The Kingdom of Ecstasy

by S. R. Laubrea

  The commingling of the three intellectual types went on uninterrupted for four years. Because it was pleasing to the Alyi, when she peered into her world from her dwelling place, to see the fruits of their hard labor. Peace, though, wasn't without sacrifice.

  Lucein, now a ten year old xei, was well aware that his father was chafing. From the moment Rollond was dragged into their lives it was established that his stout face, the one that he presented to the world around him, was of dire importance to the white-haired man. For nine years Lucein accepted Rollond's facade simply as part of who the man was.

  Yet the face was cracking and peeling. He did well to pretend he didn't notice. He rolled his chair back and stretched. "Father," he called to Rollond, who was in the foyer with Zazie.

  "Yes, Lucein?"

  "May I attend the conference with you?" He paused, and eventually grimaced. His own voice was foreign to him. He once had a high-pitched, sweet tone, like when songbirds twirp in unison. Yet with each passing month it was slowly getting lower and lower.

  "You may." His father's words were low in tone, quiet, hesitant. As if there was something to be concerned about regarding the Rynaelt's gathering.

  These matters were confidential. Nearly all the Rynaelts knew about him, though, that since he was little, his father had groomed him in varying forms of political methodology.

  He knew the way of the Neisam, the Empirical Executioner who reigned supreme over a pulpit of Kings; he was familiar with the role of the Arch Ganton, the Undisputed Potentate; also the Rynaelt, which felt more like a barterer of congressional interests than a member of a functional political system.

  "Is something wrong?" Lucein asked.

  Rollond laced his fingers and gave him a sideways glance. "Would you like to go alone?"

  Lucein puckered his lips. Would his father really trust him, a ten year old, with that kind of responsibility? He certainly didn't look nor act like a ten year old.

  He stepped over to Rollond. His head centered at the white-haired man's chest, and Rollond was well over six feet tall. "I would like to. I doubt the other Rynaelts will like it, though, since it is your designation and they will be expecting you instead of me. That's one of the rules."

  "What did I tell you about rules?" Rollond hooked an arm around Lucein's shoulders and ambled him towards the closet.

  "'An Alekzandyr makes the rules as he goes along.' But father —"

  "Sooner or later you'll realize that's exactly what we Alekzandyrs do. And it's what you're going to do, too. May as well get used to it."

  He reached for his blazer, slipped an arm in one sleeve. "And what about you?"

  "I'll monitor things from here. You'll be fine." Rollond swatted the small of Lucein's back.

  He gave his father an insecure look. "If you say so." He made sure to stand tall and maintain a square-shouldered, chin-up posture, then set foot out of the lobby of his father's office down towards the conference chamber.

  What it was about Lucein, as he entered among the Rynaelts, that set him apart from all the rest of them wasn't clear to any adult in the room. It wasn't the fact that he was borne of a prince and a kyusoa. Nor was it the fact that he was a xei, or that he had developed differently than his human coevals.

  No, Lucein commanded a regal air that was as natural to him as the honey color of his thready hair. He took his father's place, the 28th position out of 61, a seat hard earned over the past four years. The Rynaelts in his row exchanged glances.

  One of them leaned towards him. "Is Rollond well?"

  "He is." He didn't care to have an exchange with them. Soon enough, three of the first-ranking Rynaelts took position at the central judicatures podium.

  One of them was Cittevnei.

  Now the topics raised were of little concern to Lucein. He cast his vote carefully, whether left or right, the same way his father would. Until, Cittevnei's voice penetrated his absent mind:

  "As the Rynaelt of first-rank, I demand that the Junction be forcefully evacuated in light of Human-centered law. The blending of those beasts on the other side of the Junction and the citizens of Prisbeald is encouraging foul acts of interspecies intimacy. Hence proper segregation needs to be restored. As the Rynaelts, it is our sworn duty to do what is in the best interest of the Human race."

  Then the second judicature, the fourth-ranking Rynaelt added: "I understand that Rollond was amicable in his spirit towards the animal-kin, and his intention was to reveal them in a good light. But our First-rank is right. This must be ended."

