Harmony

by C. F. Bentley

  Like proof the original colonists had massacred the original inhabitants with no more thought than they had eliminated the Loods at the asylum.

  That would disrupt their entire belief system. Destroy the entire political system with it. Bring chaos in its wake.

  Leave them all vulnerable to invasion by the CSS. And the Marils. Depending on who got here first.

  Jake almost hoped it was the Marils.

  Laud Gregor jumped to the top of his suspect list.

  And Sissy would still probably die in the aftermath.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  When had this become about Sissy rather than his mission?

  “Talk, Bertie. It’s the only way to avoid the humiliation of the executioner’s sword. You can die cleanly by my blade and have your soul remembered with honor, or you can go to whatever hell you believe in. Painfully. Long and slow.”

  “I only know this car is rigged,” Bertie said so softly Jake almost didn’t hear him. “I . . . I want to see the expedition to the caves destroyed, not hurt Laudae Sissy. I’d never hurt her. Please believe me.”

  So he’d started talking at an oblique angle to rouse Jake’s suspicions.

  “Rigged how?” Jake resisted the urge to back away from the car.

  “Suspension.”

  Jake looked at the washboard road riddled with potholes. No problem for people on foot making a pilgrimage. Or a loxen-drawn cart. But for a car, especially a big car that didn’t maneuver easily, the undercarriage had to suffer damage with every jolt.

  The next jolt might very well be the one that set off whatever parasitic device rode with them.

  “You sit right there and don’t move,” Jake ordered through gritted teeth.

  Bertie nodded.

  Jake got down on one knee, knife still poised to stab upward at the least sign of movement. He didn’t know much about the construction of these vehicles. He couldn’t see anything that didn’t belong.

  Still . . .

  He cursed long and fluently. He didn’t have to change his vocabulary to fit this culture. Both societies regarded body waste and bodily functions as fit for such epithets.

  He rose, knife poised over Bertie’s heart. When his invective wound down, he said quietly, “Laudae Shanet, please help Laudae Sissy climb that embankment and begin walking toward the Temple at the end of the road with all due speed.”

  “But . . .”

  “No buts, Laudae Sissy.” An icy calm spread through Jake. “Get out of here as far and as fast as you can. The animals will follow you at their own speed.”

  “The other car . . . my girls . . .”

  “Are safe. That is why they dropped back so far they haven’t caught up with us yet.”

  “We’ll send help back to you, Lieutenant,” Shanet said as she pushed Sissy up the sharp embankment. Thankfully, the eroded rock had lots of hand- and footholds. A wave of cats and dogs swarmed behind them. The red bird with the thick beak picked up the tiny, half-blind kitten and carried it to the sparse grass of the terrace above.

  “If I’m not five minutes behind you, there won’t be enough left of me to help.”

  “Saving her now will only delay the inevitable,” Bertie said. “Others will come. But it won’t be me. I couldn’t bear to hurt her. To live long enough to see her hurt.”

  Jake caught a flash of fanaticism in the man’s eye.

  “What others? Who set this up?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “Tell me or die?” Jake raised the knife from the man’s heart to his throat.

  “I’ll die anyway.”

  “How? How are you going to die?”

  “The steering. It will give at the next bend or the one after that.”

  Jake spared a quick glance at the steep cliff and the crumbling track they called a road. He had less than a meter between his feet and the edge. Ahead, the road curved sharply right, seemingly ending just . . .

  Bertie gunned the engine. The car flew forward.

  Jake barely had room to step out of the way. He watched in horror as Bertie cranked the wheel to the right. The car kept going forward. It left the road behind, seeming to float in the air as it arced out over the valley, then plunged down, and down, and down.

  He heard Sissy scream something as he raced to the curve. Each step took forever, didn’t cover enough ground. As he sought some kind of path downward, he heard the crash.

  Far below him, the car crumpled, wedging the entire engine compartment into the front seat.

  “We have to help him,” Sissy panted beside him.

