The Seeds of Dissolution

by William C. Tracy

  * * *

  Rilan sat in a hastily called session, consisting only of the sixty-six speakers and the Effature, three days after the apprentices reported the anti-Sureriaj mob. The Most Traditional Servants had urged all six of the Sathssn speakers to call the Small Assembly to formalize their faction’s secession. The full Assembly was divided on the issue, but speakers were the ones whose votes counted, and they reached the two-thirds majority. Rilan clenched her fists as the Effature counted red and black pebbles from an urn in front of him. She was fairly sure even two of the Council had voted for the Servants to leave the Assembly. They would take their section of delegates with them, and at least two of the six speakers. So who was bribed and blackmailed, and who’s tired of listening to the Sathssn fanatics whine? She was, but she also understood the risk the Assembly opened itself to by allowing factions of species to leave their protection. Others will try, after this. It reduced the Assembly’s effectiveness and reputation. If part of a species was not represented, yet still wished to use the resources of the Nether and the maji, such as portals, would they be regarded as smugglers? Did they pay taxes? It threw unnecessary complications into the works.

  At least Ori was absent, not being a speaker. He had been on her for the last half a ten-day to leave for Methiem, and she had to block three more of his attempts to proposition the Council with his talk of voids destroying them all. Once he got his evidence, there was nothing to stop him from bringing it before the full Assembly, and that would only panic them more. The xenophobic Sureriaj might vote to leave the Assembly, citing the attacks on their citizens, and that would be a whole homeworld gone, not just a faction, like the Sathssn.

  Back in her apartment in the House of Healing, Rilan was stripping off the hated formal white dress when the communication System in her bedroom pinged for attention. She left the thing on the floor and shrugged her jerkin over a shirt, cinching it closed. She would be decent enough for a communication, even if she wore no pants.

  She sighed and pressed a button.

  “Yes?”

  Feldo’s face swam out of the mist of colors that made up the System. “You are to attend an emergency session of the Council at the Dome of the Assembly,” the councilor for the House of Potential said. He sounded shaken. Rilan felt a shiver run down her back. Nothing fazed the elderly councilor.

  “We’ve been at the Dome all day, Feldo,” Rilan said, careful keeping her voice neutral, despite the claws of dread pulling at her spine. None of the maji on the Council were spontaneous. It came with the job. “Why not at the Spire?” She waved a hand behind her, the direction where the building rested against a column. “Why an emergency session now?”

  “The Dome. Now, Councilor,” Feldo growled, and cut the connection before she could reply.

  “Then you’re getting me looking like this,” she told the empty communication platform, and looked down. “Fine. Once I put on pants. Shiv’s nosehairs. Can’t I get a moment’s peace?”

  At least Enos was out—probably with Ori’s boy again. The four apprentices were bonding nicely, though she wondered at the dynamic between the twins and Sam. She wasn’t sure what was going on there, but he was practically Sureriaj in nature. Still, she saw him accepting the Nether more every day. She thought his anxiety issues might be more controllable now he had emotional support.

  Jhina, as Speaker for the Council, had likely stayed behind to talk with the Effature. Maybe he was the reason for the emergency meeting. Rilan walked quickly, letting the Nether guide her footsteps in the dimming glow from the walls. It gave her time to think. She edged around a male and a wari Lobath cuddling and strolling, their long fingers intertwined. The roads were still crowded at this hour, but nowhere near as bad as at tenth lightening.

  They had to be ready for others to secede now the Most Traditional Servants had shown it was possible. Possibly the Effature was trying to create a stopgap through the maji. The Council could withhold portals to and from a homeworld, in an emergency. It had not been done since before she was born, but the Aridori scare could not be allowed to gain any more momentum.

  Someone bumped her shoulder and she whipped around fast enough to see a dark cloak in the twilight. This was High Imperium, but as she checked her surroundings, she saw she was traveling through a warren of alleys, which the Nether prompted her was a little shorter today. The light from the wall barely reached here, and few shops were still open, turning the path she followed into a series of lit oases between dark seas. Only the most desperate or stealthy cutpurses operated in High Imperium, and they usually gave maji a wide berth.