  Lucein's gaze hardened at the two of them. "Curse me for my impudence," he said, rising from his father's seat. "The people of the Junction are my inheritance, and I am tired of you stupid, egocentric mylheikenzites gloating over the human species like a circle of masturbating boys."

  A cold, rigid silence ripped through the conference chamber. The Rynaelts were stunned.

  The quiet continued, until Cittevnei shattered it with laughter. "You idiotic child! By no means will you challenge the authority of we Rynaelts. You are a mere worm. Do you want to be crushed?"

  Lucein paused. His uncle, Ashenzsi, commanded hundreds of thousands of kyusoakin. Not only that but the Xei were with him, all of whom were in agreement that should opposition strike the Junction, they will defend its people. He was certain that the humans that resided there would be willing to do the same.

  He made up his mind. With a nod, he looked Cittevnei in the eye. "Mark my words on your transcripts: if you continue to threaten the security of my people, I will personally see to your ruination. I will hurl each one of you into the dirt, and shatter you like clay pots."

  Satisfaction filled him as he, without stopping to see their reactions, departed the conference chamber.

  When he arrived in his father's office, Rollond looked at him flatly, standing in his office, risen from his chair with his palms flat to his desk.

  Lucein had expected something like beaming pride to emanate from his father. Instead he was met with pale-faced disbelief. At once he lifted his chin, hung his blazer and faced his white-haired man.

  "Those were some bold statements," Rollond said, his voice low.

  "An Alekzandyr makes up the rules as he goes his way."

  Rollond shook his head. "He doesn't go looking for trouble."

  "Father, I've seen what this 'job' does to you. It's time we saw change, and for the better at that."

  "The Junction is the reason I've kept working as Rynaelt. How dare you tear down what I've CAREFULLY —" he thrust his fist into his desk. The screen shattered and the metal bent like putty.

  Zazie jumped.

  Rollond rubbed his temples, turning his back to Lucein. "This begs dissent." Finally he faced his son. "We can't remain near Prisbeald and oppose the ones presiding over it."

  "Then let's go!" A broad smile lit up Lucein's face. "You used to tell me stories about your endeavors with Dyiij, and the commission that you haven't yet fulfilled. Father, this is the perfect opportunity to do just that. Let's pack up everyone willing, and take our leave. We can do better on our own than all the kyusoakin and human establishments combined."

  He watched thoughts flash in Rollond's abysmally deep, cobalt eyes.

  He wondered what was flowing through his father's mind. True, his father was born a prince, and Rollond knew very well what he was doing in diplomatic situations. But he was only a prince. Lucein knew he was going to be emperor.

  He and Rollond both knew it.

  "What further persuasion do you need?"

  "You're ten," Rollond said. "Who in their right mind is going to support a ten year old?"

  Lucein ran his hands through his hair. "Damn the number! If it matters that much that I be over the age of a hundred for someone to take me seriously, then you present your face to the public, something you're good at doing. But I need you to listen to me."

  Hesitation still marked his father. Then: "So what will you have me do?"

  The pointed tips of Lucein's ear
s rose. He grinned with anticipation. "The first thing we need to do is collaborate with the Xei and prepare the people of the Junction."

  Just as Rollond was about to affirm Lucein's directive, several officers barged into his office.

  "Snatch that little prick!" Cittevnei snarled.

  The officers surrounded Lucein.

  Rollond leapt over his desk, his fists in air, ready to smash someone's face in.

  Lucein raised his hand and shook his head. It wasn't necessary. His father stood there, a marked expression of defeat on his features, watching as Lucein submitted to the officials.

  "See how you like a life sentence in prison, dick!" Cittevnei said, "and you!" She turned and glared at Rollond. "You should be beaten for feeding that boy such grandiose delusions!" Finally she stormed out.

  For the whole ride down to the prison, Lucein snickered. He likened it to what he called the Booty House, where pirates go for stashing too much treasure: media and intellectual property shared freely over open networks. No one thought it illegal save for big businesses and lobbyists. But the laws weren't established by the free public.

  Otherwise, he wouldn't be shackled in the back of a law enforcement vehicle.

  The prison wasn't quite like the Booty House. They stuffed him in a uniform and marched him through the drab, gunmetal gray halls to a cell with a solid door of a metal even darker than that of the cell block. The door was silent as it slid shut.

