Crossworld of Xai

by Steven Savage

  “Of course.” I take a seat and select a menu, hoping to find something with a low grease content.

  “So what brings you here?” Slate asks, apparently not having understood my statements, or wanting to understand.

  “Nothing. I’m being social.” I shrug.

  “You are being social?” He repeats the words as if saying them will confirm their reality.

  This is something I get all too often. I do not, as some would say, have a life. This is not because of my job or my inclinations, this is because I see no reason to divide my life into compartments and select my imprisonments. However, this leads to the assumption I am always on the job - yet no one assumes I am actually enjoying my life, even if my job is stressful at times.

  “I am being social Slate. I can do that, you know.” He never seems to think its unusual when I visit the Nax or when I call to see how things are going or when I go to films or lectures. Yet, if I break my schedule, it apparently is something Slate can’t handle. I am not sure if this says more about Slate or myself.

  “Oh. I see.” Slate’s eyes turn to his menu. “So … how are things going?”

  “Quite well. I’ve got five immigrants settling into my Zone, though it may go down to four or even three. Also, I found the Lyceum got a new shipment of documents from a level two earth that show parallel development Taoism and reform Taoism. I’m hoping to get some copies soon from the Head Archivist. How have you been?”

  Slate gives me a strange look with his gray-blue eyes. “Well. I. I am on the job. Patrolling. Learning. I like it.”

  The waitress comes by with some waters, and we both order. I note he’s ordering a salad and light soup - it’s nice to see he’s eating well. Garnet worries he’s not doing so with the job change, but then again she’s quite adept at worry. Slate is quite a trustworthy individual, but she still worries.

  “Well, glad to hear the job is going well.” I’m relieved to hear it, though quite frankly being a Gendarme suits Slate, and it seems to bring out a hidden gregarious side.

  “I am waiting on the house.” Slate says. It’s not a conversational tone, it’s reflective. I know what’s going to happen. He feels he has to talk.

  I had hoped to just be social. However, things to balance out in the oddest of ways.

  “It’s not easy, you know.” Slate slips his water. “It’s hard to buy a house after the changes, and that influx from 2-124 didn’t help. The Gendarmes are helpful, but you know how it goes if you want to work beat - you have to work in or near your territory, and I don’t want to be a Specialist just yet. And there’s my promise.”

  Slate and I have the strangest conversations, and for a man who does not seem to like me much, he can be quite revealing. Then again, I find that people often talk to me.

  “Garnet …” he’s starts, then pauses. Thoughts move within his head like graceful glaciers.

  “I do things right, HuanJen. When I met Garnet, it was right. We shared an apartment to save money so we could have a house. We … well, I’m sure you know.”

  I piece together some references. Of course Garnet and Slate have done an utterly terrible job of concealing information about their sex life, or in this case, lack. “Yes, waiting.”

  Slate nearly says something, then stops himself - doubtlessly about Jade and I, who also have gone to great lengths not to conceal anything about our sex lives which I will admit is quite active.

  “I want things done right.” Slate’s words were an incantation.

  Of course at this point, I am answering. I have learned the saying “to thine own self be true” holds great spiritual significance.

  “I find it best to know what is important to you, that you’re sure of, and do it. No arguments or worries.”

  My gray-pelted companion nods. “I’m going to have to ask Garnet if we can wait on the house or be less fussy. It’s not worth the stress. I want to marry her, a great deal. That I am sure of. I think I have been since the first time I saw her.”

  “That I understand.” I get a quizzical look for my confirmation, so decide to continue. “I know how much you care about her.”

  “That is the important part.” Slate smiled. “That is indeed. I’m going to be a husband soon. With your help.”

  Slate gives me a surprisingly affectionate look. It’s an odd, nice moment. He’s not seeing me as a rival to his affections for Garnet or the man sleeping with his sister. He’s seeing me, if only for a short time, as myself.

