Harmony

by C. F. Bentley

  Satisfied that the filter did indeed work, she swung her legs off the narrow hospital bed and scooted forward. The moment her bare toes touched the cold floor a chill raised upward and grabbed her lungs.

  She coughed and coughed until she could get no air. And then she coughed some more. Tears clogged her eyes and her nose.

  Someone thrust the inhaler into her mouth. She gasped the medication more than breathed it.

  Instantly her blurry eyes sharpened focus, making fractured images through the water.

  “Stevie,” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice and induce more coughing. He gathered her into a hug.

  “You can only stay five minutes,” Mr. Guilliam hissed from the doorway. “She’s not supposed to have any visitors at all.”

  “Who says no visitors?” Sissy asked. Her chest eased and she felt confident in speaking again.

  “Laud Gregor’s orders,” Mr. Guilliam said. He looked anxiously over his shoulder.

  “He ain’t . . . he isn’t a physician. He doesn’t know what’s best for me.”

  “Perhaps not. But he thinks he knows what is best for Harmony.”

  “Didn’t you say that as soon as I take ordination I become Harmony?” Sissy wanted to giggle at that. Stevie had come. She’d be okay. He’d look out for her, just like he done—did—when they were little, and in school, and later in the factory. He didn’t let the girls bully her about her caste marks and he kept the bigger boys from taking advantage of her.

  Mr. Guilliam rolled his eyes upward. “Please, Miss Sissy, I can’t afford any trouble with Laud Gregor. And neither can you. Not yet anyway.”

  Sissy winked at him conspiratorially. He winked back.

  “You going to keep that cat?” Stevie asked. He shoved the animal out of the way, so he could sit next to Sissy on the bed. Like he’d always done at home.

  “I’ve given the cat refuge.” That was the word she’d shouted in her prophecy, not knowing she knew it until she spoke.

  “Costs lots to feed an animal. Got to have a special license. Can you afford to buy meat for it?”

  Sissy had no idea what her new salary would be. “Stevie, they feed me meat every day. Sometimes twice a day. I’ve been holding back bits of it to feed the cat. I can’t eat it all without feeling sick.”

  “Too much meat isn’t good for you. Guess it’s better to share than waste it.”

  “Tell me about the new flat, Stevie. Tell me about you and Anna. Tell me about everyone. I miss you all.”

  “You’d heal quicker at home,” Stevie said. “Why can’t we take you back home, even for a couple of days? You need Mama’s good cooking, not the too rich stuff they give you here. And Grandma feeding you hot possets, and Josh and Ashel telling you silly jokes.”

  Sissy sighed deeply. She had nurses bringing her hot soothing drinks, the hospital kitchen prepared special dishes just for her, and her acolytes sent her hand drawn cards with Jilly’s silly jokes printed on them.

  But it wasn’t the same. It could be, given time. But it wasn’t; not without the shared memories and blood bonds present since birth.

  Why couldn’t she have both? She had caste marks to give her seven families if she wanted. She only wanted Stevie and Mama, and Pop, and all the rest.

  How could she make Laud Gregor understand that she needed both?

  Guilliam bypassed the door to his official quarters beside Laud Gregor’s suite. Noon. All the men and boys who inhabited this wing should be in the refectory or at their prayers. Still, he walked softly, clinging to the shadows he’d created by disabling random light fixtures and never reporting them to Maintenance. This windowless corridor still had enough light to negotiate the turns and curves, not enough to banish his hiding places.

  He loved the warren of tenebrous passages and near forgotten rooms and alcoves. Over the years he’d hunted out most of them. Each generation added on, remodeled, blocked off ancient sections until Crystal Temple sprawled in an amorphous mass. Only the open forecourt with the High Altar and the seven crystal columns supporting the roof at the edges remained the same.

  For a people who abhorred change, Temple caste eagerly changed their headquarters and primary dwelling quite often.

  He’d discovered much that they’d changed in their worship and culture, too. Only they didn’t see it. They didn’t search out the secret past as Guilliam did.

