by Andy Havens
“We had. But Ezer had some evidence he’d kept to himself. It conflicted not only with our information, but within itself. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He brought Rain Vernon into a false confidence about that supposed plot in order to ferret out some of those inconsistencies and either get to the heart of the actual conspiracy or put it to bed.”
“He cares for Lane White.”
“Yes, I think so. In a well… fatherly way. I believe he has a lot of guilt about the disappearance of Morgan. Maybe even about what happened to Lane. I think that’s part of the reason he kept an eye on Kendra. And why he began to suspect that she was involved in something other than the original, false plot against Increase.”
“What was his clue?”
“The Mundane doctor, Lyonne. He discovered that her connection to Rain Vernon predated her work with Kendra.”
“But that’s not news. She was a known associate of Earth.”
“She was a low-level tag, yes. We knew that. But when Vernon brought Kendra to work in one of his topiary gardens, that made Ezer suspicious. He did some digging and found out that the two of them had known each other for decades. He also discovered a connection between the two of them and some of the Blood gangs.”
“That deck of cards, for example.”
McKey frowned a bit and made the maybe, maybe-not hand tilting gesture. “I still don’t know about those. Not entirely. At the level of the streets, it’s not that odd for tags from different Houses to work on jobs together. We knew that Jimson’s gang did work for Blood Stone Tribe. That may have been why they checked the deck out of the Library. I mean, it was a rare piece, but we circulate stuff like that with enough collateral to back it up.”
“And we’ve never had a problem like that before, “ Monday commented.
“Not as such. The usual hijinks and hard-luck. Stuff gets broken, burned, flooded, lost. We know that. Some attempted thefts. But that deck? The loss wasn’t as odd as the reaction.”
“We still don’t know why Jimson took such a, uh… final… stand on refusing to pay the Story back on the lost deck?”
“No. Wallace did a fine Reading on him there at the end. But whatever was motivating or scaring him was either very well hidden, or he didn’t understand it himself. It was almost like reading hallucinations from a psychiatric patient. There was a person… but it may have been a stand-in.”
“A mental model?”
“Yes. It’s odd for a single person to be as faceless or blurry in memory like that. Especially when the rest of the Reading was very clear. So the ‘Still Man’ may be a conglomeration of several people or even an untethered ideal.”
Monday nodded. “Plus, when Mundanes are involved, perception of Ways is often quite unspecific.”
“That, too. His memory could be of something he didn’t understand at all.”
“And he’s just trying to create a sensible pattern from the data he does have.” Monday nodded again. “We all do that. Some just more often than others.”
The two sat together in silence for a few moments reviewing various Ways.
“So,” Monday finally said. “Interpretation?”
“I’d be more likely to believe the deck itself was an issue if Dr. Lyonne hadn’t clearly just grabbed it on the spur of the moment. The fact that she used it in lieu of a standard set of Rorschach cards seems to indicate that she just enjoyed them. She is infatuated with the Ways. And, from what Kendra said, Rain Vernon had no idea that Lyonne had them.”
“I agree. I think Jimson associated them with whatever shenanigans are going on between Blood and Earth.”
He paused and looked up and to the left, a sign that he was deeply immersed in a Way.
Because I’ve seen him drive, talk, listen to music and scan through multiple Stories at the same time, coming to leaps of intuition that had escaped me after months of review. If he has to pause… he’s concentrating very, very hard.
“Yes,” Monday finally said. “I’ve reviewed Wallace’s reading very closely several times. Jimson’s fear seems too unfocused to be the result of a single person. And we have no other records of any character or creature known as the ‘Still Man.’”
“I agree. Though Wallace’s first interpretation of his words as, ‘I’m still a man,’ are interesting in this context, too.”
He nodded, still tracking something internally. McKey didn’t resent his review of the work himself. Any good researcher goes to the primary materials whenever possible.
They fell silent for a while, reviewing various Ways for any loose threads. They could, after so many centuries together, almost read each other’s minds during sessions like this. They’d leave their Ways of Sight open so that each could reflect on the other’s. It reminded McKey of a two-person juggling act in some ways.
“What else?” asked Monday after a few minutes of this.
“The unfortunate Bastiaan Huber,” answered McKey.
“Hmmm, yes.” Monday nodded,
“A coincidence?” McKey asked.
Monday shook his head. “Probably not. The timing is very odd. My guess is that whatever is happening between Blood and Earth, some from other Domains may have been impacted. To me he feels like someone who has been suffering from shock. You said his Mundane identity was suffering from some kind of mental disorder?”
“Yes. He’d been living under another name for some time before that. Not unusual for a Seeming, especially this past century.”
“Quite” agreed Monday. “Records and numbers and such.”
“Exactly. So if he’d had an accident or illness and had lost touch with the House, it wouldn’t have been illogical for Mundane doctors to diagnose him as schizophrenic or even psychotic.”
“No family in Sight to inquire?”
His asking was a formality. More about wrapping up their conversation than gleaning new information.
