Crossworld of Xai

by Steven Savage

  Xianfu flashes me a smile that could melt ice. “Hey, I’m flattered. Most people think Outriders are a quick lay and that’s it. Apparently I’m worth the effort.”

  “Oh, you are. It was great seeing you at the party!” I find myself about to venture into bullshit territory and stop. “I liked hearing about what you do. Hey, you are worth it, all crap aside. Trust me, I haven’t been out with a guy in over a year.”

  “No way.” Xianfu leans back. “You? Seriously.”

  “Yeah.” I step out of the alcove. “So … why are you here, no offense, I’m a bit nervous.”

  “Some guy kept trying to go out with me for nearly two weeks despite all the crap I was going through and all our job demands. Saying no would be pretty damn impolite and stupid.”

  Now that’s the kind of words I haven’t heard in a long time.

  “Xianfu, there’s an interesting theater nearby, has some interesting Kurosawa movies playing, and there’s a nice cafe nearby. If you feel like not getting a lot of sleep.”

  “I think I can live with that.”

  “Mr. Fang, I think things are coming to order after all …”

  “Please, call me Xianfu …”

  VORTEX

  March 28, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar

  And how do you feel now.

  “Fine. Very fine.”

  Hmmmm. The god is silent …

  “When needed, the power is there. He does not deny me.”

  Oh, true. Though I’d give yourself more credit, yes.

  “Don’t flatter me.”

  Ah, what need have I to do so? You tamed me and touched your god. Impressive, yes … so Dean Paldayne, what is next?

  This is Metris, heart-center of the Crossworld of Xai. You can’t describe it, only experience it. Everyone sees it differently, lives it differently.

  The Mercantile Alliance describes it as a nexus of commerce, a chance for opportunities. The University and its affiliated Guilds think of it as an intellectual center, a place to store and distribute information. To the Travelers’ Guild it is the cornerstone of Xai, why they exist, the center of the Portals which they navigate.

  To the Communicants Guild, it is the place where their long hold on the communications industries was brought to a close by the Guild Council. Now, they awaited the exact ruling of the Council to find out just how they were to be brought to heel.

  No one, of course expected them or anyone else to just let things take their course. Nor would anyone try to predict the outcomes.

  Everyone, after all, experienced the city differently.

  Metris spun around its vortex-maze of politics and social ties and principles and hope. Ever turning, whirling away …

  The Nax was one of those places people were drawn to. The unusual bar and grill wasn’t the place you went to, it was a place you seemed to come to. It wasn’t advertised, it just seemed to attract people of certain persuasions - the odd, the mystical, the intellectual. Its customers came from the ranks of the University, Guild Esoteric, and others who tended to deal with the strange and the unusual or were the strange and the unusual.

  However, no matter how bizarre the clients, they were still humans, with the same concerns, same fears.

  Same annoyances.

  In the back of the bar, by a series of wall hangings designed to ward off malicious spirits in a Buddhist culture several worlds over, a group of people sat hunched at a table. The regulars knew to give them their space, and the not-so-regulars could somehow tell that they were to be left alone.

  If a curious onlooker examined the group, he’d note a pattern.

  There was a squat man in a minister’s robes. There was also a tall, oriental man with a white streak in his short hair who was dressed in black, his belt holding a variety of pouches. A black-furred vulpine sat next to the oriental man, holding his hand, a yin-yang necklace glinting in the lights. Clerics of Guild Esoteric

  There was a woman wearing the white top of a Guild Medical Nurse.

  There was a swarthy Technologist wearing the diadem of his Guild.

  Two Vulpines, a gray-furred male and a smaller, red-furred female, cuddled in a tired heap. The male wore a t-shirt bearing the eclipse logo of Corona Security. Another member of the technological persuasion.

  They were the people who were tired these days. Those who helped maintain things, holders and fixers and grounders. Those cleaning up after the vote, those maintaining sanity as the Council wrangled its final decision. The curious onlooker then, if he or she was civil, would leave such people to their drinking.

  “And, ah, how is everyone?” asked Rake, trying to look sunny. The dark-robed minister was built like a square with a slab of a face, so he didn’t succeed.