  Today, he sought a hidden back door to the archive basement. He’d learned early on that access to old records came to his hand much easier if he just spirited them away and returned them unnoticed rather than approach the archivist from the front door. Most of the time the withered old men who ran the place didn’t know half of what they guarded. They’d never had the time or interest to crawl around and dig through ten layers of obscurity for the truth.

  Today, Guilliam sought records of the earliest rituals for ordaining an HPS. He needed to come up with something special that also had precedence. Surely, somewhere in the dim past, something was done to honor, or even invoke the Gift of Harmony. Originally every HPS had the gift of prophecy, a genetic mutation actively sought and eagerly bred into succeeding generations.

  He guessed that Harmony had caused the mutation out of Temple caste because She needed something, someone special.

  The populace needed to experience one of Missy Sissy’s prophecies to understand and accept her.

  At the far end of the corridor that ended in a stone wall with no obvious outlet, Guilliam dug his fingernails into the crumbling mortar of the center block, not much bigger than a brick, three tiers down from the top. It rotated with a rough grinding noise that scraped against his nerves.

  He shot a quick glance down the full length of the corridor. No one came to investigate the alien sounds. His pent-up breath whooshed out in relief.

  Behind the brick his fingertips found an indentation in another piece of the wall. With the slightest pressure his side opened a narrow door a few inches. He found it easier to squeeze through the opening than to force the little-used door to open further. His green shirt buttons caught on the edge.

  Discord, he needed to lose a little weight. Penelope would fuss and chide him if he lost another button during his explorations. Bad enough he usually returned to her covered in dust and grime.

  Exhaling deeply while sucking in his gut, he managed to pass the barrier with his buttons intact. He paused to breathe in the dank smell of disuse in the space between walls. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe himself back in the burial caves of his youth.

  Renewed and refreshed, he descended a spiral staircase, its treads worn and indented from centuries of use. Damp slicked the walls. He welcomed the touch of algae that grew only in very dark places, like caves and forgotten corridors. At the bottom he found the locking mechanism for the door into the archives. He had to repeat the squeeze through it and nearly stumbled into a tiny area he’d carved out of the disorganized mess.

  Here he lit the candle stub he carried in his pocket. He had to read box labels to know which to search. Whoever had shoved the crates and containers down here had at least listed contents accurately. Day-to-day accountings and diaries of long-dead Crystal Temple denizens.

  He needed something older, more venerable. Something going back nearly as far as the existence of the Crystal Temple, built about five hundred years ago on the foundations of the previous Temple. Quakes had destroyed the First Temple and damaged much of the attached castle. The ruins had provided the building material for the present Governmental Palace. But the Crystal Temple had been built of new stone surrounding the High Altar and forecourt.

  Not all of the ruins had been cannibalized. Some had been shored up for temporary use, then abandoned as new buildings made them obsolete.

  Guilliam needed something from that time. A time when every HPS had the Gift of Harmony. A time when castes emerged out of chaos.

  He found something entirely different. Something Laud Gregor needed to know, but Guilliam dared not show him.


  And the time shall come

  When Beloved Harmony

  Lashes out in anger.

  Out of the ashes of Discord

  Will Rise

  One who loves us all,

  Appeases Harmony,

  Brings Chaos,

  And restores life.

  Discord! It all made sense now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "I CAN’T STAND BEING COOPED up indoors one moment longer,” Sissy said. She gathered Cat into her arms and marched from her bedroom into her office. “I’ve been out of hospital for three days now. I’ve rested enough.”

  Seven girls ranging in age from ten to twelve awaited her. They each had books and notebooks in front of them, studying lessons Laudae Shanet had set for them. Shanet’s own seven acolytes, somewhat older, were in the library with their own lessons.

  “Miss Sissy, are you truly well enough?” Laudae Shanet asked from directly behind her.

  “I’ll get better faster breathing real air and letting natural sunshine warm my skin.”