  “I’m glad to do it. You’ll be the first in our … group. Besides, I enjoy doing them. Oh, and I straightened out the Guild taxes. But, yes, I enjoy weddings.”

  Slate regards me carefully for a heartbeat. “I can understand that. You know, I’m glad we could … just talk. It’s different.”

  I decide not to mention the ironies. “Glad to.”

  Things fall into order. All I have to do is be there.

  November 11, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar

  The Guild Council of Guild Esoteric has called upon me. Again.

  In this case, it is represented by Cardinal Byrd. I may be one of the Councils troubleshooters-on-retainer, but they can’t all meet me. Besides, they know my relations with Byrd are good after the Historian incident, and quite frankly, I find him to be trustworthy.

  So, he is my go-between when they have something for me.

  I’m not sure if he likes it - and indeed I have never determined quite what makes Byrd happy except things not being wrong. The Cardinal paces around his office as he talks, large form crackling with an unsettled energy, his cardinal’s robes flying about as if blown by wind. I can feel his nervousness, though I am unsure as to the source.

  “You understand, of course.” He asks. His tone suggests he knows I do, but worries I do not.

  I remain calm, staying in my chair, though my urge is to stand up and force him to sit and relax. “Somewhat.”

  “We’re not sure, but … we feel you are the best person for the job.”

  “That is because?” I suspect, but I have to ask.

  Byrd counts off the reason on sinewy fingers. “You are singularly inoffensive, you have a good skill set, you have a reliable assistant who comes as part of the package, and you are used to things that are screamingly strange.”

  “That’s not the official Council stance?”

  “That depends on how you define ‘official.’ And speaking of your reliable assistant …”

  I already know what he wishes to say. He lets me say it.

  “I understand Jade is not to be given any details until confirmation. I do so under protest.” The tone in my voice earns me a strange look, one that has a slight bit of fright. Byrd is used to many things from me, but he is used to dealing with me as part of a group, and he is used to me being understanding and pleasant.

  He too can be surprised by balance. Perhaps it is because he sees too little. Certainly, I would not want his job.

  “I know.” Byrd shakes his head. “It’s policy. However, keep those protests up and there may be exceptions later.”

  “And I didn’t hear that from you?”

  “No, in this case I’m quite serious. It’s a dumb policy and the more people whine about it the sooner we question it. Will she suspect?”

  I find the question strange. He’s met Jade and he still asks such questions of her. “Of course, and she will respect the Council’s policies even though I will hear about it. I trust her.”

  “I know.” The Cardinal stops pacing and crosses his arms. “Your relationship with her does make it difficult. From the outside.”

  “From the inside it makes things much easier.”

  “I … am not sure I know,” Byrd answers ,“my experience is limited.”

  That sounds wrong. “I thought you were married. The entire Edict of …”

  “Yes, yes,” Byrd shakes his head, “I am married. I took full advantage of the Edict believe me. It’s just my relationship was not like yours.”

  I
nod. He has a point there. On his Earth the Catholic Church didn’t allow marriage for its clerics, whereas here it’s allowed, though the nuns don’t take much advantage of it. I imagine his experiences are not like mine at all - I get the vaguest impression that part of his marriage is simply because he could.

  “If this assignment is given you, do you feel up for it?” He turns serious again.

  “I do.”

  “But you aren’t happy with this?”

  He knows how I feel, I think, but I decide it’s worth reiterating. “It is a change from the other jobs the Guild has had me do in my position. At least it shouldn’t interfere with my Zone Cleric duties.”

  “Yes.” Byrd looks out of his office window. He has one of the offices that looks out over Temple Street - I know some of the others here envy him for that. “You really enjoy doing Zone Cleric work?”

  “Yes. Well, I enjoy what I do. It’s really all I have ever done. This is an extention of my work, but …”

  “Bureaucracy.” The cardinal says simply. Xai is a very free society, but that freedom is founded on some very complex relations.

  “Yes. I don’t wish to loose my integrity. I am glad working for the Guild took me out of the spotlight. I will not loose who I am.”

