can’t’?”

  “Just what I said. She can only tell the truth.”

  I made it clear that her comment seemed dubious, stating, “I find that a little hard to believe.”

  “Ask Rune if you don’t believe me,” she said. “He’ll tell you.”

  I didn’t immediately respond. Instead, I ruminated on the fact that, empathically, her comments were trustworthy and ingenuous — which brought to mind something else I’d noticed.

  “So tell me,” I began. “Why aren’t you nervous?”

  She looked at me in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Other than Gearbox, the other laamuffals — especially Albion — seemed edgy when I mention Cerek. But when I brought him up a few moments ago, you weren’t fazed.”

  She nodded in understanding, but seemed to contemplate for a second before responding. “Typically, we laamuffals bask in the protection of our respective Incarnates. Physical harm is not something we usually have to worry about. But with Gamma murdered and Cerek missing…”

  She left the rest unfinished, but I knew what she’d been implying.

  “They’re worried about getting killed,” I concluded. “But not you.”

  “I suppose I trust Endow to be able to handle those things,” she remarked with a shrug. “And either she can or she can’t. As to Albion, if he’s more jittery than the rest of us, that’s probably a function of serving Static.”

  My interest piqued, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Presumably he’s a harsh taskmaster. I just know that his churn rate for laamuffals is on the high side. He gets a new one every few years, so it’s not unusual for them to be twitchy. Needless to say, Cerek’s disappearance isn’t helping to settle anyone’s nerves.”

  I drummed my fingers for a moment. “Do you think it’s possible Cerek could have done it?”

  She frowned. “Killed Gamma? No way — he was completely dedicated to serving her.”

  “I’m not asking if he would have done it,” I clarified. “I’m asking if he could have.”