  She spared a glance down as she walked. “Vish’s ever-beating heart,” she cursed. She was out of uniform. The old hunting leathers her father had made her were comfortable, but did not show her status as a majus. She checked her possessions. All there.

  She picked up her pace, only to swerve out of the way of another figure, this one’s face hidden by a low, broad hat. Even the Nether had limits to guiding one’s path. Maybe everyone was in a hurry today.

  Someone else bumped her, and she tensed as a rough hand gripped her jerkin, pulling her roughly to one side. The fractal orchestra of the melody flowed through her quick as thought and emotion fell away. Trills of pheromones played against sloppy beats of sweat. Arpeggios rose from eagerness to violence. She hadn’t been attacked in cycles.

  She twisted, crossing her right hand to grip and lock out the arm holding her. She blocked the measures connecting muscle to ligaments and ligaments to bone with notes from her song. White only a majus could see flowed down her arm.

  Her other hand came up underneath the man’s elbow, little spikes of her olive green stabbing into the tough’s arm. There was a slight resistance, and she felt the elbow dislocate. Then bone broke with a wet snap. She took her notes back as the man screamed and dropped, letting the connections between sinew and bone strengthen again.

  Two other Methiemum, a Lobath, and a Kirian were surrounding her. The one whose arm she had broken—a tall blob with a nose like a potato—looked like he had been in charge. The other two Methiemum, one short, one tall, both thin, were on guard. One took a step back.

  Rilan disregarded them for the moment and focused on the Lobath. She didn’t feel like diving into the Kirian’s mind—Ori’s mind was bad enough, and she knew him. A strange Kirian would make her feel disoriented afterward.

  She waited for the others to approach, still holding their fallen leader’s limp arm loosely, turning to keep the others in view. The man dangled in her grasp, his eyes wide, and short wordless gasps came from him. He turned gingerly with her, attempting to keep his broken arm from more injury. He was out of the fight for the moment.

  It was easier to do this by touch. While she waited, she created a counterpoint duet to the Lobath’s mind with her notes. Lobath as a species were logical and hardworking. Though stereotypical, the underlying formula was sound. She would have an instant to make changes, and this was her strength.

  Once the Lobath was close, Rilan let go of the leader and sprang forward, tapping her between the roots of all three head-tentacles. A net of color burst into being, sinking beneath the orange skin. As it did, Rilan heard the makeup of the Lobath’s mind and made instantaneous adjustments in her artificial melody.

  “Defend me!” she commanded, and saw the shock come over the Lobath—the compulsion to do what Rilan told her. Fortunately no other maji were watching. Old Farha Meyta would turn in his grave if he saw me using mental compulsion like this, but it’s my skin on the line.

  The Lobath faced her companion, arms rising, and the Kirian backed away, pursued by his former ally. She watched until they disappeared around a corner, then glared at the two other Methiemum. They turned and ran.

  Rilan gasped and staggered at the loss of notes. The compulsion would wear off quickly, the parts of her song reverting to her. Meanwhile she had to get what information she could.

  A kick to her back sent
Rilan stumbling forward, and she converted the movement into a spin, facing the leader again. He was holding his arm, upright, but with his face white. Rilan grinned at him. He frowned, but held his ground.

  “You don’t push around Oswald’s gang!” he shouted, and ran forward. That was a mistake. Rilan sidestepped him, and put a boot into his knee. It buckled, and the man went down. Rilan knelt over him. He was trembling, cradling his ruined arm. Both the fore and upper arm bent at odd angles.

  Might have weakened his bones a little too much. At least she was used to combat. Another majus might have killed their attacker by accident.

  “Who sent you?” she asked quietly. He didn’t respond. She touched his arm, using a few more notes to dull the forte of pain down to piano.