  The only amenities he had was a privy, made as an aside to the cell, a bed, a small and shallow closet for uniforms, and a light complete with a switch. There was a slatted vent allowing outside air, but not much of a view.

  He stretched over the bed and kicked off his shoes.

  He had only settled, his eyelids growing heavy, when a lady-guard's voice sounded over the intercom of his cell. "Alekzandyr," she said.

  He sat up. "Yes?"

  "Do you have any visitors you'd like to list?"

  "Absolutely." He grinned.

  "Who?"

  "All of my family. Rollond, my father; Gnyovante, my brother; Tensten, my youngest brother; Sanci, my mother; Ashenzsi, my uncle. I'd also like to list Chade and Vaeschus, my cousins; also my grandfather, Yonathael. And if my father sees fit to bring him, Marqisian DuShaffte."

  "Anyone else?"

  He tapped his chin. "I think that will be all. Can I update the list should I want to add more?"

  "Yes, you may."

  "Thank you."

  "Not at all. I'll send copies of your list to whom it applies."

  "Just send it to Sunburn and Dubba's in the Junction. They'll know what to do with it." The conversation ended there. She turned the mutual video feed off and departed from his door. He flopped back on the bed and slung his arm over his eyes. Promptly, he went to sleep.

  When Lucein didn't come home with his father that evening, Gnyovante forced his fist through the wall. "Arrested!? What do you mean he was arrested!?" He clenched his teeth, his four fangs prominent in his anger.

  "Exactly what it sounds like," Rollond said. "Cittevnei barged in and took him."

  "And you didn't stop her!?"

  "I couldn't. Rather, he didn't want me to."

  The chocolate-haired ten year old heaved with each breath. He ran his hands through his hair, then clutched the crown of his head. His knees buckled, he knelt on the floor and bent forward.

  He knew Lucein wasn't stupid. He may have disagreed with Lucein's pacifistic nature, always seeing the need to protect his brother. Still, Lucein was savvy at finding advantages in the bleakest of situations.

  The littlest of them all, Tensten, patted his thigh. He cocked his head and looked at the copper-downed kyusoa. The expression on Tensten's face was one of earnest concern. It wasn't like Gnyovante to react the way he did.

  Frankly, from the glossy look in Tensten's eyes, the fact that Gnyovante seemed on the brink of frustrated tears was more alarming than the knowledge that Lucein was in prison.

  Then again, Gnyovante knew that Tensten had no concept of the situation Lucein was in. The little guy saw him freak out and was about to freak out with him. It made him think that if the situation were reversed, Lucein would hold himself together. It wasn't the end of the world. Not yet.

  "Excuse me," he said, the stoic calm back in his voice. After a short time of being prostrated on the floor, he sat up, having regained his composure. "There's a procedure to these kinds of things, right?"

  Rollond nodded, scooping Tensten up from Gnyovante's side. "We're going to hear something from him soon. The first thing they do is present him with a visitor's list and —"

  Someone knocked at the front entrance. "My fellow Alekzandyrs, are the lot of you home?" Chade asked.

  Gnyovante came to the front with Rollond not far behind.

  Chade greeted them with a smile. "I take it you've heard the news by now, about Lucein."

  "Is that what you've come to tell us? That my brother's a 'registered terrorist'?" Gnyovante asked.

  "Not at all. But there was this at Dubba's, I thought maybe it would mean something to you." He handed Gnyovante a tablet. On it was the binding, legal document by which they were given visitation rights.

  Gnyovante's heart stopped. "What's the soonest we can see him?"

  "Tomorrow. We have to call and alert the visitation staff that we want to see him. They don't accept walk-ins."

  "Good, good." He glanced at Rollond.

  "Already on it," he said. "By the way, Chade, he mentioned something about collaborating with you to prepare the Junction."

  "Oh, yes." Chade laced his fingers together. "Uncle Yonai told you it was an ongoing project, didn't he? We've nearly perfected the idea, and the concept has come along quite well. All we need now is a proper field test. If you would come with me, I'd be happy to show you."

  Without so much as an approving glance from his father, Gnyovante followed Chade.

