“My …” HuanJen finally said.
Jade’s deep green eyes locked on the dark depths of HuanJen’s own. Time slowly returned, as if afraid to offend them with its presence.
“I …” the Vulpine began. Her skin felt hot. Her fur stood on end. “Wow.”
“Roughly my words” HuanJen replied breathily, heart racing. “Have I mentioned you look beautiful?”
“Yes, I think several times on our way here.”
“Allow me to repeat. You look beautiful. Very beautiful. So beautiful.”
Jade lay her head against the mystic’s neck. “You … I can’t even describe you. I mean that in a good way. I don’t think I even see you with my eyes anymore.”
“Which is probably good. I’m not exactly the most handsome man you could meet.”
“You’re putting yourself down,” Jade chided playfully.
“I’m a realist.”
“True.” Jade nuzzled her lover. “I don’t care. I don’t care at all. I just know you.”
“I … if we were not at a party …” HuanJen’s mind was a blazing single-point focus of desire.
“Yes?” Jade purred seductively, a shade of delightful vulnerability in her voice.
HuanJen took her right hand in his and kissed her fingertips. “If you let me, I … I would show you how I feel right now, get on my knees, worship your body, your soul, touch you … “
Jade felt herself ignite; each word was like a kiss of her most sensitive areas. No boundaries with him, no fears, no worries. Maybe they had restrained themselves earlier. Visions of HuanJen’s mouth on her body, lips running down her belly, stormed through her mind. Perhaps …
The door to the room opened, and a rather surprised-looking member of the Historian’s Guild looked in at the pair. Jade felt the telltale sensation that indicated Huan was about to transport himself, but it faded. The brown-robed man must have surprised even the ever-intuitive cleric - or, more likely, HuanJen had been distracted.
“I see. Sorry.” The Historian commented in a clipped accent. “I … would you two like to lie about why you’re here, or shall we all avoid deception?”
“We were kissing.” both said at once.
“I see. I shall return in five minutes, good evening. Nice costumes by the way.”
“How polite,” HuanJen remarked after the man had closed the door.
“He didn’t have a costume … ” Jade began.
“He was a Historian. They’re sort of in costume all of the time. It’s tradition.”
“Your costume is much sexier,” Jade added playfully.
“Why thanks. Though as you picked this I suspect you’re biased.”
Jade laughed, and shook her head. “Guilty. I … hey, this is pretty damn silly.”
HuanJen leaned against a cabinet. “Yes. No potions brewing.”
“No one in a crisis.”
“No rumors to track down.”
“No one worried about spirits in their telephone.”
“Just us.” Jade finished.
“As, I suspect it will be, no matter what we face.” HuanJen kissed his lover on her forehead.
“As long as we’re honest.” Jade added. “I think we will be.”
For a moment, the mystic appeared confused, then nodded. “I think we will. No disguises except those like we wear now.”
Jade raised an eyebrow. “Huan, you may be off of a real theological high, but really …”
“Fortune cookieing again, dear, sorry …”
WORDS AND STORIES
Temple Street hummed with life. One of the fixtures of the Xaian capital of Metris for centuries, it was where you went to find the finest churches and temples, to purchase exotic goods and books, to see the world-beyond-this. A thousand Earth’s contributed a million ways of thought and seeking to one, colorful, somewhat disorganized, and definitely unique-smelling street.
The residents and visitors were as much an experience as the establishments: ministers and heretics, psychics and shamans, all in outfits fitting their professions or mental peculiarities. Tourists and visitors milled around, each a sample of his or her own Earth. Local inhabitants, wearing the uniforms of their various professions traveled about their spiritual business; a robed Historian, a tool-laded Technician, a Constructionist …
… and walking past the infamous “X Libris” book store, a white-uniformed Nurse of Guild Medical.