  “Not bad,” stated HuanJen calmly, his almond-shaped eyes reflecting strange depths.

  “Eh.” Jade’s response was less enthusiastic. Her green eyes seemed to have lost some of their usual gem-glimmer.

  Brandon Thylar gave a thumbs up. He was nothing but smiles - even the blue beads in his dark hair seemed to shine. Then again, the Technologists had been under the thumb of the Communicants for too long. Besides, after the vote, no one was telling him to shut up over politics, which had been an occasional state for months.

  Clairice Bell smiled. Weakly. Most people just gave her space, as Metris General Hospital had been changing people’s shifts at insane rates.

  Garnet pointed her thumb at Slate’s gray-furred bulk. “We’re hanging in there. Kinda tired of paying premium when I go shopping.”

  “Lorne, by the way, is . . busy.” Slate smiled. “Xianfu returned from his last Outrider mission.”

  “They’re cute,” Garnet chirped.

  Clairice nodded, brightening slightly. “He is happy. It’s only their second date and you should see his face.”

  “Something is going well,” Jade muttered. Several curious looks were directed her way. HuanJen placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

  The black-furred Vulpine shook her head. “Sorry. Stress. Esoteric crap. Besides, we sort of all agreed to stop dipping into Lorne’s private life.”

  “True. Um … I heard about the Hotline.” Clairice’s tone was comforting. She knew Jade’s temper. “Sometime you’d be amazed what people consider a medical emergency.”

  “It’s that atop the normal Zone duties, I think,” HuanJen stated evenly, earning a head-shake from Rake.

  “I think no one appreciates what we do sometime,” Rake sighed. “I …”

  “Excuse me.” Brandon raised a hand, his dusky face holding the glimmer of a smile. “If I recall correctly, before the Council vote, some one told me to shut up about how things were. I also believe some advised that, in the aftermath, that I should remind them to do the same? So we don’t all get depressed?”

  The gang of friends nodded. Slate couldn’t help but smirk.

  “So … let’s go back to not talking about Lorne …”

  April 1st, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar

  It’s not quite right, if you know how to look for it.

  Metris has a pulse, a rhythm. It’s not quite right, a few chords out of order. But unless you’re used to the rhythm and not the chords, you wouldn’t notice.

  And if you did, out of all the voices of the choir of the world, its hard to tell which is off …

  Riakka Bale was not feeling herself.

  She hadn’t felt herself in a while, to the point of feeling like she wasn’t sure who she was. As a Historian, not knowing anything was extremely irritating to her.

  Most of the time lately it seemed that she knew a lot less than she wanted to.

  Secrets! Paldayne, the others, had been up to something and hadn’t told her. When the Historians had sent some of their youngest into the city to research trends, it had seemed innocent enough, and it was Dean Paldayne, so she’d gone.

  Confusion! The city seemed normal, but there was the question of what would happen to the Communicants. The Guild Council was stuck in endle
ss debates that made the merger of Guild Medical and Guild Esoteric services seem like juggling papers for Administratum.

  Annoyances! She was stuck away from her friends, in a tiny apartment, and in the Zone of a rather active Zone Cleric. Being a native Xaian, she appreciated the tradition of ensuring people had someone to call on for spiritual or personal comfort and guidance, but the Zone she’d moved into had proven the territory of a very enthusiastic holy man and his assistant. If they University had moved her one Zone over, she’d be fine, but instead she had to put up with …

  “HuanJen!”

  The young Historian stopped in her tracks, her surroundings coming back to her. The street near the stores. Spring winds blew her red-and-brown Historian’s robes about. She was near her apartment. Running by her were Jade and HuanJen.

  Jade and HuanJen …

  They didn’t pause to be friendly, which was unusual for the two; they merely streaked by her; Jade huffing, HuanJen seeming to move without effort.

  Riakka found their lack of friendliness refreshing. HuanJen could worm his way into your life and even your mind without any effort. Jade, as subtle as a punch in the face, tried to do likewise. The pair could be overwhelmingly and disturbingly friendly on the job, which had irritated her to no end when she’d moved into their Zone of keeping.

