Changer (Athanor)

by Jane Lindskold

  “You aren’t an athanor. Humans don’t get trials.”

  “I’m surprised,” Chris says bravely. “You seem like a very judicial group.”

  “Taking someone out of Harmony is a serious matter,” Demetrios explains. “It affects each athanor.”

  Rebecca frowns. “Bronson said the same thing, but I don’t understand. Not really.”

  “Rebecca, Harmony is what makes us immortal; it is what rejuvenates us. Harmony grows more powerful according to our numbers. That is why we rejoice when a child is born.”

  “But, Demi, no one is censuring the Changer and Anson for killing Isidro and Oswaldo,” Rebecca says, referring to events that had been debated at great length earlier. “Didn’t their deaths reduce Harmony?”

  “They did, but the Changer and Anson had no choice. They acted in self-defense and have sworn so under a truthstone.”

  “Yes, I saw.” Rebecca sounds almost sulky. “I still think they could have knocked them out or something.”

  “Maybe so, Becky, but we weren’t there. In any case, the loss of Isidro and Oswaldo is minor to what we would suffer if we were to lose Sven or one of his allies.”

  “What?” The sasquatch looks surprised and startled.

  “You have yet to live through a time when we lose many of those in Harmony,” Demetrios says, “or you would better understand. The closest you came was in World War II during the bombings. Even then, we lost comparatively few athanor. Most of our people fled.”

  “We do that a lot, don’t we?”

  “Rebecca…”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Now all of you listen to this old faun. Not only is Harmony diminished by the loss of any of our number, the loss of an old one costs us more than the loss of a younger one.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Your Bronson is probably worth both you and me. The Changer… Some say he is the oldest of us all. Why do you think we give so much deference to those we term ancient?”

  Rebecca shrugs. “I thought it was just good manners, like with the Chinese. The older ones do know more.”

  Demetrios pats her, a gesture that could be ludicrous given the differences in their sizes, but is not.

  “Now can you understand why taking these three members out of Harmony is such a serious matter? Truly we are diminished by the loss of anyone, but three such… Sven was present for Ragnarokk. If the Head has been in Harmony since its creation, which I think is likely, he is almost as old. Louhi is the youngest, but even she is millennia-old. Our late, lamented South Americans could not claim even Louhi’s years between them.”

  “I don’t like what I’m learning,” Rebecca admits. “What do you think will happen?”

  “I think that all three will be ruled out of Accord. I think that Sven will also be ruled out of Harmony.”

  Rebecca nods stiffly, clearly frightened by his bluntness as she had not been by the detached parliamentary procedure.

  Demetrios continues, “The Head is making a good claim for relative ignorance—the only one who says otherwise is Sven, and he’s not exactly trusted.”

  Rebecca takes up the thread. “Louhi… She’s so cold. What she did to the Changer was terribly cruel, but with Garrett testifying that he can reverse the effects of her spell, even if she will not, and her testimony that she acted for the Head’s own good… They won’t kill her for that, will they?”

  “We won’t,” Demetrios says quietly, firmly. “Remember, in these matters the Harmony is a true democracy. One reason these proceedings are taking so long is that an effort is being made to contact everyone from the unicorns in their secret valleys to the least bunyip in the Antipodes.”

  “And when that voting is done, Sven will die.” Rebecca wrings her hands. “I don’t even like him, and I’m afraid for him. Why doesn’t he flee?”

  “It won’t matter,” Demetrios answers. “When he is severed from Harmony, wherever he is, the effects will reach him.”

  “I’d be terrified!”

  “So, I expect, is he.”

  And when, two days after the Changer had made his initial complaint, the vote is taken, the result is much as Demetrios had predicted. Louhi and the Head are severed from the protection of the Accord; Sven is also so severed.

  Then, his face suddenly old, Arthur looks up from the notes on the speaker’s podium. He does not meet the gaze of any in the meeting room, but stares at the back wall.

  “The vote for taking Sven Trout out of the Harmony passed two-thirds for to one-third against. Since this exceeds the simple majority I have no choice but to ask each one present to accept that Sven Trout is…”

  “Wait!”