  There was yet another place that harbored a gateway chielde. It was a food and cattle market managed by a number of kyusoas and a few xei.

  Gnyovante was used to Vaeschus. Still, he stood back and watched his father massage his temples.

  Now the lines defining who was of what sex were clearly delimited until they set their eyes on Vaeschus, Chade's O'ren sibling. What exactly an O'ren was at first sight was a concept that humans welcomed. Vaeschus was of the Xei's middle-sex, neither male or female, but possessing traits like both.

  The proper way to address an O'ren was by rel, the same as men are he and women she. Most humans, though, were awkward using anything that sounded different than the two pronouns they were accustomed to.

  "Forgive me, but I don't think I can ever get used to what you are," Rollond said, extending a hand to greet Vaeschus.

  "That's fine. I'm not at all offended," rel said, taking Rollond's hand.

  Gnyovante cleared his throat. His father was staring and hadn't released his cousin's hand yet. "I thought we were here to see progress."

  "Of course you are." Vaeschus released Rollond and opened the gateway chielde for them to pass through. "It still is a work in progress," rel said, stepping in after the three of them, Chade, Gnyovante, and Rollond. "But we do have most of the hiccups threshed out. The end result is this." Rel introduced them to a pair of inconspicuous, black leather gloves.

  They had a striking resemblance to Rollond's, the black gloves he had worn since his teenage years that accompanied his bracers, the ones that stopped his bones from turning into pudding when he punched things. Except these were somehow different.

  Vaeschus handed a pair to Gnyovante. "I'm sure you will be interested in a shock-absorbent set-up like your father's," rel said. "But for the time being, try these in lieu of you brother."

  He slipped the gloves on, clenched his fists. The slight whirring when he curled his fingers escaped his notice at first. Then he registered the faint jolt of power at his fingertips.

  "We don't have a name for them yet," Vaeschus said. "We anticipated me
ntal recognition capabilities, which it has the ability to do, but not very well. Interim, it responds to gestures. For example." Rel made a fist and stuck out rel's first and second fingers.

  When Gnyovante mirrored Vaeschus's gesture, a soft, opaque cyan light made an arc like a bow in his hand.

  "Take your fingers and strum across the light. What happens — "

  Before Vaeschus could finish, Gnyovante did just that. For each finger that crossed the cyan threshold a brash bolt of wispy energy shot forth like the quarrel of a crossbow.

  Vaeschus slipped on the second pair, motioned for Gnyovante to halt. Rel marched a ways into the chielde, and then waved for him to fire.

  Without so much as a hint of hesitation, the chocolate-haired boy sent a volley in the other xei's direction. And to their surprise, with the flick of rel's wrist, Vaeschus deflected bolt after bolt. Rel snatched the fourth-to-last one and clutched it.

  The quarrel became like a lance.

  On impulse, Gnyovante charged, closing the gap between him and Vaeschus. Why he dashed from his end of the chielde to his cousin was beyond his thoughts. Just that his heart raced at the sight of the cyan spear in Vaeschus's hand and —

  Vaeschus stepped aside and struck Gnyovante.

  He went tumbling head-first across the floor. When he finally got up, it was as if nothing had happened. The pain coursed through him, more stimulating than deterring. Still, he stayed put. His cousin's message was clear: now is not the time to engage in petty, playful sparring.

  Together they trekked back to the gateway. Vaeschus produced a four-fingered pair from the folds of rel's vest. Gold embroidery on the back of the palms distinguished them from the test gloves. "These are the only perfected pair we have to date. They belong to Lucein." Rel handed them to Gnyovante.

  "Thank you." The boy bowed. Then he and his father departed.

  The first day lagged by like a bucket of slugs eager to escape a salty death. The next several days following the first went by even slower. Lucein had expected to see his family the following morning after his imprisonment. Some days later, he learned to stop anticipating something that may be significantly delayed.

  They had told him the exact date and time that his family would be by well in advance. Still, the wait was torture. He found himself counting down hours for entire days, until the final moments when the guard came to his door and the intercom crackled to life.