  Byrd smiles at me. It’s a friendly smile, its wise. It reminds me of Old Man Green, though Cardinal Byrd is far less a sex maniac than Green was. “I know. It’s why we can trust you. Look, you’ll do fine, get your affairs in order …”

  “I am.” He starts for a moment, looking at me oddly.

  “Yes, yes you would, HuanJen. Get your affairs in order and we’ll let you know when it’s time to deal with the Panoramic League.”

  “I suppose the question is what time will they be ready to deal with you …”

  November 20, 2000 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar

  More that I do. Events spin around me.

  I am having one of my meetings with Solomon Dell.

  We have established an extremely interesting relationship. He has gone from trying to recruit me into the Rancelmen to being a client for spiritual counseling to something of a friend. We have done almost nothing socially, but we meet every month or so to talk. He pays me for the services, actually, standard guild rates - and by now I am not sure if I should be taking the money.

  Jade doesn’t argue. She handles the finances and likes to have as much to handle as possible. Besides as of late, she no longer despises him, which is, I suppose, some progress.

  So now Solomon and I are meeting, back at where we first did - Shard Tower, on one of the many odd overlooks and balconies that dot its irregular sides. It’s where we first met when he tried one more time to recruit me, where we met for some time before the political chaos.

  He always wears his Rancelman armor - that strange organic-brown/amber armor they have made at Kraftburne I believe. He’s an odd figure, really - he has an almost feminine appearance and fine blond hair kept in a ponytail, and two braids framing his face. He does not look like a leader, and has spent much time fighting that perception.

  He has spent much time fighting, period. And he talks, because he needs to talk. I listen as it is what I do.

  “You know about Helena?” He asks, leaning on the edge of the balcony. I know which Helena he means; Mrs. Hixx of the Travelers’ Guild, their president. Ex-president.

  “Yes. Bardel Pynn is her replacement, right?” I walk over next to him. Sometimes in our talks, we look at the city more than each other.

  “Yes. Mr. Pynn.” Solomon closes his eyes. “He’s a bureaucrat, you know. Helena has led us for … good gods, twenty years? She’s over fifty-five you know.”

  “She does not look it.” Miss Hixx never impressed me as much over forty, though I had heard rumors. There’s even stories she’s involved with the President of the Prostitute’s Guild, who would be some fifteen or twenty years her junior.

  “No, she doesn’t, but she is tired. Bardel Pynn. He looks like his name.”

  “Helena, as I understand it, hand-picked him.”

  Solomon scowls. “Yes. I suppose it is moving with the times. She lead the Traveler’s and represented them to the Guild Council. He … will be more of a bureaucrat and a representative. I suppose it will be better not to rely on one personality.”

  “Especially since I suspect that personality is very much in need of rest,” I say. Solomon regards me curiously, then returns to looking over the city.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll miss her?”

  “Yes.” Mr. Dell straightens up, eyes scanning the horizon. “I liked working for her. She treated the Rancelmen with respect no matter how many times we got reorganized. She recognized us as important, guardians of the Portals, investigators of smugglers. Mr. Pynn … I think he will change nothing. I do not know if he will do things.”

  And, my suspicions are confirmed. In some cases, when Solomon talks to me, there’s something he wants to address. A splinter irritating his mind. I can tell this is such a case.

  “I see, and …”

  “We confirmed Earth 2-124 went nuclear,” Solomon states gravely.

  Two issues, actually. Some time ago Solomon had to deal with closing the Portals on an Earth that had a nuclear conflict, to ensure contamination or worse didn’t spill over to Xai. He has not talked about it much, I have not prompted him.

  “I see. And you?”

  “Coping with it. Wondering how Mr. Pynn would. Helena sent me some wine. Nice vintage.”

  “Cinnibar?” I ask. Cinnibar is where we get a lot of wine and cheese. It’s practically’ Xai’s version of nexial-Earth France, though it’s growing into a bit of a retirement community.

