Crossworld of Xai

by Steven Savage

  “So, you’ve been hunting Ziggurat Jack.” Byrd stated. His voice was rich and deep, blocks of gold-veined black marble turned into words.

  Behind him, sitting on the couch he kept in his Spartan office for visitors, sat Rake, Brownmiller, and HuanJen. Rake appeared nervous, Browmiller standoffish, and HuanJen … well he was sort of there.

  He’d asked his secretary to keep Jade in the foyer. This was full cleric busienss - and he wasn’t sure he could handle five people trying to explain things to him. On retrospect, perhaps having an apprentices viewpoint would have been useful.

  “Yes,” Rake answered the Cardinal’s question. “Just in case.”

  “In case, appeared to be, as it were, the case,” Brownmiller added, eyes narrowing. A few years of occasional friction between native shamans and the Xaian Catholics flared to life for a heartbeat.

  “We did research, we commissioned research.” Bird slumped for a moment, then sat in the large chair behind his desk. It was an old, comfortable, well-padded chair, something very normal and very real, and thus very comforting.

  “I think the research was tainted by political concerns,” HuanJen spoke simply.

  Byrd rolled his eyes. “Of course it damn well was! You think we want to announce a potential supernatural crisis, no matter how unlikely, right near the Communicant vote? It’s been how long since he manifested properly?”

  He was greeted with silence. He knew that silence well - most clerics learned it, and he was facing down a trio that included a congregation leader and a Zone Cleric. It was the silence that said ‘think a bit more about what you’ve said.’

  “So, let’s put it on the table, gentlemen. What do you know?”

  Brownmiller, Rake, and HuanJen exchanged various looks, a conversation via the sign language of expression. Byrd had to remind himself true telepathy was rare - but after awhile as a Guild Councilmember of Guild Esoteric, you took nothing for granted, especially from people in the field all the time.

  “We, ah … think Ziggurat Jack is back but is, ah, not quite, ah, what we expected,” Rake said, almost apologetically.

  “In a human’s body, he’s riding him,” Brownmiller added.

  “Apparently to channel his archetype into accessing the Historian, Galcir. Full time.” HuanJen finished.

  Cardinal Byrd looked over the three clerics. He wasn’t a native of Xai, which meant he had the usefulness of an outsider’s perspective and could avoid those annoying hairbraids that natives uses to stand out. It also meant constantly reminding himself that on Xai, “mythology” was a term without insult.

  A few suspicions entered his head. This was going to involve Guilds and secrets and sad pathetic things. He knew it.

  “Why?” Byrd asked, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer. Any answer would be unpleasant.

  “I, ah, suspect …” Rake scratched his nose. “I suspect he doesn’t like how things are, and, ah, wants to dig up some, ah, secrets. I suspect, ah, he is prying into people’s lives and providing, ah, information. Whispering.”

  “Only Historians can be ridden by Galcir,” HuanJen added. “So, I suspect a Historian. I think that some of the Historians may have reason to dislike what is occurring, independent of University politics. Galcir’s sphere is information and inquest.”

  “You know how the Historians can get at times, especially the new generation,” Brownmiller sighed. “This is our area, godsdamnit.”

  “I wish M were here.”

  The three holy men looked at the Councilman. Byrd was suddenly very uncardinal like - M of the Guild Esoteric Council was not someone you explained in formal terms. M merely was.

  “He loves this stuff. We have him as our representative at the meetings at Shard tower. People don’t like to argue with him. So, we have a situation we’re not sure of with a perpetrator we’re not sure of, at one of the most delicate times in the city’s histories.”

  Three pairs of eyes looked back. Wonderful, Byrd though, here I am with not the three wise men, but three wise guys.

  “Rake, Brownmiller, you were on the team before. HuanJen … anyway, I, gentlemen, am open to suggestions.”

  “We can’t do anything too public,” Brownmiller conceded. “For all we know his plan would involve that - and he may be far enough integrated into the Pattern to draw on panic.”

  “We’d also have politics,” Byrd grimaced. “So what do we do?”