  The voice that speaks is Sven’s, but it is neither shrill with fear nor crippled with anger. Instead it is deep and raw with confidence. “Wait a moment before you speak those words, King Arthur.”

  Sven leaps up from where he had been sitting onto the raised dais. “Do you think that I am so foolish as to take on you and not make any contingency plans? I knew you would use your power to slay me, whether by the hand of your lackeys as Isidro and Oswaldo were slain or by some trick of law.”

  He thrusts his face into Arthur’s and hisses, “I knew you would not get your own precious hands dirty.”

  Arthur pushes him back. “I will not rise to these petty insults, Sven. Tell us what you have done. Have you bartered the sun and moon once more?”

  “Better,” Sven says, “for that was only legend. What I have done is real and will work.”

  Deliberately, he turns his back on Arthur and struts down the platform: “You all thought you could sever me from the Harmony, did you? Oh, I know that some of you voted for me, but I doubt it was from any great love. I suspect you feared to lose my considerable force within Harmony.

  “Well, when you were so smugly judging and choosing, ruling and voting, did you ever consider that I might have the power to do the same to you? I have come up with a way to sever the bonds of Harmony for all but myself and a few chosen allies.”

  He looks at the Head and Louhi. “I wonder if you voted for me or against? I don’t think I want to know.”

  Jonathan Wong calls out, “What is this madness, Sven? How can you sever Harmony?”

  “We reinforce Harmony by means of a dance,” Sven says, pulling from his pocket a tape player, “and I will break it with a song—a song composed by our own Tommy Thunderburst…”

  “No!”

  The wail of protest rises from where Tommy sits, but Sven airily waves him down.

  “The song has a few additions put in by my good Louhi, a few additions that I doubt Tommy would have written even in his darkest moments. Louhi is different. She’s far more dangerous than any of you believe. I tried to warn you about her…

  “If you declare me out of Harmony, I shall press a button and the song will play, not from this little recorder, but from recorders I have hidden throughout the hacienda while enjoying Arthur’s hospitality. You’ll never find them all in time.

  “However, even if you do, I have arranged that on the same signal a message will be sent out via e-mail to radio stations all over the world, radio stations that have been playing Tommy’s newest hit. They will be informed that there is a new song by the rising new superstar… Digital transfer is wonderful. They’ll be able to download it right off the web.”

  He laughs. “None of you have ever been my match in trickery! Do you dare see if I am bluffing?”

  Arthur ignores him. “Tommy, is what he says possible?”

  “I’m afraid so, man.” Tommy’s expression is wild and pleading. He faces the assembled athanor. “Look, I didn’t know what he wanted. He said he wanted a song to make Harmony with the self. It could be perverted to sever Harmony with others!”

  Lil Prima cuts in. “No one blames you, mon petite, Tommy. We all know too well where the blame should rest. Arthur?”

  “Yes, Lil?”

  “Sven could do it. Tommy’s performances have a magical compo
nent that we’ve long since fixed in his recordings. I did the magical work on this piece, both the audio and video recordings. If Sven wanted magic that could be broadcast, he’s got it.”

  Sven grins. “I told you I was smarter than all of you combined. I’ve even arranged a feedback loop, so that what you lose should help sustain the three of us through the transition.”

  “Set down the box, Sven,” Arthur says calmly. “I see we have more to discuss.”

  “Sorry, Your Majesty,” Sven replies, “but I’m not letting it out of my hot little hand.”

  The fear building in the room is contagious. Even Chris and Bill must fight back an urge to join those imploring Arthur to take a new vote, they will renounce the sentence.

  “Fools!” mutters Bronson. “Don’t they realize that merely getting Sven to surrender that black box won’t be enough? If he isn’t completely neutralized, either he or his allies could use the Disharmony spell in the future.”

  Katsuhiro Oba also reaches this conclusion. Leaping from his seat, he screams, “You can’t do this to us, you bastard!”