  “But it’s hot out there,” Mary, the oldest of the acolytes protested. “I like air-conditioning.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Sissy insisted. She’d never had air-conditioning in the Worker flats. Some in the factory because of the delicate components she assembled. Even then she hadn’t liked the recycled air and artificial chill. “Stay here if you like. There’s a big park behind the buildings. Reserved just for Temple. I intend to make use of it. Maybe take a swim.” She’d never had the leisure to play in the public pools much. Never learned to swim. Maybe now she’d make the time.

  “Um, Miss Sissy, the Reserve is . . . is not going to be what you expect,” Shanet said quietly.

  Immediately seven pairs of little ears perked up and seven young bodies leaned closer, listening intently.

  Shanet ushered Sissy into the hallway. “The Reserve is walled. It’s not open to the public,” she said.

  “I know that. I’ve walked all around the outside. We made it a family outing one Holy Day.” She strolled toward the doorway at the end of the corridor. One advantage to becoming High Priestess, she had easy access to the Reserve. Her bedroom window looked out on trees. Not that she had much time to contemplate the view. Every time she turned around, someone shoved more books and papers under her nose.

  “Read this.” “Sign that.” Over and over.

  And then there were the rituals. A ritual to greet the dawn, another to bless the meals, yet another to gather the entire Temple together to thank the gods for the work they were about to start.

  On and on and on. She kind of liked it. But often forgot which prayers belonged to which ritual.

  Seemed like these people spent more time eating than working, too.

  “Temple caste has different . . . sensibilities from Workers.” Shanet looked anxiously at the floor.

  “Meaning?” Sissy paused with one hand on the door. Cat ceased purring in her arms. He looked just a bit anxious at going outside. Probably afraid he’d be abandoned again.

  She set the cat down and let him scamper back to the safety of her chambers.

  “Miss Sissy, I have spent most of my life serving in small parishes. I know how Workers view family and that marriage is sacred.”

  “Of course.”

  “Temple caste is different. We do not marry.”

  “But . . . ?”

  “Nor are we celibate. I’ve borne three children to three different fathers. Two of them I sent to Temple nurseries. Only one did I raise on my own, because my parish was so far removed I could not visit the nursery regularly. Unlike most of my caste, I felt an attachment to the children I carried in my womb.”

  Sissy wanted to sit down. This was so . . . so alien.

  “We do not view marriage and relationships the same way you do. We have little body modesty amongst ourselves. In some ways, our entire caste is our family. Indeed, we are such a small caste that it is hard to find another member who isn’t related in some way.”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Laudae Shanet?” Sissy grew cold. Suddenly this woman, her mentor, her friend seemed like something outside the empire, outside civilization.

  “I do not want to deny you the pleasure of walking in the Reserve. But I feel I needed to warn you of how others use the area.” Resolutely, she thrust open the door and led Sissy into the lush greenery.

  Thick grass greeted Sissy’s bare toes. She wiggled them with joy and took a deep breath. The sweet spring air caressed her lungs and did not catch for a change. She lifted her face to the sun and drank in its warmth and light.

  The sounds of laughter drew her onward toward a screen of bushes. She smelled water, sharpened with cleansing chemicals. The pool.

  She aimed her steps for the shrubbery. A spot of bright turquoise and rusty brown diverted her attention. Not quite artificial but definitely out of place in this serene setting.

  The colors scuttled closer, flashing and shifting as they moved. Sissy recognized the outline of a lizard. A big muncher lizard. Normally the creature inhabited much wetter and much warmer climes than Harmony City.

  Sissy’d seen one in the zoo and been fascinated that such a little thing could eat its weight in leaves every day. She knew the lizard displayed those colors when frightened or fighting. Otherwise it blended into the greenery. If it intended to fight, its spiny crest would flare upward. This guy ran for his life, right toward Sissy.

  She bent down to scoop him up.

  “No!” Shanet screamed. “It’ll bite you. It’s poisonous.” She streaked toward Sissy as fast as her short legs could carry her.