  Rake clasped his hands, thought for a moment, then spoke. “I have, ah, a suggestion.”

  A few minutes later, Cardinal Byrd’s laughter penetrated the door of his office and echoed down the hallways. Jade, trying to amuse herself in the secretary’s office with some old manuscripts, raised an eyebrow, cast a look at the secretary, and said nothing.

  “So, you want to fill me in?” Jade asked as HuanJen closed the door to their apartment.

  HuanJen had said nothing when he’d emerged from the office. He, Rake, and Brownmiller had just engaged in light banter - which for them meant discussions that’d give most people the desire to take a theology course at the University.

  Of course, she knew it meant they didn’t want to discuss things, but it was still irritating. She’d clamped her will down on her desires, locking them in a safe of practicality. If they weren’t talking, there was a reason.

  … but the Crosspoint was HuanJen’s territory. He’d lived there for years, he’d ensured it was a place he could do his business. A Zone Cleric in the building meant people felt safer there anyway - and with his supernatural knowledge, they were.

  And they knew to leave him alone.

  “We’ve undertaken a research job for the Guild,” HuanJen said simply.

  “Uh-huh …” Jade’s conspiracy-forged mind calculated. “Research into the Ziggurat Jack phenomena?”

  “Yes.”

  Jade’s thoughts wove a few more concepts. “Hush-hush, so as not to upset people, reporting to Cardinal Byrd, of course. Standard, but one has to be careful.”

  “Yes.”

  “You little shit,” The Vulpine smiled. “You … wait, you didn’t exactly do anything, did you?”

  “No.” HuanJen sat on the fluffy white couch in the living room. “Just let things take their course, we all did.”

  Jade sat next to her lover, stiffly. “Gods, I … I hope this works out. I fell like I’m going to snap sometime.”

  “Don’t. Don’t, remember, we’re … what did you call it, an immune system? It is what we are. Don’t fight it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Jade griped.

  “Yes. Perhaps at some point, it will be easy for you as well.”

  Jade smiled, knowing his words extended years into the future. But at least he was there right now.

  She relaxed as best she could, and let the wheel of life spin on.

  The city spirals onward …

  … around a center you can’t quite see.

  It …

  ” … was …”

  … enthusing.

  “I …”

  … feel …

  “… renewed.”

  INTERLUDE: MEETING #2

  April 25, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar

  Shard Tower.

  People had suggested it be closed, that security changed, that policies altered. Shut down the restaurants and other facilities, hire more guards, talk to the Gendarmes. The bombing had changed things.

  The Guild Council, much to their credit, had not followed the panicked suggestions. Some areas of the sprawling, chaotic structure were more closely monitored, but they didn’t close it off. Shard Tower was a symbol, the pivot of Xai and Metris. You didn’t close it off anymore than you sealed away your heart.

  Solomon Dell stood on one of the balconies decorating the face of the tower, looking out over the city. He was glad the tower was still open; he found it a relaxing place to visit, to get away. Over time, his visits had, taken on another meaning …

  The Head Rancelman looked at Metris, braided blond hair
streaming in the wind. It seemed different to him over time, especially with the changes. You had to come close to loosing something to appreciate it.

  Or sometimes, you had to loose it.

  “Sorry, I’m late.”

  HuanJen seemed to materialize out of nowhere; one moment there was empty space, then there was the darkly-dressed, oriental mystic with his trademark white-striped black hair. He seemed to have a kind of “on” switch for becoming real. It was annoying at first, but then after awhile you got used to it - in an odd way, it was rather comforting.

  “No rush, really,” Solomon Dell said pleasantly, “I … just wished we’d been able to meet earlier, a few weeks back.”

  “It’s understandable.” HuanJen leaned on the balcony’s edge. “Sorry I was’t available the last time …”

  “No problem. No problem.” Dell looked back over the city. “Quite a busy time, isn’t it?”

  “Very. I hear the Rancelmen and Gendarmes are joining forces to clamp down on smuggling until things clear.”