The people of Guild Medical were not rare sight on Temple street, considering the proximity to Metris General and the Galenica, as well recent politics. The woman in question did not look as if she was there for casual reasons, but for something serious. Her face was drawn, her short dark hair appeared to be in need of a wash, and her clothes suggested that some of her patients had not kept all their bodily fluids to themselves. People gave her a wide berth, and hoped she’d find peace on Temple Street.
Whatever her story was, it was hers.
Ironically, they didn’t realize Clairice Bell, Nurse of Guild Medical, was instead seeking her apartment furniture. She had several friends in Guild Esoteric, and could get peace and spiritual counseling for free, or at least at a discount. On the other hand, finding an inexpensive place to store furniture in busy Metris was far more challenging, and that was what had brought her to Temple street.
She finally arrived at her destination, a squat, simple building that didn’t appear particularly churchlike except for a sign on the wall reading “Church of the Works of Christ.” It put one more in mind of a bomb shelter or a small warehouse than anything overtly clerical.
“Ah, hello, ah, Clairice!” A voice sounded as she went to knock on the door. The nurse found herself looking down at the short, black-robed slab of minister known as Rake.
“Hey, Rake. On time as usual. Ready?”
“Ah, yes.” Rake held up a ring of keys, smile beaming from beneath his wild mane of sandy, bead-braided hair. “Lorne, ah, where is he?”
“He’s coming. Got the truck from Brandon. Give him, say twenty minutes, fifteen if they cleared up that accident on Tyler.”
“Ah, excellent. Yes.” Rake turned around, beckoning for the nurse to follow him into the depths of the church.
“I really appreciate this.” Clairice said, trying to figure out exactly how to talk to Rake. Despite the fact they had been friends for years, Rake was sometimes difficult to carry on a conversation with. Like HuanJen, his entire life was outside of her experiences while being inside at the same time; a social mobius strips. The stutter you got used to, but his otherworldly mind was always a factor.
“No, ah, problem.” Rake jangled the keys playfully as they passed by the small pews of the church. “You, ah, going to have, ah, room for it all?”
“We should.” Clairice shook her head. “You didn’t hear? All Lorne’s talk about what Randy might do turned into Randy doing it. Randy’s getting married and moving out of the apartment, Lorne’ll do the best man thing, and we have space.”
Rake stopped for a moment, his face warped into look of concern. Memories of Lorne’s roomates sleeted through his mind. “And Briia? Ah, let me, ah, guess …”
“Out.” The nurse shook her head. “Really not happy. I think at least Lorne’ll get the car out of this, but she acted like he ruined everything.”
“Is he … well?” Rake asked.
“Eh, I don’t think he liked her that much, especially with work being the way it is. Hey, its all settled. Me and Lorne too, Jade … got us to talk.”
“Good!” Rake continued his journey, a few turns in the back rooms of the small church leading into a steep stairwell. “Sorry, I didn’t, ah, get a chance to open things up, ah, earlier. You called so quickly. Why, the, ah, hurry?”
Clairice sighed. “Joe’s on the bottle, Brandon and I are going to try to get his mother out of Piscion after I move. The same thing that happened last time.”
“Ah, sad, ah, he really can’t cope with success or failure. I wish, ah, you well. Let’s see …”
/> The stairway terminated in a small but high-vault-ceilininged room supported by thick pillars. The Church of the Works of Christ had been many other buildings in the past, back even before the Guildwar. Some brilliant or paranoid architect and members of the Constructionist Guild had built the place to last beyond anyone’s wildest expectations. As Temple Street had been in the same place for centuries, Clairice couldn’t help but speculate on what the place had been intended for every time she visited.
“I’ve got it, ah, yes, right here.” Rake gestured at a collection of boxes and odd objects carefully stacked in a corner. “The, ah, back stairs are clear of, ah, all those bags, so, ah we can move it up, ah easily.”
“Great. Thanks.” Clairice hugged the minister. “It means a lot, really, you and HuanJen and Jade have been great.”
