Aware

by Andy Havens

  A trap? I suppose you could think of it as that, but we didn’t know he was coming here until…

  … my team??!

  Charlous reached up and touched his earpiece, “Copy, one,” he said softly.

  There was nothing but static.

  “Your people have already sung songs to honor my dead,” Mohz said. “How is it these chronics say? Eyes for eyes?”

  For the first time that night, Charlous felt real fear. He had been counting on his team, especially Nina in the over-watch position who was as deadly a sniper as he’d ever worked with.

  Still circling to his left, Charlous felt his foot bump on something. He chanced a quick look down and saw that it was the body of a dead dengiin. Well, some of its body. It had been mostly hollowed out by the venom of a keshwasp.

  “It’s funny,” Mohz said, taking another half step toward Charlous. “I’ve worked with these tags for years, but I don’t resent their killing as much as I do the doglings. They were beautiful. Rare things, you know. A long time to breed.”

  Charlous nodded, remembering. At various times in his long life he’d worked on farms and in mines that were guarded by dengiin. Nobody would call them good pets, but they were trusty, talented animals.

  Mohz took one more step forward, and then one to the side. The light was behind Charlous now and he could see the Earth Lord in sharp, contrasting detail. The high, bald forehead; the double set of tusks; the skin that was more wooden scales than flesh.

  Reminds me of my cousin No’ab, Charlous thought, recalling a time from deep in his past.

  A twig snapped to the Earth Lord’s right and Charlous glanced that way just for a moment before realizing his mistake.

  Not a twig!!!

  Without thinking, without looking back at Mohz, he dove in the other direction as a short, razor-tipped spear passed within inches of his arm, right about where his heart would have been had he not moved so quickly.

  He left a finger behind him as he circled me! One that can strike even when detached!

  Rolling in the hard-packed dirt of the drive, Charlous pulled out the stun grenade, triggered it and launched it toward Mohz in one, swift motion. He had no hope that it would actually stun his opponent, but it might distract him.

  Two more of the short finger-spears sped by him, one so close that he felt its passing.

  Coming up on one knee with a gun in one hand, Charlous saw that the black puck had rolled directly in front of Mohz and, as the red warning light blinked three times rapidly, he triggered the Way which protected his eyes and ears for the brief instant of the flash-bang.

  The Way dissipated and, sure enough, Mohz was wiping at his eyes and backing quickly away, making a high, moaning sound.

  Even more than Mundanes, Earth really don’t like those.

  With the echo of the grenade still rolling across the hills, Charlous drew both pistols and fired at the Earth Lord. The guns were some of the best, most powerful Mundane weapons available, but each round was also wrapped in a Way that accelerated it to insane speeds while reducing noise and kick-back. By the time the slugs hit Mohz, they were travelling at twice the speed of sound.

  The Earth Lord grunted as he was hit, falling backwards into the dark grass beyond the porch light. Charlous continued to fire in his general direction, making his best guess based on sound and shadow. Hearing Mohz stumbling through the dry weeds, he darted forward from his kneeling position and called another Way on himself, doing with Reckoning what Mundane night-vision goggles did with technology; multiplying the available starlight to the point of clarity.

  Knowing that he needed to remain cautious, he didn’t simply run toward the wounded Earth Lord, but circled, again, to his right, coming at him obliquely.

  It was good that he did, because now one of the Reckoner’s arms shot out, cracking and separating into a half-dozen deadly spears. All Mohz’ remaining fingers and claws flew through the spot where Charlous had just been, tearing a good cut across his left arm as he dodged.

  That’s twice lucky, he thought. There’s rarely a third…

  Gauging his enemy’s position from the angle of his attack, Charlous fired three more times, igniting his rounds with a Way that caused them to burn like phosphorus as they crossed the yard. Two missed, but one caught the Earth Lord in the side, burning him badly and making him howl in pain. As an added bonus, the round continued to burn in the Reckoner’s side, making him easier to track.

  From the noises Mohz was making, he’d been badly wounded and had fallen down.