  Immediately, before they could instruct him, he pressed himself against the back wall, his hands near his shoulders. The guard entered, took his wrists and bound them behind his back, patted him down, then turned him around and marched him from his cell towards the visitor's commons.

  The commons was like a small metropolitan mall. There were places to eat, and scenic indoor gardens with skylights, comfortable benches and other places to sit. Of course there was a guard posted every few feet, but the security provision was necessary.

  When they brought Lucein in, Gnyovante was the first one to embrace him. The faint tremor of his twin's body was strange. It wasn't like Gnyovante to allow even the most minute of emotions to show, but he sniffed, and when he stepped back, Lucein could tell he was dearly missed.

  "Damn that woman," Gnyovante growled. "Should I ever get hold of her —"

  "Please don't." Lucein smiled. "I think we've all been through enough already. Assaulting a Rynaelt isn't going to win us any favor."

  "Since when does favor matter?"

  "Since… I'm going to rule a lot of people."

  "Lucein." Gnyovante shot him a look that was both concerned and skeptical. "Stop it with these grand delusions."

  "But they're not delusions," Lucein said.

  "Says who?"

  "I know it in my stomach. It's what I was born to do."

  "And how do you know that?"

  "'Vante, please. Will you trust me implicitly?" His brother's questioning stressed him. He glanced over Gnyovante's shoulder, that bright grin on his features as he peered at his father and his other brother, Tensten. "Mother couldn't make it?" He asked, kneeling while Tensten was in mid-careen for him.

  He was still small for a four year old nijuan, though he had grown from being barely a handful to standing about half-way up Rollond's shin, somewhere between a foot-and-a-half and two feet.

  Lucein plucked him up and hugged Tensten tightly. The little kyusoa patted and licked his cheek, the dopiest smile beaming on his face.

  "No," Rollond said. "The limit is one 'paercoulett' per visit, and Tens counts as that one."

  Lucein grunted.

  Tensten flattened his ears. "Su'u, nai batzuh," he said.

  "I'm not having any of that 'I'm sorry' business." He put his brother down. The little guy ran circles around him.

  Lucein invited them over to the food court, to a semi-private elongated table under a canopy.

  "I'll have Marqisian get you out of here," Rollond said. "It makes no sense to keep a ten year old on a life sentence over some words to a whore."

  "That whore being someone you're answerable to, father." Lucein scraped the kernels off of his grilled faafah.

  Rollond grunted.

  "Please, don't acquire Marqisian's assistance." Lucein glanced across the table, amused by the puzzled looks of his father and his twin.

  "Nai toumanje, aevu!" Tensten said: 'I don't know what's going on, but!' He made a sourly displeased and confused look at Lucein.

  The honey-haired boy snorted. Oh, the wee-thing. "I'll be safer here." He stared Gnyovante down. 'We can speak freely under the guise of music,' he said in the melodic tones of Savuung, the Xei's voice.

  Gnyovante nodded. "Can't incriminate someone whose already been charged with the crime and who has been incarcerated for it."

  "Exactly."

  "But you'll be in here for a long time," Rollond said. "Sanci won't handle it very well, being without her son."

  "Didn't you want another child?" Lucein asked. "Some years ago, I remember you mentioning something about another baby."

  Rollond's brows gradually ascended his forehead. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying you should go get some more cooties. I'll be fine here, out of earshot." Lucein's grin broadened.

  Rollond went completely silent, and to an extent, Lucein could fathom why: he was maturing faster than Rollond would have liked. One minute he was the six year old boy who called him Papa, and the next he was a ten year old who called him Father with a degree of formal disjunction that would be alarming to any parent.

  What next? And how was being institutionalized going to affect him?

  All four of them were quiet.

  "Don't visit me anymore, 'Vante. The last thing I want is for them to get suspicious ideas. I'll send you a song when I can."

  "I hope you're musically competent."

  "Hah, right." The twins regarded one another. When Gnyovante allowed a smile, his face was near foreign to Lucein. There was always this flat-lipped, neutral expression on Gnyovante's visage because he was such a defensive creature, coming off as stoic and isolated.

  Then he slid from the seat of the high chair and rounded the table. Lucein stepped down from his seat, and hugged his brother. The moment seemed to stretch on longer than it was. Yet when the two finally stepped back, Gnyovante wiped his eyes.