“No, ah, problem, it’s all, ah, part of the job” Rake returned the embrace. “Oh, speaking of, ah, the lovebirds …”
“They’re fine.” The nurse smiled, turning around to look at the possessions she’d quickly cached when she’d lost her apartment. “With me out of their hair, they’ll be happier, I think. Left them some rent money, all things considered, finances and all.”
“Ah, well, its’ better for all around now that things are … ah, different between them. Heh. Kinda cute, ah, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.” Clairice paused as she opened a battered cardboard box. “They have their moments.”
“Yes. Oh, saw, ah, Jade earlier, she was going with Kevin to that meeting with, ah, Esoteric Council members. Guess what she, ah, asked?”
The nurse paused, curious in an unsure way. “Do I want to know? It’s nothing the Guild Council could make me testify on, right?”
Rake rocked back and forth on his heels. “She finally asked about the Voice.”
“Really?” The weary woman sat on top of a crate. “Let me, guess, after the Nax when you had to cover Kevin’s ass?”
“Ah, yes. She finally asked.” Rake’s eyes twinkled like champagne bubbles.
“Hell, I asked two weeks after meeting you. I couldn’t figure out how you could preach without the congregation strangling you. I finally had to get you to explain it to me because Brandon couldn’t phrase it right.”
Rake opened his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “She, ah, does let things, ah, pass by. I told her the story.”
Clairice raised an eyebrow. “The whole thing?”
“Oh, you know. When my parents left Xai, what happened on their Earth, what happened to me, and how I found the church, what happened there, how I came here. The standard story.”
The words seemed to echo off of unseen walls. Speaking seemed a poor term for how Rake communicated in these moments; a simple sentence seemed to stretch on for hours.
Clairice crossed her arms and pursed her thin lips. “And The Voice? You’re in The Voice again, Rake.”
“I …” Rake shook his head. “Speaks for, ah, itself. I explained it, ah, to her with it.”
“As always. How’d she take it … wait.” Clairice closed her eyes in mock pain.
“Look who she lives with.” Minister and Nurse said in unison.
“I do forget,” Clairice finished. “And no smart comments, I didn’t understand him when I dated him, I don’t now.”
“Ah, true, ah, yes.” Rake clapped his meaty hands together. “Time, ah, for Lorne to, ah, arrive. Shall we, ah, open up the back, ah, stairs?”
“Sorry. I know you’re busy. Work to do.”
“As always. Now, let’s ah, get you upstairs, and if you want to repay me, snag me, ah, some of Lorne’s Bundt cake he makes for the Cult of Thymis, ah, winter bake sale …”
Rake watched the truck drive away down Holly Alley. A typical day for him, really; helping a friend who dated another friend load up a borrowed truck so a gay policeman had a roomate. Another story in the city, another in his life.
He walked into the Church’s back entrance, and into the sanctum. The minister smiled up at the Crucifix over the simple altar.
“Quite, an, ah, day, yes? Claricie, all that, ah, happy endings.”
Silence. Rake nodded. He seemed shrunken slightly, as if his whole body was being pulled inward.
“It’s been a long, ah time, yes. Many people, ah, but I finally was, ah, the right one. Thank you. Quite a tale, ah, Jade did enjoy it …”
… words seemed to echo forever in the Church …
When my parents left Xai …
… his parents feared the Guildwar and thought their own world would be safer. They were wrong, in their own well meaning way. Terribly wrong.
What happened on their Earth …
… war and more war, the world tearing itself apart. Perhaps it had once been civilized, but it was destroying itself. You fought or you ran, and he wasn’t a runner. So he fought until a bomb meant he could fight no more.
What happened to me …
… the bombing had left him with part of the Lieutenant’s helmet in his skull. He couldn’t speak right after the surgery, useless in command, cursing his fate. He cursed his parents as well, and immediately felt guilty about it. He cursed everything, which made him feel better.