  “Yes.” Dell felt no reason for secrecy. Around members of Guild Esoteric, it was worthless. “I hear rumors that there’s some unusual events going on despite or because of the politics.”

  “Yes.”

  “Not very subtle are you?” Dell asked sourly.

  HuanJen smiled. “You wouldn’t have asked if you wouldn’t have known. That’s not why I’m here. Why … am I here?”

  “I …”

  The sounds of the city echoed about Solomon Dell. He heard them in his sleep sometime. Metris and Xai branded you, and if you were born there, they always seemed to be a part of you.

  ” … it’s nice talking to someone. Who understands.”

  “I see. Thank you,” HuanJen said soberly, then, “I won’t charge you.”

  “Thanks,” Dell answered with a slight edge of sarcasm.

  Another silence.

  “What’s wrong?” HuanJen finally asked.

  “What’s wrong with you?” The reply wasn’t malicious, but curious.

  The mystic nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

  “When you know the signs of stress. I know the signs, HuanJen. I often cause them, but I know them.”

  “I’d say you live them.” HuanJen’s reply was weary, with a knife’s-edge glint of humor.

  “Agreed.” Dell took a deep breath. “Tell you what - let’s trade. Let’s talk sources.”

  HuanJen took a look at Dell for an infinite moment, then nodded. “Of course. You first.”

  “Something else is wrong in the city, isn’t it? It’s not the University and the Traveler’s or the Mercantile Alliance. Or the way the Messengers are messing around or how the Communicants are whoring out. There’s more, isn’t there?”

  The Magician-Priest thought for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Between us? Yes. There is at least one unexpected spiritual event and it’s being tracked.”

  “Crap,” Dell swore, “I figured.”

  “You did ask,” HuanJen cautioned.

  “True. Your turn.”

  “I suspect something is going on with the Historians, if not the entire University. What do you know?”

  “Interesting,” Dell commented slowly. “I had noticed a strange pattern myself. Did you know a lot of the Historians moved off campus awhile ago? They hadn’t moved back, something with a reorganization or rebuilding. I don’t know much, but the University’s been leaning on the Rancelmen over this shit and I like to know who’s leaning on me.”

  HuanJen was lost in thought for a moment. “Interesting.”

  The single word hung in the air. Dell closed his eyes for a moment - he dreaded what HuanJen would consider ‘interesting.’

  “Don’t tell me they’re caught up in this?” Dell asked, “The University heavyweights are enough of a pain in the ass for everyone. They practically want to own the Communicants and … they are not good allies for the Travelers, it’s gotten unwanted attention from the Gendarmes. I’m glad people are busy fighting each other sometime.”

  “I’m doing research,” HuanJen answered calmingly. “I facilitate and heal, I have things to do.”

  “You and me both. It’s …” Dell waved his hands in a momentary lost of calm. “You know, a lot of people were waiting for the vote to end. They can go about their lives while the Council figures out how things should change. The rest of us …”

  ” … wait for the repercussions. I know.”

  “I read a story yesterday.” Dell said suddenly.

  HuanJen blinked, then a ghost of a smile haunted his features. Dell seemed to suddenly be more relaxed - normally his body seemed as stiff as the armor he wore. “Yes?”

  The Ranceleman stared into the distance. “A man hated his job, strapped his son to his back, threw away his badge of office and left. People asked why he took such potential trouble as a child and discarded a badge, a valuable one he could at least sell. He said that greed brought him his position, but Heaven brought he and his child together.”

  HuanJen laughed softly when the lawman was done. “I’m familiar with it. Its one of my favorite tales from Chuang-tzu. Its a reminder to me, and a source of questions.”

  “I figured you would have heard of it. What questions?” Dell’s voice was layered with curiosity.

  “My father left me at the Order on Sanctum. I always wondered why. Was there something he valued, or did Heaven give him something more important than I?”

  “Ah.” Solomon Dell’s voice hinted at lamentations. “Yes. I rather imagine that … weighs on you”

  “Yes.”