  “There,” HuanJen noted, leaping into the street, apparently throwing himself on top of a black car that was stopped in traffic.

  Riakka blinked and adjusted her glasses.

  The car vanished in a spray of black globules, each dissipating like obsidian fog. HuanJen stood and dusted off his black jumpsuit fastidiously, seemingly undisturbed that an apparently material object had vanished at his touch, as if it happened regularly.

  Riakka realized, with a moment of weariness, that it probably did.

  “What the hell?” a driver of a physical, material car leaned out of his window and yelled.

  “Supernatural incident, no need to panic,” Jade yelled back, trying to sound friendly.

  “Obsidian …” Riakka muttered.

  The pair walked by Riakka, close enough for her to smell the sweat in Jade’s fur. They didn’t pay attention to her, for which she was thankful.

  “I swear this stuff should be calming down from what everyone says . . ,” Jade began.

  “That is obvious,” HuanJen replied. He then stopped for a moment.

  Riakka shrugged, then began walking again. Others who had stopped to watch the strange exorcism were already going about their business.

  “Oh, Riakka?”

  The young Historian stopped. HuanJen’s voice always seemed unassertive, but it had the hidden force of a sock with a brick in it whirled at your head. It was a voice that ambushed you.

  “Yes?”

  “Hope you settled in well.” The man’s smile was genuine. Even Jade was … well it was a smile technically.

  “Er, yes. Quite well. Good work there,” Riakka answered while her heart tried to escape her chest.

  Yes, she wanted things back to normal …

  Soon, it must be soon.

  “Can’t you wait? I have only begun, and the Scribe can only do so much. I can only do so much.”

  Can’t you feel it. There’s a bargain, Paldayne, when you do what you’ve done. You touch us, we touch back.

  “I …”

  Sacrifices have to be made, Paldayne.

  “Perhaps …”

  You gave of yourself, threw yourself into your job, your god. You’ve made enough sacrifices. Let someone else do it.

  “You mean I kill someone.”

  No, no, Paldayne, you let me do it. I’ve had more practice …

  Temple Street, the street of worship and meditation. A place where normal was a much more elastic definition than elsewhere. Temple Street was where you could stare reality in the face and see the larger picture - often at a reasonable rate. Family discounts were also available. Bring the kids.

  You saw all kinds on Temple Street, so few people would have noticed the quiet conversation between a black-furred female Vulpine and her unremarkable-looking male companion. Temple Street was where everyone blended in because normalcy was on a holiday and didn’t want to be recognized.

  “Hey, who was that?” Jade asked. She still hadn’t mastered HuanJen’s ability to remember people that well. Huan just seemed to know people without effort.

  “A Historian that moved into the area, remember? I compared her to Clairice …”

  ” … except she wasn’t living with us as a living road block to our love life. OK, I remember. Bane?”

  “Bale. Yes. She keeps to herself. Figured I should be friendly. Nervous woman.”

  Jade shrugged. “Changes of pace, I know how that goes.”

  The two walked on, bantering casually until they stepped into a blocky building with a modest sign reading “Church of the Works of Christ.” Just another couple going about their business on Temple Street.

  Inside …

  The church was empty, though admittedly the small establishment was not the kind that attracted a large crowd. Not unusual.

  The couple headed in back, which wouldn’t seem strange as, since there was no minister present, they were obviously not there for a service.

  What few would expect is that they worked their way to the cavernous basement, through a series of doors, and to a small, sparsely-furnished meeting room with a few other residents gathered around a table.

  The clerics of Guild Esoteric did tend to work together since they, by and large, had no choice in the matter in Xai’s diverse religious culture. However the gathering beneath the Church of the Works of Christ was unusual even by Guild standards.

  Minister Rake. Ahn, an almost supernaturally-inconspicuous young man of oriental descent, wearing simple orange robes, marking him as a member of Xai’s small Buddhist community. There was Rotan Brownmiller, wearing the motley of a native shaman, a large, bald man who appeared to be designed by an artist obsessed with the basic shape of an egg with muscles.