  He couldn't stop sobbing.

  Lucein gestured to one of the securities on duty. "I think I'm done here." He hugged his father, and touched his forehead to Tensten's, one last parting gesture. Then when the guard came near, he turned and went with him.

  He didn't look back.

  Chovas, the 15th day in the month of Skolarr;

  Summer of the 708th year in the Second Epoch of Dyjian

  During the month of his turning seventeen, the warden saw fit to move him from the juvenile annex to the Mens Correctional Complex. According to the legal system, he was officially an adult, and a man at that.

  He sprawled on an extra long bed, headphones plugging up his ears as he tapped aw
ay at a game on a tablet. The game was muted while he played, listening to the electronic sound of his brother's voice.

  'Lucein, this is the news that I give you, regarding what you've tasked me with.'

  They had both mastered the art of dropping bass, but Gnyovante's voice was so much deeper than his.

  'They've been suspicious of us since Rollond resigned six years ago. I can't say that I find it that much of a bother, but it is a discomfort to the Junction. Meanwhile Ashenzsi continues to receive revelations from Dyiij. He is another one trustworthy as her mouthpiece.'

  He tensed his abs, a ticklish sensation tumbled along his stomach while he imagined what his brother must look like these days:

  Tall, muscular, like their father; the kind of creature that from a first glance both intimidated and demanded respect.

  'They have found several gateways, but don't know how to use them. As it stands, we Xei don't see fit to do anything about it. So long as humans are ignorant of our designs, no one cares what they turn up.'

  Gnyovante must've been different, he thought, because of the depth of his voice. Whereas Lucein had a long and liquid form, and his voice was at least an octave higher. He had inherited something like his mother's body, and the beauty that came with it.

  'The support of Humans is in full-swing, regarding the directives you've entrusted me with. We also have several Rynaelts on our side, including the Second Rank. After Rollond quit, some twenty of them came to support your cause. Your bondage is far from vain.'

  His hair had more glimmer than 24 karat gold, and his eyes were more coveted than diamonds. There wasn't a man in the MCC who didn't give Lucein deviant glances.

  'I have a gift for you, something I held back when we last saw one another seven years ago. You should have received it by now. As for me, brother, I miss you. I wish you'd send for me so that I could see you again. I do suppose that I will once the appropriate time arrives. Until then, all of us send you our love.

  'We eagerly await your word. 'Vante.'

  The ground shuddered, faintly. Or it could have been the rolling, grumbling sound of thunder storms. The air had been particularly galvanized lately, humid and sticky, electric. Lucein doffed his headphones and opened the window a little more. There wasn't a cloud to be seen through the slats, just a clear sky and a silvery, weak sun.

  A guard thumped on the door. The narrow hatch at the foot of the door opened and in slid a long, shallow white box. He cautiously strode over, and after examining the plain, lidded white box, he picked it up, sat on his bed, opened it.

  Inside was a card, the contents of which were written in Tswaa'ii:

  To my Beloved;

  To our Neisam, the Emperor-Executioner;

  Hey, how's it going in there, you boxed-up thing;

  My nephew;

  You whom I haven't seen, Lucein.

  Signed: Sanci, Rollond, Tensten, Ashenzsi, and Gnyovante.

  That was another thing. Tensten must have been… Well, over a measly two-feet high, that's for sure.

  He set the card on his pillow and regarded the other contents of the box: a pair of gloves, black leather, and on the back of each palm was his name in embroidered gold. He promptly slipped them on.

  Underneath them was a small splotch of dirt and a necklace that featured a round, polished stone. One unlike anything he'd ever seen before, because when he held it up to the window to examine the white lines in the dark rock, it blazed to life and took on the appearance of a starlit eye.

  On the chain, there was a tag. On the one side Ra'ol was written, and on the other it read:

  My gifts to you, young Neisam. When you leave here, drive your people west. There lies the land that I am going to give you. — Dyiij.

  His heart stopped.

  Departure.

  Dyinaacvas, the 4th day in the month of Kannodei;

  What happened at the end of an era;

  Summer of the 709th year;

  The last year of the Second Epoch of Dyjian.