  Dell lapsed into silence again. The cleric was about to speak when the Head Rancelman interrupted. “I had a little girl.”

  HuanJen paused, then nodded. “I see, and …”

  “She died during the Pharoah A Plague. When I was a Monitor for the Rancelmen. At Portal Beth.”

  HuanJen closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. A friend of mine lost his wife to Pharaoh A as well, the second wave. We just got reminded of it in a rather unpleasant manner.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The Magician-Priest reached out tentatively, then placed a friendly hand on the Rancelman’s armored shoulder. “I am sorry for the pain of your loss.”

  Dell shook his head, fists clenching and unclenching “The funny thing is, when I was offered the position of Head Rancelman after the reorganization, my first thought wasn’t of her or my wife. I really saw the chance to do something. Then I thought of her and … I didn’t know if I was noble or insensitive. I still don’t.”

  “We are as we are.” HuanJen propped his elbows up on the stone balcony. “When we think we are something else, then we are not.”

  “Yes. I think I’m understanding things like that lately. I’m sorry about your father.”

  “I am as I am. Solomon?”

  “Yes?”

  HuanJen’s words were cautiously chosen. “If you had your daughter, where would you run away to?”

  “Nowhere.” Dell crossed his arms. “Heaven gave me Xai and Metris and my Guild. I couldn’t abandon them. This is where I am.”

  “That, that I understand.”

  “Sometime … I wish I could. But … well I am where I am and we are as we are, aren’t we?”

  “Indeed.” HuanJen nodded slowly, smiling.

  “I actually have people say they envy me. They don’t understand.”

  “People don’t think about position, no. We are here, as we are, and life goes on.” The mystic cocked his head. “The city will go on.”

  “I hope so. I …” Dell stopped himself. “Would you like to get a drink or something, go to the Overlook? Not just stay here?”

  “You mean a Zone Cleric and the Head of the Rancelmen in a public place at a political time. I would rather not.”

  Dell nodded sadly. “Point taken, point taken … it may complicate things for you. I’m … sorry.”

  “It’s not a problem, Solomon,” HuanJen comforted. “Let’s just
avoid complications. We have enough as it is.”

  “We do indeed …”

  TENSIONS

  April 26, 2000 AD Xaian Standard Calendar.

  Jade wasn’t there meditating.

  She wasn’t there on the apartment porch, she wasn’t sitting in the spring air.

  She wasn’t at all.

  It was simple, when you got down to it, even when it came in fits and starts. HuanJen had taught her how to do it, how to Trace Back.

  You realized you were a process. Everything was a process of the Great Form, even your thoughts, your judgments. It all blended together, and you relaxed and breathed and someday you’d realize the Great Form and stay forever.

  One thing ran through her mind …

  “Dear, did you remember to get toilet paper?”

  No, that wasn’t quite it.

  “Dear?”

  Jade was suddenly quite herself, quite where she was, and quite angry. HuanJen’s timing could not have been worse, which was quite an impressive feat for him.

  Green-fire eyes snapped open. Black fur bristled.

  “I was meditating,” Jade managed to say civilly. In her mind she added ‘you know, like you always encourage me to do, my beloved shit-for-brains.’

  HuanJen strode onto the patio calmly, soundlessly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. But remember, I asked you …”

  “Sorry.” Jade felt herself tense up unexpectedly. “Look, I got distracted.”

  “I see.” HuanJen’s high brow furrowed. “I shall go borrow some from Mrs. Kline then.”

  Without a word, the Magician-Priest politely departed in a rush of non-sound. Jade sighed, and closed her eyes …

  … and then opened them.

  It was fucking toilet paper, and she felt bad. Sure, she’d promised, sure HuanJen was busy, but it wasn’t as if she was up to her elbows in free time.

  Breathe, think …

  “Well, shit.” Jade stood up, kicking her chair back.

  She’d snapped at HuanJen and it really was her fault. OK, yes, the city was rife in politics (which the average citizen could now ignore) and she and her friends were hunting a murderous supernatural entity (which almost no one knew about). Yes, she was under stress, but …