  Over the centuries, Charlous had studied with many martial artists and weapons masters. They’d all had various techniques and differing advice. But one maxim they’d all shared was: finish it.

  Never linger at the kill, never gloat, never taunt, never bargain, never explain.

  He had a knife tucked in a scabbard under his arm. It would be satisfying to finish Mohz with a blade.

  But my masters couldn’t all have been wrong.

  So he emptied the remaining rounds from both guns into Mohz. Nothing fancy. No head shots. No calculated spread. All simply aimed at the center of his body mass.

  The Earth Lord twitched and rolled with each impact, flailing further into the weeds. Black blood flowed from several chest wounds and leaked from the corners of his mouth.

  Not trusting that his opponent didn’t have a trick or two left, Charlous moved closer, but stayed well out of range of those long, grasping claws while reloading. Once both guns were fully loaded and cocked, he approached the Earth Lord slowly, still keeping at a range where he could easily shoot him in an instant.

  “I… underestimated you, traitor,” Mohz managed to croak out, his voice thick with pain.

  Finish it, the voices in his head reminded him. There is nothing more for you to learn here.

  As he raised his guns, Damon Mohz said, “Your Warden may have killed me… butchered my tags… and my beautiful dengiin… but Earth will triumph. I speak my death curse on you… that your treachery will return to you by the hand of one who…”

  Charlous emptied both guns into Mohz, each round enhanced by yet another Way that ignited them as they left the barrel, streams of molten metal tearing into the Earth Lord’s knotty flesh. Mohz had no time even to scream as his body burst into flames.

  Within moments there was nothing left but a smoldering patch on the grass.

  I don’t believe in curses, Charlous thought, reloading his guns. Another oft repeated rule from my mentors.

  He hustled away to find the bodies of his team, dialing his phone to call for pick-up. While he hadn’t actually heard any of the giant bugs, he didn’t want to run into the keshwasp swarm.

  Almost an hour later, seated in the back of a helicopter, he recalled Damon Mohz’ final words.

  With the wrapped bodies of three of his comrades on the floor beside him, he didn’t much care about anything except getting home before anything else hit the fan. Nina, his sniper, had survived the wasp attack that had claimed the lives of the rest of her team. She’d managed to bludgeon one of the insects with her rifle before its venom had done more than knock her out. Neither she nor Charlous knew how the Earth Lord had managed to silence their comms, but that was something to figure out another day.

  “Did the boar have anything interesting to say at the end,” Nina asked. “Death curse, I assume.”

  “He tried, Nina,” Charlous said. “But I shut him down mid oath.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’m not superstitious, but a death curse isn’t your ordinary jinx.”

  He nodded. Then he recalled what else the Earth Lord had said. At the time, he’d been so pumped on adrenaline—and, to be honest, fear—that he hadn’t really paid attention.

  Your Warden may have killed me… butchered my tags… and my beautiful dengiin… but Earth will triumph.

  Thinking over what he knew about all the operations Increase had in the field, Charlous thought to himself, I can say with almost 100% certainty that we d
id not take out any group of Earth tags on this farm. Why would Mohz have thought that?

  * * * * *

  As far as Kendra was concerned, breakfast was served too dang early in the Library.

  For those who worked in the Library, it was standard operating procedure. The building opened to the public at 8am, and so most morning staff sat down for coffee and cakes around 5:30. This gave them time to discuss the day’s calendar, make assignments, review any research completed overnight and generally have a few moments of peace before the doors swung wide.

  Ezer hadn’t slept at all, so it didn’t bother him. They weren’t going to include Bastiaan in this discussion, and Monday was glad to let the fellow sleep.

  “Our guest,” he told McKey and Wallace, “seems exhausted to the point of illness. I’ve never seen someone fall so quickly and deeply asleep.”

  Wallace nodded. “He looks gaunt, too. In school he was fit, but thin. But he looks now as if he’s been neglecting to eat much on a regular basis.”