  The onetime god of storm and iron sprints down the aisle between the chair, preparing to rip the box from Sven’s hands and beat his secrets from him. Not nearly as quickly, but with an implacable steadiness, Eddie moves from his chair and interposes himself between Katsuhiro and Sven.

  “Out of my way!” Katsuhiro shouts.

  “No!” Eddie says. “We don’t do…”

  Katsuhiro doesn’t listen further. As he tries to shove Eddie aside, Sven panics and his finger closes for a moment on the black box. The sound of bright flutes accompanied by drums surges from the hidden speakers for a few devastating chords.

  Eddie’s scream as his leg is rebroken is nearly lost in the keen of pain that emits from almost every throat. Only the two humans, Sven, Louhi, and the Head do not reel. The ancients are the first to recover.

  Shifting into a raven, the Changer knocks the black box from Sven’s hands. In the audience, Duppy Jonah seizes the Head. Amphitrite pins Louhi’s hands, whispering, “Not a word, not a gesture. I’d love to hurt you for what you did to the Changer.”

  Anson A. Kridd pushes Garrett Kocchui through the crowd to tend to Eddie. The physician, still a bit staggered himself, gains strength when he realizes he has a patient.

  “Now,” Arthur says through gritted teeth, “we are in a better position to discuss this matter.”

  “Physical violence!” Sven says in the tones of one appalled. “Arthur, you only support my thesis that you will do anything to preserve your power structure.”

  “Stow it,” suggests Bronson Trapper, stepping up onto the platform and picking up Sven as easily as a child might a doll. “Arthur, why don’t you retrieve that box? I suspect it cut off before his electronic signal was sent, but we should check.”

  “I think I can,” the Smith says. “Arthur, I’ll use your computer.”

  Swansdown rises with her infant son cradled in her arms. The yeti child is unconscious, his pink face contorted with pain. To one side, Snowbird is chafing Dawn’s wrists, trying to bring the little one around.

  “Do that again, Sven Trout,” Swansdown says, “or any of you and before my last breath passes I shall curse you with such pain in every joint and tendon that though you are immortal you shall pray every day for death. Look what you have done to my babies!”

  “And mine,” says the Changer, lifting Shahrazad’s limp and barely breathing form. “The children are not strong enough to survive for long the pain of separation from Harmony.”

  All around the room, the younger athanor have collapsed, but, Sven’s luck has held, for none has died.

  Arthur paces up and down the platform while Eddie and the children are carried out to a makeshift infirmary. Then he restores order with a single, commanding gesture.

  “Well, my friends. You see how our judgment has been perverted. I have no doubt that, even with Swansdown’s curse hanging over them, Sven or his allies will carry out their threat if we remove them from Harmony. Shall we change our sentence?”

  The Changer says into the silence, “Perhaps we should.”

  Arthur looks at him in astonishment. “You are the last one I thought would say that!”

  “What other incentive can we offer Sven?” the Changer answers reasonably. “In any case, I never said I wanted Sven’s death, only retribution for what he has done to me and my daughter and an opportunity to remind him what happens when he uses his elders as tools.”

  “What about those of us who are not so ancient?” Rebecca Trapper protests. “That is, what about his using us?”

  The Changer turns his head to study her from his one remaining eye. The sasquatch bravely holds her ground, and he nods slowly.

  “Rebecca, you have learned an important lesson about blind trust over these last few days, but does that mean the cause that brought you here is without merit?”

  Rebecca frowns. “No. I still don’t want to hide in the woods for the rest of my life.”

  “Very well. Then, for all the ill he has done, Sven has done some good as well.”

  Vera calls out. “Changer, he’s dangerous!”

  “So is stagnation,” says the Changer. “Look at human history—a history many of you have helped to make. Stability and stagnation often go together. Egypt, Rome, various Chinese dynasties, the great empires of South and Central America, more recently this mid-twentieth-century United States: all of these have suffered from the lack of competition and challenge.”

  The Changer smiles at the amazed King, then turns back to the gathered membership. “Perhaps Sven Trout—Loki Firebrand—is what Arthur needs.”

  This is not what the athanor want to hear. They want punishment and security against this threat and any like it.