  “Did you know I was a majus?” she asked. If this was only a gang targeting single pedestrians, she’d let the city guard know. However, if they were stalking maji—

  He blinked bleary eyes at her, finally acknowledging her presence. “You maji are hidin’ the Aridori, lettin’ them replace us while we sleep. Liam Oswald ain’t dumb!”

  They had known she was a majus. “Who sent you?” she repeated.

  “Not tellin’ you nothing!” he gasped.

  “Then I’ll bring you into the Council and you can tell them.”

  She reached for him and the man growled, swinging his good hand at her head. She deflected it easily. “Fine. I can do this the hard way, if you want.” Rilan sighed, and touched his arm again, removing her notes blocking his pain. She added a trill to the phrase and the man’s back arched, feet kicking. She gritted her teeth against his expression, looked around to make sure they were still alone. Don’t have time to wait for the others to return.

  She reversed her change to his melody, blocking the pain again, and raised her eyebrows at him.

  He panted, fingernails scraping across the cobblestones, then swallowed and spoke. “My gang is—” he glanced around, realizing his friends were nowhere to be seen, “Word’s got around we need to take things into our own hands. We know the Assembly is hiding them Aridori—and the maji are controlling them. They want to replace us regular folk. Corrupt politicians stealing our hard-earned coin.”

  It was stupid, but people had believed worse. “How did you know I was a majus?”

  “We seen you leave your fortress.”

  “The Spire and houses?” They were hardly fortresses. Parts were even open to the public.

  He glanced down at the ruin of his arm, then rolled his eyes away. “Don’t matter what kind you was—you’re all out to get us normal folk. I got proof now.” He tried to spit at her, but Rilan scooted out of the way, a flash of heat rising.

  “What would you have done if you caught me? Kill me? Hold me for ransom? Try out a little fun with a majus?”

  He was silent.

  “Are there more like you thugs?”

  The man regarded her sullenly, until she started to reach for his arm. The others might attempt to return soon, and she didn’t relish fighting all five of them at once.

  The man was breathing fast. Going into shock. “There’re more of us than you know. We won’t be pushed out of our homes by you maji. We’ll be on top again, before you know it.”

  Rilan stood up. “I don’t have time to deal with this. I’ll alert the first city guard I see. Have your friends get you to a doctor as soon as you can. What I did will not last forever—you’ll begin hurting soon, and you’re in shock.” She stopped before offering to set his arm. What would he have done to her?

  Rilan backed away, keeping her eyes open for sign of the man’s friends. Whoever was running this hoax about the Aridori was planting rumors about the maji, too. People were always eager to believe ill of the maji. They controlled transportation between worlds and aided in natural disasters, but they were also an unknown and powerful force in the universe. At least she could tell the guard his name.

  The Great Assembly was already shaky, and the Council of the Maji all but inept. Was there an intelligence behind all this, or was she jumping at shadows? The Aridori scare stories had her paranoid, even if they were nowhere to be seen.

  Fortunately she was familiar with fighting, and knew how to control this situation. Maji weren’t trained to fight. A surprised and threatened majus might have made wild changes in the Grand Symphony and killed themselves, or the attackers, or both.

  She watched faces as she walked—nearly running. A few blocks away she found a guard and gave her directions to the injured man, then promised to give a full report through the Council and the Effature.

  The Dome drew close, and once inside, Rilan hurried to the side chamber where the Council met when not in the Spire. She was late, but whatever news they had, hers was more important.

  She burst into the room, taking in the two empty chairs of six around the semi-circular table. Then she wasn’t the last to arrive.

  “What happened to you?” Jhina asked her, and Rilan looked down at the tall Etanela’s words. Her leather jerkin was unbelted, her shirt underneath untucked. It must have happened in the attack.

  “That’s why I’m late, Speaker,” Rilan said, tugging her clothes back into place. “Before we start this emergency session, I have news. Where is Bofan? I don’t want to repeat what I have to say.” She crossed to her chair.