“No. He was a bit of a recluse. Like many of us, more interested in his work and Ways than being social.”
Monday smiled a bit, then. She knew how much he loved those in his Domain. His readers and seekers. So his hand was lighter on the reins of power than any of the other Houses’ leaders. He protected them, provided the places and tools they needed… and left them alone.
For that, they loved him back.
“One more thing,” Monday said, “Before we head out. I’m just going to assume that our current Bloodlord’s unprecedentedly long reign figures into all this somehow. We’ve—I’ve—been keeping an extra eye on him for some time now. There were decades when he was clearly unstable, but that’s often part of succession in Blood.”
McKey nodded. “It’s odd, yes. And it may be what’s prompting this plot between Blood and Earth. We’ve never had a Bloodlord this old before. That in itself could be what’s triggered these maneuvers.”
Monday nodded back, still looking into space. Then he came back into focus and McKey knew they were done. She could read his patterns without a Way. But she interrupted him just before he rose.
“Solomon,” she said, and he leaned back, nodding for her to go on.
“Do you have to go to this meeting? I can handle it, you know.”
He nodded and made an of course you can handle it gesture with one hand, shaking off the implication that that was even part of his equations.
“You know that’s not it. I just don’t trust Gareth. Not really. I think he’s telling us the truth… the parts he’s telling us. But he wouldn’t be Warden of Increase if he showed all his cards.”
McKey was about to reply when he took his turn, interrupting her. “And I don’t trust Shavain d’Orro, either.”
Tipping her head to one side in question, McKey raised an eyebrow. “Lady Orro of Chaos? What does she…”
Then McKey knew what he was implying and nodded, smiling a bit to herself and shaking her head.
“You were able to read it off Kendra.”
“Yes. Which the Brothers knew I would do. Meaning either they’re planning to declare a new
leader of the Domain or Shavain simply wants me to know as part of whatever shenanigans she’s planning. Or not planning. You never know with them.”
McKey nodded and said, “I still don’t like you going out, you know.”
Monday dusted off the knees of his slacks, stood up and ran a hand through the stubble of his hair. “I know. But I was taking care of myself for a long time before you came along.”
He held out his hand to help her to her feet. With that rare touch, a frisson ran up her arm, reminding her of how vastly ancient he was. How drenched in story. She, a maestro of Sight herself, couldn’t help but sense and read the Ways that crisscrossed his person, the many millennia of history he carried.
“Let’s find out what we can from the others at the Cathedral. Then determine next steps,” he said.
Like seeing the layers of rock exposed in a canyon, she thought. The surface seems ordinary. But a peek beneath reveals layers upon layers of time.
They walked out the rarely-used door, down the short, odd hallway, through the library, into the parking lot and onto the nearest Narrow Road.
Later that day, a Mundane graduate student would sense
I am on the path I was meant for, she’d think, happy and relaxed for the first time in months. Because she’d remembered, at a level even deeper than her subconscious, that the seeking was so much more interesting than the knowing.
* * * * *
“Tomorrow,” Senbi said.
“Yes, Lord,” Cole answered. “Actually, tomorrow and a bit, if you account for time zones.”
“Right.”
They were sitting in his private study. Well, his fourth private study. The others had become so filled with gifts and trinkets and trophies that he’d had to keep appropriating other rooms in his palace to serve as an actual “room where you can study.” He couldn’t throw out any of that junk, because it might be important to a visiting dignitary or rival. He’d meet honored guests in whichever of the rooms had the most appropriately meaningful crap.
His third was almost full. At which point number four would become the new repository of career detritus and he’d have to find another one to actually use.
He sighed, thinking about moving his favorite furniture and getting lost a few times as he wended his way through the long halls only to find himself in another museum of success rather than a room where he could…
“Lord?”
What? Oh, yes. Cole. My mind wanders. What were we… Oh, yes.
“Tomorrow is very, very soon. I have barely had time to test my Way.”
“Yet you have tested it, Lord.”
Cole was wearing an immaculately tailored, dark gray suit with matching shirt and tie. He always looked very good. Expensive clothes, rare jewelry, perfect haircut and manicure. Which is as it should be for the personal assistant of the Bloodlord.
He looks like a shadow tonight, Senbi thought. My shadow! A handsome, obedient creature whose every move tracks mine. He loves me like no other, because he needs me like no other. He would die if I removed my blessing, and would…
“Lord?”
“What?”
“You have tested your new Way. The Great Way. The Way of the People.”
“Yes. Yes I have. It was… Perfect.”
Cole nodded. “Of course it was, my Lord. Your plan to unite the Clans and give them purpose is a true one. The success of this new Way proves it. Now it is time to rise and command.”
“I understand that,” Senbi said with a touch of impatience. “Your help has been invaluable, Cole. A member of my House could not have done so much for me without alerting the tribes or disciplines. And your contacts in Earth have been very useful.”
“Their role is necessary, Lord. They have agreed to join us tomorrow.”