  “Don’t be silly, Laudae Shanet,” Sissy laughed. The lizard reached her and climbed up her leg and skirt, all the way to her shoulder where it tried to hide beneath her hair. “Munchers aren’t poisonous. This guy is just scared.” She searched the grounds for signs of a predator.

  A rustling in the bushes revealed a mongrel dog, brown with long legs and upright ears. His ribs were clearly outlined beneath filthy and matted fur. It remained ten feet away, eyeing Sissy warily.

  “Laudae Shanet, please fetch something for the dog to eat. I’m sure, once he’s no longer quite so hungry he won’t need to chase lizards. Lizards don’t taste very good, Dog.” Carefully, Sissy brought the muncher into her arms, disengaging his claws from her dress before they shredded the fine fabric.

  “Looks like Cat will have some new companions.” Shanet snorted. Then she clapped her hands.

  A totally naked boy of about ten appeared from behind the bushes that screened the pool. “Yes, my Laudae?” he asked as if being naked was nothing out of the ordinary.

  Sissy had to lower her eyes to the lizard and concentrate hard on searching it for signs of injury. She’d seen naked children before. She couldn’t help it, living cheek by jowl with four brothers and two sisters. With one bathroom. She’d changed diapers on most of them.

  But this boy’s total lack of modesty shocked her, sent her thoughts spinning in a dozen different directions.

  Some of what Shanet had told her tried to poke through the storm of her thoughts. Nothing settled in her mind. Other than . . . shock.

  Shanet gave the boy directions for food for the dog and a basket for the lizard. He scampered off, not even bothering with a towel to cover himself.

  “We’ll need a special license to feed the dog. He eats meat,” Sissy mused.

  “Who do you think grants the licenses?” Shanet asked on a laugh. “We do. Getting meat is no problem for Temple caste.”

  Other people appeared from behind the bushes. Men, women, children, teens. None of them wore a stitch of clothing.

  Sissy’s eyes opened wide. Then she turned her back on them all and began walking back the way she had come, still cradling the lizard. The dog trailed behind her. Each step grew faster until Sissy ran for the shelter of her chambers.

  “I’m sorry you had to find out about the pool this way, Miss Sissy,” Shanet said quietly. “But you h
ad to see it to understand that our way of life differs from anything you’ve known before.”

  “Everything about this place is different. Too different. I don’t like any of it. I want out. I want to go home to my family.”

  “This is your home now. And we are your family. There is no going back.”

  “I want to see my family.”

  “We’ll see if Laud Gregor has made arrangements.”

  “Where’s the nearest ’phone? I want to talk to my mama and my brother Stevie.”

  “Later. When we’ve finished today’s lessons.”

  “Always later. Never now. Why can’t I talk to them.”

  Laudae Shanet frowned. “They’ll all be at work right now. Wait until suppertime. I’ll see if we can arrange something.”

  But after supper, Laud Gregor required Sissy to read and sign yet more documents. They finished long after everyone else had gone to bed.

  Jake pulled air into his aching lungs. He pumped his legs harder. Rain dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. He just made out the line in the scuffed dirt that marked the finish line. Twenty meters ahead. One bloke ahead of him, two nearly at his side and three more closing fast. None of them looked winded, or even determined. And they carried fifty-kilo packs with long swords sheathed at their hips.

  None of them bothered tossing the rain out of their eyes. Just another condition to be coped with.

  Oh, for the climate control of a space base!

  Physical training among the Military caste on Harmony was just something they did. And did very well. So was swordplay. They disdained any kind of projectile or energy weapons as dishonorable and therefore illegal. They had to look the enemy in the eye before they killed them. Jake had no doubt they killed without conscience. Just part of the job. Part of life. Their lot, due to the red square caste mark on their left cheeks.

  No sense of glory or accomplishment in any part of their lives. None of the endorphins pumping through their systems from the physical exercise or the heat of battle. Not even a touch of competition. Just get out there and run. Or lift weights, or carry a fifty-kilo pack on your back and climb a mountain.