  “Councilor Bofan is the reason we are meeting,” Feldo said quietly. She glanced toward him, thrown off by the old man’s shaken tone. “Bofan A’Tof was killed this afternoon by Aridori.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rising Fears and Discoveries

  -Many large cities on the ten homeworlds will have an area prepared as a portal ground. The maji run these areas, and connect, for a price, that city with the greater civilization of the ten species. While the funds from the portals go largely to the maji, to help pay for their services and research, a good portion is also set aside for upkeep in the Dome of the Assembly. In addition, a percentage goes to relief funds for those impacted by natural disasters where the maji have assisted in recovery efforts.

  Methiemum grade school textbook on economy

  “The Aridori attacks are a hoax.” Rilan collapsed into her chair, behind the Council’s semi-circular table.

  “I am not thinking Bofan agrees,” Scintien Nectiset said. The Kirian swept a clawed hand at the empty chair for the House of Power.

  “What happened?” Rilan asked.

  “He was set on by eight attackers,” Feldo said. “At least one was Aridori. Possibly all of them.”

  “Eight Aridori? No one has seen one for almost a thousand cycles and now there are eight? How can you know?” Rilan stared at the older man. He was the last one to jump at wild stories. She looked over the other councilors. She respected Jhina and Feldo, but Scintien was weak-willed at best, and Rilan still hadn’t forgiven Freshta for apprenticing Enos behind her back.

  “Councilor Feldo was able to determine what happened at the scene,” Jhina said.

  “There was skin and blood under Councilor A’Tof’s nails,” Feldo rumbled, smoothing out his wild silver beard. “The body also had several bruises and cuts, one containing a sliver of metal. With the House of Potential, I traced the energy of the materials, which gave me eight different paths of probability. Nine, with Bofan.”

  “Attackers, yes. How did you know they were Aridori?” That was a question better suited to the House of Healing. Rilan crossed her arms, aware the other councilors were staring at her, as if she had been called to the schoolmaster’s quarters. She fought the emotion away, careful to let none of it show on her face. Bofan had once been a good councilor. Now he was—had been—on the margins of maji policy, trying not to make waves. He had been too old, hanging on to his position for far too long. Something else, however unlikely, could have happened.

  “That…was more difficult.” The old councilor was normally certain in everything he did. Councilor Feldo had probably forgotten more techniques with the G
rand Symphony than Rilan had learned. “Truthfully, you might have been better to diagnose the scene, Councilor Ayama, but for the speed at which this was resolved, I could not contact you. Unfortunately, the traces I read have already been disturbed, and will not be of much use to you.” His eyes flicked to Jhina.

  Rilan nodded. She could have read biology and history in the attack better than one of the House of Potential, but the Grand Symphony resisted multiple changes. Still, she might find something if she were to examine the body herself.

  “Several of the cuts were from an attacker’s hands,” Feldo continued, “but the shapes match none of the known species, and there were no energy signatures of animals at the location of the murder. More than that, the injuries changed depth and form mid strike. A weapon could not have done that. So from the shape of the body and the force of the blows upon our late councilor,” before she could interrupt, Feldo raised a hand, creased from cycles of working with reagents, “I determined that the assailant was in the act of changing its shape.”

  Rilan frowned back at him. “That’s sloppy,” she said, daring him to disagree. It was also evasive. Feldo always delivered certainties, not conjecture as fact. Was he hiding something? “You should have waited for me to investigate, or called another from the House of Healing to corroborate.” Feldo rewarded her with a slight tip of his head—as much as a vigorous nod from someone else.

  “This was deemed to be a matter only for the Council,” Jhina said, her words streaming together. Typical of the Speaker to force a decision so quickly.

  “Again, you should have waited for me.” We’re right back where we were before—circumstantial evidence of the Aridori, at best. Though now even Feldo seemed to believe, and logic drove the old man even more than it did Rilan.