  “No use. No one could live through that.”

  “But . . .” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Jake pulled her gently to his chest, cradling her head in his hand while she cried and pounded out her rage and grief.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  GREGOR MADE HIS SLOW WAY toward the HC Chamber. He breathed deeply, refreshed that Sissy had taken herself and the chaos that followed her off to the mountains. He paused a moment and cherished the silence. No yipping dogs, yowling cats, twittering weasels, or chattering birds. No squeals from her girls as she let them run and play haphazardly throughout the complex. No worry about what she would do next to upset his plans.

  If only he could find ways to keep her in the mountains. Or just touring the entire planet.

  His mind brightened. That was a worthwhile idea. The people loved Sissy the moment she blessed them with her smile. Since the spectacle of her ordination, attendance numbers at Temple had increased. Having the popular support had never mattered in the running of the government before. But he could see the advantages.

  Yes, Laudae Estella, High Priestess of all Harmony, must spend the next year visiting all of Harmony. Including the outer colonies.

  Provided war didn’t break out. He couldn’t take a chance on his Sissy getting caught up in battle.

  The flurry of communications flitting around the frontier suggested H6 would be the first target. His source inside the comm tower kept him informed of the increased activity. Admiral Nentares of Spacers and General Armstrong of Military did not see fit to share this knowledge with him.

  No trip to H6 anytime soon. He needed Sissy. But sometimes she complicated his life beyond endurance. Like the proposal he intended the HC to pass today reimbursing Lord Chauncey for losses to his shipping business due to out-of-season storms. Sissy had vetoed it last time around. She wanted the families of the dead sailors reimbursed for their loss. As if Workers had any value. There were always twenty more to take their places.

  The issue was getting the HC to agree without Sissy. If he could pass that through them without her vote or signature, he proved that he controlled the High Council and therefore all of Harmony.

  Lady Marissa would lose a fraction of her influence.

  Gregor stepped confidently into the huge ceremonial chamber. Four of his fellow Council members already occupied the tall chairs about the table. Only Lady Marissa was absent.

  Inwardly Gregor smiled. Probably planning a grand entrance, and she’d assume the place at the head of the table where Sissy should preside. He slipped between the chair and the table in front of the miniature altar Sissy had placed there. Bowing formally to the altar and to the others, he smiled at the prisms arcing out from the crystals beneath the skylight. He, too, knew how to make the best use of ceremony and ritual.

  Then he took up a wand and tapped the littlest crystal. A small chime tickled his senses. The Nobles ceased their muted conversations and turned their attention to him.

  He tapped the next largest crystal and the next, bringing forth a wonderful chord. By the time the tallest crystal added its bass note to the music, the chamber had filled with peaceful tones.

  “Harmony, we invoke your presence,” he intoned, beginning a common prayer. A sense of peace washed over him, as it always did in Harmony’s grace. He just wished that politics didn’t keep intruding on his need to commune with the Gods.

 
The double doors burst open. Lady Marissa stood framed in the archway. The corridor should have backlit her, making her appear mysterious and majestic. But sunlight filled the chamber and cast her in shadow.

  As one, the Nobles frowned at her disruption.

  Gregor continued the prayer as if her arrival mattered nothing.

  “Oh, stop mouthing your useless platitudes, Gregor,” Lady Marissa said, stomping into the Council Chamber. “You don’t believe in that nonsense any more than I do.”

  He wondered how she’d have approached them if they’d waited for her.

  “On the contrary, Lady Marissa, my faith is my life. That is what makes me the only person who can preside as HP.” He returned to the crystals and took a deep breath before beginning the next long prayer.

  “There has been another . . . incident at the Funerary Temple,” she said, a gleeful smile lighting her face.

  “What do you know?” Gregor clenched his fist around his wand. He didn’t ask what she’d heard, but what she knew. Why?