“I understand what you told me, Cole,” Senbi replied, showing slight irritation again.
The boy thinks everything needs to be repeated over-and-over. As if I don’t understand and need to be reminded. Children…
The Mundane servant recognized he’d overstepped a bit and bowed his head.
“I present my Lord with reports and intelligence, only, of course. Any decision is his.”
“I hate it when you slip into that archaic talk, Cole,” Senbi said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You know we are friends. But I am Bloodlord. Leader of my people and my nation. I am their father. These things must be considered carefully.”
“Of course, sir.”
That’s better. ‘Sir’ is fine. Respect without being smarmy. Some of my Talismae could learn from him. Showing deference isn’t just about random compliments and…
He realized his mind had wandered again.
Why am I so easily distracted today? he wondered. He’d slept off all the drink and exhaustion from the Dance and the use of the new Way. He’d been excited and keyed-up. Everything had seemed so sharp and clear and precise. Like a diagram laid out of his future and purpose.
He took another long sip of strong, black coffee and it reminded him of the topic of their conversation.
The Sanctuary Cathedral.
The best coffee in history, he remembered. And they never let it out of their stone halls. Bastards.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Your sources are sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Two of our enemies in one place. Disconnected from their main sources of power.”
“Well, yes. Because they’ll be in a Sanctuary. Protected by Law. In a place created to protect peaceful negotiation.”
To his credit, Cole knew enough to not say anything while his master thought through what he’d just said.
“Ah,” Senbi said, as recognition dawned.
“Yes,” Cole agreed, nodding. A small, satisfied smile on his handsome face.
Senbi drummed his fingers on his knee, thinking hard.
“I had hoped for something less… conclusive… as a test.”
“You have made your tests, sir.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that this is a very bold step.”
Cole nodded, silent again. His Lord’s own words would sink in better than any of his.
“A bold step,” the Bloodlord repeated.
Still silent, Cole simply looked at Senbi with a glow in his eyes of respect bordering on worship.
Senbi knew that look. He remembered it from the days when he’d first sought the throne. From when he’d led his clans-people into battle. When they’d seen his power and cunning and knew that he could bring them victory.
His hand shook. Just a little. Maybe it was too much coffee. Maybe it was the excitement of purpose etched into the new Way that encircled his body.
So, to hide the tremor (even from himself), he rose and gestured for Cole to follow. They left his study and walked through the halls of the palace, past training grounds and practice fields that had only recently seen renewed use. Past storage vaults filled with razor-sharp weapons and arcane, perilous charms. Past the fourteen chambers where the Clan leaders, his Talismae, lived and held audience when they were in residence, which was rare.
They will all live here permanently, soon, he thought. They will want to be near their Father.
The throne room was empty. No feasts or dances, rituals or ceremonies were scheduled for that day. It was not his favorite room, because it had grown so ordinary to him. So common. And why be a monarch if only to rule over monotony?
He gestured for Cole to stand in his usual place behind and to one side of the throne. Then he sat on that cold, stone chair, carved thousands of years before.
Sekhemib Senbi drew a slow, full breath and call
ed up the Way of the People.
For a moment, he thought it had failed. That all his work and planning had been for nothing. That the tests had been the full extent of his reward. A small gain in personal power. Not the true change he’d been pursuing for nearly a century.
But then Senbi felt his skin grow warm along the newly inscribed marks. He felt the runes in the arms of the throne throb beneath his arms, and he smiled.
It begins.
He sensed the countless rivers of blood that had been poured over the throne during the reigns of his predecessors. The blood that connected him to generations of his people, to all the mothers and fathers of every era. Through that bond it now connected him to all his Clans, to the tribes, the families and all the various interlocking duties, obligations and rivalries. He shut his eyes and saw it all in his mind like a pattern. Almost itself like a great, shining tattoo inside his mind, splayed across the belly of the world and the bowl of the sky.
It is a vast tree! he thought, realization striking him like an electrical shock.
My lovely people are the leaves and fruit! And the fathers and mothers, the leaders of the disciplines, they are the smaller branches. And there are fourteen large limbs! he realized. The Talismae! My Clans!
The roots are the Blood of my forefathers, my foremothers. The cousins and uncles and aunts who have passed before. All of their lives, their stories, dances and songs, hunts and battles. The beautiful babies born, the young ones so bold and clean, the old ones so wise and full of humor and patience…
He opened his eyes then, but still saw the pattern before him, hanging in the empty space of the darkened throne room like a spider web of light.
The deep roots below me, the shining leaves above.
And I am the tree, the trunk, the center, the pillar, Father and Lord.
His new Way, the Way of the People, flowed out from him into the pattern, pulling power and memory from all the long eons of Blood. More generations and more Reckoners than any other House, both in the past and currently, for his was a more fertile Domain than the others.
From him, from the throne, from his will and his personal links to the Weyyrd, it flowed out and out to all the Clans, the tribes and families. It reminded them of their common past, their beliefs, their stories. What they shared in blood and Blood.