  The three from Sight poured coffee and chose muffins from a large basket that the morning staff had placed in the Eastern Conference Room. As they sipped and munched, Ezer came in and helped himself to coffee, too.

  Soon, Kendra—wakened by a junior clerk—came in, rubbing her eyes and grumbling.

  “Can I get a Coke or a Pepsi or something?” she asked. “And something with protein?”

  McKey nodded and shot a tiny Way out to the appropriate staff. While they waited, Kendra sat at the conference table with her head down on her arms.

  In a few minutes, the same junior staffer who’d wakened Kendra trundled through the door with a lunch cart. Lifting a metal lid, he revealed a serving plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon and ham. There was also a plate with hot, buttered toast and some cups of mixed fruit.

  “Thanks,” Kendra said, going to the cart and filling a plate with eggs. “And the Coke?”

  The clerk gestured at the lower shelf of the cart and headed out without a word.

  I guess it’s early for him, too, Kendra thought. Sure enough, the bottom shelf held a plastic tub with some ice and a selection of soda. She took a Coke and sat back down to eat.

  “Scrambled eggs and cola?” the Warden of Increase asked with a disapproving frown.

  Kendra shrugged and ate. She knew what her body needed to wake up after only a few hours’ sleep in a comfortable yet strange chair.

  “Can we get you anything to eat, Mr. Ezer?” McKey asked.

  “Please. Call me Gareth. Can we all please dispense with formality? I believe we’ll move past all need for it pretty quickly.”

  Wallace and McKey looked at the Librarian. Amused, he raised one eyebrow as if to say, Oh, it’s entirely up to you, my good colleagues.

  Wallace tried it on for size. “Certainly… Gareth. Can we offer you something more to your taste for breakfast? I’m sure… Mr… uh… Solomon… I mean…”

  Monday laughed out loud.

  “Warden, my people are not your people. There are different rules and forms here. An invitation to casual familiarity will not bond them any more to me. Or you. But I will endeavor to adhere to your wishes. Gareth.”

  Ezer chuckled. “It does sound wrong. Even from you. Never mind. Just… No. I’m not hungry. I’ll wait to eat until I’m back with my people.”

  Wallace shot McKey a look. Does he mistrust us?

  She shook her head imperceptibly and subtly touched her nose while taking a sip of coffee.

  Ah, Wallace realized. Our food isn’t good enough for him.

  At that moment, Vannia came bouncing in with a bright, perky, “Howdy, everybody!”

  “Shut up,” Kendra growled.

  “Not a morning person?” Vannia asked, picking up a piece of bacon and sniffing it.

  She bloody well knows I’m not.

  “Bugger off.”

  “Poor baby.” She put the bacon back on the tray and returned to her seat from the night before, perched on the back of the couch.

  Monday stood and shut the door quietly. They could all feel that it wasn’t just a physical thing, but a Way of some sort closing the room off from the rest of the Library and the world—a level of privacy that only Sight could provide.

  “Now,” the Librarian said. “You were telling us about your earliest suspicions, Warden. The first time that Morgan White spoke to you about Kendra’s mother, Lane. Who, at that time was called…”

  “Elaynia Geary, a mid-level Reckoner in Release. Yes.”

  “This was how long ago?” asked McKey.

  “Around 1800, I’d estimate,” Ezer replied. “I remember because Morgan was involved in some early engineering projects of mine in England. That’s where he and Elaynia met.”

  “At Lady Percy’s court?” asked Kendra.

  Ezer shook his head. “There is no Court of Release.”

  “Ah. Like Chaos?”

  “No,” chimed in Vannia. “The Fluid Court is real. It’s just never in the same place for very long.”

  “’Right,” recalled Kendra. “And nobody outside Chaos knows where it is.”

  “Correctamundo.”

  “I suppose,” Kendra continued, “that there is no Court of Release because it would be, essentially, contradictory for the Domain concerned with being… free and unbound… to have a single, central location?”