  “Radio communication from the mountains is spotty at best. I know only that Laudae Estella is safe. I have dispatched a contingent of the Military by helicopter to return her to the safety of the Crystal Temple.” Lady Marissa looked smug.

  “You don’t have the authority . . .” Lord Nathaniel said. He remained calm and seated, as if she’d merely issued a parade permit without consulting the city authorities.

  “I have every right to see to the continued safety of our HPS,” Marissa replied. She flounced into the empty seat beside Gregor. His place if Sissy had been here to preside.

  “I must go with them,” Gregor said. He carefully put down the wand so that it would not roll and break. The movement disguised the shaking of his hands. He’d worked too long and hard to get to a place where he could dominate and manipulate the HC; he couldn’t risk it now by losing Sissy. Having her replaced by . . . Penelope. Or worse, someone like Shanet.

  Or Lady Marissa.

  “Then you’d best hurry. I heard the first helicopter take off almost five minutes ago,” Lady Marissa said airily. “We’ll continue without you. What is first on the agenda? I believe your proposal to send more Military to the frontier and reallocate Worker personnel to fill in the gaps . . .”

  “This session is closed until we have more information about the welfare of our High Priestess who, by rights, should preside here.” Gregor deliberately tapped the largest crystal, letting its tone fill the room. “Empathy, we invoke you, and thank you for your blessings as we depart.”

  The Nobles pushed back their chairs. Ritual was too deeply ingrained in them to question him. The moment Gregor knew Marissa could not call them back, he dashed for the door.

  Sissy had to be all right. Too much depended upon her. Upon his control of her.

  Sissy ran from Jake’s tired recounting of Bertie’s last moments. Poor Bertie, trapped between loyalty and faith.

  She ran uphill, snaking a path beside the road. She ran with tears blinding her to all but the biggest obstacles in her way. She ran until her sides ached.

  The wind pushed and pulled her in several directions at once. She heard it sighing among the mountain peaks as if crying for Bertie.

  And still she ran.

  But she could not escape herself, or the wind reminding her of all the grief poured out in this place of funerals and good-byes.

  A man had died in her place.

  By all rights she should be dead now. Not Bertie. Kind, sweet Bertie. Always cheerful. Always loyal.

  Too loyal.

  Panting, she dropped to her knees in front of the altar in the Funerary Temple. She should be grateful. All of her girls, and Shanet and her girls, the animals, and Jake were safe. And yet . . .

  Poor Bertie. How did she pray for his soul? How did she guide his spirit toward Harmony?

  Shakily, she brought her palms together and bowed from the waist in deep homage to both the altar and the man she mourned.

  Sometime later she became aware of Jake sitting in one of the straight chairs. His long legs sprawled out before him. He slouched as if he’d waited a long time.

  “You done crying yet?” he asked.

  She choked out some kind of reply. Her throat closed, and new tears threatened.

  “Laud Gregor and half the HC are on their way. You need to present a face of calm if you want to continue with the work here.”

  She nodded. “I never asked for the responsibility of being HPS.”

  “I know. They thrust it upon you with little or no training. You need to show them you are better than the emotional child you want to be and they believe you to be.”

  Her stomach twisted. “They took me from my family. Bertie was kind to me. Like an uncle. I needed him.”

  “All Harmony needs you. Harmony needs you strong, clear thinking.”

  The whop, whop, whop of an approaching aircraft assaulted her ears, a definite discord to the fragile calm she had reached. She gritted her teeth. “I’d like to ban those contraptions.”

  Jake gave her a slight grin. “I don’t think the Military would let you. Nor the Nobles who use them to flit among their far-flung properties.”

  “If they could just tune their motors to a crystal so they didn’t offend my ears.”

  “Making the enemy cringe at the noise is good tactics.”

  “We have no enemies among ourselves. Our enemies are all out there.” She waved a hand toward the sky.

  “Believe that if you must. The Military has a need for weapons.”

  “Is that what I am? The enemy?” Finally she could face the issue at hand, above and beyond Bertie’s death.

  “To some.”