How I found the church …
… and he sat in the church, tearing pages out of their bible, a thin thing with little in it. The Church of Christ the Worker. He had heard a voice reading aloud, and when he turned around, it was his own yet it wasn’t, the glorious Voice, reflection of a greater voice. He could speak clearly.
What happened there …
Words that should have been mangled coming from his own mouth; ” . . if any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it …”
How I came here …
… and when the war took his church, when all was dying, he felt the call of his real home. He found the Portal facility gone, its unique nature forgotten, ignored by the Travelers Guild.
But the Voice was with him, and all he had to do was to say “Open” and he was elsewhere …
… on Xai.
… echoes vanished into an unseen distance. Rake let out a deep breath.
“Just, ah, another story. Supposed to be, ah, what a, million of them? Well, twenty or so in our case, but you know that.”
The minister walked into the living quarters in the back of the church. His was a happy ending after all, as far as he was concerned.
GIFTS
“… I saw wheels of fire spinning round and round a world that shines with the Light of God, illuminating the dark and lonely places and guiding the lost. Our Lady of the Crown of Stars has shown me a door to this place. Let us go away from all this, for there is a season for all things, and this is the time to depart …”
- The Manuscript of Saint Cynthia of Metris, exact date unknown.
December 24, 1999 Xaian Standard Calendar
A whirl of places and spaces, people and ideas, thousands of years of a maelstrom of connection …
Xai, the frontier of Earths, where the Portals opened when prodded by the Navigators of the Travelers’ Guild. The Crossworld, the where-we-all-go, the all-forgive. Home to the humanity of many Earths, the great frontier of parallel worlds.
Actually, that was the way the Mercantile Alliance portrayed Xai to drum up business. Xai hadn’t yet developed a really effective advertising agency, so they made due as best they could. You couldn’t describe Xai and all its complexities easily; there were an infinity of facets to wrap words around.
Take for instance, Christmas Eve.
In the composite-quit culture of Xai, it was many holidays and pre-holidays, woven into something usually called Christmas Eve for the sake of convenience. People celebrated various events, and gave gifts on that day or the day after, in a myriad of forms.
One couldn’t describe it; people had to experience it. You had to be there, you had to hear, and most importantly you had to watch.
You had to see.
There were the people. The native-born stood out in their colorful clothes and beaded hair; blue beads for the males, green for the females. Immigrants and visitors were a rainbow collage of appearances, clothes, and manners. More exotic variants of humanity could be seen occasionally; the Vulpines, furred humans with a foxlike cast to their features, and the graceful, catlike Alurines.
There was commerce. The stores and trade zones were still operating as people did their last minute shopping, concluded deals, or rushed to get home to their own Earths. The University’s Babbage Hall, where research was disseminated carefully for a price, was still busy with those conducting last minute negotiations.
There was spirituality. Temple street, home to Guild Esoteric, was alive with visitors and residents, rituals and ceremonies, transactions and divinations. Temples were beginning to fill, and the great golden doors of St. Michael’s Basilica were open to crowds of the faithful.
Visitors rarely asked how it all worked or why; they had their business and their concerns. In modern Metris, transport between the worlds, simply called Travel, was organized. Gone were the days of untrained Navigators, Portal fluctuations, territorial battles, and worse. Now, Portals were organized and defended, Trade Zones established for Earth-to-Earth commerce, and dangerous shipments strictly regulated by the Travelers and their Rancelmen.
It all seemed to work if not perfectly, at least well.
Out on the fringes of Metris, in the Northwest Trade Zone, the squat bulk of Rancelmen Headquarters sat. Among the trade centers and warehouses, it seemed to be trying to pull in on itself, as if it had a terrible self-esteem problem and was waiting for the world to do something nasty to it.
Which, was a fairly accurate description of the Rancelmen themselves. As the agents of the Travelers’ Guild who watched transactions and prevented dubious or dangerous shipments, their job was, essentially, to interfere with people’s business. It wasn’t easy to keep a good attitude under such conditions.
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