  “No, up north. They make some surprisingly strange brews.” Dell smiles. “I didn’t drink it. Last thing I need lately is to be drunk.”

  “Your marriage?” I ask suddenly. Solomon is surprisingly forthcoming today on his feelings.

  “Well, well. I feel better about it. She’s been very supportive.” My companion shakes his head. “Great Jynin, I am whining today.”

  “And I am listening.”

  I get a smirk in return. “You know, I almost feel guilty about the onions …”

  “It was a good joke,” I answer. After an unpleasant incident due to my sudden fame, Solomon got me a bunch of onions due to the way I had to employ one as a weapon.

  “Yeah.”

  “Solomon, I may be busy for awhile. Are you going to be well?”

  I receive a sad glance, then a resigned look. “Yes. Busy?”

  “Unsure. I am putting things in order.”

  “I know. I enjoy these talks. I really do.” Solomon smiled. “We should socialize, you know, I think we are, possibly, friends.”

  “You mean …” I gesture unsuredly. “You will call and we will do things?”

  “I don’t suspect your group will accept me, but yes. I don’t have many friends, HuanJen. I count you as one. You have seen the worst of me, and you did not … cast me away. Nor did Jade, in the end.”

  “Thank you.” There is little else to say. There’s a moment of terrible vulnerability here in his life.

  “And now … look. You’re busy. I can guess. Drop by sometime, you let off some steam. Talk. We are in the same line of work, really. Making sure things run smoothly.”

  “Yes, yes we are,” I agree. “The irritating point being that people often say they want smoothness, and produce only roughness.”

  “Yes, tell me about it.”

  “I just did …”

  November 25, 200 AD, Xaian Standard Calendar

  “They have a house.” Jade says simply.

  She does things like that. Jade assumes that somehow my supernatural disciplines let me finish or expand people’s sentences - namely, hers. Not other people’s, just hers.

  I can’t number the amount of times she’s done what she just did - barge into the study as I’m reading, make an announcement that I don’t understand, and wait for a response
. It is endearing in its own way, but it can also be quite irritating.

  “Who, Jade” I manage to ask, folding up my files. “I have five immigrants from 2-124 in my zone, three probably permanent. There’s that couple on the border between my zone and Magus, there’s Slate and Garnet …”

  “Bingo, fortune cookie.” Jade points at me, her hand suggesting a gun.

  Suddenly I feel a flood of relief, though mixed with a little guilt that I didn’t intuit the subject of her statement.

  Slate and Garnet’s house search was almost reaching the level of a joke - something they’d wanted for so long that it was ironic they had trouble finding one. It wasn’t exactly a funny joke, but …

  … it meant they had what they wanted. It meant they’d get married. It meant she’d be happy. And Slate would be happy too.

  … then I wondered just how they’d found one.

  “Jade … how did this happen? I’m glad, but …”

  “Oh, it’s simple.” Jade shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Actually, it was you?”

  This is news to me. My knowledge of the housing market is mainly in my zone, and areas particularly friendly or unfriendly to spiritual matters. I find myself awaiting a doing-by-not-doing joke, which are, sadly, lame coming even from devout Taoists.

  “How?” I ask.

  “Oh, well, remember when you had that talk with the gang that they should help out with the search even if Slate was a bit territorial?”

  Jade’s question raises some memories. “Yes.”

  “Well,” Jade continued, “that gave Lorne an idea.”

  “Ah,” I nod, “Well, the Gendarmes …”

  “Nah.” My apprentice waves her hands. “Lorne got busy with inspection. But he did tell Clairice about some places he heard about. I mean, she hears things, and you never know if someone decides to move for health reasons, or dies, or …”

  “And she found a house?”

  “Nah. See, she felt that was a bit morbid, so she talked to Brandon, since you know how his time gets freed up depending on contracts. Now, it turns out he got a contract, so he asked Riakka if she could help out. Oh, they’re not …”

  “Having sex repeatedly?” I fill in her sentence.