  Monday made a gesture with his hand, tipping it back-and-froth. “More-or-less,” he replied. “But it’s more complex than that.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Kendra asked, rolling her eyes.

  “Shut up,” Vannia said. “You’re being chronic.”

  Ezer shot the Chaos assassin a glare. “Language please, young lady.”

  “Pfft.”

  “I apologize,” Kendra said. “But everything about the Domains seems complicated to me.”

  “It’s only complicated if you didn’t grow up in it,” Monday said. “Like language. Your first language is never a problem. And remember that for most Reckoners outside of Earth, life can be very long. Plenty of time to learn all kinds of subtleties.”

  Kendra nodded. “OK. So what’s the complexity with the court of Release?”

  Monday looked at Wallace, who swallowed his last bite of muffin quickly and explained:

  “Release does not hold court, nor keep to fixed addresses or appointments, generally. The Mistress or Master of the Domain is often entirely invisible and at large for months at a time. In the case of Lady Percy, I do believe she has only been seen publicly nine times in her entire reign.”

  McKey and Monday both nodded, so Wallace continued, “Once a year, Release is required by tradition to provide a series of hints about her location to the members of her House. If they wish discourse with her, they must find her.”

  “If they can’t?” Kendra asked.

  “Then they are not worthy of her presence,” Monday answered. “Remember, both hiding and finding hidden things are the purview of Release.”

  “I see. And if they do find her?”

  “They can ask a boon or suggest policy or simply enjoy the status,” McKey replied.

  “And if someone can anticipate her location and arrive before her…” Monday said.

  “Then they become the new Master or Mistress of the Domain,” Wallace answered.

  Nods all around, even Ezer and Kendra.

  “Makes sense,” she said.

  “Not too complex for you, dear?” McKey asked.

  Kendra shook her head. “No. Like most of the things I’m learning about the Domains and their Ways, it makes perfect sense once you tilt your head and look at it from how that House must see things.”

  Monday raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying we’re predictable?”

  “No, not that,” Kendra said. “Well, maybe a bit. But more that you are, well… consistent. Synchronized within your outlooks. Yes. OK. I guess I’m saying predictable.”

  “Explain,” the Librarian said. Not unfriendly, just curt and curious.
r />   “Well, I first thought that Release and Chaos would be similar. Getting out of traps and locks seems like a function of breaking something orderly. And Chaos likes that. But there’s nothing inherently more random or chaotic about an unlocked room compared to a locked one, a hidden treasure or an obvious one. It’s not even about surprise or being unexpected, is it, Parrot Girl?”

  “Nope.” Vannia was leafing through some huge tome that she’d managed to sneak into the conference room while nobody was looking. It seemed as if she was paying scant attention to their talk, but Kendra suspected otherwise.

  “So the Fluid Court is a sensible juncture. For those in Chaos. Somewhere different all the time. Only known to those willing to be governed by Chaos.”

  “Bingo-bango,” said Vannia, head still buried in the book.

  “You now see that as different from Release?” McKey prompted.

  “Oh, yes. Put a Reckoner of Release in locked room, they’ll get out,” replied Kendra. “While a Chaotic might just set up house and charge you rent if you try to get back in.”

  Vannia snickered and made a “point for you” gesture with one finger, still not looking up.

  Clearing his throat, Monday got them back on track. “Anyway, Warden, you were telling us how Kendra’s parents met.”

  “Yes. I had need of some locks. Very high quality locks. And so I sent Morgan to Release to arrange for their creation and delivery. The Reckoner who was assigned to the job was Elaynia Geary.”

  “Seems innocent enough,” McKey said. “Reckoners move across each other’s paths all the time.”

  “At first it was quite innocent,” Ezer agreed. “They met several times while Morgan explained the requirements, and again a few more times to test the various prototypes. When they had a final, acceptable product, he asked me if we should bring Ms. Geary back to install the locks herself and I thought that was a wise idea.”

  “Had they fallen in love by then?” Kendra asked. It is so weird to think of my parents as people. To even think of my mom as being a Reckoner and in love.