  Finally, there was HuanJen and Jade, who eschewed any form of uniform as they (or at least he) belonged to a rather disordered Taoist order. It was harder to assemble an odder collection - and a wise questioner would wonder how such an odd collection came about.

  A wiser questioner would inquire from a safe distance.

  “Good day.” HuanJen nodded at the gathered mystics. “Sorry we’re late, we got the car again.”

  “Another?” Brownmiller’s voice resembled a geological event. “Or the same?”

  “The same.” HuanJen instinctively pulled out a chair for Jade before sitting himself. “I think it got attached to us.”

  Jade scowled fiercely. “It won’t go away, it’s one you can dispel but not always get rid of, right? There’s …”

  ” … standard obsidians, which are large-scale undispellable focused and conscious manifestations,” Ahn jumped in effortlessly.

  ” … and the semi-collective, ah semi-independent entities that unsually find a focus and, ah, can be temporarily dispelled until their power source ceases,” Rake finished.

  “Let me guess, we’ve all been keeping tabs on things?” Jade asked rhetorically. She knew the answer - keeping tabs was why they were together. It was virtually in the job description for most Esotericists.

  “As, ah, usual.” Rake tossed a few sheets to the gathered clerics from a folder. “So far, nothing definite. I’m … I’m not, ah, sure anymore. Your, ah, friend Dealer Zero hasn’t detected, ah, anything significant. Oh, he sends his regrets, but he’s gotten a migraine and couldn’t make it.”

  “We still have signs,” Ahn replied calmly, steeping his long fingers. “Something did happen … even if we cannot be sure what.”

  Brownmiller smirked. “I’m gonna remain suspicious just because you guys aren’t. I think he’s back.”

  “We’re not saying his name, you’ll notice.”

  HuanJen’s voice sliced through the words, through every
one’s thoughts. Each participant in the meeting looked at the Magician-Priest curiously.

  “Ziggurat Jack,” HuanJen spoke. The words were like a door closing.

  “I think we, ah, want him gone,” Rake admitted, stroking his chin with a meaty hand. “I do. There’s, ah, so much to deal with.”

  “We don’t believe it,” Jade spoke after a moment of silence. “We want to believe the big bad boogieman is gone. Its that we just don’t.”

  “It merely is,” HuanJen stated thoughtfully.

  “Hey, let’s leave the mystic-sounding bullshit at the door,” Brownmiller joked. There was little humorous response from his comrades. “Sorry. We’ve got the usual supernatural crap that happens whenever there’s some big upheaval, I try to get some levity.”

  “It’s, ah, not funny, ah, is it?”

  Jade looked at Rake and shrugged. “Hey, we … let’s not let this drag us down. If Mr. Boogieman is here, we’ll find him if not, well … I dunno. Better safe than sorry.”

  “Any unusual manifestations?” Ahn changed the subject unashamedly. “No one seems to have tried a map.”

  “No one’s tried anything, though a few apprentices do the usual statistics scutwork,” Jade answered. “Not much really, your usual stuff, a few more reports of night terrors and Obsidian-type activity around the Communicant Guild members and folks involved in the current crap. The usual.”

  “As, ah, always,” Rake said cryptically.

  “We keep watching,” Ahn said.

  “As, ah, always,” Rake replied.

  Something isn’t quite right in the city, but people can’t track it down.

  There are so many obvious solutions, but none is the right one. It’s not prices of food (up because of concern), or slowdown in visitors (because of concern), or how people seem on edge (because they are concerned).

  It’s a combination of things, perhaps …

  … and perhaps one or two factors no one expected.

  April 4, 2000 AD Xaian Standard Calendar

  Verrigent was a very tired man.

  It seemed he never rested, never had a place to stay. Not since the changes in his adopted town, not since the politics, not … for months.

  “Anyway, you can stay here, Brandon said he’d mainly use it for, uh guests” Jade said, gesturing around the bedroom, which obviously had been cleaned rather hastily. A bed, a dresser, all else he may need. Even mirrors on the closet door to assist in dressing, very useful when you had wings.