  “Maybe you’re tired of living, ancient,” shouts Netherton Olsen, “but we are not. Why should we leave this rat free?”

  “His manipulation is the reason you are here,” the Changer says stubbornly. “If Sven’s Disharmony Dance can be disabled, his threat to Harmony is removed. Exiled from the Accord, any of you will be free to attack him.”

  “Yeah!” Sven says, with manic cheer. “I’m in a shitload of trouble! Save me! I’m open to suggestion!”

  “Can we disable his Disharmony Dance?” asks Duppy Jonah.

  Lovern rises. “Your Majesty, a charm could be crafted to create an aversion that would develop into physical illness if Sven or his allies even think about using this Disharmony spell.”

  Tommy Thunderburst nods. “Like tetraethylthiuram disulfide for alcoholics, right?”

  Amazed gazes center on the musician. He shrugs and blushes.

  “Hey, I’ve been on it. Aversion therapy. Nasty stuff, but it can work.”

  “Something like that, Tommy,” Lovern continues, “except that the spell would be woven into the same force that connects them to the Harmony. They could not dispel the charm without breaking their link to Harmony.”

  Swansdown hands Dawn to Snowbird. “I volunteer to help. My curses would weave well into this.”

  Tommy, who has had his own experiences with pain, asks, “But, like, how bad would this torment be?”

  “Horrible,” Lovern promises. “The mildest reaction would be vomiting and blinding headaches. Persisting against the aversion could well lead to death.”

  “And,” growls Katsuhiro, “can we get all copies of the Disharmony Dance so that we can destroy them?”

  Lovern smiles unpleasantly. “I’m certain you could coerce them if truthstone questioning suggests they are holding out.”

  Frank MacDonald sighs, his hands nervously stroking the jackalope hunched nervously in his lap. “The solution is cruel, but, then, so is what they intended for us.”

  Chris and Bill listen in a mixture of horror and fascination as debate and discussion further refine the plan. In the end, a formal resolution is passed permitting Sven Trout to remain within Harmony as long as the Disharmony Dance is destroyed and
suitable precautions are taken against its being used again.

  Vera slides a note across the table to Arthur: Should we raise the issue of taking Cleonice Damita out of Harmony while we have everyone here?

  Arthur scribbles back: Let someone else raise it. I’m weary of death sentences.

  Rising, Arthur addresses the group at large, “If there is no further business…”

  Even when he looks pointedly at Duppy Jonah, the one who had demanded Cleonice’s death, no one speaks.

  “Then I adjourn this meeting into smaller committees. Jonathan, Lil, and Swansdown, would you assist Lovern with the preliminary design of the aversion spell? I think that the theriomorphs’ problems would benefit from smaller group discussion. I’ll head one meeting in Meeting Room A. Jonathan will take one in Meeting Room B. Vera, will you head another in C?”

  He smiles tiredly. “First, let’s break for a half hour. Refreshments are in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

  Rebecca whispers to Chris and Bill, “Let’s talk with Arthur later. He’s not in a very good mood.”

  Arthur watches as the meeting disperses. A small whine and a throat being cleared makes him realize that the meeting room has emptied of all but the Changer and Shahrazad.

  “You surprised me, Changer.”

  “I know.”

  “You didn’t get your restitution.”

  “Sven has been disarmed; he has been removed from the Accord. I assure you, that is better than martyring him.”

  Arthur frowns. “But your family… Isn’t that why you came out of the hills, to gain retribution for them?”

  “Yes,” the Changer nods, “and to learn who would dare play with me. I was simpleminded not to think of Sven sooner, but he diverted me with Lil, and by the time I had spoken with her, his trail was cold. Even his other attacks were subtly handled.”

  “That is true.” Arthur still looks uncomfortable. “Yet, you have gained very little for yourself—and you have taken more harm than many.”

  The Changer shrugs. “In some ways, that is so. However, if Sven had not drawn me out, I might never have learned that Shahrazad was athanor. She might have been long dead by this June’s Harmony Dance, being litter’s runt and all.”