  “Why? I never wanted this.”

  “You challenge preconceived notions and prejudices.”

  “I represent change.” She remembered her prophecy from her hospital bed. “Is change evil when it brings us back to Harmony?”

  “Some people see any change as evil, even those who have drifted so far off Harmony’s path they’ll never get back. But the drift happened so slowly they don’t realize it’s happened.”

  Sissy stood and straightened her rumpled slacks. Almost as an afterthought she kicked off the sturdy shoes she’d worn to hike between the Temple and the caves. Then she walked slowly out into the bright summer sunshine to greet Laud Gregor and the rest of the High Council. The moment they came within earshot, she opened her mouth and prayed that what she said would carry the weight of prophecy.

  She had no bubble of “otherness” welling up inside her. When she needed it most, Harmony had deserted her.

  “Clouds of Discord gather in response to unfounded fear. What I do here opens a path to Harmony that has been closed.”

  Laud Gregor stopped short and stared at her. He examined her face.

  She kept her eyes lowered, not daring to let him see that she spoke from her heart and not with the voice of their Goddess.

  Lady Sarah and Lord Nathaniel dropped to one knee to pay homage to her.

  Lady Penelope stepped out of the second helicopter just then, a sneer on her face and anger boiling, judging by her posture.

  Lady Marissa remained in the background. She raised one eyebrow and silently applauded Sissy’s performance.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  "STAY OUT OF THIS, MY ASS,” Jake muttered as he hugged the outside wall of the Funerary Temple residence hall. “They don’t know who they are dealing with.” Military officers were supposed to know how to obey orders. Jake had never been good at that, in any of his incarnations.

  Evening shadows made his skulking progress easy. The ever-present wind covered any sound he made.

  Not a very big place. Rooms for one priest, one priestess, two dormitories for their acolytes, and three guest suites. One of the suites had pull-out sofas and bunks for acolytes. For tonight, the resident priest and priestess bunked together, and acolytes shared beds to make room for a couple more people. Cramped quarters at best.

 
Easy to find his way around the building to the outside window of the biggest guest suite.

  Small windows to keep heat from escaping in the winter. And not very good for eavesdropping with their double-paned insulation. Especially with the wind whisking away half the words. The sun dropped behind the tallest peak on Harmony. Instantly the thin air cooled. Then chilled. In midsummer.

  He ignored his discomfort. Getting a clue regarding Laud Gregor’s agenda was more important than seeking the cozy warmth of a wood fire in the great room. More pull-out sofas and bunks there to handle some of the overflow.

  Reminded him of summer camp in the Rockies.

  Including the shouting matches between counselors after lights out.

  He sidled beneath the window he sought. Two voices. Both angry. Laud Gregor’s deeper tones. Sissy’s softer soprano, no less angry despite the quieter volume. His experience with Pammy had taught him that women tended to be more dangerous the quieter they got.

  Laud Gregor could be in trouble. Big trouble. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy.

  “I came here for a reason, and that reason still stands,” Sissy said. Her words came through the glass and the log walls loud and clear.

  Almost too clear. Jake looked around. Either the chinking between the logs conducted sound or . . . or the window was open a crack. Sissy did love her fresh air.

  “It’s too dangerous!” Gregor shouted.

  Jake didn’t need the open window to hear him.

  “This misguided cult cannot represent more than a few fanatics,” Sissy said, some of the heat fading out of her voice. “Surely you can manage to round them up and reeducate them.”

  Jake noted that she did not mention putting them in an asylum. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even the cleansed and rededicated facility Sissy had blessed. She’d made promises to keep track of how the inmates were treated. Abolishing the entire system was still outside her control. Left to her own devices long enough, she’d find a way to integrate the abandoned ones—Jake refused to call them Loods—back into Harmony society.

  “We don’t even know where to begin!” Gregor exploded.

  Uh-oh, he was losing control. Would he drag Sissy by her hair back to the capital if he lost the argument?